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Beneath a Rising Moon Page 28

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  Duncan paced the confines of the emergency waiting

  room. He itched to be a part of the posse Savannah was

  arranging to go after Betise and Iyona, but his first priority

  was Neva and her safety. But once he had her tucked

  securely away, he was going after the two bitches. No

  matter how forcefully Savannah had ordered him away.

  And yet even as he paced he knew the anger that

  burned him was not so much the need for revenge, but

  rather annoyance at Neva’s continuing insistence that this

  was nothing more than a moon dance. Because of who he

  was. Because of what he’d done. And because of her

  parents.

  His mother had once told him that fate had a way of

  catching up and making you pay. He’d thought jail time

  had been his punishment, but this was far worse than

  anything he’d faced in the few days he’d spent in jail. He’d

  once been sure there was never going to be anyone out

  there for him. To actually find her and hold her, and yet

  be faced with the knowledge that she might never admit

  to what lay between them, was surely a punishment that

  far outweighed any of the crimes of his past.

  But as he’d told Savannah, the past was something

  he could do nothing about—beyond regret it. It had shaped

  him, had helped make him what he was today, but it

  wasn’t who he was today. Surely time would make Neva

  see that. If she’d give him time. Right now, he doubted

  she would.

  Footsteps echoed down the hall. He looked up and

  saw a nurse wheeling Neva towards him. Her face was

  pale and she looked tired, but the smile that touched her

  full lips made his blood surge.

  “The doctor says I have to take it easy with my arm for

  the next day or so.” Her green eyes twinkled mischievously.

  “Looks like you’re going to have to do all the work tonight.”

  He fell into step beside the wheelchair as they headed

  toward the exit. “I was under the impression I was doing

  all the work anyway.”

  A slight blush crept through her cheeks, and she cast

  a sideways glance at the nurse, who was grinning with

  delight. But if Neva was at all worried about what the

  nurse might be thinking, her next words belied it.

  “And who approached whom to start with?”

  “Ah yes,” he said softly, his gaze meeting hers. “An

  amazing experience I shall never forget.”

  The bloom of heat in her cheeks grew. But so did her

  smile. “Well, there you go. Having done all the hard work

  to begin with, I deserve to sit back and enjoy it for a while.”

  “Then I shall endeavor to see that you do.” He swung

  her out of the wheelchair and into his arms, kissing her

  briefly but passionately before glancing at the nurse.

  “Thanks.”

  Still smiling, the nurse nodded and retreated back

  inside. He glanced down at Neva. “Ready?”

  “That depends on what I’m supposed to be ready for.”

  Her voice was low and sexy as hell, and heat shot to

  his groin. She smelled so good, so damn desirable, it was

  all he could do not to take her right there and then.

  He forced his feet to move down the pavement. “To go

  home, witch.”

  “If that’s all you’re offering, then I guess so.”

  He couldn’t help smiling. In a couple of days she’d

  gone from a reticent lover to an all too willing participant.

  She was amazing. Totally amazing. “Let’s get out of the

  snow first.”

  “I’ve never done it in the snow,” she said thoughtfully.

  She was running her fingers up and down his arms, a

  gentle caress that burned deep.

  And making it damn hard to walk. “It’s cold.”

  “But romantic.”

  Her breath was warm and sweet against his neck, and

  the smell of her arousal stirred his senses and made him

  hunger. Half a block had never seemed so far away.

  “Hypothermia is never romantic.”

  She raised an eyebrow, eyes glimmering with green

  fire in the darkness. “You only get hypothermia if you’re

  out in the cold a long time.”

  “I plan for it to be a long time.”

  “With the moon rising high and the urgency I feel

  beating through your skin? Doubtful.” She paused and

  looked around. “This is not the way to my house.”

  “No, it’s the way to mine.” Luckily, the lodge was down

  the other end of the street from the hospital, otherwise

  he’d be calling a cab. She might want to make love in the

  snow, but right now she was beginning to shiver.

  She frowned. “I don’t want to go to the mansion.”

  “Good, because we’re not going there.”

  Her surprise rippled around him. “You own a house

  here in Ripple Creek?”

  “Sort of.”

  “What’s ‘sort of’ supposed to mean?”

  “That I own it, but it’s not a house.”

  She gave him a long look that was filled with

  annoyance. “Then what is it?”

  “It’s Snowflake Lodge. My mother left it to me when

  she died.” And he’d already called ahead to ensure one of

  the cabins was open and ready for them.

  “Really? I thought the Harpers owned it.”

  “They manage it on my behalf. I doubt Betise and Iyona

  would think to look there, as it’s one of the smaller lodges

  and definitely middle range.”

  “And the Sinclairs are well-known for their deluxe

  tastes.”

