hair and clinging to her damp skin, she whim pered and rocked back to meet his hard thrusts, and never noticed the smell of corruption mingling with the scents of hay and sweat and horses and manure.
A few days after the party, Julia drove her buggy out of the city. As soon as she was clear of the more congested streets, she anxiously urged the horse to a trot. The message from Helen Bradshaw, a friend of Lissa's, had been waiting for Julia when she'd returned to the house at noon, and it had sounded urgent. Unfortunately, it had been delivered in the morning, hours before. Julia had been held up longer than she'd expected, first because of the crowded shops and later because of an accident in the streets that had snarled traffic for over an hour.
She kept the horse at a brisk pace, mentally apologiz ing to the poor animal for forcing him to exert himself in the building heat of the day. But most of her attention was fixed on recognizing landmarks as she left the city behind. She felt a touch of relief when she saw a tumbledown barn off to the right, and looked immedi ately to her left for the road turning between two giant oak trees.
No more than a hundred yards from the barn she slowed her horse and turned him onto the road. The ruts cut deeply into the dirt as if heavy wagons had frequently come this way. It was impossible to see much for a few yards, but then she saw a clearing ahead where a large house was under construction. The place seemed deserted, but she saw a buggy under one of the big trees, and guided her own horse toward it.
Now she felt puzzled as well as anxious. Lissa had left this morning with several of her friends, planning to spend the day with another friend who had recently given birth to her first child. But didn't she live on the other side of Richmond? Why would Lissa be far from the city where there was nothing but a newly begun house?
"Julia?"
She stopped her horse, her head jerking around in response to a voice she recognized instantly. He was coming toward her, moving with the ease of muscles under unthinking control, like a big cat, and it was more than surprise that kept her eyes fixed on him. He wasn't wearing a hat or coat, and his shirtsleeves were rolled up to reveal powerful forearms. His tie had been loosened and several buttons were unfastened at his throat; the first curls of the black hair on his chest were visible.
Julia's mouth went dry as he stopped beside the buggy, and she wished he weren't so tall, wished she didn't have the feeling they were very, very alone out here.
"What's wrong, Julia?" Cyrus asked, lifting one hand to rest on the back of her seat. As always, and even though his voice was the familiar black velvet, he spoke to her a little abruptly, direct and to the point.
She forced herself to think. "I—I received a message that Lissa was here and needed me."
He frowned slightly. "A written message?"
"No. It—my butler said a young lady delivered the message a few hours ago. A friend of Lissa's. She said that Lissa was ill, and was waiting for me here with another of her friends."
"I haven't seen her," Cyrus said, shaking his head. "And I've been here since early this morning."
Julia bit her lip and shifted the reins so that she could begin to turn her horse. "There must have been a mistake. I have to return to Richmond."
He reached out and grasped her hand. "Wait."
A flare of panic made her stiffen. "No. I have to—"
"Julia." His voice was quiet and steady. "Your horse I needs to rest a bit before you start back to the city. So do you. This is the hottest part of the day; if you don't wait for at least an hour or two, you'll make yourself ill."
"I can't stay here," she said, the very idea sending a pang of dismay through her.
Cyrus took the reins away from her, knotted them loosely, and then put his hands on her tiny waist and lifted her easily out of the buggy. "Yes, you can."
She was so startled by the abrupt action that for a moment she could
A few days after the party, Julia drove her buggy out of the city. As soon as she was clear of the more congested streets, she anxiously urged the horse to a trot. The message from Helen Bradshaw, a friend of Lissa's, had been waiting for Julia when she'd returned to the house at noon, and it had sounded urgent. Unfortunately, it had been delivered in the morning, hours before. Julia had been held up longer than she'd expected, first because of the crowded shops and later because of an accident in the streets that had snarled traffic for over an hour.
She kept the horse at a brisk pace, mentally apologiz ing to the poor animal for forcing him to exert himself in the building heat of the day. But most of her attention was fixed on recognizing landmarks as she left the city behind. She felt a touch of relief when she saw a tumbledown barn off to the right, and looked immedi ately to her left for the road turning between two giant oak trees.
No more than a hundred yards from the barn she slowed her horse and turned him onto the road. The ruts cut deeply into the dirt as if heavy wagons had frequently come this way. It was impossible to see much for a few yards, but then she saw a clearing ahead where a large house was under construction. The place seemed deserted, but she saw a buggy under one of the big trees, and guided her own horse toward it.
Now she felt puzzled as well as anxious. Lissa had left this morning with several of her friends, planning to spend the day with another friend who had recently given birth to her first child. But didn't she live on the other side of Richmond? Why would Lissa be far from the city where there was nothing but a newly begun house?
"Julia?"
She stopped her horse, her head jerking around in response to a voice she recognized instantly. He was coming toward her, moving with the ease of muscles under unthinking control, like a big cat, and it was more than surprise that kept her eyes fixed on him. He wasn't wearing a hat or coat, and his shirtsleeves were rolled up to reveal powerful forearms. His tie had been loosened and several buttons were unfastened at his throat; the first curls of the black hair on his chest were visible.
Julia's mouth went dry as he stopped beside the buggy, and she wished he weren't so tall, wished she didn't have the feeling they were very, very alone out here.
"What's wrong, Julia?" Cyrus asked, lifting one hand to rest on the back of her seat. As always, and even though his voice was the familiar black velvet, he spoke to her a little abruptly, direct and to the point.
She forced herself to think. "I—I received a message that Lissa was here and needed me."
He frowned slightly. "A written message?"
"No. It—my butler said a young lady delivered the message a few hours ago. A friend of Lissa's. She said that Lissa was ill, and was waiting for me here with another of her friends."
"I haven't seen her," Cyrus said, shaking his head. "And I've been here since early this morning."
Julia bit her lip and shifted the reins so that she could begin to turn her horse. "There must have been a mistake. I have to return to Richmond."
He reached out and grasped her hand. "Wait."
A flare of panic made her stiffen. "No. I have to—"
"Julia." His voice was quiet and steady. "Your horse I needs to rest a bit before you start back to the city. So do you. This is the hottest part of the day; if you don't wait for at least an hour or two, you'll make yourself ill."
"I can't stay here," she said, the very idea sending a pang of dismay through her.
Cyrus took the reins away from her, knotted them loosely, and then put his hands on her tiny waist and lifted her easily out of the buggy. "Yes, you can."
She was so startled by the abrupt action that for a moment she could
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