Page 47 of The Moonstone Hero
Why did he have to taste so perfect, too? Coffee…eggs…sausages. A hint of mint that he must have used to brush his teeth. The soap against the sinews of his neck.
She breathed him in, inhaling the fragrant sandalwood and the maleness of him. Heat, sweat, and leather.
She shook with desire.
“You are magic, Ella,” he whispered, and lifted her up against him so that her bosom was pressed to his chest, and their hips and thighs molded to each other. “You and your fairy-pool eyes.” His tongue slipped into her mouth, gently swirling around hers like the ebb tide swirled around the rocks and shifting sands. “You are mine.”
She hoped so.
She wanted so much to be the one for him.
A wave crashed just below them, and Caden immediately drew her upward to keep her gown from getting wet. He had quick, protective instincts. “Blast, the tide is coming in fast.”
She nodded. “We had better return to Imogen.”
“All right.” He gave a ragged laugh and took her hand. “Careful, those rocks can be slippery now that they are wet.”
She was always careful, except perhaps with her heart. Why could she not control that wayward organ?
Imogen was sketching away, but set her pad and pencils aside when they approached. “How was the cave?”
“Interesting,” Caden said. “But be careful whenever you come here. I think it has been used recently.”
Imogen’s eyes rounded in surprise. “It has?”
This surprised Ella, too. She had not noticed anything out of place in the cave. “What makes you think so?”
He shrugged. “It seems as though someone has been dragging boxes across that cavern recently.”
Ella shook her head. “It cannot be. How can you tell? The tide would have washed away all signs.”
“You mentioned the cave did not flood completely even at high tide. I noticed markings at the mouth of one of the rearpassageways. Maybe next time I’ll explore some of those other passages. We weren’t really equipped to do it today.”
Ella’s heart began to beat faster.
She and Imogen sometimes came here on their own, and she read while Imogen drew the scenery. Mr. Hawke would drop them off and then return a few hours later to pick them up. No one thought anything of it. This village was safe. Everyone knew each other.
Perhaps not so safe anymore.
She turned to her sister. “Imogen, if what Caden says is true, then we had better not stay here by ourselves anymore.”
Caden looked from one sister to the other in surprise. “You come here on your own?”
“Mr. Hawke drops us off and then picks us up later,” Imogen said.
Ella nodded. “We never go down into the caves—we would never be so foolish.”
“We are always careful,” Imogen assured him. “I sit up here and draw the sunlight on the water. The birds circling over the cresting waves. Sometimes, I draw the stream that runs along the meadow or the way the sun catches the nearby trees and turns their leaves silvery. Ella reads her romantic poetry. But we’ll make certain to keep an escort with us from now on.”
Caden let out a breath. “Good.”
With that resolved, Ella and Imogen set out their food.
The fare was delicious, as it always was, for Mrs. Hawke was an excellent cook. The meats were cold, but still tasty. They dined on ham and chicken, cheddar and Stilton cheeses, apples, and freshly baked bread. Caden enjoyed a mug of ale while they had their lemonade.
Once they had eaten their fill, Imogen picked up her pad and pencil, and resumed capturing on paper whatever caught her fancy. Ella and Caden stowed the remains of their picnic inthe basket. She then took out her book of poetry and read aloud while Imogen sketched and Caden leaned back casually and listened to her.
“Ah, you are reciting ‘Love’s Philosophy’ again. You love that poem, don’t you, Ella?”
