Moonwitch

by Nicole Jordan

  Much to her chagrin, those same ladies were present the next evening at the ball. Selena had strong reservations about the occasion. She dreaded meeting countless strangers and being subjected to their critical scrutiny. Yet when the day arrived, she was relieved to find she had already met many of them, and that they seemed to accept her with genuine goodwill.

  The ball was a great success, if one judged by the numbers of guests that had been pouring into Montrose all day and who now overflowed the house. The only drawback to an otherwise perfect evening was the heat, Selena thought as she glanced around the crowded drawing room. The candlelight that blazed from a myriad of wax tapers looked lovely gleaming off silver dishes and polished floors, but it added greatly to the warmth.

  The gathering was less formal than those she was accustomed to, indeed was a study in contrasts—lavish elegance vying with rustic simplicity. In the drawing room played an orchestra of violins and tambourines, while in the courtyard, a grizzled old black man performed a Virginia jig upon a gourd fiddle. The ladies’ costumes, too, presented a view of a disparate society. The planters’ wives had arrived in carriages, bedecked in jewels and lace, yet their less affluent female neighbors had ridden on horseback, dressed in calicoes and were carrying their ball gowns in bundles.

  Kyle, in an elegant forest-green coat, was a contrast all to himself, Selena thought as her eyes sought him above the heads of the guests. Rugged yet graceful, he possessed a strength and vitality that was incredibly appealing to her heightened senses.

  His blatant masculinity appealed to the other females present, as well, Selena was aware. More than once she caught another lady favoring Kyle with a discreet glance, looking at him sideways with fluttering lashes and a pretty blush. He returned their interest with an open friendliness, his teasing remarks no different from his interactions with his sisters, the aristocratic dowager who had conferred her presence on the ball or even Angel. Indeed, Selena was beginning to realize that Kyle accorded highborn ladies the same treatment as the lowest of tavern wenches—he treated both simply as women.

  Yet she couldn’t help experiencing an ungovernable jealousy at all the attention he was attracting, especially when she observed an ebony-haired beauty fawning over Kyle during an entire set of dances. When the set ended, Selena realized her concern was much too obvious, for it was the first thing Bea mentioned when she joined her.

  “Don’t pay Miss Jenkins any mind,” Bea advised. “She’s one of the dozens and dozens of ladies who have pursued my brother to no avail.”

  “I’m not concerned,” Selena said untruthfully. “Like I, she hasn’t the right color hair.”

  “Well, you put her in the shade. You look exquisite—as I’m sure I’ve already told you.”

  Selena smiled gratefully at the compliment. In deference to the poorer guests, she had eschewed jewelry and chosen a bandeau that sported an ostrich plume as her only adornment, yet her empire-waist lutestring gown, the shade of dusty violets, bespoke wealth and supreme good taste. She thought she looked attractive, but in the face of such competition from the other beauties present, she needed the reassurance.

  Bea gave her that and more, swearing that Kyle had only danced with Miss Jenkins out of duty. Yet Selena was grateful when he turned the dark-haired beauty over to a new partner.

  When her own partner claimed her for the next dance, she made a determined effort to bring her jealousy under control, trying not to gaze at her husband above once a minute. Even so she found it difficult. She was far more aware of Kyle than she had ever been of any man. He had awakened her physically to a lush world of pleasure and desire and sensation, of aching need and passion. A thousand times a day Selena found herself wanting to touch him, to slip into his arms and fit her lips and her body against his, and she found it a torment not to be able to do so now.

  More incredible, though, was his ability to rouse her with merely a glance. Kyle had only to caress her with those glowing hazel eyes to remind her of past moments when he had been buried deep inside her, and she would start to quiver.

  Still, it was only lust. Her plan to make Kyle fall in love with her, she knew, was no further along than it had been several days earlier when she’d met him in the fields. Since then they’d had little chance for intimacy other than their early-morning conferences. And she hadn’t spoken to Kyle at all this evening, not since the first dance, when, as the guests of honor, they had opened the ball together.

