Free Touch the Horizon by Iris Johansen Page A

shirt. The triangle of hair on his chest was a deeper gold, almost tawny, and looked invitingly soft and springy. “Sit up,” he urged, his arms going around her to pull her up into his arms. The scent of spice and musk wafted around her as she buried her face in the soft, downy pelt. Then he was pressing the center of her back, arching her to meet warmth with warmth, softness with smoothness. So alike, yet so different. She could feel herself swell and burn as he rubbed against her like a sleek, sinuous cat. “When I’m inside you, I’m going to do this,” he said, closing his eyes and holding her very still against him. “I’m going to lean over and love you with every inch of me. Can you see it, Billie?”
    She could see it so well, it stopped her breath. “Yes,” she said haltingly. It was hard to speak over the lump in her throat. She was so charged with emotion, she didn’t know whether it was passion or something else that caused that odd poignant ache. “I can see it, David.”
    He was curiously taut and stiff for a long moment, and then she felt him make a conscious effort to relax his rigid muscles. He pushed her away from him, and his lids flicked open. His eyes were no longer glazed, but brilliant and warm. So warm. He kissed her gently on the forehead. “Then, keep on seeing it, Billie.” His hands were pulling up the bodice of her dress and slipping the slender straps over her shoulders. “See it. Hold it. Remember it. Until the blossoming.”
    “Until the blossoming,” she repeated softly. There was a wrenching ache deep inside her, and she knew David was probably hurting with a frustration as intense as her own. Yet she wasn’t even tempted to try to alter his decision to wait for the growth that would fulfill the promise of what they’d known tonight. She was filled with a strange glowing serenity like nothing she’d ever known before. She pulled away from him and began to button his shirt while he watched her with that tender half smile.
    “You’re still trembling,” he said quietly. He touched her cheek lightly with a forefinger. “But then, so am I. It was beautiful, wasn’t it, windflower?”
    “Yes, it was beautiful,” she said softly, meeting his eyes steadily. “Very beautiful.” She tried to smile. “And now I think I’d better leave you and say good night.”
    He frowned and obviously was about to protest. Then he nodded slowly. “You’re right.” He stood up and pulled her to her feet. “I’d better get you out of here right away. I just didn’t want to let you go.” He slipped his arm around her waist with a casual familiarity that was both affectionate and endearing, as he accompanied her to the door. “I’ll walk you to your suite.”
    She shook her head as she opened the door and turned to face him. “I’d rather be on my own. I’ve got to find my way around this labyrinth sometime. It might as well be now.”
    He nodded wryly. “I think you’ll always be able to find your way, Billie. I don’t want to lead you or follow you. I just want to walk beside you.” He touched the tip of her nose gently, with a teasing finger. “But I can wait. Be as independent as it pleases you to be tonight. I’ll pick you up tomorrow morning at about eight and we’ll have breakfast in the bazaar before I take you on that sight-seeing tour I promised you.” He gave her another warm smile before gently closing the door.
    She turned and walked slowly down the corridor, a tiny frown knitting her forehead as she realized the forlornness she was feeling was born of an emotion she’d never before let herself experience. How odd after all these solitary years at last to know loneliness.

FOUR

    A RE WE TO be so honored as to see the treasures you’ve gathered in the back of your shop, Hassan?” David asked with solemn formality, gazing down at the eggshell fragility of the demitasse cup full of mint tea that he held. “I have heard wonderful stories of the Kirmans and