laugh. “It can’t be! Zack?” If she had transformed herself, he had performed an even greater miracle.
Taking up her silk-fringed shawl and draping it becomingly about her shoulders, Persia went to her door and opened it just far enough to hear voices from the entranceway below.
“Well, Mr. Hazzard,” boomed her father, “you’ve made it.”
“I hope I’m not late, sir.” Zack’s voice made Persia’s pulse quicken once more.
“Oh, certainly not. At any rate, we wouldn’t have started without you. In fact, you aren’t the last to arrive. Persia is taking her own sweet time today.”
“Hello, Mr. Hazzard,” Persia heard her mother say. “Welcome to our home once again.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Whiddington. It is all my pleasure to be here.”
“Captain, perhaps you had better go and fetch our youngest.”
“I’m sure she’ll be down in a moment, my dear.”
“A young lady must have time to dress properly, Mother.” Europa, with her sugary voice, had joined the others. “Why, Zachariah, how handsome you look this afternoon! Seton, do take his coat; I believe Fletcher is occupied in the kitchen.”
“Of course, Miss Europa,” came a thin, male voice, and Persia could almost see Seton Holloway’s Adam’s apple bobbing.
“Zack, come along with me to the parlor,” said Europa. “I have something there that might interest you. There’s time before dinner, I’m sure.”
Zack’s voiced agreement propelled Persia from her room without further delay. She posed at the head of the stairs and, summoning her most seductive voice, said, “Hello, Zack. I’m so glad you could come.”
All eyes in the hallway below stared up. Her mother’s face paled, and her hand flew to her lace-covered throat. The captain’s lips twitched in surprise, then turned up in an appreciative smile. Seton Holloway, still holding Zack’s scarlet coat as if he had been frozen where he stood, gaped at her with his mouth wide open.
Europa already had possession of Zack’s arm but had not yet managed to smuggle him off to the parlor. Gowned in nutmeg and cinnamon bombazett with cream lace at her bosom, she made a striking picture. But, as Persia watched, her face contorted into a grimace of rage.
“My dress!” Persia heard her say in a strangled tone.
Persia only smiled. Not at her sister, but at Zack. He had extracted himself from Europa’s grasp and was making his way up the stairs, one strong brown hand extended toward Persia.
His eyes devoured her as he came, caressing her face, her hair, and her thinly clad breasts until her nipples stiffened beneath the shiny straw stitching. His expression mingled desire with amazement. He gazed at her as if seeing some new wonder of the world for the first time.
Persia felt as if she were drowning in the flood of sensations washing over her. All the others at the foot of the stairs dissolved into a hazy half-light, a halo that was only the backdrop for the man coming toward her. He was everything she needed, wanted, and must have in the world. She could not live without his touch, and she would not.
“Persia.” Her name upon his lips was a loving demand that made her quiver in the same manner she would have if he had reached out and fondled her aching breasts.
“Hello, Zack,” she whispered.
One side of his mouth quirked up in a quasi smile, and he reached out toward her hand. “That’s all? Just hello?”
She smiled back and answered, still in the barest of whispers so that the others wouldn’t hear, “Hello, and I still love you.”
“Even in broad daylight?” he challenged.
“Even under the blazing eye of noon.”
He gave a low, tantalizing laugh just before he brought her hand to his lips and brushed her tender flesh with the rough silk of his mustache.
Chapter Seven
“Dinner is served, Captain and Mrs. Whiddington.”
Fletcher, dressed in knee britches and jacket of the same Prussian blue as the tattooing on his cheeks, captured everyone’s
Taking up her silk-fringed shawl and draping it becomingly about her shoulders, Persia went to her door and opened it just far enough to hear voices from the entranceway below.
“Well, Mr. Hazzard,” boomed her father, “you’ve made it.”
“I hope I’m not late, sir.” Zack’s voice made Persia’s pulse quicken once more.
“Oh, certainly not. At any rate, we wouldn’t have started without you. In fact, you aren’t the last to arrive. Persia is taking her own sweet time today.”
“Hello, Mr. Hazzard,” Persia heard her mother say. “Welcome to our home once again.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Whiddington. It is all my pleasure to be here.”
“Captain, perhaps you had better go and fetch our youngest.”
“I’m sure she’ll be down in a moment, my dear.”
“A young lady must have time to dress properly, Mother.” Europa, with her sugary voice, had joined the others. “Why, Zachariah, how handsome you look this afternoon! Seton, do take his coat; I believe Fletcher is occupied in the kitchen.”
“Of course, Miss Europa,” came a thin, male voice, and Persia could almost see Seton Holloway’s Adam’s apple bobbing.
“Zack, come along with me to the parlor,” said Europa. “I have something there that might interest you. There’s time before dinner, I’m sure.”
Zack’s voiced agreement propelled Persia from her room without further delay. She posed at the head of the stairs and, summoning her most seductive voice, said, “Hello, Zack. I’m so glad you could come.”
All eyes in the hallway below stared up. Her mother’s face paled, and her hand flew to her lace-covered throat. The captain’s lips twitched in surprise, then turned up in an appreciative smile. Seton Holloway, still holding Zack’s scarlet coat as if he had been frozen where he stood, gaped at her with his mouth wide open.
Europa already had possession of Zack’s arm but had not yet managed to smuggle him off to the parlor. Gowned in nutmeg and cinnamon bombazett with cream lace at her bosom, she made a striking picture. But, as Persia watched, her face contorted into a grimace of rage.
“My dress!” Persia heard her say in a strangled tone.
Persia only smiled. Not at her sister, but at Zack. He had extracted himself from Europa’s grasp and was making his way up the stairs, one strong brown hand extended toward Persia.
His eyes devoured her as he came, caressing her face, her hair, and her thinly clad breasts until her nipples stiffened beneath the shiny straw stitching. His expression mingled desire with amazement. He gazed at her as if seeing some new wonder of the world for the first time.
Persia felt as if she were drowning in the flood of sensations washing over her. All the others at the foot of the stairs dissolved into a hazy half-light, a halo that was only the backdrop for the man coming toward her. He was everything she needed, wanted, and must have in the world. She could not live without his touch, and she would not.
“Persia.” Her name upon his lips was a loving demand that made her quiver in the same manner she would have if he had reached out and fondled her aching breasts.
“Hello, Zack,” she whispered.
One side of his mouth quirked up in a quasi smile, and he reached out toward her hand. “That’s all? Just hello?”
She smiled back and answered, still in the barest of whispers so that the others wouldn’t hear, “Hello, and I still love you.”
“Even in broad daylight?” he challenged.
“Even under the blazing eye of noon.”
He gave a low, tantalizing laugh just before he brought her hand to his lips and brushed her tender flesh with the rough silk of his mustache.
Chapter Seven
“Dinner is served, Captain and Mrs. Whiddington.”
Fletcher, dressed in knee britches and jacket of the same Prussian blue as the tattooing on his cheeks, captured everyone’s
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