  It was with the hope of drawing Kyle away from the company for a moment or two of privacy that Selena refused the next dance and threaded her way through the crowd. She found him conversing with an elderly couple, but no sooner had the couple wandered off to partake of the buffet supper than they were joined by the Reverend Denby.

  Selena tried not to show her disappointment. She was politely inquiring of Reverend Denby whether he had recovered from his ordeal with the pepper, when a hush fell over the crowd. Turning to see what was causing the problem, Selena spied Danielle Whitfield standing in the doorway to the drawing room. Her chin was lifted slightly, and she clung with the slightest pressure to Orrin Chandler’s arm, as if she were determined to brave the wolves but needed his help to do so.

  Selena’s heart twisted the way it always did when she saw the beautiful redhead. Danielle was garbed in a plain gown of gray cambric, yet she was as lovely as ever. The wealth of sadness that shone in her eyes only added to the impression of enduring strength and touching vulnerability—the epitome of womanhood. Selena had thought her own ball dress attractive, but she felt colorless and faded in comparison to Danielle’s vibrant beauty.

  She would have preferred to slip away to a dark corner and hide but was obliged to play hostess; Bea wasn’t in the drawing room at present, and the guests seemed to be awaiting her response with bated breaths, in anticipation of a scandal. They wouldn’t know of her tentative friendship with Danielle, Selena realized.

  Aware that all eyes were on her, she summoned a gracious smile as she swept across the room to greet the newcomers. When she pressed Danielle’s hand fondly, the collective sigh in the room was audible. And when Kyle appeared at her side the next moment and slapped Orrin on the back in a hearty welcome, the company resumed their interrupted activities—with only a few guests looking disappointed that a scandal had been averted.

  After the furor had died down, Selena suggested Kyle fetch them some sangaree or lemonade and then watched as he gallantly offered Danielle his arm and escorted her from the room. His head was bent close to hers as he listened attentively to whatever she was saying.

  They make a magnificent couple, Selena thought as she watched them leave together. She was surprised to find herself trembling.

  “That was well-done of you,” a masculine voice observed gently.

  Startled, Selena looked around to find Orrin still beside her, his brown eyes sympathetic and compassionate.

  “Danielle told me,” he continued in that same quiet tone, “how kind you’ve been to her. I confess I didn’t believe her, but I can see how greatly I was mistaken. I’d like to offer my apologies for that and to say how grateful I am for your refusal to shun her. Not many women would be as generous as you’ve been.”

  “It was nothing,” Selena murmured, looking away.

  “If it’s any consolation, I know how you feel. I’ve loved Danielle for years—but I was always too late. First her husband… then Kyle. I can’t deny that for a while I tried to hate Kyle, but he was too good a friend.”

  Too discomfited to reply, Selena nodded in silent understanding. She would have liked to be able to hate Danielle, too, but it was impossible to dislike someone who was so genuinely gentle and good.

  Orrin sighed, echoing Selena’s heartache. “I can only stand as Danielle’s friend and give her what support I can,” he declared quietly.

  She met his gaze then. “I think any woman would call herself fortunate to claim such friendship.”

  They shared a smile, which cemented the tentat
ive bond between them and made Selena feel as if she had found another ally in the sea of strangers she had been tossed into.

  Several of Orrin’s friends joined them then, and a moment later Selena felt a slender hand slip into hers. She turned to find Zoe giving her a shy look. Both older sisters had been allowed downstairs to join the company, though Zoe didn’t have permission to dance. Felicity had been banished to her room as punishment for her misbehavior the previous day.

  “Felicity must be lonely up there all by herself,” Zoe said softly. “Would it be all right, do you think, if I take her some sweets? These are her favorites.”

  Selena smiled to see the plate Zoe was holding. It was filled with jellied peaches and blancmange. “That would be very kind of you,” Selena admitted. She understood quite well how the young girl would feel being left out of the festivities. “Shall I come with you?”

  They went upstairs, hand in hand, and delighted Felicity with their surprise. Settling themselves on the bed, they kept her company while she enjoyed the treats. It was only a short while later that a soft knock sounded on the door.

  When Felicity called “Come in,” they were all surprised to see Kyle step into the room.

