Moonlight and Magic

by Rebecca Paisley

  Sterling waved his hand, as if pushing away her words. “Shakespeare. What the hell did he know? Now take Henry David Thoreau. He said, I have learned this at least by my experiment; that if one advances confidently in the direction of his dreams, and endeavors to live the life which he has imagined, he will meet with a success unexpected in common hours.’”

  She remained silent, her head bowed, as the quote settled into her and took root. A seed of confidence began to grow. A tiny sprout of hope pushed into her thoughts.

  Hope. She concentrated on the word. Hope didn’t have to be grounded, she reasoned desperately. Hope could spring from utter hopelessness if one desired it. Nothing but death could vanquish it. “‘Death is the greatest evil, because it cuts off hope,’” she whispered. “William Hazlitt.”

  What in the world was wrong with her? She wasn’t dead; she was alive, and hadn’t she always, always tried to make the most of today without worrying overmuch about tomorrow? Today Sterling was here, and yet she’d been acting as if he were already gone!

  Sterling watched her lift her head and saw the hint of a smile on her pink mouth. He still had no clue as to her strange sorrow, but suspected the quote about confidence and dreams had found fertile ground. “Look at me, Chimera.”

  When she turned to face him, there it was. In her eyes. That beautiful glow. It had returned with a vengeance.

  He reached for her, pulling her into his lap and kissing each of her eyelids. “Welcome back, estrellita.”

  She wound her arms around his neck and inhaled his warm, masculine scent. This man, this incredibly wonderful man had lifted her gloom. She knew he must have spent hours searching for the quotes he thought would get through to her, and it made her tremble with pleasure to know that he’d gone through such trouble for her. Her gratitude was so deep, there were no words to express it. She decided she would show him instead. She would give him a kiss that held all her appreciation.

  Her beautiful face descended toward him and, for a moment, Sterling thought of resisting her. He still didn’t know if lovemaking was fair to either of them. But tonight...she seemed to need him close to her. And her lips... Dios mio, they looked so soft, so pink, so incredibly delicious. It had been so long. He could barely remember the last time he’d kissed her. He could not find the will to deny her. To deny himself.

  Thank you, Sterling, Chimera told him silently. Tentatively, testing both herself and him, she opened her mouth slightly and felt a wild thrill when his arms tightened around her.

  She wanted to love him tonight, she decided, and slid her hands into his hair. The period of abstinence was over. She would end it, with—or without—his consent.

  She knew little about seduction, but reminded herself that she’d had lessons from a true artist. Sterling often cursed his magic, but she gloried in it. Tonight she would do everything within her power to show him that love was to lovemaking like day was to night. Alone they were partly pretty. Together they were completely beautiful. One met the other, and they meshed so delicately and yet so wonderfully, they formed a full circle with no true beginning, no real end.

  Yes, she mused naughtily, she’d learned about lovemaking from a master. Tonight, now, she’d show him what an excellent teacher he’d been.

  Chapter Fourteen

  The light caress of her lips became deep, braising, and Sterling knew the encounter was going far beyond a mere kiss. He’d wanted to soothe her tortured spirit, but now he sensed her body was as tormented with desire as her mind had been with distress.

  His own need was so great he ached with it, but he couldn’t let this continue. He’d worked all evening to lift her from her gloom, and now she was setting herself up for more. She’d fall deeper under the spell, he’d fall with her, and they’d never find their way out.

  Chimera felt him stiffen and knew he was going to stop her. He was good at resisting, much stronger than she. How could she keep that from happening?

  Women are never stronger than when they arm themselves with their weaknesses. Ah, thank you, Marquise du Deffand, she mused, her kiss spreading into a smile. Weaknesses. What were her weaknesses?

  She had a strong weakness for parties. Sometimes she invented holidays just so she and the boys could have one. She didn’t quite know how a party fit in with seduction, but surely the Marquise du Deffand never would have written what she did if it wasn’t the absolute truth. And she could throw her party in her bedroom...