  “Exactly. You can stay there until I get this all sorted

  out.”

  Fear touched her eyes, and the warm caress of her

  fingers against his skin stopped. “You keep saying I rather

  than we. You’re going after them, aren’t you?”

  “Yes. They have to be stopped.”

  “Savannah and the rangers will stop them.”

  “I intend to be there as backup.” Not that he distrusted

  the abilities of Savannah’s team. He just suspected Betise

  and Iyona would not be so easily caught. Not if they’d

  been planning all this for a long time.

  He walked down the lodge’s driveway, past the main

  lobby entrance and through the terraced gardens. The

  cabin they’d been assigned was at the rear of the property

  and extremely private.

  “You’re leaving once they’re caught, aren’t you?”

  He hesitated. “For a while.”

  “So this could be our last night?”

  He didn’t answer. Didn’t dare, lest he blurt out exactly

  what he was feeling. She wouldn’t believe it. Not until

  she’d reached deep inside and discovered the truth for

  herself.

  He placed her gently on her feet then opened the door

  and had a quick look inside to ensure all was ready. The

  room was warm, lit by the golden light of the fire burning

  in the huge stone fireplace. Two sofas and a couple of

  well-padded chairs corralled the fire, and on the other

  side of the room, there was a TV and a bar. The bedrooms

  and bathroom were upstairs. It wasn’t much, but it was

  comfo
rtable.

  “After you, my lady,” he said, turning around.

  Only to discover she’d stripped. For one brief second,

  he allowed himself the pleasure of simply looking at her,

  letting his gaze travel down the long length of her neck,

  taking in her small but perfectly formed breasts, watching

  their peaks harden with desire. Her breathing was quick

  and sharp, every intake seeming to shudder through her

  entire body. Her desire stung the air, a rich scent that

  called to the wildness in him and made him harder than

  he’d ever thought possible.

  But the full moon was too close, and if he started loving

  her, he might not want to stop. And she was injured, and

  he had villains to catch.

  “Neva—”

  “No.” She stepped into his arms, her words hot and

  breathy against his lips. “Just dance with me. Right here,

  right now.”

  He took a deep breath and puffed it out. “It’s better

  that we don’t—”

  “Don’t what?” she murmured saucily, her fingers cool

  against his chest as she slipped her hands under his

  sweater.

  He pulled her hands firmly away. “You need to rest.”

  “I need to dance.” Her gaze searched his, eyes gleaming

  in the darkness. “Are you going to take me up on the offer,

  or shall I go find someone who will?”

  Even a saint would not be able to resist such an

  invitation—and he was a long way from sainthood. He

  crushed her close, his mouth finding hers almost savagely.

  She wrapped her arms around his neck, holding him tight,

  matching his urgency. Desire shimmered between them,

  but even a heat so fierce was not enough to stop her

  shivering. He picked her up and carried her inside, kicking

  the door shut before making his way across to the sofa

  nearest the fire. Once he’d placed her on her feet again he

  stepped back and quickly stripped. The musky scent of

  her desire grew stronger, fueling the need already raging

  through his veins. But rather than pulling her close and

  claiming her as he ached to do, he reached out, running

  his hand down her neck. She trembled, her pulse galloping

  beneath his fingertips.

  “I don’t want to dance,” he said softly.

  Her gaze swept down his body, and a smile teased her

  kiss-swollen lips. “Well, certain parts of your body are

  belying that statement.”

  “That’s not what I mean. I want to make love to you.”

  Confusion flickered through her bright eyes. “They’re

  the same thing.”

  “No. Dancing is for pleasure. Making love is something

  more.” And he ached to show her what he dared not say.

  She ran her tongue across her lips. He had to resist

  the sudden urge to follow that moist trail with his mouth.

  “In what way?”

  Though her voice was calm, panic gleamed in her eyes.

  She understood all too well what he meant. He let his

  hand drift past her throat. Her already puckered nipples

  seemed to become harder, as if straining for his touch. “If

  you wish to discover the answer, you have to play the

  game.”

  He brushed his fingers across the top of her breasts,

  circling but not touching the dark centers. She took a

  deep, shuddery breath. “What game?”

  “Pretense.”

  “Which is?”

  “Let’s pretend we are lovers. Let’s pretend it’s the night

  before the full moon, and we are about to promise our

  souls to each other.”

  She studied him for several heartbeats, her expression

  a mix of confusion and alarm. “Why?”

  “Because I’ve never had a true lover, just dancers.”

  She hesitated. “I’m not sure this a game I can play.”

  “Why not?” He gently plucked one nipple.

  Goose bumps fled across her skin, and her pupils

  dilated, almost swallowing the new-leaf green of her irises.

