‘It should be gone by dawn.’

‘We have to wait that long?’ Lizzie wailed.

‘We don’t have to do anything…’

‘Never mind. I’ll take a shower and then cook us dinner’

‘So will I,’ Elric said. A cold one. And I’m going to cook for you. Oysters. And strawberries, and champagne…’

‘Saltpeter,’ she said firmly, clutching the sheet more tightly around her. If she jumped his bones, as she wanted to so desperately, then Xan would win. And she couldn’t let that happen.

Her own shower didn’t do much good. The feel of the hot water beating down against her skin was an erotic stimulus, and she couldn’t wipe lascivious thoughts from her brain. She hadn’t had a chance to really use her mouth on him, and she was getting obsessed with the idea, fantasizing about it, her hands soaping between her legs-

‘No!’ she said out loud, turning the water to icy cold. But even that was arousing, and she turned off the water with a curse, wrapping herself in a towel, rubbing her skin briskly, then more slowly, languorously…

‘Goddammit,’ she muttered. She was standing stark naked in the middle of the bathroom, wearing nothing but red patent hooker stiletto heels, and she yanked on her clothes with shaking hands. The fresh tattoo on her ankle glowed with an almost malevolent sensuality, and she shoved open the door with a little moan.

She headed down the stairs, careful in her hooker shoes, to find Elric in the kitchen, shirtless, a helpless expression on his face. ‘I can cook,’ he said. ‘I promise you, I could cook you an absolute feast out of nothing. But right now…’

‘Right now we’ve got better things to do,’ she said. ‘You have any problems giving in to Xan’s spell?’

‘I thought you’d never ask.’ And he picked her up, tossed her over his bare shoulder, and headed back into the bedroom.


* * *

The moon shone after all. It wasn’t perfectly full. Beltane wouldn’t officially start for a few more hours. If anybody felt compelled to light bonfires, they’d have to do it the next night. Which was just fine. Dee had an idea she was going to create enough of a conflagration as it was.

They approached the stone circle at dusk. Danny brought the whiskey and truffles. Dee brought the feather boa and pop beads. She even wore what she considered to be her ritual garments. She’d ridden up the hill covered in her long raincoat, her hair caught in a pony tail to keep it out of the way. She carried two blankets and a couple of green pillows she’d pulled from her studio.

When they reached the stone circle, though, she revealed her true colors. Laying her burdens across the grass at the foot of the Great Big Rock, she set her boa and beads alongside. Danny pulled whiskey glasses from his jacket pockets and set them up alongside the bottle of Midleton he’d managed to unearth in town. He was just turning when Dee slid out of her coat.

‘Holy Mother of God,’ he breathed in awe.

For the first time in her life, Dee O’Brien appeared outside her house wearing nothing but the long white silk slip dress she wore to paint. She pulled the band from her hair and shook it out so that it caught the breeze and whispered into lazy motion, her Irish witch’s banner flowing well past her shoulders. She slid off her sandals and stood on the sacred ground in bare feet.

‘I decided not to hide in the attic,’ she said, and hated the fact that her voice sounded uncertain.

For the first time since she’d known him, Danny James was struck dumb. He just stared, hands out, breathing hard, face frozen in a stunned kind of yearning.

‘What?’ she asked, his amazement bolstering her. ‘You don’t think the virgin-on-the-way-to-a-sacrifice look is good for me?’

‘I think it’s about to make my eyes melt.’ He unfroze, walking up to her and lifting a trembling hand to her hair. ‘My sweet God, Dee. You’re an earth goddess.’

She smiled. ‘That’s actually what I was hoping for. Something in the Persephone line. Innocent but brazen.’

‘I couldn’t have said it better,’ He kept fingering her curls. ‘Great dress, by the way. Do you wear it for any other guys?’

‘I wear it to paint.’

He nodded, still looking stunned. ‘I bet you do. It goes great with your butterfly.’

Dee felt the fizz of his arousal along every nerve ending. ‘An added bonus, just for you.’

He nodded. Swallowed. ‘Um, would you like a drink? I sure think I’m gonna need one.’

Dee wanted to laugh. She’d never felt so strong before, for once in her relationship life not the supplicant. He needed a drink. And not because he was disgusted. Okay, that might come later, but for now she was damn well going to enjoy the feverish light in his eyes.

‘I’m not used to drinking,’ she said. ‘It makes me a little nuts.’

