Kathleen E. Woodiwiss(80)

“Flattery, señora? Never in my life more serious have I been,” the man assured her warmly. Lifting a glass of champagne from the tray the servant held for him, Captain Morel presented it to her with a slight bow. “Señora, you make the glory of the heavens dim in comparison to your beauty.”

And so Shanna played. Her laughter rose with a sweet, seductive softness that entrapped men’s minds. She was gay and charming, but she limited much of her flirtations to the Spaniards, for they would soon be gone, and she would not be encumbered with unwanted attentions overly long. The dinner was served, and Ruark was placed beside her father at the far end of the table and well away from her. In a quiet moment after they returned to the drawing room, Shanna stood alone, and her gaze slowly swept the room. Pitney and her father had settled into chairs in a corner and were arguing over the chessboard they had left the night before. She saw Ralston nearby, alone as seemed his preference. The agent nodded in greeting as their gazes met, and Shanna coolly returned a smile. She paused to sip from her glass of Madeira. Then, with a suddenness that was startling, her eyes met Ruark’s. He stared across the shoulders of two men who were discussing some matter in front of him, and she realized he had been watching her for a long time. Now there was almost a naked hunger in his eyes as they burned into her. Though he voiced no words, she heard his thoughts as if he had shouted them across the room.

Lord! Shanna turned her back to him and drained her glass in a single breath. Her hand shook as she set the goblet on a nearby table. Suddenly the room was warm and stuffy, and she began to feel lightheaded. There were too many bodies pressing in too close to her. The mood of gaiety slipped away, and Shanna felt an urgent need to be alone for a moment, if only to compose her thoughts. The shock of that golden gaze across the room and the unguarded message it conveyed had stunned her to a point where her mind reeled in confusion. Her breasts tingled, and her loins ached, yet her mind withdrew in horror from the bold, unmistakable urging of her body.

It was as if she viewed herself from a distance. The beautiful woman, pale but calm, passed through the crowd, acknowledging greetings, and somehow made her way to a deserted corner of the veranda.

“Damn the bastard,” she raged silently. Her fists clenched tightly as she swayed against the railing and gasped for air. “He comes at me from a thousand directions at once. I crush him here, and he is thrice there! He is only a man! A man! A man!” Her fist thumped the balustrade with each repetition.

Trying to regain serenity, Shanna drew a deep breath and then another. Some measure of quiet returned to her, and she renewed her resolve to go back and enjoy herself in spite of him. Let him stand and gawk if he would.

She turned, once more reassured, took a step—then almost screamed.

He was there! Leaning calmly against a post and smiling at her. Every bit of the courage she had strived so hard to erect was shattered in an instant.

“Get away from me!” Shanna sobbed. “Let me alone!”

She pressed a hand across her lips to still their trembling and fled. She brushed past Jason at the door and flew up the stairs, never pausing or caring until she was safe behind her locked door.

Her bedchamber was hot, though she stripped and donned a light gown. She wiped beaded perspiration from her trembling upper lip and sat on the edge of her bed, trying to stem the shaking that had seized her body. An awareness persisted she could not thrust away. She knew what he wanted, and her own loins throbbed with her answering need.

The night grew strangely still. The sounds of the guests died away as the last of them took their leave. Shanna’s bedchamber was stifling and seemed to close in on her. Fretfully she rose from the bed, blowing out the candle beside it, and began to pace the dark, determined to think of anything but Ruark.

Attila! On his back! Riding as swift as the wind! Attila! A sharp piercing whistle! Ruark! Angrily Shanna shook her head and tried again.

The sea! Floating on its swells! Diving to watch the fish! Coming out on the beach! Soft, warm sand beneath her feet. A shadow on the cliffs! Ruark!

A ride with her father in the carriage! Ruark!

Her own breakfast table! A dinner! Ruark! Ruark! Ruark!

Shanna stood with her eyes clenched tightly, her fists pressed against her temples. Everywhere she turned it was Ruark!

But not here, not now. She was safe.

Shanna relaxed, heaving a sigh, and opened her eyes. She walked out onto the terrace outside her room. The wind had freshened, and heavy clouds flitted across the face of the moon. A wide halo shone about the silver disk, a sure sign of approaching rain. Leaning against the balustrade, she stared at the yard beneath, one tree at a time, watching until the fickle moon gave meager light to each. But alas, they were all barren. None bore the shape of a man crouched at its base.