Waiting For The Moon Part 22

"What I need," he replied, "is a drink." "Ah, yes. Johann promised you would teach me of the drink."

"You will not drink, Selena. Ever." "Why not?"

"Men drink. Ladies do not." She appeared to think about that. "The b.r.e.a.s.t.s make it impossible?"

He couldn't have heard her correctly. "What?" "Johann explained to me that there was a difference between men and women. Women have b.r.e.a.s.t.s and unmentionables and men have-"

"Yes, I know what men have, and the anatomical differences are unimportant when it comes to drinking."

"Then why can I not drink?" He rolled his eyes. "Because I said so." "Johann always gives me reasons for everything. He said that that is how I learn." "Johann is an idiot." "Oh, no. He is a genius."

Ian took Selena's hand and led her out of the forest. He said nothing more about drinking, or Johann, or reasons for anything. It was safer that way.

Chapter Fifteen.

Somewhere, a wildcat screamed. The guttural, violent cry vibrated in the air, distant and muted by the closed windows.

In the parlor, Ian poured himself another drink, stiffer than the last. Absently he twirled the heavy crystal gla.s.s, watching the amber and red highlights of the scotch. The sweet, smoothing scent of the alcohol wafted up to his nostrils.

He turned from the sideboard and walked across the room, the sound of his footsteps lost in the thick Aubus-son carpet. He couldn't stop thinking about today, about Selena. He felt . . . changed by what had happened today, by how he'd felt when he looked into her eyes and heard her throaty laugh. He'd always been so d.a.m.ned frightened of imperfection, but she defied all definition of normal. Suddenly, compared to her, normal seemed boring, common.

He'd understood at last Johann's bit with the broken gla.s.s.

He heard the ferocious yowl of the wildcat again and walked to the window, peering out. The yard was sheathed in darkness. Towering black trees cl.u.s.tered around the blue-gray lawn. High overhead lurked a silvery comma of moonlight.

Something caught his eye. A whisper of movement 185

186.

where there should be no movement, a flash of white in the darkness.

Frowning, he leaned closer.

It was a woman in a nightdress. He saw her for a split second, then she disappeared in the darkness of the trees.

The wildcat screamed.

"Jesus Christ!" Ian dropped the half-empty gla.s.s of scotch and raced outside, running down the steps and across the thick carpet of gra.s.s.

He skidded to a stop at the edge of the woods, trying desperately to see into the shadowy darkness. But it was black, so black.

"h.e.l.lo, sweet thing," said a throaty, feminine voice. "You can come out."

Overhead, a cloud skudded past the slivered moon.

He saw Selena. She stood about twenty feet in front of him, sideways on the narrow dirt trail, her hand outstretched. Her white lawn nightdress fluttered against her b.r.e.a.s.t.s and ankles. With her wavy hair rippling down her back, her profile bathed in moonlight, her nightdress aglow, she looked like Aphrodite come to life.

The bushes in front of her rustled. He heard the low, even breathing of the cat.

For a split second, Ian was so terrified, he couldn't breathe. His heart hammered in his chest, sweat broke out on his forehead.

"Selena." He whispered her name, unable to hear his own voice above the pounding of his heart.

She turned, straightened, and gave him a bright smile. "Ian! How-"

"Shhh." He surged forward. "Don't move."

A frown creased her brow. "I do not u-"

"Hush," he said sharply. Slowly, achingly aware of every step, he moved toward her. The twenty feet seemed to stretch into a mile, then two.

Finally he reached her, took hold of her hand.

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"Your hand is wet-"

He clamped a hand over her mouth and yanked her close, slipping an arm around her waist. The bushes rustled again. Then came a low, warning growl.

Step by cautious, breathless step, they backed out of the forest. The cat followed them, the leaves rustling with every step.

Ian saw a flash of gold eyes. Branches snapped. Leaves parted with a rustling hiss.

He backed up another step, felt the soft cushion of the lawn beneath his heel. Swallowing hard, he kept moving backward, his eyes trained on the movement in the bushes.

The gra.s.s ended at last. He felt the crunching of small stones beneath his feet. They were on the path. It was now or never.

He swept Selena into his arms and turned, racing up the steps. The tired old boards squeaked and banged under his feet.

The cat screamed.

Ian didn't look back. He ran up the steps and into the house, slamming the door shut behind him. Selena slid out of his arms.

He spun to face her, so angry he was shaking. "What in the h.e.l.l were you thinking?"

She stood still, her cheeks stained a bright pink, her untamed hair a wavy reddish brown halo around her face. The last lingering trace of a smile clung to her lips. "Thinking?"

The anger left him in a rush.

She hadn't thought at all. That was the problem. She'd heard or seen something that captured her attention, and she'd followed it, a curious Alice in Wonderland.

She had no more idea of the risk she'd faced than a

five-year-old would.

188.

Her smile trembled. "Maeve said cats are nice to pet. Soft."