  She lifted her face and grinned. “Let’s have a party.”

  Sterling frowned in utter bewilderment as she crossed to her pantry, where she began taking down various items. “Chimera...why are we having a party?”

  “Because—Well, because it’ll be Christmas soon.”

  “Then why don’t we just wait until it is Christmas?”

  She turned, her arms full. “Because then it would be a Christmas party. It’s not Christmas yet, Sterling. We’re only celebrating because it’s almost Christmas.”

  “Oh, yes, of course. How stupid of me not to have figured that out by myself. In January, we’ll have a Valentine party. And of course in February, we’ll throw one in anticipation of Easter. In April, we’ll—”

  “Oh, Sterling, really! We won’t have the ‘almost Easter’ party in February! We have that the first week of March. In February we look forward to St. Patrick’s Day.”

  He laughed out loud. “I stand corrected. I do hope you’ll forgive my ignorance.”‘

  She smiled. “But on second thought, let’s just call this a midnight party. It is midnight, you know.”

  He ambled over to her. When he reached her, he saw she held a bowl of berries and a brown bottle. “What’s in the flask?” he asked suspiciously, remembering the love potion.

  “Whiskey. It was Xenia’s, and has never been opened. Whiskey and berries will be the refreshments for our party.”

  She left and disappeared into her bedroom. He knew she expected him to follow her, but he debated. A party in her bedroom...probably on her bed...

  He smiled. The nutty little witch was trying her hand at seduction tonight. Did she really believe he’d fall for her little ploy? He’d escaped much more complex seduction schemes than the one she’d devised tonight. Escaping hers would not require even the smallest amount of his willpower. Surprisingly, it didn’t irritate him that she was trying to entice him to her bed. It would have with another woman, but he guessed that Chimera’s innocence, her complete lack of guile, and her sweet ignorance of the art of seduction were what made him amused instead of aggravated.

  Still grinning, he walked to his pallet and took off his gun belt and boots. Settling himself upon his mat, he turned toward the hallway. She’d come out here any second, begging him to come with her. She’d try and tempt him with her party.

  He almost laughed when she swept into the room. She’d removed her clothes and was wearing her sheer nightrail.

  When she passed in front of the fire, he could see straight through it. A delicious ache spread through him at the sight. He cursed his body’s weakness and decided that maybe he would have to use a little bit of willpower. Just a bit. Turning to his side, he watched her retrieve two cups from her pantry. He frowned when she left again.

  The image of her slender legs, silhouetted by the fire, burst into his thoughts. He couldn’t quite dismiss the heat throbbing within him. Removing his breeches, he yanked the sheet up under his chin. Legs or no legs, he wasn’t going to join her in that bedroom.

  Her breasts. He’d seen her breasts too, his traitorous memory reminded him. How firm yet soft they’d looked beneath that creamy nothing of a gown.

  Breasts and legs. No reason to attend her party. He wouldn’t go to her bedroom. He closed his eyes.

  They flew open when he heard her bare feet skim across the floor. He sucked in his breath.

  Her nightgown was not on her. Dios mio, she was wearing nothing but her gorgeous skin! He watched in total, sanity-robbing wonder as she promenaded around the roo
m. Her incredible hair fell in sumptuous waves about her, and as she moved, it parted to reveal glimpses of the ivory splendor of her body.

  He tried to tell her that one of the children might come out and see her. But what the hell had become of his voice? He attempted to swallow instead. His throat wouldn’t work either.

  Only his eyes seemed to function. He couldn’t take them off her despite all his heroic efforts to do so.

  “I forgot the candles,” she said. “A midnight party just wouldn’t be complete without candlelight.” She got two of them and giggled as she left, her hair brushing the backs of her firm calves.

  Sterling’s eyes stung with the need to blink, but they stayed open until she was out of view. Then, with a force that made his lids ache, they shut.

  Ha! he exclaimed to himself. Morning would come, and she’d still be in her room waiting with her whiskey, berries, and candles, he vowed. He would resist her little game! Did she really believe he’d snap at the bait? She knew nothing about seduction, dammit! Parading around the room in nothing but her hair...that was too obvious. Her intentions had been much, much too apparent.

