Moontide Embrace (Historical Romance) by Constance O'Banyon Page A

felt a quickening in her heart —a strange feeling she had never before experienced, one which left her shaken.
    For the first time, she noticed that Judah Slaughter was taller than the average man. He had not come in costume, and her eyes were drawn to the breadth of his shoulders and to how snugly they fit into his black velvet jacket. Her eyes moved down his long muscular pantaloon-clad legs, to his shiny black boots. He was all male, and she had the feeling there was unleased strength and power behind this man. Before now, Liberty had never dwelled on the differences between a man and a woman. But this man had made her all too aware that he was out of the ordinary. He would stand out anywhere because there was something different about him. It was more than the fact that he spoke French with an American accent; it went past the humor that now curved his lips.
    "How may I make amends?" he asked once more, while clicking his heels and giving her an exaggerated bow.
    The mischievous smile that hit Liberty's face, made her eyes sparkle. "You could dance with me, Monsieur. I know the quadrille quite well."
    He presented his arm, and she placed her hand on it. "As, my lady wishes," he said, the mirth still dancing in his eyes.
    While the music filtered through the air and thousands of stars twinkled in the ebony sky, Judah danced Liberty around the garden. While he seemed to find the whole incident humorous, Liberty was having an entirely differ ent reaction. She could feel the corded muscles, the whipcord sinews, as her hand rested on his arm. His gaze was fixed on her face, and suddenly Liberty was finding it hard to breathe. When his hard thigh accidentally brushed against her during a quick whirl, she felt her body come awake with a painful jolt.
    Staring through thick lashes, Judah caught her eye.
    "You are indeed a fine dancer, Mademoiselle. Rarely have I danced with a partner to equal you." As a lock of her hair brushed against his cheek, Judah became aware of a lingering scent. It was not one of the exotic or powerful scents that most women preferred, but a sweet, soft, haunting scent. One that he was sure he would remember for the rest of his life. And she was soft in his arms—as if she belonged there. With restraint, Judah kept reminding himself of her young age.
    Liberty tried to speak, but her voice caught in her throat. She was aware of her limitations when it came to holding this man's attention. She realized how young she must appear, dressed in her childish smock. She wished with all her young heart that she had paid more attention to her toilette on this night. She could at least have worn her violet-colored silk gown with the green embroidery around the skirt. She remembered with horror what his first impression of her must have been. He had seen her at her worst in that mud-covered state.
    "I like a lady who doesn't talk," he said, sweeping her around a hedge to circle the small fountain.
    "I speak three languages," she blurted out, wondering what had ever possessed her to make such a mundane statement. He would not be interested in her trivial accomplishments. Why had she not said something clever to impress him? Bandera would have known just how to keep his attention.
    "Do you?"
    She lowered her head. "It is unimportant."
    Without breaking his stride, he placed a finger under her chin and raised her face to his. "I believe any accom plishment is important. Which languages to you speak?"
    "I . . . the obvious, French . . . Spanish and English."
    He smiled indulgently, as though sensing her discom fort. Merveilleuse, brava, and hurrah!"
    Liberty lifted her lashes, meeting his gaze. A shiver ran through her body, and she spoke quickly, hoping he had not noticed. "My mother says a woman should never point out her accomplishments to a gentleman. She says if she acts with the proper decorum, her attributes will be apparent.
    Judah threw back his head and laughed deeply. This little charmer would all too soon