Page 59 of Possession Under the Southern Stars

She glances at me then, sees me looking at her, and gives me a bashful smile. I hold her gaze, thinking about last night, and how I gradually disassembled her shyness and fear piece by piece, until all that was left was the passionate, abandoned girl I knew existed underneath. When she cried out my name, I felt exultant at being able to set her free, just as if she’d been kept in a gilded cage, and I’d been the one to unlock the door.

And, all of a sudden, I want her again.

She looks away, toward Adam, as he begins to talk about the children’s charity that the profits from the ball will go toward, but my gaze seems glued to her. The fine arch of her eyebrows. The slight tilt up at the end of her nose. The gentle flush of her cheeks. The tiny mole on her cheekbone. Her hair is swept up and pinned, revealing the tempting curve of her neck and the soft, sensitive skin behind her ear. I love the way she’s curled the tendrils that hang down so they look like whorls of chocolate sauce. The angle of her cheekbones and jawbones. The enticing curve of her Cupid’s bow.

There’s a round of applause, and I tear my gaze away from her and join in as Adam steps down from the microphone. Isabeltakes his place and announces that the food stations are open and we should help ourselves. After we’ve eaten, she says, there will be music and dancing. We’re welcome to investigate the native tree walks and the path through the rose garden, and to explore the house, although the bedrooms are private.

Hallie smiles at me and says, “What are you in the mood for?”

You, I think. But she’s referring to the food, so we rise and wander over to the laden tables.

“I don’t know how I can be hungry after that breakfast this morning,” Hallie complains, “and I had a salad for lunch, but I’m still ravenous.”

“Me too.” We begin to wander along the tables to see what’s on offer.

There’s a seafood station with fresh oysters, which you can have served with lemon wedges, mignonette sauce, or Tabasco, as well as prawns, mussels, smoked salmon, and crab claws, all displayed on crushed ice and decorated with seashells and citrus slices.

A carving station offers herb-crusted beef fillet, roast lamb with mint sauce, and glazed ham with pineapple relish, served with freshly baked rolls and a variety of condiments.

The charcuterie and cheese station looks mouthwatering with its range of cured meats, artisan cheeses, crackers and fresh baguette slices, dried fruits and nuts, all served with honeycomb, olives, and fig jam.

There’s also a salad and greens station, a gourmet pasta station, and a sushi and sashimi station, and everything offers seafood, vegetarian, and vegan options.

Hallie stops in front of the dessert station, stares at the lemon curd, chocolate ganache, and berry tarts, the mountain of profiteroles oozing with cream and chocolate sauce, and thesmall glasses of panna cotta with gleaming cherry compote, and says, “I suppose it wouldn’t be acceptable to start here.”

I chuckle, take her hand, and draw her away. “Correct. Come on. I thought the carving station looked good.”

“That’s because you’re a man. I might have some pasta and salad, then I can eat dessert without feeling guilty.”

“You should eat whatever you want without feeling guilty,” I scold. “You should never punish yourself for enjoying food.”

She doesn’t say anything, and I remember then she told me that during their last argument, Ian said one reason he was breaking up with her was because she’d put on weight. Yet again, I feel a flare of resentment and anger at the thought of what that guy has done to her self-confidence. I love her beautiful curves. They make me want to sketch them. And kiss them. But that’s a whole other story.

I turn her to face me. Her eyes gleam, and I know she’s thinking about that idiot and how much he hurt her.

“Come with me.” I take her hand again and lead her across the lawn.

“Where are we going?”

I don’t reply, mounting the steps onto the veranda, and then leading her into the house.

“Fraser… everyone’s sitting down to eat… We can check out the letters later.”

I hesitate, wondering whether the members of staff who guided guests in are still going to be in place, but although I can see one guy outside to welcome any late arrivals, the others have moved into the garden.

There’s a bathroom just off the hallway, but it’s too obvious, too public. I lead the way into the dining room, glancing up at Pania’s portrait as we pass. She looks amused, and I remember that she and Richard did something similar at a ball in their day.

The other door from the dining room leads into a hallway with several doors on either side. A rope extends from one door handle to another, with a sign that declares the bedrooms are off limits.

Ignoring it, I remove the rope, then replace it once we’ve passed through. Opening the door to the right, I peer in.

“Fraser!” Hallie sounds horrified.

I lead her in and close the door behind us. We’re in a guest bedroom, I think—beautiful and clean with pristine white bedding, lace curtains, and light-blue wallpaper with dark-blue flowers. We cross the plush carpet to the door on the other side, and I open it and lead her into the ensuite bathroom.

I close the door behind her. Then I turn her and push her up against the wall.

“Fraser!” Her face flames.

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