  Felicity scrambled to her feet. “I’ve been very good, Kyle—I have.” She looked very young and vulnerable, standing there in her nightdress in the glow of lamplight, looking up at him.

  His glance shifted to Selena and Zoe and the half-eaten plate of food, then back to Felicity. “I see I’m too late.” With an endearing grin, he held out the plate he was carrying. It was filled with jellied peaches and blancmange.

  Felicity laughed and flung herself into her brother’s arms, then pulled him toward the bed to join the impromptu tea party.

  When he’d settled himself, Kyle met Selena’s gaze over his sisters’ heads. “So this is where you’ve been hiding.”

  His comment made her heartbeat quicken; it sounded very much as if he had been searching for her. She returned his gaze with a soft smile, watching as he began to tease his sisters, and contentment wrapped around her.

  How different this was from her life the past few years, Selena reflected. She had never thought of herself as being disadvantaged, yet she was a little shocked now to realize how very barren and cold her existence had been since her own parents’ deaths—the dearth of warmth and affection before Kyle and the girls had come into her life. This was what she had been missing: this feeling of being a family. This feeling of love. If only they could bring Lydia into it....

  “I greatly fear we’re in danger of spoiling these two baggages, Moonwitch.”

  Her thoughts interrupted by Kyle’s observation, Selena smiled. “I don’t think so.”

  “Well—” he glanced around him “—perhaps we should return to the ball.”

  “Yes,” she answered with reluctance, not wanting to break the spell.

  As Kyle kissed both his sisters, wishing them a good-night, Selena found herself yearning for him to do the same to her. She wanted him to put his arms around her, to hold her, to love her. She wanted it so fiercely her heart ached. Glancing up at Kyle as they descended the stairs, Selena wondered if she dared tell him so.

  As they reached the lower floor, she gathered her courage and slipped her arm in his.

  Kyle raised an eyebrow at her. “Is something amiss, Moonwitch?”

  Selena hesitated as she looked up at him, feeling strange to be purposely seeking a man’s attention, even a man who was her husband. “No…I just wondered if you meant to rejoin the dancing.”

  “It’s too warm to dance. It’s hot as hades in here.”

  Selena took a deep breath. She had watched Miss Jenkins enough to have an idea as to how she should proceed, but she couldn’t quite bring herself to employ the coy play of eyelashes. Instead, she stroked his sleeve, and the light brush of her gloved fingertips conveyed its own subtle but unmistakable message. “It’s cooler in the courtyard,” she murmured, her voice taking on a husky catch that was also unmistakable.

  Kyle’s slow, knowing smile brought a becoming flush to her cheeks. “Well then, madam wife,” he responded with amused formality, “may I hope you will oblige me with a stroll in the courtyard?”

  The glimmer in his eyes was more than amusement. Selena nodded wordlessly, conscious of the now familiar quickening between her thighs.

  The courtyard was cooler, they discovered, but it also was nearly as crowded as the house, filled with guests who had also been seeking respite from the heat. Disappointed, Selena resigned herself to merely enjoying Kyle’s company rather than the intimate moment she had hoped for. She was surprised and gratified when, without words, he took her hand and led her away from the heat and the crowds and the noise, till the laughter and music of the ball became only a murmur.

  Fingers clasped, they strolled beneath the majestic magnolias and moss-shrouded oaks, between draperies of swaying gray lace that had silvered in the brilliant moonlight, wending their way without conscious thought toward the distant summerhouse.

  Selena felt her body tightening with excitement as anticipation flared through her senses. A soft breeze scented with jasmine fanned her face, but her rapid heartbeat was at odds with the gentleness of the evening.

  Kyle, however, was feeling all the tautness slowly draining from his muscles. All evening he had been fighting the urge to plant his fists in the face of every man who merely looked at Selena, and it was a relief to be able to relax his guard and to consider his fierce reaction. He wasn’t accustomed to jealousy; perhaps that was it. His solution had been to stay away from Selena to avoid the distraction she always presented by mingling with the other guests, but it hadn’t worked, for she had never been far from his thoughts.

