Catching Moonlight (Man Season) by Mila McClung Page B

and other expenses for
several years. You only have to worry about keeping the place up. And it
practically runs itself, with solar power and a reservoir of its own. You really
have a unique home here.”
    “I can see that. Well, I guess I’ll
go in now. You can get back to your business.”
    She held out her hand, he took it,
kissed it like an Old World gentleman. Toby’s breath caught for a second; she
savored the charm of his gesture, and the unexpected thrill it gave her.
    “I will visit you here soon, if you’d
like.”
    “I’d like,” she smiled, trying to
evoke the confidence and sexiness of the heroines in her beloved novels.
    “Good Day, Miss Styles.”
    “Same to you, Mr. Cristos .”
    “I’ll expect you to call me Stephan,
next time.”
    “I will, if you’ll call me Toby.”
    “You can count on it!”
    She watched him as he made his way
gracefully back down the valley to the dock. He walked like a panther, stalking
everything in his path. It gave her chill bumps wondering what kind of lover
he’d be.
    “My God, Toby,” she whispered to
herself. “You’d think you were a cat in heat! Get a grip!”
    Once Stephan had hopped into his
sleek motorboat and disappeared into the blue, Toby breathed deeply and turned
towards the big, carved wooden doors of Moonsea . The
design on the doors was intriguing – a full moon gracing a sea view, with a
beautiful siren flinging her arms and chest to the sky, her face beaming, as if
she were in love with the moon itself.
    The interior of the house was as
bright and white as the outside, furnished in comfy English sofas and chunky
wing chairs. Enormous, stone-faced fireplaces were ever ready to ward off the
evening chill. Grand paintings and sculptures revealed the wealth of her
ancestors, some of whom graced the walls in vivid portraits. She walked along
slowly, recognizing her own features in some of the faces.
    “Ah, there you are, Miss!” a lilting
voice called out. Toby turned to see a robust woman of about forty with
short-cropped mahogany hair and gray, darting eyes. “I’m Aella ,
the housekeeper here.” She came close, stood straight before Toby, examining
her with an aggressive stare. “You look like him, my Gregory! He was beautiful,
like you!” With that she hugged Toby like a lost long aunt. “We’ll get along
fine, I think.”
    “Yes, I think we will,” Toby uttered,
a bit out of breath.
    “Your room is at the top of the
stairs, on the right. Wash up, lunch will be ready soon. Do you like feta
cheese?”
    “Very much.”
    “And olives?”
    “Oh, yes.”
    “Good, you’re my kind of girl! We
make the cheese ourselves, and my husband, Kosmas grows the olives. See?”
    She pointed out the window. Beyond
the back of the house she could see goats grazing on the hillside, and far out
towards the sea, a grove of olive trees danced in the gentle wind. Toby noticed
a ruin standing rather precariously at the edge of the sea.
    “Oh, what’s that? An
old temple?”
    “It was a temple, used in ancient
times as a place to worship the moon goddess, Selene .”
    “That’s fascinating. Maybe after
lunch I’ll explore it.”
    “I don’t think you should. The rocks
are not strong there. They slip out from under your feet too easily. Believe
me, I know. I almost fell into the sea myself. Luckily, Kosmas was nearby, and
caught me. You will meet him at lunch. Go on up now, and wash.”
    Toby nodded and scurried up the
stairs with her bags, feeling a bit like a new child at camp. Her room was
lovely, white walls and a faded plank ceiling, with subtly pink draperies and
bed linens, and a wonderful chaise lounge upholstered in a
rose -covered damask.
    She unpacked, folding some of her
clothes into a carved-wood dresser and hanging the rest in a mirrored armoire.
She paused at the windows, open to the scintillating sea breezes, and noticed
the gardener Kosmas, talking to a young man near the temple. As far as she
could tell, the boy was quite