Free Past All Forgetting by Sara Craven Page A

thing. At any other time the chilled asparagus rolls, the
vol au vents
, the exquisitely garnished platters of meat would have enchanted her. She ate dutifully, and laughed and talked, but all the time her eyes were darting searching glances to every corner of the big dining room. Oh, where was he? Why didn't he come?
    At last she could stand it no longer, and with a murmured excuse she left her group and went back into the hall. A few couples were sitting on the stairs, chatting quietly, but Rian was not among them. He was not in the drawing room either, and quietly she went across to the french doors and on to the terrace. For a moment she thought it was deserted, and then in the far corner she saw a tall, familiar figure silhouetted against the last remnants of daylight.
    She went up to him and touched his arm. He turned sharply to face her, and she saw with a twinge of alarm that he was frowning heavily. When he saw who it was, his brow cleared slightly and he made an obvious effort to be welcoming.
    'Why aren't you eating with the rest of them?' he asked. 'Don't tell me you're watching your figure already?'
    'Do I need to?' Mischievously, she twirled round for his benefit. But he did not answer her smile. The brooding look had returned to his dark face.
    'No,' he said briefly, 'you don't need to. Go back indoors, Janna. It's getting chilly out here, and they're starting the dancing again.'
    'That's precisely why I'm here,' she said, trying to recapture the lighthearted mood of earlier in the evening. 'You said you'd dance with me, and you've been nowhere near me.'
    'I didn't think my absence would be noticed when you had so many round you,' he said drily, and her heart leaped, as she thought, 'Perhaps he's jealous.'
    'Of course I noticed,' she said gaily. 'A promise is a promise after all.'
    He hesitated. 'I'm not in a dancing mood, Janna. You'll have to forgive me for tonight.'
    She could have wept with disappointment and frustration. All evening she had been waiting for this. It had been the culmination of all her planning, all her hopes, and now it was to be denied her. Or was it? Not if she knew it.
    She lifted her chin. 'Very well, my lord. Then your handmaiden will dance for you.'
    The music from the hall drifted through, the beat slow, heavy and rhythmical.
    At first she had intended it as a joke, an attempt to jolt Him out of this strange introspective mood. She'd expected him to laugh and capitulate and take her into the hall and dance with her. But he did not. He stood and watched her as she circled and swayed in front of him, and gradually she became aware of a growing intentness in his gaze—a new and disturbing tension that had entered the atmosphere between them. She began to follow the beat of the music more closely, moved her feet less and her hips more, acting on pure instinct. Her lips felt dry and she moistened them with the tip of her tongue and saw her action was not lost on him. As the music rose to its climax, she placed her hands behind her head, arching her body towards him with deliberate provocation.
    'God in heaven,' he said unsteadily. 'Janna—you…'
    There were no more words. He pulled her towards him, crushing the softness of her breasts against his hard body, kissing her passionately and demandingly without regard for her total inexperience of such an embrace. For a moment she was shocked. Her innocence had not prepared her for this, then suddenly, instinctively, the woman in her took over, and she was responding at first shyly and then with a warmth and ardour she had not dreamed she was capable of.
    As she had danced, she had let her hands slide down her body. Now his hands followed the same path, and everywhere he touched, her nerve-endings awoke to a quivering vibrancy. Unashamedly she pressed herself against him, recognising his arousal and glorying in it.
    This was the only witchcraft between a man and a woman, she thought, her head reeling. This demand, this longing to touch and