Karen Robards - Desire in the Sun

"Was that a thunderclap I heard?"

He laughed, picking up her hand from the rail and carrying it toward his lips. He didn't quite kiss her fingers, but looked at her provocatively over the curve of them as he held them near his mouth. Lilah turned a little toward him, her eyes meeting his. She was suddenly nervous, but in a nice kind of way. He had promised not to take advantage of her trust and she believed him, so she wasn't frightened that he might go beyond the line. This giddy anticipation was a new sensation, and her skin tingled with it.

"You know, you’ve been looking at me all night as if you're trying to figure out what it would feel like if I kissed you." There was a hint of laughter buried under his pensive words.

Her eyes widened, and she felt a blush creep into her cheeks. Was she really that transparent?

"I-I…" she stuttered in utter confusion, tugging at her hand. He grinned wickedly, and lifted her fingers to his mouth. His lips just brushed over her knuckles with a pressure so light that the depth of the reaction she felt was shocking in comparison. Her lips parted, and her knees quivered.

"Does it tickle?" he murmured, lowering her hand but still holding on to it. With her senses so disordered from that fleeting kiss, it took Lilah a moment to understand what he had said. When she did, her blush deepened.

"How did you know…?" she gasped, then broke off as she realized what she was admitting.

His grin broadened. "You kept shooting shy little glances in the direction of my chin. At first I thought you were fascinated by my mouth, but then I decided it must be my mustache. I was right, wasn't I? So does it tickle?"

"I didn't notice." Lilah tried to hold on to her slipping composure, lowering her eyes primly and pulling at her hand again. Instead of releasing it, he caught the other one, then slid both his hands up her arms to just above her elbows. The feel of his warm, strong hands against her bare skin caused a jolt that shook her clear to her toes. Her lips parted, and her eyes flew to his.

"So you didn't notice?" He was leaning toward her, deviltry plain in the wicked little half-smile that played around his mouth. Not a handsbreadth separated their bodies. She was so conscious of his nearness that she could barely think. Her eyes locked helplessly with his. For the first time in her life she found herself solely in someone else's power. She couldn't have moved or spoken if her life had depended upon it.

"This time, pay attention," he murmured, and lowered his head toward hers. Lilah froze as his lips touched hers, softly, warmly, just brushing the quivering softness of her mouth. His mustache grazed the tender skin above her upper lip. Then he was lifting his head to look down at her with an intent expression that deepened as he saw how the kiss had affected her. The brief touch of his mouth had left her reeling.

"Lilah..

Whatever else he had been going to say in that dark, soft voice was drowned beneath excited yapping. Lilah, shaken out of the dreamworld she had been caught up in, looked around dazedly to see Hercules darting across the floor toward them. Behind him, not quite at the summerhouse steps, came her Uncle George, his expression boding no good.

"What the devil are you about, girl, flirting like some demmed Jezebel out here in the dark? You ought to be ashamed of yourself! Your aunt's been looking for you this age!"

Her great-uncle's booming voice finished the process of dragging Lilah back to reality. She took a hasty step away from Joss, who obligingly dropped her arms, and turned to face her fuming uncle as he puffed up the shallow steps. Unlike his wife, Uncle George's bark was far worse than his bite. He was not nearly as gruff as he sounded. She was really very fond of him, and gave him a placating smile as he stomped across die floor toward her. He had once been tall, but he was stooped now with age and required a cane to get around. Still, he was an impressive figure with his thick head of bushy white hair and his elegant black evening clothes slimming a frame that inclined toward portliness around the middle.

"I'm sorry if I worried you, Uncle. But the rose garden was crowded, and-"

"And you wanted to find a spot where your young man here could sneak a kiss," Uncle George finished with devastating accuracy. "No use to try to pull the wool over my eyes, girl, I saw what you was about. But don't let on with your aunt. She's a high stickler, she is. Well, now, am I to expect a visit from you in the morn- ing, young man, asking for my great-niece's hand? Or do I crack this cane over your head here and now?"

"Uncle!" Lilah protested, mortified, as she cast a quick look over her shoulder at Joss. He stood tall and silent behind her, his eyes fixed on Uncle George's face. LUah remembered that he had come to Boxhill on some sort of business that concerned her uncle, and felt a spurt of sympathy toward him. Getting caught kissing one's host's niece was not an ideal way to start a relationship.

"You're not the Burrel boy, are you? Nah, you can't be. His hair's as yeller as Lilah's here. Unless my mind's getting as weak as my knees, I've never seen you before in my life." Uncle George looked at Joss with hard suspicion.

"My name is Jocelyn San Pietro." Joss spoke abruptly, as though he expected the name to have some meaning for the old man. Uncle George glared at Lilah before shifting his eyes back to Joss. Despite her uncle's age and disability, there was suddenly something formidable about him.

"Here in Virginia, we call a man out for less than you've done tonight, sirra. Strangers don't take young ladies out in the dark and kiss them without being called to account for it."

"Uncle…!"

"You hush your mouth, missy! Hell, females got no sense, and this proves it! To come out alone with a man we don't know from Adam-you're lucky I came along when I did! He…"

"I beg your pardon, sir, but you do know me. Or you should. I believe I'm your grandson."

Astounded silence followed this revelation. Lilah stared at Joss, her mouth open, eyes wide. Uncle George and Aunt Amanda had never had children…

"My grandson? What a load of bull feathers! I don't have a…" Uncle George never talked, he bellowed, and he was bellowing now as he reached out to catch Lilah's arm and pull her to him and away from the tall, dark man who stood regarding him inscrutably. The moonlight caught Joss's eyes, making them gleam vividly emerald through the darkness. Uncle George's bluster died. His hand on Lilah's arm tightened painfully as he stared up at Joss. As Lilah watched, her great-uncle's face visibly paled. "Good God! Victoria!"

"Victoria Barton was my grandmother." Joss's voice was expressionless. "Emmelina, her daughter, was my mother. She was also, or so she told me, your daughter. I am sorry to inform you-though I don't believe you ever acknowledged her existence-that she died three months ago. She left some letters for you that I understand were written by her mother, and begged me on her deathbed to deliver them. Once I have executed her commission, I'll take myself off."

"Dear God in heaven." Uncle George sounded as if he were choking. "Victoria! So many years ago! It can't be… You can't be…"

Lilah, suddenly embarrassed, realized that she had no business witnessing this emotion-fraught meeting. Her great-uncle had always longed for a son, and she supposed that this newly discovered grandson would be the next best thing. There were difficulties, of course. Obviously Uncle George had, at some time, fathered a daughter with a woman not his wife, and the man confronting him now was the result of that youthful indiscretion. She looked from Joss's hard, set face to Uncle George's suddenly slack one. The old man looked as if he'd seen a ghost.