  Nor was jealousy the only emotion he’d experienced recently where Selena was concerned. A smile touched Kyle’s mouth as he recalled his frustration yesterday at her determined rescue of Felicity from his wrath, his delight in watching her struggle with that infernal bird, his pride when he had witnessed her greeting Danielle this evening. Not one woman in a hundred could have shown as much aplomb or been so gracious to someone she had every right to spurn.

  Pride, that was it, he realized with faint surprise. He was proud that Selena belonged to him.

  He let the thought linger in his mind, and when they reached the line of cherry laurels that bordered the summerhouse, he paused and turned to survey the land he had inherited against his will. The full moon was working its magic, weaving a spell of radiance and splendor and peace. Even the din of the cicadas seemed hushed.

  Kyle let out his breath on a sigh, conscious of a sense of contentment, a sense of being where he belonged. Drawing Selena back against his chest, he slipped his arms around her slender waist, noting with intense pleasure that she wasn’t wearing a corset. He held her that way for a long while, keeping her warm woman shape pressed to him, drinking in the unearthly beauty of the scene—a beauty, he thought, like Selena herself. Tantalizing and elusive.

  “Clay had it right when he called you ‘moon lady,’” Kyle murmured against her hair. “The first time I saw you in the moonlight, I wondered if some sorcerer had been at work. You looked like a moonbeam come to life.”

  Selena closed her eyes, trembling as his touch rippled through her. It was the closest Kyle had ever come to saying that he cared for her. She could have stayed there forever, savoring the closeness between them, she thought. And yet she wanted more than that from him. Her body ached with a hunger so feverish and intense that she felt weak. Vaguely, she wondered if Kyle felt the same torment. Perhaps he was waiting for her to take the first step. Well, she would. She no longer had any shame where he was concerned; her reserve melted whenever he touched her.

  Turning in his arms, she gazed up at him with silent yearning. “Kyle,” she breathed, her voice a whisper and a plea.

  He knew what she wanted. Only a man with ice in his veins could have failed to detect the sensual longing in her eyes and voice—or failed to be
affected. Yet he wanted to hear it from Selena’s own lips. He wanted her to admit that she craved his possession, his touch.

  Kyle lifted his hands to her shoulders, feeling their long, graceful swell beneath his palms. With piquant slowness then, he bent and kissed the corner of her mouth. “What is it, Moonwitch?” His own voice was warm and husky and only half teasing. He let his lips trail a wealth of light kisses along the curving line of her jaw to her ear and heard her soft intake of breath as he tugged on the sensitive lobe. “What do you want?” he prompted as Selena arched against him.

  “You,” she answered breathlessly, clinging to him.

  “Very well, I’m yours. What will you do with me?”

  “Kyle.” The word was at once plaintive and commanding, an imperative demand for fulfillment. And he had every intention of seeing that the lady was fulfilled.

  Breaking their embrace, Kyle grasped Selena’s hand and pulled her after him, past the cherry laurels and up the two steps to the summerhouse. Pausing in the warm, pulsing darkness, he let his eyes adjust to the dimness. In the slender shafts of moonlight that spilled through the latticed walls, he could see the outline of a wrought iron bench. “Will this do?” Kyle said as he drew her toward it.

  Selena’s glance was quizzical but trusting as he settled himself on the bench and pulled her down to sit on his lap. She felt him rising hard against her, and a shudder of desire streaked through her in response. “I don’t know… What if someone comes?”

  “Then we’ll hear them… That is, unless they hear us first—which is probably more likely, the way you carry on when you’re in the throes of passion.”

  “I do not carry on.”

  Kyle flashed her a slow grin. “You do, Moonwitch. And I love it.” As if to emphasize his point, his hand slipped behind her head, carefully, so not to disturb the neat coil of her hair, and drew her down to meet his searing kiss.

  It was long yet urgent, his tongue delving into her mouth to communicate his desire, his fingers stroking her bare arms above the edge of her long gloves. Selena melted against him. She loved the feel of his hands caressing her skin, the gentleness behind the strength when he ran his work-roughened palms over her body, as he was doing now so expertly. But it wasn’t enough. Too many layers of clothing separated them.