Secrets of a Summer Night Read Free

her for displaying such unseemly interest in the sight of gentlemen dressed in pillow-cases. No matter how sternly Annabelle tried to hold back her amusement, a few reluctant giggles escaped, earning disapproving glances from people around them. And then, naturally, Hunt chided her for laughing during such an important lecture, which made her want to giggle all the more. Jeremy seemed too absorbed in the show to notice Hunt’s antics, craning his neck eagerly to discern which pieces of machinery were producing the wondrous effects.
    Hunt quieted, however, after an unexpected hitch in the roundabout’s rotation caused the platform to jerk slightly. A few people were thrown off-balance, but were immediately steadied by the people around them. Surprised by the interrupted motion, Annabelle wobbled and found herself swiftly caught in a light, secure hold against Hunt’s chest. He released her the instant she had regained her balance, lowering his head to ask softly if she was all right.
    “Oh, yes,” Annabelle said breathlessly. “I beg your pardon. Yes, I’m perfectly…”
    She couldn’t seem to finish the sentence, her voice dwindling into bewildered silence as awareness flooded her. Never in her life had she experienced this reaction to a man. Just what this immediate sense of urgency entailed, or how to satisfy it, was far beyond the scope of her limited knowledge. All she knew was that for a moment, she had desperately wanted to continue leaning on him, against a body so spare and firm as to be wholly invulnerable, providing a safe harbor as the floor shifted beneath her feet. The scent of him; clean male skin, polished leather, and the hint of starched linen, aroused all her senses with pleasurable expectation. He was completely unlike the cologned and pomaded aristocrats she had been trying to ensnare during the past two seasons.
    Profoundly troubled, Annabelle stared straight ahead at the canvas, neither seeing nor caring about the fluctuations of light and color that conveyed impressions of approaching nightfall… the dusk of the Roman Empire. Hunt seemed similarly indifferent to the show, his head inclined toward hers, his gaze locked on her face. Though his breathing remained soft and disciplined, it seemed to her that its rhythm had changed ever so slightly.
    Annabelle moistened her dry lips. “You… you mustn’t stare at me like that.”
    Soft as the murmur was, he caught it. “With you here, nothing else is worth looking at.”
    She didn’t move or speak, pretending that she hadn’t heard the gentle devil-whisper, while her heart lurched in an unsteady meter, and her toes curled inside her shoes. How could this be happening in a theater full of people, with her brother right by her side? She closed her eyes briefly against a sensation of spinning that had nothing to do with the progress of the roundabout.
    “Watch!” Jeremy said, nudging her eagerly. “They’re about to show the volcanoes.”
    Suddenly the theater was plunged into utter blinding darkness, while an ominous rumbling rose from beneath the platform. There were several little screams of alarm, a scattering of laughter, and loud gasps of anticipation. Annabelle’s spine went rigid as she felt the brush of a hand on her back.
His
hand, sliding with slow deliberateness up her spine… his scent, fresh and beguiling in her nostrils… and before she could make a sound, his mouth, possessing hers in a warm, softly ravishing kiss. She was too stunned to move, her hands in the air like butterflies suspended in midflight, her swaying body anchored by his light clasp on her waist, while his other hand cradled the back of her neck.
    Annabelle had been kissed before, by brash young men who had stolen a quick embrace during a walk in the garden, or in a corner of the parlor when they would not be observed. But none of those brief, flirtatious encounters had been like this… a kiss so slow and dizzying that it filled her with delirium. Sensations