Surrender To Love. Rosemary Rogers

sea nymph or siren. Wet hair always looked dark, but hers seemed to have strange shimmers of light shot through its wet, curly masses wherever the moon happened to touch it. Well-defined dark brows were etched against the pale oval of her face; and her eyes? They reflected the moon in miniature, but were they black? Dark grey? He had the instinct that they would be, even in daylight, the kind of eyes no one could read.

      He had spoken to her twice and she hadn’t answered—had just continued to stare at him with those strange dark and silver witch-eyes. Was she only held transfixed by terror, or was it possible that she could not understand English? Perhaps she was the pretty Eurasian mistress of one of the English officers or the Governor himself; or a trespasser afraid to be found swimming in the Governor’s private pool. Whoever she was he hadn’t meant to scare the poor girl out of her wits when he’d navigated that little channel underwater. He’d meant to come to this place late tonight to swim in privacy, and then he’d seen her, hardly believing his own eyes. A naked pagan goddess under the moon, as open and unashamed of her nakedness as the women of Tahiti and the Sandwich Islands; women who had not yet had civilization trap them and change them from natural to artificial products of an unnatural society. Who was she? Ah, but did it really matter?

      Almost unconsciously he had been looking at her parted lips, noticing that they were chiseled and well-shaped. Tempting lips. And so, without thinking, he bent his head and kissed them, acting purely out of instinct, his hands sliding up from her waist to her shoulders to bring her body closer against his. He wanted to taste and feel the texture of her lips, her mouth, to feel the pressure of her high, pointed breasts against his chest as they rose and fell like the sea itself with the motion of her breathing. He wanted much more than that, and his loins told him so; but he did not relish the thought of rape, and enjoyed seduction and the building up of desire that was mutual—the long, lazy enjoyment of lovemaking. So all he did for the moment was enjoy kissing his captive mermaid, who, as he had already discovered, possessed two long, sleek legs instead of a tail. And he kissed her gently at first, savoring the salt taste of her, the faint answering tremor he felt under his seeking mouth in the beginning and then under his hands. He could sense that she was like a shy, only half-tamed animal that might spring away in panic or begin to struggle desperately to escape if he moved too fast. But God, she had the sweetest, most temptingly perfect body in the world; and when at last her mouth yielded to him and her head fell back against his arm it was hard to remember patience.

      And as for Alexa herself, she was still in a kind of trance. A dreamlike feeling of unreality had taken hold of her, while in the depths of her mind she wondered if, like some bold Greek maiden of ancient times who had dared challenge the gods, it was her fate to be held captive forever in the silver-webbed spell spun by the moon while strange sensations she had never experienced before chased themselves up and down her spine before spreading all through her body; making it feel unaccountably weak. She had never been, never wanted to be, kissed by a man, and yet it was happening and she was enjoying it! Even when she felt his hands caress her body, touching her everywhere like an exploration, it was as if the slightest brush of fingers over her skin explored her senses as well—evoking feelings she had not known existed within herself, making her feel breathless and no longer in control of anything that was happening to her.

      She heard him whisper against her ear as his lips left her mouth and moved there on a trail of burning kisses, “I want you, sea witch. Silver moon maid. But you know that, don’t you?”

      He “wanted” her? What did he mean by that? Did he mean to carry her off with him somewhere into the depths of the sea or wherever he had come from? Who was he, what was he? And what was it she was supposed to know? With a concentrated effort that cost her almost all of the strength she had left in her, Alexa tore herself free and dived back into the water, swimming vigorously as she tried to gather her already scattered wits about her. Moon maid, he had called her. Moon mad was more like it! Lunatic…now she realized how the word had been coined.

      When she came up for air, shaking wet hair away from her face, Alexa found him before her again. Without her knowing it, she was playing the coquette—going from the innocent playfulness of a moon child to deliberate teasing. The cynical side of the man’s mind told him that she was playing a calculated game with him. Of course! Wasn’t that what most women were taught from infancy? Sweet deception. Blow hot, and then cold. Tease and pretend while you played “catch me if you can”; a game guaranteed to drive a man to his knees. But the fact remained that she was here like a fantasy turned flesh and blood—a naked nymph whose shoulders gleamed like silver in the light of a sinking moon—and he was the mortal man who had come upon her by accident, overcome by desire for her, as she probably knew very well!

      Alexa still could not make out his features too well, although she could at least see that he was dark-complexioned. And although his English had been impeccable, he had a slight accent she could not quite recognize. Was he a gentleman? But then, how could he take her for a lady? It suddenly occurred to her that in spite of all the books she had read on almost every subject under the sun and in so many different languages, there were still many things of which she remained ignorant. Like…well, how did one act if you found yourself alone with a strange man on a moonlit night and neither of you had any clothes on?

      Irrepressibly, Alexa started to laugh, perhaps as much from nerves as from the awkwardness of the situation she found herself in. But he did not laugh with her. In fact his voice sounded as if he was gritting his teeth while he spoke.

      “You find something laughable about this?”

      “I’m nervous! I always laugh when I’m nervous. And none of this seems quite real yet…”

      It was the feeling she had that his body was suddenly poised—for attack? Assault?—that made Alexa suddenly break off in mid-sentence and turn in panic to swim for the steps again. But as she had half-dreaded and half-anticipated he was there before her to bar her way to safety and security. Ridiculous! She, Alexa Howard, had never been cowardly enough to run away from danger, and of course she was not afraid! And yet, when she felt his arm go around her, she could not help the sudden tremor that ran up under her skin.

      As if they were merely continuing a polite conversation he said casually, with his head bent to hers, “What is it, mermaid? What did you suddenly think of? And were you thinking or—calculating?”

      “Calculating? And what do you mean by that?” Indignantly, Alexa tried to shrug off his arm as she added, “Not that it matters in the least, of course; except that you have intruded upon my privacy, and you…”

      “Indeed?” His drawling voice made her hackles rise instinctively as he continued sarcastically: “But then, you see, I had counted upon having some privacy myself tonight, and I happen to know that you are not the Governor’s wife nor the wife of the Lieutenant Governor either. In fact, I really cannot imagine you as the wife of any one of the very proper British gentlemen I’ve met, for that matter…having the courage to go out swimming under the moon without a stitch of clothing on! Which makes me wonder about you, sweet sea nymph…”

      “Oh!” Alexa felt her face grow hot and was glad he could not know it. It was quite insufferable, as well as ungentlemanly of him to mention it, of course. Sitting one step lower than he was, she slid herself deeper into the water until her shoulders were safely covered; and hearing his soft, amused chuckle at her strategy, Alexa would dearly have loved to use her nails on him. But instead, controlling herself with an effort, she said stiffly: “Since I happen to be a guest at Queen’s House, I can only believe that you must be the trespasser here. And if you had any decency you would leave at once! In fact, I don’t even think you are English! Where did you come from anyhow? I’m sure you have no rights to be here, and if you are wise you’ll leave before…”

      She did not quite like the sound of the short laugh that cut off her half-uttered threat as he said: “Before…what? Would you call the sentries and let them see you as you are now? A guest at Queen’s House? I had guessed you for some lucky man’s light of love, not His Excellency the Governor’s, for I don’t think his wife would permit him such an indulgence; but perhaps one of his senior officers? Obviously one of the older ones, or you would not be out here by yourself to seek your solace from the moon and the sea, would you?”