  Seduction was like an empty white canvas, he instructed her mental image. You chose a small, delicate brush and dabbed gently. And your touch had to be feather-light, almost unfelt. Indeed you had to give the impression that you weren’t really touching the canvas at all. You used soft, almost invisible colors at first, allowing them to mingle and blend into each other until it was impossible to tell where one hue began and the other ended. Only then could you graduate to a fuller brush; only then should you change to bolder colors, heavier strokes. But you still had to save your best brush, your most vivid and unforgettable paint color, for last—for the final touch, the one that made the painting undeniably, unmistakably yours.

  Yes, that was seduction. Slow, easy, barely noticeable until it was too late to stop, until resisting was impossible. He knew that, had had years of developing the technique that never failed.

  But Chimera...she hadn’t even bothered with brushes. She’d taken a bucket of the boldest paint she could find and simply splashed it onto the canvas. She knew nothing of the art. Silly girl. Poor, ignorant little wench.

  A white canvas and a wild splatter of the paint.

  Her white body and a savage splash of her jet-black hair.

  Seduction in every sense of the word: bold, daring, irresistible. His breathing quickened.

  He heard her call softly to him. His heart embraced her voice; his mind told him to ignore it. He saw a very faint light coming from her room. His heart knew it to be the lighted candles; his mind saw it only as something from a woman’s bag of tricks. Cinnamon fire. His mind could not remember the scent, but his heart had never forgotten and summoned the memory of the pungent fragrance for him.

  He refocused on the light coming from her bedroom. Chimera was in there waiting for him. If he went, she’d smile at him. Her smile would make his stomach pitch, as it always did. She’d tell him something silly he wouldn’t understand, but it wouldn’t matter. It never did. She’d look at him with those eyes...those sparkling eyes would tantalize him. They always did.

  Dios mio, she worked such a different kind of magic on him. She was so pure, so sweet. Like a spring, she fairly bubbled with happy sounds, pretty sparkles. She refreshed and cleansed, and how he thirsted for her. How he longed to drink of her special magic, to feel it pour over him.

  He sat up and ran his fingers through his hair. If he went to her tonight...if he took what she offered, what could he give her in return? What did he have to give her?

  Restless, he stood and stared at the wall ahead. But out of the corner of his eye, he could still see the candlelight coming from her room. It seemed to beckon to him. A need deeper than he’d ever known began to rise. Slowly, but thoroughly, it caressed each nerve, every fiber, sweetly, insistently.

  Why couldn’t he resist her? Was her magic stronger than his? With a sigh of resignation and anticipation, he picked up the sheet, wrapped it around his waist, and started for her room.

  The trip seemed to last forever. Chimera. His longings and emotions tormented him with an ache that ravaged through him when he finally arrived at the threshold of her room.

  She was sitting in the middle of her feather bed, the lighted candles on the table beside her. Her hair, a thick and somber cloak, kept her body hidden from him, and it was all he could do not to rush in and force it to reveal the treasure it so successfully concealed.

  “Welcome to my party,” she said in a voice as thick and satiny as the heavy tresses that fell about her. “I put Venus in with the boys. This is not a party for children.”

  Sterling watched as she picked up a berry and brought it to her moist lips, pressing it lightly against them, but not opening her mouth to eat it. “I...accepted the invitation because—” he started, and then noticed how white her fingers were, contrasted with the dark, plump berry. “Well...when you walked into the great room, you were too obvious. I came to tell you that.”

  “How generous of you to share your knowledge with me.”

  “Yeah, well, you’ve shared yours with me many times. I thought it only right to do the same.” He held back the millions of declarations that demanded to be spoken. He wanted the magic of this night to unfold slowly, easily, and naturally so he could understand it as it happened, so he could cherish her forever, so the memory of it would give him succor when he was alone.