Danny held out a hand, as if calling her to dance. ‘Oh, but this night demands a little nuts, don’t you think? And I promise. You’re going to like this.’

‘As much as the pop beads?’

Good heavens. His eyes simply went black. ‘Oh, no. But it’s a close second to the feather boa.’

Dee grinned and laid her hand in his. As tenderly as if he were escorting her to a cotillion, he guided her over to where the blankets were spread and helped her down to sit with her back against the Great Big Rock. She faced the edge of the cliff, which gave her a lovely view of the sleeping fields and the deepening twilight sky overhead. Peacock and carmine and a slash of gold where the lowered sun licked the top of low clouds.

And there, the evening star. Let us be safe. And let me not disappoint this good man.

Sliding out of his jacket, Danny laid it on the slab of granite and took the glasses in hand. With those in one hand and the bottle in the other, he slid down to nestle right next to Dee on the thick plaid blanket. ‘Now, this is some of the finest whiskey the Irish make. And the Irish make great whiskey.’ He poured two fingers each and handed Dee her glass.

‘Have you been to Ireland?’ she asked, measuring the light that glinted off the amber liquid.

‘Often.’ He carefully set the bottle over his head on the rock. ‘You think the fields are green here in the spring. In Ireland they’re so intense they make your eyes ache.’

‘And Paris. You said you’ve been to Paris. Have you walked Montmartre?’

Danny laced the fingers of his free hand with hers. ‘It’s a flea market of a place with narrow, steep streets and quaint cafes and one of the most beautiful churches on earth. Would you let me take you there?’

Dee held on tightly to him, both with her hand and her eyes. ‘I can’t think of anything I’d love more.’

‘But we’ll see?’

She opened her mouth. Shut it. Shook her head. ‘This isn’t a test, Danny,’ she said. ‘It’s not pass fail. I want to make love to you because I love you. But it could well prove that we’re not able to go any farther.’

‘You mean me.’

‘I know who I am. You don’t.’

‘I told you. I know enough. Did I tell you I love you?’

Her smile was wistful. ‘You did.’

‘And you’ll let me show you?’

‘As long as I get to show you back.’

He leaned down, so that he blocked the last light of afternoon and the breeze, so that he brought the stillness of night with him, and he kissed her. Hot and wet and openmouthed, but with unspeakable gentleness. Heat swept through Dee. Longing such as she’d never known. Terror.

She denied the terror its root, and leaned into the kiss with every ounce of passion she’d stored up for twenty-six years.

This time it was Danny who pulled back, panting. ‘You haven’t had your drink yet.’

Dee ran her tongue over her lips to capture the rest of his taste. ‘You want to take the time?’

He scowled at her, flicking the end of her nose with his finger. ‘This is a seduction,’ he informed her archly. ‘Not a blitzkrieg. Proprieties will be observed at all times.’

‘Oh, good God,’ she said with a scowl. ‘Another movie quote. Are you sure you shouldn’t be dating Mare?’

He laughed. ‘Another reason to love you. You recognize The Quiet Man. A classic in film.’

‘You aren’t a John Wayne fan, are you?’

‘John Wayne is God. It’s tattooed on my left buttock. Wanna see?’

‘It is not. I already have.’

He looked astonished. ‘You’ve been peeking?’

Dee lifted her glass and grinned at him over its rim. ‘Twee. Twee.’

Danny spun around on her. ‘Good God. It wasn’t stuffed.’

‘Not the owl. And yes,’ she said. ‘She did like you. Especially that star birthmark on the inside of your right thigh.’

‘Wanna see it again?’

She grinned, giddy. ‘Birthmarks make me hot.’

He drew a finger down the hollow of her throat. ‘That can be arranged.’

Dee took another sip of the whiskey. Danny was right. It was smoky and smooth and the perfect accompaniment for a tryst in the middle of a stone circle. It settled into her stomach and sent tendrils of warmth spreading through her. Good. A few more of these and she might relax enough to avoid disaster.

Danny finished his drink in a gulp and set both glasses aside. Dee damn near gulped herself.

‘There is one thing you should probably know,’ she said. ‘You shift. I heard.’

He reached both hands out to her. Dee shied back. ‘Uh, no. This is something else. A direct result, if you will, of the shifting.’

Danny lowered his arms. ‘I’m doing the best I can here, Dee. But my patience is not what it usually is tonight.’

‘The libido spell,’ she said with a nod. ‘I know. It’s affecting me, too. Do you know you smell like the sea and the air right before a storm?’