Night Magic by Susan Squires Page B

when he came out of the water. And she remembered with acute intensity what seeing that had done to her body.
    She was only five foot three, though her heels gave her another inch or so. She had to look up into his face. She could feel the flush rising up her neck. The tingle of touching his hands and being pressed against his hard body went right down to the vee between her thighs. Somehow she put her left hand on his shoulder. Her hip was touching his thigh when he began to move. Miraculously, her feet went with him, because he had her body pressed to his and she really couldn’t do anything else.
    Everybody else seemed to melt away. There was only Kemble, his arms strong under the fabric of his black suit, his eyes locked on hers. She should just bury her face in his shoulder, but she couldn’t look away from their blue. Not as intense a blue as his father’s eyes, and she was sure he knew that. But they were the kind of blue that looked steady. It was as if the touch of his body to hers had cast a spell on her, woven her round with a languorous sensuality that stole her willpower. A lock of his black hair fell over his forehead and he didn’t even notice or break his hold on her to push it back in place, as he usually did. It was like they were magnets, locked together in the dance. She knew every line of his face: the sensual lips, the black brows and straight nose, but she stared at his features as though she’d never seen him before. He was a Tremaine through and through. She only had to look at him to know it. And she wasn’t. But at this moment, she couldn’t even care about that.
    He was hers. When the dance ended it might all fall apart, but in this instant they moved together as one, their bodies entwined as though they belonged together. She wanted this moment engraved in fire in her memory like a scar that would be with her forever, no matter what happened later, to treasure long after everyone else had forgotten its existence.
    She realized Lanyon’s music and Tamsen’s voice had trailed away. She and Kemble were still dancing. She heard the clapping from far away. Tristram whistled. He would.
    Kemble stopped moving. He looked around as if he was surprised the family was still gathered around them. Jane stepped awkwardly out of his arms.
    “My turn,” Michael said and stepped up, shouldering Kemble out of the way in an exaggerated move. “Mrs. Tremaine, may I have this dance?”
    Jane was having trouble getting her breath. She just nodded. If she could dance with Kemble, she could dance with anyone. Michael swept her up in his arms, but he didn’t hold her as tightly as Kemble had. Tristram picked up Jesse and started whirling him around. Lanyon started in on another tune she didn’t know. Keelan went over to Mr. Edwards and pulled him forcibly into the center of the room. Jane peered around Michael, looking for Kemble.
    He stood where Jane had left him, looking a little lost. “I refuse to dance with my brother,” Drew drawled at him. “So don’t ask.”
    As Jane and Michael twirled she saw Maggie step up. Maggie had on a swirly print skirt with red roses on it and a pretty, lacy blouse paired with dress cowboy boots that were shiny red. “I’ll take that ride,” she said to Kemble. She was all of five feet tall and her boots gave her maybe two inches, so she was looking Kemble squarely in the chest. Kemble looked down at her, startled, as if he had just awakened. He smiled. Then he looked up and found Jane, and the smile became a grin.
    “You’re on, cowgirl. I hear you know how to rodeo.” He clasped her hand and drew her in. Jane had to peer around Michael’s massive shoulder to be sure Kemble wasn’t holding Maggie as tightly as he had held her.
    “I ride the big broncs, bucko.”
    “I sure hope you aren’t talking about my little brother. Hold on.” How could anyone ever call Tristram little? Kemble swung into some dance that had a lot of stomping, and Lanyon, catching the