at him.
“You understand horses,” she said.
“Been ridin’ since I was in diapers.”
“You must have used a lot of baby powder.”
“Itched like a sonuvagun.”
He grinned at her and the sun inside her nearly went nova. Deep lines etched his eyes, his strong jaw softened, his whole handsome self became an example of Mother Nature’s intention that men should be irresistibly attractive for the sake of the species. Thena stared at him with unabashed rediscovery.
The horses stood so close that her bare knee met the taut rope of muscles in Jed’s thigh. JackJaw shifted, took a step forward, and her knee slid sensuously along the surface of Jed’s outer leg. Thena was shocked to find out that her knee contained an erogenous zone.
Apparently his leg was even more affected than her knee, because his grin faded and she sat, hypnotized, as he studied her intently.
“You make a fine horse trainer,” he said gruffly. “This stud moves like he’s been taught to step between eggs without breakin’ them.” Through a subtle movement of his leg, he eased JackJaw a few inches away from Cendrillon. Thena shivered with relief.
“Let’s go,” she said abruptly. “I have a lot to show you.”
“I’m ready and waitin’ to be shown.”
She gave him a long, assessing look, then nudged Cendrillon toward the dark mysteries of the forest.
Jed half-expected elves to pop into sight at any minute, then huffed at his foolishness. He began tofeel the way he had as a boy, sitting next to Aunt Lucy in church. He felt like whispering.
They were in an area of huge, twisted live oaks covered in lichens and Spanish moss and ferns. Clumps of palmetto bushes rattled against the horses’ legs; magnolia trees hung paddle-leafed branches out to caress Jed’s arms and face. Thena rode beside him, and from time to time she made comments about the island.
“What’s that nice smell?” he asked.
“Bayberries and wild grapes. I always think of Tasoneela and Gabel Boisfeuillet when I smell it.”
“Who?” Jed inquired, as she had hoped he would. Now she’d catch his imagination for sure.
“Tasoneela and Gabel Boisfeuillet. They were lovers here back before the Revolutionary War. They died on the island.”
“From eatin’ bayberries and wild grapes?”
Thena clucked her tongue in dismay. “Don’t make fun. Do you want to hear the story? If you believe in spirits, you’ll like it.”
“I believe in spirits like Jack Daniel’s and Johnnie Walker.” Jed smiled ruefully at the piqued look she gave him. “But I like ghost stories.”
Thena nodded and tried to be patient. He thought he knew so much. Mainlanders always thought they knew so much.
She inhaled slowly and began. “Tasoneela was a beautiful Indian girl.” Thena pulled her shoulders back. “She was strong and courageous and proud.” She glanced at Jed and found his eyes directly on her. Best to look away from those eyes of his, she thought quickly, and did. “The Spanish held this coast then, and they took anything they wanted from the land and the Indians. One man, a cruel captain named Miguel de Leturiondo, wanted Tasoneela.” Thena arched one brow in feminine disdain. “To be his mistress.”
Jed would have smiled at her melodramatic style, but he was too charmed by it.
“He came to her village to take her, but Tasoneela escaped.” Thena held out both hands to the island. “She traveled to Sancia to hide, all alone. A year passed, and she fell in love with her island. Even alone, she was happy.” Thena lowered her voice. “Then one day she found a badly injured man, nearly dead, lying on the eastern beach. He was a French pirate named Gabel Boisfeuillet, and his ship and crew had been destroyed by Spanish forces.”
She cleared her throat. Despite every intention he had of remaining cynical, Jed felt his pulse hesitate every time she paused for effect.
“Keep goin’,” he ordered.
“Tasoneela was afraid of him, but she couldn’t
“You understand horses,” she said.
“Been ridin’ since I was in diapers.”
“You must have used a lot of baby powder.”
“Itched like a sonuvagun.”
He grinned at her and the sun inside her nearly went nova. Deep lines etched his eyes, his strong jaw softened, his whole handsome self became an example of Mother Nature’s intention that men should be irresistibly attractive for the sake of the species. Thena stared at him with unabashed rediscovery.
The horses stood so close that her bare knee met the taut rope of muscles in Jed’s thigh. JackJaw shifted, took a step forward, and her knee slid sensuously along the surface of Jed’s outer leg. Thena was shocked to find out that her knee contained an erogenous zone.
Apparently his leg was even more affected than her knee, because his grin faded and she sat, hypnotized, as he studied her intently.
“You make a fine horse trainer,” he said gruffly. “This stud moves like he’s been taught to step between eggs without breakin’ them.” Through a subtle movement of his leg, he eased JackJaw a few inches away from Cendrillon. Thena shivered with relief.
“Let’s go,” she said abruptly. “I have a lot to show you.”
“I’m ready and waitin’ to be shown.”
She gave him a long, assessing look, then nudged Cendrillon toward the dark mysteries of the forest.
Jed half-expected elves to pop into sight at any minute, then huffed at his foolishness. He began tofeel the way he had as a boy, sitting next to Aunt Lucy in church. He felt like whispering.
They were in an area of huge, twisted live oaks covered in lichens and Spanish moss and ferns. Clumps of palmetto bushes rattled against the horses’ legs; magnolia trees hung paddle-leafed branches out to caress Jed’s arms and face. Thena rode beside him, and from time to time she made comments about the island.
“What’s that nice smell?” he asked.
“Bayberries and wild grapes. I always think of Tasoneela and Gabel Boisfeuillet when I smell it.”
“Who?” Jed inquired, as she had hoped he would. Now she’d catch his imagination for sure.
“Tasoneela and Gabel Boisfeuillet. They were lovers here back before the Revolutionary War. They died on the island.”
“From eatin’ bayberries and wild grapes?”
Thena clucked her tongue in dismay. “Don’t make fun. Do you want to hear the story? If you believe in spirits, you’ll like it.”
“I believe in spirits like Jack Daniel’s and Johnnie Walker.” Jed smiled ruefully at the piqued look she gave him. “But I like ghost stories.”
Thena nodded and tried to be patient. He thought he knew so much. Mainlanders always thought they knew so much.
She inhaled slowly and began. “Tasoneela was a beautiful Indian girl.” Thena pulled her shoulders back. “She was strong and courageous and proud.” She glanced at Jed and found his eyes directly on her. Best to look away from those eyes of his, she thought quickly, and did. “The Spanish held this coast then, and they took anything they wanted from the land and the Indians. One man, a cruel captain named Miguel de Leturiondo, wanted Tasoneela.” Thena arched one brow in feminine disdain. “To be his mistress.”
Jed would have smiled at her melodramatic style, but he was too charmed by it.
“He came to her village to take her, but Tasoneela escaped.” Thena held out both hands to the island. “She traveled to Sancia to hide, all alone. A year passed, and she fell in love with her island. Even alone, she was happy.” Thena lowered her voice. “Then one day she found a badly injured man, nearly dead, lying on the eastern beach. He was a French pirate named Gabel Boisfeuillet, and his ship and crew had been destroyed by Spanish forces.”
She cleared her throat. Despite every intention he had of remaining cynical, Jed felt his pulse hesitate every time she paused for effect.
“Keep goin’,” he ordered.
“Tasoneela was afraid of him, but she couldn’t
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