“What about our stuff?” Cindy asked contentedly, not really caring, her arms around his neck and her head on his shoulder. He smelled of his hours in the sun, as if his skin had been baked to its perfect golden color.
“I’ll go back for it, once I’m sure you won’t be taking on the wildlife and losing,” he answered, turning to sidestep the stump of a gnarled oak. He took the opportunity to spin her in dizzying circles until, laughing, she begged him to stop.
“Had enough?” he asked, lowering her weight suddenly, pretending he was about to drop her. “Say uncle.”
“Uncle, uncle,” she gasped, clutching his shirt, breathless.
“I don’t know,” he said, debating. “You don’t sound very sincere.” He shifted her suddenly, tossing her over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry. “That’s much better,” he announced, as she kicked in protest. “Puts more distance between you and the piranhas.”
“Piranhas are fish,” she squealed, laughing so hard she could hardly get the words out. “Don’t you think I know anything? Now put me down and let me walk.”
He ignored her, proceeding on course until they broke through the screen of trees and reached the shore.
“What do you think?” he asked, setting her down gently, keeping his arms around her so that she was standing with her back to him, his hands folded across her waist.
“Oh, Drew, it’s lovely,” she breathed, taking in the placid, sun spattered surface of the water, the dense circle of encroaching cypresses all along the shore, the cloudless vault of the sky. “Where are we?”
“This is my uncle’s place,” he answered, his voice in her ear. “I built the chiksee just around that bend to the left. He always meant to build a house here but he never did it.”
“Why not?”
“He’s in jail,” Fox answered calmly. “For twenty years.”
Cindy turned within the circle of his embrace to look at him. “Why? What did he do?”
“He killed the man who had raped his wife,” Fox replied, watching her reaction to his statement.
“Oh, Drew, how awful,” she whispered, trying to comprehend the enormity of it.
“If you were my wife, I’d do the same to anybody who touched you,” he said flatly, in a tone that left no doubt that he meant it. Cindy felt a chill which had nothing to do with the weather.
“Don’t you think you’d better go back for the basket?” she asked, wanting to change the subject. “Stay right here,” he directed. “Don’t wander off.” She nodded. She barely heard his footsteps through the trees; he was very quiet in his movements for a big man. When he returned she was rooted to the same spot, waiting.
“Here’s the grub,” he said, spreading the cloth on the ground and setting out the wrapped packages and plastic containers. When it was all displayed they both looked at it.
“I guess I’ve lost my appetite,” Cindy said, and turned away.
He was beside her in a second. “Did I scare you, princess?” he asked, taking hold of her shoulders and forcing her to look at him.
“A little,” she admitted. “I don’t like to hear you talk that way.”
He enfolded her slowly, sighing deeply. “I’m sorry. It’s just that, since I met you, I can understand how my uncle must have felt. When I think of somebody putting his hands on you, treating you roughly, forcing you…” The sentence trailed off as his hands tightened on her arms.
“Shhh,” Cindy said, silencing him. “We shouldn’t have come here; I didn’t know about your uncle. It must be terrible for you to be reminded of all that.”
“Not as terrible as it is for him to live it. I visit him with Walter. You should see my uncle now. He used to be so strong, so capable. Now he’s a beaten man.”
“What became of his wife?” Cindy asked.
“She died a few years after he went to jail,” Fox replied. “I was about twenty-five, I guess. Some disease, they said it was, but I think the whole tragedy just slowly killed her.” He held her off and looked at her. “Come on, princess, eat something. You don’t want to leave this feast for the squirrels.”
They sat together on the ground, and once Cindy tasted some of the food her appetite returned. Everything was very good, and Fox produced tumblers of ice cold water from a well on the property that still worked. When they had packed away the leftovers he reclined on the tablecloth, using it as a blanket, and gestured for her to join him. When Cindy sat at his side, he pulled her down with him, molding her to his body. She relaxed against his shoulder, resting her cheek on his chest.
“So what do you think of my kingdom?” Fox asked, gesturing with his free hand.
“Is that what this is?” Cindy asked, looking around at the blue expanse of lake and sky.
“Certainly. And you’re the captive princess from a foreign northern land who has been whisked away to dwell with me in the underworld.”
Cindy smiled, closing her eyes and inhaling the clean fragrance of his skin, his soap. “I think you’ve got a few stories all mixed up there, Mr. Fox.”
He changed their positions so that she was lying flat on her back and he was looking down at her. “But I’m perfectly clear on one thing,” he said.
“What’s that?” Cindy asked, gazing up into the green eyes which seemed to fill the world.
“The way I feel about you,” he answered, and kissed her.
His mouth was so warm and soft, its pressure on hers so leisurely, that Cindy’s lips opened almost without volition. He kissed her for a long time, barely touching her except with his mouth, until she reached behind his head and pulled him closer, unconsciously inviting more. He reacted instantly, enfolding her, pressing her into the curve of his body. His mouth slipped from hers to the hollow of her throat.
“You’re driving me crazy,” he murmured. “I’ve been trying to hold back with you, but I don’t think I can do it anymore.”
Cindy moved, and he groaned, burying his flushed face in her neck. He lowered his weight onto her, holding himself up on his hands until their bodies were fused and then relaxing gradually. Cindy instinctively shifted to accommodate him, and then gasped as she felt the hardness of his desire, the muscular tension in his strong arms and lean, racehorse legs. His mouth sought hers again, and this time he abandoned all attempts to go slow. His tongue caressed hers as his hands came up to the buttons at the front of her sweater. Lost in his kisses, Cindy couldn’t object as he unbuttoned it and slipped his fingers inside the opening. His hand was hot, and yet gentle, cupping her breast through the lace brassiere and teasing the taut nipple with his thumb. Cindy moaned, turning her face away from his, lost in the sensation. He lowered his head, running his parted lips over the smooth skin he had exposed to view. His hands moved down to her hips, grasping them and forcing them upward into his. With one hand he lifted her skirt and sought the silken smoothness of her thighs, pressing her legs outward to allow him to lie more fully between them. The barrier of their clothing seemed to evaporate as Cindy knew, for the first time, what it must be like to receive a man.
“Do you want me?” he rasped, reaching for the zipper on her skirt. “Do you want me to take you now?”
Hearing him say it caused the flood tide of passion to recede long enough for reason to reassert itself. Cindy stiffened, and he felt it immediately. He sat up and gazed at her silently, his eyes glittering like gemstones.
“I can’t do this, Drew,” she said, putting the back of her hand to her mouth. “I want you, surely you can tell that, but this just isn’t right.”
“Why?” he said angrily. “Is it beneath your highness to grovel in the grass with a savage like me?”
“Cheap shot, Drew,” she said sharply, her mouth tightening. “That isn’t true and you know it.”
“I’m sorry,” he said in a low tone, looking away. “You don’t deserve a remark like that.”
Cindy rose to her feet, straightening her clothes. “I’m going for a walk,” she said shakily, seizing on the first idea that came into her head.
His fists clenched at his sides. “Don’t run away from me,” he said, agonized. “Please.”