By Moonlight Wrought (Bt Moonlight Wrought) by John Crandall Page A

not because of his or her
social class.  Someone is not a bad person because they have less manners than
another…or…or because he doesn’t have the blood of a particular family in his
veins.”
             “I see,” Angelique said.  “Well, if you
ever want to settle down to your inheritance and a refined life, I may want to
mix my family blood with yours.”  She looked slyly at him, smiling slightly,
compassionately.  “Our son would be the most handsome, sophisticated lad,” she added
with a winsome sigh.                                                   
             “You are certainly... special ,
Angelique.  I don’t know if I’ll ever settle down in that way, but a part of me
certainly hopes that I will.”  Selric wrapped his arms around her waist. 
             Angelique’s smile faded quickly, her lips
parting as she placed her own arms around Selric’s neck, waiting, and edging
forward.  Selric leaned Angelique to the side and pressed his lips to hers,
finding them naturally warm, soft, and oddly receptive.  He slipped his tongue
into her mouth and ran it over her teeth, feeling her gasp, and he inhaled her
sweet, cool breath.  Angelique touched her tongue timidly to his, and feeling
its slickness, pulled it back away.  But Selric held Angelique tightly and ran
his tongue over hers, despite the fact that she tried to hide it in the back of
her mouth.  Slowly, she brought it out, intermingling it with his.  Then he
stopped.  Angelique’s heart thumped.  She knew that he must be able to feel it,
pressed together as they were.  She was queasy, light headed, and when Selric
stood her upright again, she fell immediately back into his arms, unable to
look him in the eye.
             “Shall we go back in?” he asked, his arm
around her waist for support.  Angelique nodded and walked, ever more steadily,
with him.  She knew, sadly, that kissing would never be the same.
     
             “I really owe you for getting me that
job.  I can’t believe I start tomorrow.  How can I repay you?” Melissa asked. 
Dirk was wondering just that as they stood outside the warehouse, Melissa
stroking Candy while Dirk loaded the wagon.
             “That’s okay,” he finally said, realizing
he liked having her near him; that was payment enough for Dirk.
             “Would you like to come over tonight? 
I’m cooking a chicken,” Melissa asked as if that would be payment enough.  In
fact, to Dirk, it would be.  He had not eaten chicken since his last dinner at
the Red Pheasant , where he ventured each month only after saving enough
money.  Dirk’s meals usually came from the market, consisting of cheap
sausages, hard bread, and watered beer.
             “That would be good,” he said calmly, but
his mouth began to water and his stomach rumbled as he imagined the wholesome
food.  Melissa heard and smiled.
             “See you...a little before sunset? 
That’ll give me time,” she said, looking at the sun, “to buy it and clean it
and all.”
             “All right,” Dirk said.  “What time?”
             “Time?” she asked.
             “What time…what hour?” he asked.  When
she still seemed puzzled he laughed and added, “Can’t you tell time?”  
             “Tell time?  Tell it what?  Huh?” Melissa
asked, then she remembered having been asked that same question before.  “You
mean that big tower...clock thing?”  The great clock tower could be seen from
almost all parts of town, and heard from even farther. 
             “Yes that tower-clock thing,” said Dirk,
finding her country innocence charming.  Melissa blushed, but such emotions
made the strong girl uncomfortable and she tended to hide it with anger. 
“That’s okay, I understand. I’ll be there around dusk,” Dirk said kindly.  They
smiled at