  He saw her outline her lips with the berry again and waited for her to consume it, but she continued to slide it across her mouth. The ebony fruit provided a stark contrast to her soft, rosy lips. He watched in wonder, in sheer fascination for her to open her mouth and put the berry inside. He clenched his jaw and swallowed hard. “And now that I’ve told you about your mistake—your—the transparency of your intentions—I saw right through your little scheme, and if you think I fell for it...I didn’t. You were just too—Walking out there with nothing on—Surely you didn’t expect for me to—Chimera, are you going to eat that thing, or are you just going to rub it over your face all night?”

  She smiled and smoothed the berry across her lower lip again. “I’ll eat it when the time is right. I’m enjoying it like this for now. I’m savoring the feel of it. It’s cool, smooth. It feels good against my lips. Now what were you saying about my intentions?”

  Sterling’s mouth was dry, and he couldn’t decide if it was because she was making him thirsty for the juicy berry or thirsty for her.

  He took a step into the room but stopped abruptly when her pink tongue came darting out to flick across the blackberry. It happened so quickly, he wondered if he’d seen it at all.

  He suddenly wanted that berry, wanted its sweet juices flowing throughout his mouth. And he wanted her, too, to taste. In fact, he could barely wait. He took another step closer to her.

  She bit into the fruit. A drop of dark juice appeared on her lip, stayed there a second, and then trickled to her chin. Sterling was filled with a compulsion to tick it off, to sample its tart flavor and relish the sweet taste of her too.

  Instead he watched, mesmerized, as she reached toward her bedside table and dipped a pale finger into the dark amber liquid he knew was whiskey. Withdrawing her finger, she placed it upon her lips, as she had with the berry, and painted her mouth with the potent fluid. She closed her eyes and let her tongue slip out to clean the whiskey from her lips.

  Sterling was spellbound by the berry, the whiskey, the beauty who sat sampling both. His blood seemed to be a river of desire. “This,” he whispered, and had to clear his throat before he could continue, “is all wrong.” He cursed the uncertainty in his voice. What the hell was wrong with him? She’d done nothing but rub her face with a berry and slop whiskey on her mouth, and he was acting as if he’d been rendered senseless.

  “Chimera,” he said with mock sternness, “think of a canvas. Think of—”

  “A canvas?” She lay back, her hair falling to her sides, her breasts
completely revealed to him. She allowed him one momentary glimpse of the dark triangle at the apex of her thighs and then raised her knees, thus covering herself from him again. “What about a canvas, Sterling?”

  “What?” He watched her pick up another berry and drop it into her mouth, his gaze riveted to the smooth motion of her white throat as she swallowed it.

  “Canvas,” she repeated, licking her lips slowly, lightly. “Have you forgotten what you were going to say?”

  “Forgotten?” He took another step toward the bed. “No, I haven’t forgotten. You’re supposed to use brushes and paints. Some pale, others bold. You,” he said, watching her dip a finger into the whiskey again, “use the bold and don’t bother with the subtle. That’s no way to paint.”

  “No?” She let a drop of whiskey splash onto her outstretched tongue. “All right. I’ll try to remember pale and subtle is better than bold and obvious. Is that what you’re trying to teach me, Sterling?”

  Her legs, he saw, were slowly—so slowly the wait was agonizing—sliding down to the mattress. Her dark, soft femininity was again his for the viewing. The wanting.

  “Yes, try to remember,” he said, his voice raw with the emotion that her beauty, her absolute sensuality invoked. “Subtle is better than bold.”

  She licked the whiskey from her finger, her tongue flicking from her lower knuckle to the tip of her nail. “Was there something else you wanted to explain, wanted to do? Why are you talking about a canvas and paints? What do those things have to do with my party?”

  Her voice, soft but so heavy with suggestion...Sterling couldn’t keep from answering her in kind. “They have everything to do with your party,” he told her, his voice almost a whisper. “You’ve been trying to seduce me tonight.”

  “And have I succeeded?” Her eyes smoldered with the deep, rich knowledge that she had, indeed, succeeded.