One Reckless Night. Sara Craven
backwater, she told herself robustly. A life where she was needed—where she mattered.
She pinned on a resolute smile for Bill Sharman. ‘Dancing’s thirsty work,’ she said, plying the ladle.
‘Always was,’ he agreed, raising one eyebrow. ‘Take it easy if you’re not used to it.’
‘I’m fine,’ she returned airily. ‘Having the time of my life.’
Which, somehow, did not include watching Jake being eaten alive by pretty girls with red hair. An unwelcome realisation if ever there was one.
Dismissing it, she held out some money for her drink, but Bill shook his head.
‘That’s our contribution to the festivities—Trudy’s and mine. There’s no charge.’
They’d opened one of the side-doors, and she stepped through it and out into the cool darkness, fresh with the scent of newly mown grass. She stood, sipping her drink and looking up at the sky.
The new moon was still there, a pale silver crescent above the trees. The breeze lifted her loosened hair, brushing it against her cheek, the nape of her neck, like a caressing hand.
She moved uneasily, aware that she was shivering—not with cold but with a strange, unfathomable excitement.
You could wish on the moon, she thought hazily, remembering the old childish superstition. And if you turned a piece of silver over in your hand and bowed three times your wish would come true. But she had nothing to wish for.
And she knew, even as the thought took shape in her mind, that she was lying to herself.
She recognized with sudden, shocking clarity exactly what she would wish for—if only she dared...
She thought, I want this night never to end. I want to go on being Susie. I want...
And she stopped there, her mind closing against the unspoken, unutterable plea. All the breath seemed to leave her body in one gigantic, soundless gasp. She could feel the coins clenched in her hand, biting into her flesh.
The temptation to turn them over, to obey the ritual and accept whatever fate decreed would follow, was almost overwhelming.
Almost—but not quite. From some corner of her mind a remnant of sanity intervened to save her, reminding her precisely who she was and what, in fact, he was.
A total stranger, she thought stonily, gulping the sweetness and the pain of the night back into her starved lungs. A stranger, moreover, light years removed from her in background and aspiration. Someone she wouldn’t have given a second glance to in her busy London existence. Someone she’d been unwise to allow anywhere near her. Someone already well aware of the effect he had on women, as his redheaded admirer could probably attest.
She gave the moon one last look. You pathetic fool, she told herself savagely, and she turned to go back into the hall.
Only to yelp in fright as she cannoned into a tall figure standing behind her.
He steadied her without particular gentleness. ‘This is getting to be a habit. What the hell are you doing out here?’
‘Moongazing,’ she said. Her voice sounded odd, as though it didn’t belong to her. ‘I—I needed some fresh air.’
‘Trudy’s punch tends to have that effect,’ he said grimly. ‘Bill told me you’d been back for seconds.’ He took the empty glass from her hand and shook his head. ‘This stuff should carry a government health warning. Not to mention all the other things you drank during dinner.’
Zanna stiffened. ‘I hope you’re not implying...’
‘I’m stating a fact.’ His arm was like a band of steel round her waist as he guided her back into the hall. ‘From now on it’s orange juice for you, Susie, if you want to be fit to drive in the morning.’
She hung back, glaring at him. ‘Maybe I should just go back to the Black Bull and sleep it off.’
He snorted impatiently. ‘You’re really keen to be on your own again, aren’t you?’
No, she thought. Suddenly I’m not any more. and it scares me. I want to feel safe again—self-sufficient and sate—like I did yesterday, and all the days before that.
Aloud, she said stiltedly, ‘Look, I’m sure you had plans for tonight-people you wanted to meet here.’ She could see the redheaded girl watching them avidly from the other side of the room. ‘I must be spoiling things for you. If you’ll just introduce me to this caretaker friend of yours, I can leave you. to enjoy your evening.’
He looked at her for a moment, his brows drawn together in a frown, then he sighed abruptly. ‘Don’t run out on me, Susie. At least, not yet.’
The music had started again, another slow, beguiling waltz, and before she could think of a viable excuse Jake had swung her effortlessly into his arms and back onto the floor.
‘Relax.’ he said laconically into her ear as she stiffened. ‘Stop fighting me—and the world.’
His arms tightened, drawing her close against him. She felt the warmth of him penetrating through the layers of clothing to her own skin and beyond. Felt the frozen, frightened core hidden deep within her begin, unbelievably, to dissolve away, leaving something unknown, new and vulnerable in its place.
She knew that she should not—could not allow this to happen. That suddenly the danger she’d sensed was all around her, pressing on her, and that she had no one but herself to blame.
She knew also, and more disturbingly, that she wanted to press closer still. To bury her flushed face in the curve of his shoulder and breathe the unique male scent of him. To feel the harsh pressure of his lean, muscular body against her breasts, her belly, her thighs. To spread her hands against the powerful breadth of his back and reach up to touch the thick silky hair curling gently at the nape of his neck. To feel his mouth touching hers.
The need was bone-deep and desperate, but she knew she had to fight it if she was going to walk away from him tomorrow unscathed. As she had to do, she reminded herself.
She said, with a little nervous laugh, ‘Actually, you could be right about the alcohol. I—I didn’t realise. Maybe I should go back and sleep it off. As I have to drive tomorrow.’
There was a silence, then he said levelly, ‘Fine. I’ll get your jacket.’
Having him walk her back across the moonlit green wasn’t part of the plan at all.
She hung back. ‘I hardly need an escort. There can’t be many hidden perils in this village.’
‘Who can tell?’ His tone was brusque. ‘Anyway, I’m not prepared to take the risk.’
But the risk was all hers, Zanna thought numbly as he helped her on with her jacket. And the only real danger was right here beside her. Because no amount of punch, however lethal, could account for the way her blood seemed to sing in her veins, for the throbbing awareness of every sense, every nerve-ending in her body, as they started out through the scented darkness together.
She stumbled on a tussock of grass and instantly his arm went round her. ‘Careful.’
‘Oh, hell, my shoe’s come off.’ She scrambled frantically round with a stockinged foot.
‘And it’s not even midnight yet.’ There was amusement in his voice. ‘Keep still, Cinderella, and I’ll see if I can find it.’
‘We need a torch.’ Standing on one leg made Zanna feel undignified as well as giddy.
‘Something Prince Charming lacked too.’ Jake came back to her side. ‘I’ll continue the search later, when I have one, Susie. But in the meantime...’
Before she could utter a word of protest, he swung her up into his arms as easily as if she were a featherweight and carried her across the grass.
When she could