Kathleen E. Woodiwiss(117)

“Ruark, control yourself,” she admonished and tried to sound stern. “I would have this out once and for all.”

“Oh, we will have it out, madam,” he assured her and grasped the edge of the table, moving it aside and proving it no obstacle to his advance.

The wall halted Shanna’s retreat, and she glanced around frantically. To her left was the bed. Certainly no haven there. To her right, screened by the silken draperies, were the open doors to her balcony.

Ruark was as quick, and his hand caught the top of the towel, then the curtains were flung into his face. When the drapes stilled, he found himself holding what he had caught, the empty towel. He almost gloated as he mused on Shanna’s consternation at being trapped naked on the open balcony. A small, furtive movement at the far end of the draperies caught his eye, and he cautiously took a place there to capture her should she try to reenter. He had no more than settled in his stance when the silk billowed heavily where he had stood only a moment before. With a quick flash of bare skin Shanna ran in, raced to the bed, threw herself upon it, rolled, and came to her feet on the far side with the gown in her hand. She thrust her arms high, letting the garment fall down over her head and with a quick wiggle slipped her arms free again. The shortened gown caught on her bosom, and she snatched it down, letting it fall. But its flight downward was halted, for Ruark’s hands already rested on her waist. He pressed her naked hips against him, letting her feel the rising fullness of his manhood against her.

Of a sudden their playfulness was gone. Their eyes were locked together, and their pulses quickened. Ruark’s head lowered as her arms came around his neck, and their lips joined their bodies in a mutual, crushing embrace that forged them together and plucked them as one into a private world of consuming passion. Time stood still, and the moment seemed to drag blissfully on—until it shattered like a crystal goblet with a sudden knocking at her chamber door.

“Shanna?” Orlan Trahern’s question came softly. “Are you awake, child?”

Her voice was thick and husky with what might have been sleep as she replied, snatching away from Ruark, “One moment please, papa.”

Shanna cast her eyes wildly about the room as if seeking some escape from this predicament. Ruark rested his hand upon her shoulder and with a finger to his lips, bid her to silence. He pointed to the bed, and with his hand to her rump pushed her toward it. When Shanna turned to stare at him again, he was gone. Like a soundless rush of wind he had left the room. The drapes stilled after his passing, and Shanna settled herself upon the bed, pulling the covers high up under her chin.

“Come in, papa,” she called.

Shanna waited, listening to the click of the latch and her father’s steps in the outer sitting room. Then in horror she realized Ruark’s hat and shirt were still on the foot of her bed. Quickly she snatched them beneath the sheets and when the squire entered the bedchamber, Shanna had retrieved the covers under her chin.

“Good evening, child.” He tried to soften his usually gruff voice. “I trust I have not disturbed you unduly.”

“No, papa.” She gave a trembling yawn and stated truthfully. “I was not really asleep.”

The elder Trahern patted the edge of the bed then lowered his bulk upon it as Shanna moved over, making room for him to sit. The squire plucked a grape from a bedside dish and chewed on it for a thoughtful moment.

“You seem to enjoy being home again,” he half questioned almost hesitantly.

“Most surely, papa,” Shanna reassured him with a wide smile. For the present she seemed on safe ground. “I’m afraid that, like you. I was never meant to prance and posture in the courts, and I value the gentler ways and freedom of this island much more than pomp and splendor.”

Orlan’s chest rumbled with his version of a chuckle, and he reached out a huge paw to cover her dainty hand. “I never could stand those milk-white maids with their mincing ways, and like your mother you are more beautiful with the color of the sun on your cheek and in your hair. Indeed, in my eyes you grow more lovely with each passing day. And I have found to my surprise that you have a mind and a will of your own. But there is that which I cannot explain. There is almost a wifely manner about you lately.”

Shanna blushed and lowered her eyes, suddenly afraid that he might guess the truth. What had Ruark done to her that even her father could see the difference? To herself she was the same as she had always been, and it came as something of a shock that anyone would see her changed.

“Do not worry, papa.” Shanna wondered if Ruark had left the balcony or still lingered there. “ ‘Tis quite unlikely that my husband could have affected me much in our brief days together.”