The Horseman. Margaret Way

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СКАЧАТЬ smiling, the bouquet flew to her as though carried on guided wings. Because she made no move to catch it, it came to land on someone directly behind her who, with a swift movement of the hand, sent it back over Cecile’s bare shoulder and into the arms she hastily raised. Sandra’s bridal bouquet was much too precious to allow to fall to the ground.

      “Oh, good for you, Ceci!” Melinda, disappointed, declared.

      “Isn’t that sweet? You’ll be next, Ceci darling!” An elderly Moreland relative flashed her an arch smile.

      There were shouts of delight, exaggerated groans of disappointment. Stuart, who had been cheering the loudest threw his arms around her and kissed her mouth. “That settles it, Ceci. We are next!”

      Cecile kept her eyes fixed steadily on the beautiful waving bride on the balcony.

      She knew exactly who was behind her, it wasn’t her mind that told her. It was her body. She could feel him, feel his aura the warmth off his skin, the unique male scent of him that she inhaled into her nostrils. Jubilant at her side, Stuart got into a long, laughing exchange with another guest about where the bouquet had actually landed before being catapulted over Cecile’s shoulder. “All’s well that ends well!” he cried, and swooped to kiss Cecile again, reveling in the knowledge he was a much-envied man.

      She ought to turn around. She had to turn around. She managed to do so, her eyes locking on his. The graceful little remark she made sounded quite natural and perfectly composed. It was important she did not let him see how much he affected her. Of course he did know.

      She could weep for her own susceptibility. Especially now when she had given up thinking any man could evoke such a response. How could such things happen so fast? Nothing seemed real. Nothing was as it had been before. It was as simple and as momentous as that.

      WITH THE BRIDE AND GROOM GONE, the party kicked up several more notches. Moet flowed like the water from a great fountain. Inside the house, the older guests settled into comfortable armchairs and sofas, relishing the opportunity for a good long chat away from the boisterous young ones. Youth was so wearing. Outside the music from the band was so compulsively toe tapping it had couples everywhere up and dancing: on the brightly lit terrace and in the grounds where the trees had been decked with thousands and thousands of fairy lights, around the huge pool area where they risked getting splashed. There was a lot of hilarity, a lot of flirting, abandoned kisses in the scented darkness, holding hands. Everyone clung to the magic of the day, the marvelous haze of pleasure. No one wanted it to end.

      CHAPTER THREE

      CECILE KNEW the moment he would come to her, though her head was turned away. She had, she realized, been waiting for him, as though she waited for him every night of her life. She had even deliberately engineered the moment she would be alone, by sending Stuart off for a cold drink she didn’t want. She could see Stuart in the distance being detained by a group of their friends, which included a slightly tipsy Sasha who was holding on to his arm as if she didn’t intend to let him get away. Her grandfather, who was enjoying himself enormously, was a good distance away from her, as well, his handsome silver head thrown back as he laughed at something one of his cronies said.

      So finally, they were alone.

      She hoped he couldn’t see she was trembling. She moved back into the protective shadows, realizing every defense she had consciously or unconsciously raised over the years to protect herself lay demolished.

      “A pretty spectacle?” He indicated the nighttime scene with a turn of his hand. It was a dazzling kaleidoscope of brightly colored dresses, many of them full-length and sweeping the grass. The illuminated gardens were extravagant in their beauty, their intoxicating fragrance unleashed by the warm air. The great shade trees stood like beacons of light, covered all over with tiny white bulbs that pulsed like stars.

      “Yes, it’s beautiful,” she agreed quietly, thinking the man beside her added his own element of splendor. “Everything has gone so well. Granddad waved his magic wand and it all happened.”

      “The Man with the Midas Touch!”

      Something in the way he said it, a barely perceptible nuance, wasn’t quite right. She turned her head toward him. “So you’ve heard that already?”

      He gave her a slight smile. “I couldn’t tell you how many times.”

      “I’m very proud of my grandfather,” she said, startled he had thrown her onto the defensive when, really, he had said nothing out of place.

      “And he adores you.” Was there the barest trace of mockery in that fascinating voice? She had the idea there was.

      “That’s fine by me. I adore him.”

      “I saw that very plainly. Would you care to dance?” he asked, not taking his eyes off her face. “I would have asked you earlier, but your fiancé has never left your side.”

      Until you sent him away!

      She recognized that uncompromising little voice, resisted the accusation though her stomach gave a lurch. How could she say to him she was afraid to dance with him? It was a very strange sensation having a man’s aura wrap her like a flowing cloak.

      “I’m a little out of breath from the last dance,” she said in a low voice, mortified there was a throb in it.

      His eyes dropped for a mere moment to the rise and fall of her breasts. “Come, Ms. Moreland. I regard that as an excuse.”

      “It is an excuse.” What was the point of saying otherwise? The silent communication between them was as keen as a blade’s edge.

      “You ought not refuse me,” he told her ever so gently. “I’m a visitor to your shores. I think I can say I have your grandfather’s approval. But most especially because I was the one who caused the bridal bouquet to fall right into your arms.”

      “I realize that, Señor Montalvan.” She couldn’t laugh or smile.

      “Please…Raul, I insist. Señor Montalvan is much too formal. I freely admit I maneuvered the bouquet because I was intrigued you weren’t making the slightest effort to catch it. Why is that?” He held out his hand. “Come, you can’t plead fatigue. You look like you could dance right through the night.”

      She was so acutely conscious of him she almost wished she were wearing gloves. Once again skin on skin proved so electric it was as though one or the other had thrown a switch. She had never experienced anything like it in her life. There had to be some scientific explanation. Did he feel it? She was certain he did. She felt once again the rough calluses. Why wouldn’t he have them, a cattleman and an experienced polo player? They moved out of the shadows and he pulled her near, very quiet about it, yet she had the strangest sensation her body was unfurling like a flower. Where was Stuart now? Stuart, her safety net?

      She had to say something, anything. This entire sizzling scenario couldn’t be happening to her, but it was. “The party doesn’t appear to be winding down.” She was grateful her voice wasn’t shaking like her hands. Dancing was a source of innocent pleasure and relaxation. It could also be a potent form of lovemaking with a certain person.

      “Even the children are still running around.” There was a note of amusement in his tone. “I wouldn’t dare guide you anywhere near the pool. It’s fun watching them splash, but I couldn’t bear to see your lovely gown marked. Not many could wear a gown the СКАЧАТЬ