  “Because I don’t see the point of it.”

  He shifted his touch to her other breast, this time

  rolling the firm nub between his fingertips. “It’s not the

  night of promising, Neva. No harm can come from

  pretending.”

  “Can you be sure? The magic might lie in the ritual

  itself rather than the night.”

  “Have you ever heard of the ritual being performed on

  any other night but the one before the full moon?”

  “No, but—”

  “No buts. Just yes or no.”

  Neva took another deep breath. His gentle touch

  shuddered through every fiber of her being, and though

  she wanted him with a fierceness that was almost painful,

  she feared to pretend what lay between them was anything

  more than just a dance. Because such pretense might

  lead to the examination of feelings she’d managed to avoid

  up until now. “What if I say no?”

  “Then you go to bed and rest as the doctor ordered.”

  “That’s sexual blackmail.”

  “No, that’s honesty. This one time, I want more than

  just a dance.”

  She closed her eyes. It was a risk. She knew in her

  heart it was a risk because no one truly knew any more if

  the magic of promising was confined to the one night.

  And because, deep down, she knew her heart was already

  on the line, and this might tip it over the edge and down

  the hill toward heartbreak.

  But could she let him walk away tomorrow or the day

  after without knowing what it might be like to be truly

  loved by this man?

  He raised a hand, cupping her cheek. It felt like he

  was branding her skin for eternity. “Your answer?”

  No. “Yes.”

  He smiled, his dark eyes filled with a heat that caused

  a meltdown deep inside her. He caught her hand and

  tugged her onto the rug near the hearth. The thick fur

  pressed against her toes, and the warmth of the flames

  caressed her skin but seemed oddly cool compared to the

  fire burning inside and out.

  He pressed her fingers against his chest. The heat of

  his body and his warm, woody scent washed across her

  senses, stirring her in ways she’d never thought possible.

  And the wild beat of his heart under her fingertips only

  fueled her desire to greater heights.

  “Does my lady know what night it is?”

  His voice was little more than a stroke of sound, yet it

  seemed to sing through every part of her. She took a deep

  breath and released it slowly. His question was the start

  of the ritual. If she replied, if the magic could be raised on

  nights other than the one before the full moon, she could

  bind herself for eternity to a man who did not love her.

  Because once begun, there was no retreat. Not unless the

  participants were familiar with the paths of magic.

  But if she didn’t reply, if the magic couldn’t be raised

  on any other night, she’d miss the chance to know what it

  might be like to be the woman he loved enough to commit

  to.

  Pretense, he’d said, nothing more. She could pretend
/>
  she loved him. Pretend that he loved her. Even if it broke

  her heart.

  “It is the night before the full moon. The night of

  promises.” She briefly closed her eyes against the sudden

  sting of tears. Deep down, part of her wished that this

  was real. That the words were real. That he truly did love

  her.

  He stepped closer. Her breasts were pressed against

  his warm bare chest, and the heat of his erection scorched

  her stomach. “Or the night of destiny.”

  The air seemed to stir around them. Or was it merely

  his breath stroking her mouth with warmth?

  “You are my heart, my soul.” And knew even as she

  said the words that she shouldn’t have started this.

  Couldn’t pretend, because she did care, as much as she’d

  tried not to admit it.

  “I can’t do this,” she added. “Let’s just dance.”

  He didn’t hear her. Or maybe he chose not to hear

  her. “Kneel with me.”

  “We can’t do this.” Because she didn’t want to pretend

  when part of her ached so fiercely for it to be real.

  His eyes were black fires of determination that burned

  through her soul. “Kneel with me,” he repeated and tugged

  her down in front of him.

  “Duncan—”

  He stopped her with a kiss that was both ferocious

  and passionate. One that left her mind reeling and her

  body aching.

  “Dance with me,” he said, voice so husky, so damn

  sexy, chills ran across her skin. “This night and the rest

  of our nights, for as long as the divine light shines in the

  evening skies. For as long as we live beneath it.”

  The air seemed to thrum, to burn, at his words. Magic,

  or her imagination?

  “No,” she choked, trying to pull away.

  His touch slid past her hip to cup her rear, holding

  her in place, his grip gentle but firm. “Pretense,” he

  whispered, brushing a kiss across her lips. “That’s all it

  is.”

  This was more than pretense. Something was

  happening. Surely he could feel it. Surely the tingle in the

  air wasn’t just her imagination.

  He caught her chin, raising her gaze to his. His eyes

  were ebony pools she wanted to lose herself in forever.

  “I feel nothing more than desire. Want nothing more

  than to love you as you should be loved. Pretend with

  me.”

  She closed her eyes and shifted her stance. “Under