Moonlight Becomes You: a short story by Linda Winstead Jones Page B

still, not circling to follow her, but allowing her to study him as she wished.
    Peter, the harried butler, sighed once again and made his escape.
    "You were right, Grandmother," Anya said softly. "He is a beauty."
    "I never said—" Mrs. Sedley began.
    "Julian the beauty," Anya interrupted. "That is what you called him."
    "No, no," the older woman said patiently. "Julian DeButy. Dr. Julian DeButy. That is his name, the way your name is Anya Sedley. DeButy sounds similar to 'the beauty,' I suppose."
    Anya completed her circle and stood before him once more. Julian fixed his eyes on the ruby at her throat. To look at anything more would be improper. To study her body the way she studied his would be beneath him. He should pay no attention to the way her very red hair fell across the swell of her bare breasts. He definitely should not allow his eyes to dwell on those lush lips, or the sprinkling of freckles across her nose, or, dear God, the valley between her breasts and her bare midriff, with skin so smooth and flawless it surely felt like silk.
    His eyes should most certainly not drop to the portion of exposed hip, shapely thigh, the length of that one completely exposed limb that almost brushed against his trousers. No, he stared at the ruby at her throat and thought of... of ships. Long, wooden ships that sailed across the seas, tossed by the tremendous waves so that it pitched up and down, up and down, in a rhythm deep and certain. He could feel it even now, roiling in the pit of his stomach as the ship carried him—Oh, this was not helping at all. So he thought of... of last night's meal.
    That was a safe enough topic for his beleaguered brain, surely. He'd dined with his aunt before taking the train to Wilmington. She'd served a succulent roast hen that had been quite tasty. The way it had lain on his tongue, tender and luscious, had been quite lovely. Just thinking about it made his mouth water. Yes, there was nothing so satisfying as a well-prepared meal: chicken and potatoes and greens, followed by delicious caramel cake. Oh, that cake had been marvelous. Sticky and sweet and decadent. Sinful, surely, it was so rich and just the memory made his stomach tighten and his heart skip a beat. Smooth and silky and warm...
    Good heavens, what had this woman done to him?
    Neither ships nor food calmed him, so he thought of the money Anya's grandmother offered, the opportunity to circle the world and write books about his travels. To discover tribes that still lived as their people had lived hundreds of years ago, each with their own society. Their own rules and mores.
    It did not matter that Anya had been a queen and a goddess, or that she could not have children. The only dignified reason for a man and woman to lie together was to conceive a child. The civilized man was above his baser instincts, though at times those instincts were easier to ignore than at others.
    Julian usually had no problem ignoring his own animal instincts. He rigorously avoided temptation, keeping to his books and avoiding situations that might prove... uneasy. This situation was most definitely uneasy. Any man who was confronted with a naked woman might feel aroused.
    He turned his mind to business. Since Anya could not conceive, and he would not stay long at Rose Hill, there was no need for their marriage to include the marital embrace. They would have separate beds. Separate rooms . He would be a mentor, a teacher. Not a lover.
    "You wish to marry me?" Anya asked, her words clipped and precise, with just a hint of a foreign accent. Not Spanish, not French, but something exotic and... no, not arousing.
    He was being ridiculous. This was just a woman, no different from any other. He would give her four months of his life, he would train her, mold her into the lady she should be. Those tutors who had come before had simply not been strict enough.
    "Yes," he said crisply. "I do believe we'd make a suitable couple."
    "You have not asked me if I wish to