Ian released a heavy sigh. It was pointless to be angry, and he wasn't really angry anymore. She'd scared him. He'd watched her there, in the forest, a wraithlike ray of moonlight against the darkness, with her pale, slim hand offered in greeting to a wild animal, and something inside him had snapped.

He walked toward her, took her small hand in his and led her to the settee. They sat down, and she gave him a look of such eager innocence that he couldn't help smiling. She was so pathetically anxious to please him. How could he make her understand?

"Selena, the world can be a very dangerous place." She frowned. "But the kitty-" "It wasn't a kitty. It was full-grown wildcat, and it could have killed you. Do you understand?"

She glanced back at the window. Realization dawned slowly. Her eyes widened. "The cat would hurt me ... just for a pet to it?"

He hated to disillusion and frighten her, but he had no choice. She had to learn to protect herself. "You can't go outside in the dark alone, Selena. No more." She pulled her gaze away from the window and frowned up at him. "I always go out at night. I do not need the sleep that others do." "Not anymore."

She considered that. Finally she shook her head. 'This is not a rule I shall follow."

Ian was stunned. He straightened, looked down at her sternly. "You will not go out at night." She wet her lips. "Yes I shall." Ian stared at her. Now what did he do? He'd given her a direct order, in his most authoritarian voice, and this slip of a woman who thought he'd hung the moon had said no. Quietly.

Simply. No. "Selena, this is for your own good."

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She nodded. "Oh, I am most sure of that. But I believe I must seek my own good, also. Too."

Ian didn't know what to do or say, how to enforce a rule that any normal adult would simply accept.

Everyone followed his orders.

Except Selena.

"Fine," he said at last, "you may not go out alone."

She pondered this.

He found himself leaning forward, waiting.

"No. I cannot make this promise."

"No? Why not?"

She gave him a quick smile and raised her hands in a gesture of helplessness. "Sometimes the moon calls to me."

"What do you mean?"

"Have you ever seen it? Moonlight on the beach? It is glorious. The waves are silver and black and blue and alive. Sometimes I open the window at night and smell the salty air and I am ... powerl.u.s.t not to follow the moon."

He saw the wonder in her eyes, heard it in the throaty catch of her voice, and he was lost. He could not be the one to take wonderland from bis innocent Alice. All he could do was be beside her, watch her, protect her.

She'd won.

He sighed. "Well, you've had a big night. Time to get back to bed."

She gave him a bright smile. "It was a grand adventure. Thank you for rescue me from the killing wildcat"

He fought a smile. "You're welcome."

Grinning, she jumped to her feet and headed for the door. As she reached for the bra.s.s handle, she stopped and turned around. "I am attaining a party tomorrow with Maeve. You would like to join us?"

"Party?"

"Tea and biscuits. It shall be at three o'clock in my secret place in the forest."

He couldn't deny her. "Fine, Selena. I'll be there."

190.

She gave him another dazzling smile and skipped from the room, leaving the door wide open behind her.

He listened to the quiet patter of her bare feet on the wooden stairs and smiled. Then he laughed softly.

d.a.m.ned if little miss innocent didn't have an iron will.

Ian stood at the edge of the forest, listening. Muted strains of conversation floated through the emerald thicket. Every now and again, a woman laughed.

He felt like a fool for standing here, motionless, and yet he couldn't quite force himself to take another step. Tea with his mother. What a nightmare this could be. Steeling himself, he forged ahead, following the twisting, leaf- and needle-strewn path through the tall, moss-furred trees. Finally he veered to the right and stepped over the fallen logs and mushrooms and ferns to reach Selena's hideout. What he saw stopped him dead again. Selena and Maeve were seated at a small, oval table. A bright patchwork quilt covered the table and draped to the dirty ground, puddling in folds of vibrant color. Several of his father's hunting trophies sat cl.u.s.tered on rocks and stumps between the two women. An eerily wide-eyed white owl leaned against a badger, his face frozen in a vicious snarl, his waxen paws poised in midair. Several stuffed peac.o.c.ks huddled on a flat slab of granite, their blinkless gla.s.s eyes focused on the lopsided cake in the center of the table. Red apples and cut flowers were scattered around the purple cake. Purple.

Selena smiled at Ian and clapped her hands. "He came, Maeve. Look, it is Ian."

Maeve's head turned slowly toward him. She gave him a blank look that made his stomach tighten. Then, wordlessly, she turned back to the stuffed coyote in her lap and pretended to feed him cake. Ian groaned. Oh, Jesus . . .

191.

Selena patted the stump next to her. "I saved you a seat. Come." Reluctantly he sat down beside her.

Selena made a great show of pouring him a cup of tea and cutting him a slice of cake.

He balanced the tiny, delicate china cup on his knees and stared at the cold amber liquid.

Maeve waved a hand in the air. "Oh, put it anywhere. My husband loves bread pudding."