Free Kissed by Moonlight by Dorothy Vernon Page A

the heat again to say, “Obviously it wasn’t dark when I set off.” Her mouth curved in the pretense of a smile that was more like a sneer as she added in empty apology, “I’m sorry.”
    â€œThe devil you are.”
    â€œThe dining room is open until eleven. I don’t see what all the fuss is about.”
    â€œDon’t you?” His breath sucked in harshly. “Didn’t it occur to you that I might be worried?”
    She gave him a long, keen look that traced the hard set of his dark face, trying to determine something that gave credence to his concern in the unwavering straightness of his mouth, striving to penetrate the harshness in his eyes. She could find nothing to cheer her; she could not see one flicker of solicitude anywhere on his face. His caring wasn’t for her, but for his own creature comforts.
    She spat at him in contemptuous and rash disregard, “If you were in such a hurry for your meal, I’m surprised you didn’t follow your usual custom of leaving me to find my own way down. That certainly worked well enough at lunch.”
    â€œYou don’t have to rub it in. I’m aware that I’ve neglected you. Things – tentative ideas and explorations into new ventures that have been gently simmering for months – have suddenly come to the boil. I haven’t chosen to leave you to your own devices, it’s not up to me, and it goes especially against the grain to ignore you this way while you’re feeling raw. I know you’re grieving over the loss of your father. I wish I could see some evidence of the pace slackening, but I can’t.” His hand stroked upward through his hair in a weary gesture that was at odds with his usual positive assurance. It was such a human thing to do that she almost followed it up by allowing her hand to imitate his actions and lose her fingers in the bouncing virility of his dark hair. She didn’t dare, because his reference to the recent loss of her father made her feel too emotional. She couldn’t make a tender move toward David without dissolving into tears, and that weakness was definitely not permitted. She’d already made up her mind that there must be no childish tears in this woman’s game.
    So she said, somehow managing to appear to be calm and in complete control of herself, “I don’t mind so much now that you’ve explained. Why don’t you go a step further? Instead of shutting me out, why don’t you tell me about these new ideas and ventures?”
    Perhaps her cover was too good and her seeming calm infuriated him and he was goaded into making the attack. Perhaps it had nothing to do with her manner at all, but that he was furious with himself for letting her penetrate his steely indifference. Or perhaps, the painful thought intruded, it was because he wanted as little to do with her as possible and resented every minute that her presence kept him away from Justine Hyland.
    â€œDon’t you think the situation between us is explosive enough as it is? There are things you aren’t fit to know. If I told you just the half of what the future holds for your precious Chimera, you’d hate me forever, if you don’t already. You call it commercialism, as if it’s a dirty word, and you treat me as though I’m committing murder on mankind. Yet the changes are inevitable. Nothing stands still, neither people nor places. In this unspoiled world of yours no one should be permitted to grow older than six or seven, and then the beautiful illusion could be preserved. We could all maintain implicit belief in fairy tales and live in a land where you break off a piece of the gingerbread house when you’re hungry, and the prince lives happily ever after on a kiss from his fair princess.”
    At some time during the tirade he had grabbed her by the shoulders. His blue eyes burned into hers in a bitter attack on her nerves. Instead of flinching