embrace, let him kiss her until he drove her out of her mind. If only they were alone. . .
Owen smiled wryly at the others. "Rather late in the season for a blizzard, wouldn't you say?"
"I agree," Lawrence replied, "but it seems we've got one." He clapped his hand on the other man's shoulder. "Owen, my friend, you'll never get home tonight. So just plan on staying here. No trouble for us, believe me. We'd love to have you."
"Oh, I'm not going to let a snowstorm stop me," Owen said, looking more doubtful than his words. He glanced out the window again, a worried frown on his face.
"Come now," Lawrence said, "no two ways about it. You can stay here."
"Very well, then. The blizzard gives me no choice, and I thank you for the invitation.” Elizabeth drew Lisa aside. "Lisa, I've been meaning to tell you about the meeting of the ladies' charity group at church yesterday. I'm sure our talk would bore the men, so we'll go off by ourselves." They headed for the sitting room, leaving the men alone in the parlor.
After settling themselves on the sofa, Lisa threw Elizabeth a questioning look, certain her friend hadn't intended to discuss church affairs. Excitement warmed her body, as if she had stepped into a brilliant ray of sunshine.
"Honestly," Elizabeth whispered with a wink, "I didn't plan this storm, but it's rather nice it happened, don't you think? You can make a telephone call to William if you like, that is, if the lines aren't down." She flashed her a mischievous smile. "And certainly, you must stay here tonight, as Owen obviously will."
Lisa's hands flew to her hot cheeks, aware she must make a token protest. "Now, you mustn't get any of your broad-minded ideas."
She clasped Lisa's hand and smiled in affectionate complicity. "Just let things happen as they will. . . ."
Much later, after giving instructions about sleeping arrangements, Elizabeth and Lawrence went to bed, and Lisa found herself alone with Owen.
She desperately searched for something to say. “It must still be snowing outside.” Here I am with the man I love more than life, and that’s the best I can do?
He twisted around to glance out the window, then turned back to her. “Yes, I believe it is.”
She looked his way across the spacious parlor, unable to fathom his expression. How handsome he looked in his dark suit and tie, his ankle resting on the opposite knee. His gaze appeared to be one of studied nonchalance, but the set of his mouth gave him away. Did she see love in his eyes, or was that only wishful thinking? How I want you, Owen, bare skin to bare skin. I want to know your kisses, your caresses, want to feel ... Her face warmed at the thought of sharing the ultimate intimacy with Owen, and she turned away for a moment, then stole a glance at him from under her eyelashes. What was going through his mind? Was he thinking the same as she?
To have him near and yet so far! What if she went to him now and told him all that he meant to her? Would he respond and take her in his arms, or would he spurn her and treat her advances with contempt? The awkward moments slid past, until she finally settled on the least profound subject that came to mind.
"This has been a pleasant evening, don't you think?" She forced herself to hold her hands loosely in her lap, so afraid of betraying her emotion. "The talk, the company . . ."
"Indeed." His gaze held hers. "A very pleasant evening."
"I enjoyed the play. I always like Shakespeare."
He smiled. "So do I ."
Lisa stifled a sigh, wanting to tell him the secrets she'd kept hidden in her heart but afraid he'd think her a wanton.
"Lisa . . . I . . ." Shaking his head, he waved his hand in a dismissive gesture. "Nothing important." He paused. "One thing I wanted to tell you--how lovely you look tonight."
"Thank you." Lisa caught her breath, unable to say another word. Meeting his gaze, she waited . . . for what? For words of love? Did he want her now--in his bed? Fearful he'd read her mind and her
Owen smiled wryly at the others. "Rather late in the season for a blizzard, wouldn't you say?"
"I agree," Lawrence replied, "but it seems we've got one." He clapped his hand on the other man's shoulder. "Owen, my friend, you'll never get home tonight. So just plan on staying here. No trouble for us, believe me. We'd love to have you."
"Oh, I'm not going to let a snowstorm stop me," Owen said, looking more doubtful than his words. He glanced out the window again, a worried frown on his face.
"Come now," Lawrence said, "no two ways about it. You can stay here."
"Very well, then. The blizzard gives me no choice, and I thank you for the invitation.” Elizabeth drew Lisa aside. "Lisa, I've been meaning to tell you about the meeting of the ladies' charity group at church yesterday. I'm sure our talk would bore the men, so we'll go off by ourselves." They headed for the sitting room, leaving the men alone in the parlor.
After settling themselves on the sofa, Lisa threw Elizabeth a questioning look, certain her friend hadn't intended to discuss church affairs. Excitement warmed her body, as if she had stepped into a brilliant ray of sunshine.
"Honestly," Elizabeth whispered with a wink, "I didn't plan this storm, but it's rather nice it happened, don't you think? You can make a telephone call to William if you like, that is, if the lines aren't down." She flashed her a mischievous smile. "And certainly, you must stay here tonight, as Owen obviously will."
Lisa's hands flew to her hot cheeks, aware she must make a token protest. "Now, you mustn't get any of your broad-minded ideas."
She clasped Lisa's hand and smiled in affectionate complicity. "Just let things happen as they will. . . ."
Much later, after giving instructions about sleeping arrangements, Elizabeth and Lawrence went to bed, and Lisa found herself alone with Owen.
She desperately searched for something to say. “It must still be snowing outside.” Here I am with the man I love more than life, and that’s the best I can do?
He twisted around to glance out the window, then turned back to her. “Yes, I believe it is.”
She looked his way across the spacious parlor, unable to fathom his expression. How handsome he looked in his dark suit and tie, his ankle resting on the opposite knee. His gaze appeared to be one of studied nonchalance, but the set of his mouth gave him away. Did she see love in his eyes, or was that only wishful thinking? How I want you, Owen, bare skin to bare skin. I want to know your kisses, your caresses, want to feel ... Her face warmed at the thought of sharing the ultimate intimacy with Owen, and she turned away for a moment, then stole a glance at him from under her eyelashes. What was going through his mind? Was he thinking the same as she?
To have him near and yet so far! What if she went to him now and told him all that he meant to her? Would he respond and take her in his arms, or would he spurn her and treat her advances with contempt? The awkward moments slid past, until she finally settled on the least profound subject that came to mind.
"This has been a pleasant evening, don't you think?" She forced herself to hold her hands loosely in her lap, so afraid of betraying her emotion. "The talk, the company . . ."
"Indeed." His gaze held hers. "A very pleasant evening."
"I enjoyed the play. I always like Shakespeare."
He smiled. "So do I ."
Lisa stifled a sigh, wanting to tell him the secrets she'd kept hidden in her heart but afraid he'd think her a wanton.
"Lisa . . . I . . ." Shaking his head, he waved his hand in a dismissive gesture. "Nothing important." He paused. "One thing I wanted to tell you--how lovely you look tonight."
"Thank you." Lisa caught her breath, unable to say another word. Meeting his gaze, she waited . . . for what? For words of love? Did he want her now--in his bed? Fearful he'd read her mind and her
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