the core, she tugged at the rumpled spread, pulled it up—and to Cal’s mind succeeded only in looking more alluring and rumpled.
But he lowered the camera. “I thought witches were supposed to like to dance naked under the full moon.”
“Going skyclad isn’t an exhibition. And there’s a time and place for such things. No one snaps pictures of private matters nor of rituals.”
“Bryna.” Using all his charm, he stepped closer, tugged gently at the sheet she’d pulled over her breasts. “You have a beautiful body, your coloring is exquisite, and the light in here is perfect. Unbelievable.” He skimmed the back of his fingers over her nipple, felt her tremble. “I’ll show them to you first.”
She barely felt the sheet slip to her waist. “I know what I look like.”
“You don’t know how I see you. But I’ll show you. Lie back for me. Relax.” Murmuring, he spread her hair over the pillows as he wanted it. “No, don’t cover yourself. Just look at me.” He shot straight down, then moved back. “Turn your head, just a little. I’m touching you. Imagine my hands on you, moving over you. There. And there.” He braced a knee on the foot of the bed, working quickly. “If I had a darkroom handy, I’d develop these tonight and you’d see what I see.”
“I have one.” Her voice was breathless, aroused.
“What?”
“I had one put in for you, off the kitchen.” Her smile was hesitant when he lowered the camera and stared at her. “I knew you would come, and I wanted you to have what you needed, what would make you comfortable.”
So you would stay with me, she thought, but didn’t say it.
“You put in a darkroom? Here?”
“Aye, I did.”
With a laugh, he shook his head. “Amazing. Absolutely amazing.” Rising, he set the camera down on the bureau. “I think you need to be a little more…mussed before I shoot the rest of that roll.” He climbed onto the bed. “The things I do for my art,” he murmured and covered her laughing mouth with his.
6
L ATER, in the breezy evening when the sun gilded the sky and polished the air, he walked with her toward the cliffs. Both his mind and his body were relaxed, limber.
Logically he knew he should be racing to the nearest psychiatric ward for a full workup. But a lonely cliffside, a ruined castle, a beautiful woman who claimed to be a witch—visions and sex and legends. It was a time and place to set logic aside, at least for a while.
“It’s a beautiful country,” he commented. “I’m still trying to adjust that I’ve only been here since this morning. Barely twelve hours.”
“Your heart’s been here longer.” It was so simple to walk with him, fingers linked. So simple. So ordinary. So miraculous. “Tell me about New York. All the movies, the pictures I’ve seen have only made me wonder more. Is it like that, really? So fast and crowded and exciting?”
“It can be.” And at that moment it seemed a world away. A thousand years away.
“And your house?”
“It’s an apartment. It looks out over the park. I wanted a big space so I could have my studio right there. It’s got good light.”
“You like to stand on the balcony,” she began, then rolled her eyes when he shot her a quick look. “I’ve peeked now and then.”
“Peeked.” He caught her chin in his hand before she could turn away. “At what? Exactly?”
“I wanted to see how you lived, how you worked.”
She eased away and walked along the rocks, where the water spewed up, showered like diamonds in the sunlight. Then she turned her head, tilting it in an eerily feline movement.
“You’ve had a lot of women, Calin Farrell—coming and going at all hours in all manner of dress. And undress.”
He hunched his shoulders as if he had an itch he couldn’t scratch. “You watched me with other women?”
“I peeked,” she corrected primly. “And never watched for long in any case. But it seemed to me that you often chose women who were lacking
But he lowered the camera. “I thought witches were supposed to like to dance naked under the full moon.”
“Going skyclad isn’t an exhibition. And there’s a time and place for such things. No one snaps pictures of private matters nor of rituals.”
“Bryna.” Using all his charm, he stepped closer, tugged gently at the sheet she’d pulled over her breasts. “You have a beautiful body, your coloring is exquisite, and the light in here is perfect. Unbelievable.” He skimmed the back of his fingers over her nipple, felt her tremble. “I’ll show them to you first.”
She barely felt the sheet slip to her waist. “I know what I look like.”
“You don’t know how I see you. But I’ll show you. Lie back for me. Relax.” Murmuring, he spread her hair over the pillows as he wanted it. “No, don’t cover yourself. Just look at me.” He shot straight down, then moved back. “Turn your head, just a little. I’m touching you. Imagine my hands on you, moving over you. There. And there.” He braced a knee on the foot of the bed, working quickly. “If I had a darkroom handy, I’d develop these tonight and you’d see what I see.”
“I have one.” Her voice was breathless, aroused.
“What?”
“I had one put in for you, off the kitchen.” Her smile was hesitant when he lowered the camera and stared at her. “I knew you would come, and I wanted you to have what you needed, what would make you comfortable.”
So you would stay with me, she thought, but didn’t say it.
“You put in a darkroom? Here?”
“Aye, I did.”
With a laugh, he shook his head. “Amazing. Absolutely amazing.” Rising, he set the camera down on the bureau. “I think you need to be a little more…mussed before I shoot the rest of that roll.” He climbed onto the bed. “The things I do for my art,” he murmured and covered her laughing mouth with his.
6
L ATER, in the breezy evening when the sun gilded the sky and polished the air, he walked with her toward the cliffs. Both his mind and his body were relaxed, limber.
Logically he knew he should be racing to the nearest psychiatric ward for a full workup. But a lonely cliffside, a ruined castle, a beautiful woman who claimed to be a witch—visions and sex and legends. It was a time and place to set logic aside, at least for a while.
“It’s a beautiful country,” he commented. “I’m still trying to adjust that I’ve only been here since this morning. Barely twelve hours.”
“Your heart’s been here longer.” It was so simple to walk with him, fingers linked. So simple. So ordinary. So miraculous. “Tell me about New York. All the movies, the pictures I’ve seen have only made me wonder more. Is it like that, really? So fast and crowded and exciting?”
“It can be.” And at that moment it seemed a world away. A thousand years away.
“And your house?”
“It’s an apartment. It looks out over the park. I wanted a big space so I could have my studio right there. It’s got good light.”
“You like to stand on the balcony,” she began, then rolled her eyes when he shot her a quick look. “I’ve peeked now and then.”
“Peeked.” He caught her chin in his hand before she could turn away. “At what? Exactly?”
“I wanted to see how you lived, how you worked.”
She eased away and walked along the rocks, where the water spewed up, showered like diamonds in the sunlight. Then she turned her head, tilting it in an eerily feline movement.
“You’ve had a lot of women, Calin Farrell—coming and going at all hours in all manner of dress. And undress.”
He hunched his shoulders as if he had an itch he couldn’t scratch. “You watched me with other women?”
“I peeked,” she corrected primly. “And never watched for long in any case. But it seemed to me that you often chose women who were lacking
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