Silver Moon by Monica Barrie

would do nothing to ease his frustrations. Standing, he drew on a pair of breeches, went to his bureau and took out a cheroot. He clipped its end, and lit it.
    Exhaling a blue stream of smoke, he tried again to calm his thoughts, but his efforts were to no avail. Shaking his head, he left his apartment and stepped into the night.
    He walked aimlessly for several minutes, trying to ease his thoughts, when he heard several twigs snap. Freezing, he turned in the direction of the sound. For a few seconds, he thought he was seeing one of Lucea’s voodoo spirits, but reality interceded and he knew the truth.
    Elyse was walking in the garden. From his vantage point, he saw her starlit form wandering. The inland breeze blew against her, pressing her white nightdress to her body, making it appear that she wore no clothing at all. He could see the dark circles of her nipples, and the gentle curve of her small belly. The darker thatch at the joining of her thighs was shadowed, but obvious.
    His chest constricted with desire, and he forced himself to look at her face. The beauty of it struck him fully, and he knew that as long as he was near her, his emotions would never be free.
    Though he tried to walk away, he could not. All he could manage was to watch her as she made her way to the gazebo. When she sat in the swing, something snapped within him and he started forward.
    *****
    Elyse let herself become part of the night as she swung on the bench, breathing in the tropical air and listening to the sounds around her. She wondered why, amidst all this beauty and tranquility, she could not find the peace she so desperately desired.
    In time , she told herself, knowing she must believe that. She heard a sound that was not part of the night, and listened intently until she recognized the noise for what it was—footfalls.
    Stiffening, she tried to see into the surrounding darkness. A moment later, a form emerged on the path. Her breath caught, and the air echoed with its gasping sound, for the form had taken substance—and Brace Denham’s face. She was overly aware that he wore only tight-fitting breeches, and in the darkness of the night, he appeared as though he were a naked god returned from Greek mythology.
    Elyse’s heart beat faster—she thought he must surely hear its volume. Yet, he gave no sign of hearing anything as he approached her.
    When he stepped onto the gazebo, she saw a strange hardness within his shadowed eyes. For just an instant, a different sensation spread along her spine—fear.
    “What...” she began, but the rest of her words died unspoken.
    Brace walked to her and his hands darted out, capturing her shoulders and stopping the swing at the same time. He looked into her face and saw a mixture of fear, bewilderment and, oddly enough, trust.
    “Do you walk about at night to tease me? To make me even more aware of what I can never have?” he demanded in a harsh, deep voice.
    Shocked, Elyse pulled away from his grasp, but could not free herself. Her eyes widened as she stared at him, and then she slowly shook her head, her mind and body fighting the confusion of his words. “Brace…no…I couldn’t sleep. I—”
    “Perhaps you need a man to help you sleep?” His voice changed with the stinging words. His hands slid down her shoulders, caressing her skin through the thinness of the nightdress.
    Elyse shuddered as her skin reacted to his touch and began to burn fiercely. Her stomach tightened as a strange new heat stirred deep within her; his words burned her mind as deeply as his hands burned her skin.
    Moving quickly, she pushed his hands away and stood. In that instant, she was but a hair’s breadth from him and could feel the heat of his body upon hers. She twisted away and stepped back. Shame colored her face, wiping away the desires his presence and hands had brought into being.
    “You uncaring bastard!” she shouted as her arms wrapped across her breasts protectively.
    Brace laughed and Elyse