“I'm on my way.” Suzanna waited until Megan and Nate were out of earshot before she turned to her sisters. “What do you think?”
Amanda smiled smugly. “I think it's working perfectly.”
“I have to agree.” C.C. settled Ethan comfortably in his crib. “I thought Lilah had lost her mind when she came up with the idea of getting those two together.”
Lilah yawned, sighed. “I'm never wrong.” Then her eyes lit. “I bet we can see them from the window.”
“Spy on them?” Amanda arched her brows. “Good idea,” she said, and darted to the window.
They were outlined in the moonlight that sprinkled the lawn. “You're complicating things, Nathaniel.”
“Simplifying,” he corrected. “Nothing simpler than a walk in the moonlight.”
“That's not where you expect all this to end.”
“Nope. But we're still moving at your pace, Meg.” He brought her hand to his lips, kissed it absently, when they began the climb. “I seem to have this need to be around you. It's the damnedest thing. Can't shake it. So I figure, why try? Why not just roll with it?”
“I'm not a simple woman.” She wished she could be, just for tonight, just for an hour in the starlight. “I have baggage and resentments and insecurities I didn't even realize were there until I met you. I'm not going to let myself be hurt again.”
“No one's going to hurt you.” In a subtle gesture of protection, he slipped an arm around her and looked up at the sky. “Look how big the moon is tonight. Just hanging there. You can see Venus, and the little star that dogs her. There's Orion.” He lifted her hand, tracing the sky with it as he had once traced his charts. “And the Twins. See?”
“Yes.” She watched their joined hands connect stars while the breeze lifted lovingly off the water and stirred the flowers that grew wild in the rock.
Romantic, mysterious, Coco had said. Yes, he was, and Megan realized she was much more susceptible to both than she would have believed.
For she was here, wasn't she, standing on a cliff with a seafaring man whose callused hand held hers, whose voice helped her see the pictures painted by the stars.
His body was warm and solid against hers. And her blood was pumping fast and free in her veins.
Alive. The wind and the sea and the man made her feel so alive.
And perhaps there was something more—those ghosts of the Calhouns'. The cliffs seemed to invite spirits to walk, the air filled with contentment. And the glow of love that had outlasted time.
“I shouldn't be here like this.” But she didn't move away, not even when his lips brushed over her hair.
“Listen,” he murmured. “Close your eyes and listen, and you can hear the stars breathing.”
She obeyed, and listened to the whisper and throb of the air. And of her own heart. “Why do you make me feel this way?”
“I don't have an answer. Not everything adds up neat, Meg.” Because he had a great need to see her face, he turned her gently. “Not everything has to.” And kissed her. His lips skimmed hers, journeyed up to her temple, over her brow and down. “How's the headache?”
“It's gone. Nearly.”
“No. Keep your eyes closed.” His lips traced over them, soft as air, before trailing slowly over her face. “Kiss me back, will you?”
How could she not, when his mouth was so tempting on hers? With a small sound of surrender, she let her heart lead. Just for tonight, she promised herself. Just for a moment.
That slow, melting change almost undid him. She went pliant in his arms, those hesitant lips heating, parting, offering. It took all his willpower not to drag her against him and plunder.
She wouldn't resist. Perhaps he'd known that there would be enough magic on those cliffs to bewitch them both, to seduce her into surrender—and to remind him to take care.
“I want you, Megan.” He took his lips down her throat, up over her jaw. “I want you so much it's got me tied in knots.”
“I know. I wish...” She pressed her face to his shoulder. “I'm not playing games, Nathaniel.”
“I know.” He stroked a hand down her hair. “It would be easier if you were, because I know all the rules.” Cupping her face, he lifted it. “And how to break them.” He sighed, kissed her again, lightly. “They make it damn hard for me, those eyes of yours.” He stepped back. “I'd better take you in.”
“Nathaniel.” She laid a hand on his chest. “You're the first man who's made me...who I've wanted to be with since Kevin was born.”
Something flashed in his eyes, wild, dangerous, before he banked it. “Do you think it makes it easier on me, knowing that?” He would have laughed, if he hadn't felt so much like exploding. “Megan, you're killing me.” But he swung an arm around her shoulders and led her down the cliff path.
“I don't know how to handle this,” she said under her breath. “I haven't had to handle anything like this before.”
“Keep it up,” he warned, “and you're over my shoulder, shanghaied straight to bed. Mine.”
The image gave her a quick thrill, and a guilty one. “I'm just trying to be honest.”
“Try lying,” he said with a grimace. “Make it easier on me.”
“I'm a lousy liar.” She slanted a look at him. Wasn't it interesting, she mused, that for once he was the one at a disadvantage? “It doesn't seem logical that it would bother you to know what I'm feeling.”
“I'm having a lot of trouble dealing with what I'm feeling.” He took a long, steadying breath. “And I'm not feeling logical.” Nor, he thought ruefully, would he sleep tonight. “ 'Desire hath no rest.'“
“What?”
“Robert Burton. Nothing.”
They walked toward the lights of The Towers. The shouting reached them before they crossed the lawn.
“Coco,” Megan said.
“Dutch.” Taking firm hold of Megan's hand, Nathaniel quickened his pace. “You're insulting and obnoxious,” Coco snapped at Dutch, her chin up, her hands planted on her hips.
His massive arms were folded across his barrel of a chest. “I saw what I saw, said what I said.”
“I was not draped all over Trenton like a... a...”
“Barnacle,” Dutch said with relish. “Like a barnacle on the hull of a fancy yacht.”
“We happen to have been dancing.”
“Ha! That's what you call it. We got another name for it. Where I come from, we call it—”
“Dutch!” Nathaniel cut off the undoubtedly crude description.
“There.” Mortified, Coco smoothed down her dress. “You've made a scene.”
“You were the one making a scene, with that smooth-skinned rich boy. Flaunting yourself.”
“F-f-flaunting.” Enraged, she drew herself up to her full, and considerable, height. “I have never flaunted in my life. You, sir, are despicable.”
“I'll show you despicable, lady.”
“Cut it out.” Prepared for fists to fly, Nathaniel stepped between them. “Dutch, what the hell's wrong with you? Are you drunk?”
“A nip or two of rum never rattled my brain.” He glared over Nathaniel's shoulder at Coco. “It's her that's acting snockered. Out of my way, boy, I've got a thing or two left to say.”
“You've finished,” Nathaniel corrected.
“Out of his way.” All eyes turned to Coco. She was flushed, bright-eyed, and regal as a duchess. “I prefer to handle this matter myself.”
Megan tugged gently on her arm. “Coco, don't you think you should go inside?”
“I do not.” She caught herself and added a friendly pat. “Now, dear, you and Nate run along. Mr. Van Horne and I prefer to handle this privately.”
“But—”
“Nathaniel,” Coco said, interrupting her, “take Megan inside now.” “Yes, ma'am.”