Season of the Shadow
by
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Kyndee sighed contentedly and cupped his face with her hands, her thumbs gently toying with the corners of his hungry lips. The mere touch of her fingers against his skin kindled a slow burn, and his own desire was hot and hard between them. He claimed her sweet mouth again, deeply this time, and shuddered when she responded in kind. Her small moist tongue darted hesitantly against his, then impudently explored the recesses of his mouth, gliding along his teeth, answering his silent summons to join his with no fear, no indignation and more than a slight clinical curiosity. It was the curiosity that caused him to chuckle and pull away. Kyndee pursed her lips. "You’re laughing at me!" "No, never, Bonbon," he moaned in excuse against the silky hollow beneath her earlobe. Rising on his forearms, he grinned at her and touched the tip of his nose to hers. "Have you any idea what it is you do to me?" "What does it feel like? What I do to you?" A groan rumbled in his chest. "Little minx, you ask me to describe that which defies description." He cast his eyes and a cryptic smile skittered over his lips. "Ah, Bonbon, for me you are like --a tidal wave--fire and ice--a sweet crescendo of passion’s hunger and a promise of wondrous perfection. You are sweet agony that sets me to trembling as with cold while a warmth radiates from wherever you touch to forge an ache coiling deep within me. You shatter my soul and my sanity and become them at the same time. I burn for you in places I dare not mention and..." He chuckled. "...I’m surprised you haven’t slapped my face and taken me to task for braving such indecent liberties with you." She hiked herself to her elbows and wriggled free of him. "Why should I do that? I wanted to know how you felt--and how you tasted." A warm wine color rose in her cheeks and she nuzzled her sun-bronzed cheek. "You tasted quite delicious...like sun-ripened wild strawberries...and I fear I may be developing this hunger you speak of." Her soft hand caressed his face as her whisper caressed his heart. "How could this hand be anything but tender when I know you’d never do anything to hurt me; you know I feel the same way about you. To hurt you would be the same as hurting myself."
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About the Book
It was a time of chivalry and grace but also a time of turmoil in antebellum America. Fletcher Stedman is the crown prince of Virginia’s famous Seabrook Plantation. The handsome rakehell is a man of dreams with headstrong passions and an ingenious mind. Suddenly his dreams are shattered and his life ripped from him by a jealous cousin, and Fletcher is put to the test fighting for his life and his sanity. Kyndee Brock always dreams of marrying her handsome Fletcher--her kindred spirit and dearest love. One day, however, Fletcher mysteriously disappears. Kyndee must spend the next decade defying fate, following her heart to reunite them and recapture the love that they had been denied.