Call Down the Moon Paperback - 1998

First line

Hugo heaved a sigh of annoyance as he regarded the gray facade of the manor house.

Excerpt

Hugo paused in front of Meggie's door, his hand on the brass knob.  He gazed down at her, his eyes dark as the night and filled with a question she couldn't begin to divine.

Meggie waited silently, her heart hammering like a caged thing in her chest, every nerve ending alert, acutely aware of his nearness, and of what was to come.

He reached his free hand out and traced his fingertips down her cheek.  "Meggie, tell me . . ." he whispered, then stopped.

She turned her cheek against his touch and softly pressed her lips against the side of his warm hand.  "What shall I tell you?" she murmured, then tilted her head back to look up into his shaded eyes.

Oh, ask me.  Ask me if I love you and I will tell you truly.

"That you trust me," he said raggedly.  "That you know I will not harm you.  That you truly are not afraid."

Meggie's lips curved up in a soft smile, her heart aching with love for him, for his generosity.  "I trust you," she answered quietly, "and I am not afraid.  How could I be afraid of someone with such a gentle, caring heart as yours?"

He closed his eyes for a brief moment, as if what she had said pained him.  "I think perhaps you are too trusting," he said, the pad of his thumb brushing lightly over her mouth. "But I am not going to argue with you.  I am far too selfish."

"The last thing in the world you are is selfish, Hugo Montagu, and I am not going to argue with you, either.  However, I would ask that you open the door without further ado."

Hugo flashed a grin down at her, the shadow vanishing from his face.  "Your wish is my command," he said, turning the handle and pushing the door open.  "After you, my lady." He stood back to let Meggie in, closing the door behind them.

As she crossed the threshold she gasped, her eyes taking a moment to adjust to the sudden flood of light.

The room blazed with candles.  Not a corner, a table-top, an inch of space on the mantelpiece had been left uncovered.

"Good God," Hugo murmured from behind her.  "Is this supposed to be heaven or hell?"

"Heaven to be sure," she said, trying to catch her breath. "Hugo, do look at the bed."

"Oh, dear Lord above," he muttered.  "Is nothing safe from those women?"
Every last inch of the bed was thickly spread with rose petals.  They adorned the counterpane and pillows, and tumbled off the sides of the mattress, drifting in a haphazard fashion across the floor.

Hugo pulled her back against his hard body, his arms crossing over her waist as if to protect her.  "I think we should retire to my room," he said.  "We might very well suffocate in here."

"What, and let the aunties' Herculean efforts go to waste?  Oh, Hugo, you wouldn't be so cruel." She wiped away tears of laughter from her eyes.  "This is obviously their idea of high romance.  We can't disappoint them."

"Disappoint the aunties?  No, how could we--I beg your pardon for even considering it."

She turned in his arms and leaned her face against his chest, slipping her hands down to his lean waist.  "Hugo?" she asked, her voice muffled against his coat, trying to still the shaking of her shoulders.  "Do you really mind so much?  They were rather sweet to have gone to such trouble."

Hugo's arms tightened around her back.  "I don't think I mind much of anything as long as you keep doing what you're doing," he answered, his hands sliding down to cup the curve of her buttocks, pulling her full against him.

The outline of his stiff arousal pressed against her, hard and insistent, caused her knees to tremble and her blood to pound even more violently.  She breathlessly clung to him for dear life, afraid that if she let go she'd collapse.

He bent his head and covered her mouth--his lips lightly grazing over hers, tasting, testing, urging a response.  There was no need; Meggie sighed, her lips parting against his, hunger swirling through her body, deep and hot and pulsing.

Hugo instantly deepened the kiss, burying his fingers in her hair.  His thumbs stroked against the angle of her jaw; his tongue thrust restlessly into the warm depths of her mouth.

Meggie moaned, meeting and returning his intimate touch.  Her hands moved on his back, kneading the strong, corded muscles that shifted under her fingers, savoring every sensation. This . . . this was what she had been waiting for, longing for ever since she had first laid eyes on him. And now he was hers and she his, and she could give all of herself to him without reservation.

Her arms slipped around his neck.  She poured herself into his kiss, drinking in his taste, tinged with the flavor of wine and something else that was sweet and salty and uniquely his.

His touch was all she'd remembered and more.  More, because now there was no stopping, no need to hold any part of herself in check.  Desire ran like liquid heat through her body, pooling in her very center just where that deep pulse beat.

"Meggie.  Meggie, my sweet," Hugo murmured, moving his mouth to her neck, trailing kisses down to the hollow of her collarbone as his fingers found the buttons and tapes of her dress.

In a moment he had them undone, and he slipped the fabric off her shoulders and down her arms until the silk fell to her waist and glided over her hips, landing in a puddle around her ankles.

She shivered, not with the cold, but with fevered excitement as his gaze traveled from her face down over her naked body.  She felt her nipples contract and grow hard as his blazing sapphire eyes took in every detail of her unclothed form.

Shameless.  She was shameless, and she didn't care one bit.  She wanted him to look at her with fierce, unrestrained need.

"Meggie," he breathed.  "You are so lovely.  So very lovely, so alive.  So responsive.  So desirable." His hands grazed lightly up her rib cage, his thumbs stroking the underswell of her breasts.

She trembled with longing, her eyes closing, her head falling back, and yearned for the fullness of his touch on her aching flesh.  But instead of giving her the satisfaction she craved, he bent down and effortlessly swept her up in his arms, cradling her against his chest.

"Oh," she said in disappointment.  "That felt so nice.  I wish you hadn't stopped."

"I am delighted to hear it," Hugo said with a low chuckle. "However, do try to curb your impatience.  I shock easily." He brushed his mouth over her forehead and she felt the smile that curved his lips.

She wrapped her arms back around his neck and sighed, drinking in his heady scent.  "I can't help desiring you," she whispered, stroking her fingers through his silky hair.  "Am I terribly unladylike?"

"Delightfully so," he replied, carrying her over to the bed as if she weighed no more than a feather.  "But there is much to come, and I want you to enjoy every moment of this night, Meggie. And you will enjoy it, I promise."

"Oh, you needn't worry about that," she said, nuzzling her nose into the side of his throat, his skin hot and slightly damp. "I told you I'm not afraid."

"You might not be afraid, but I'm terrified," he said dryly.

Meggie, taken aback by the absurdity of that statement, raised her head and stared up at him.  "What could you possibly be terrified of?  It's not as if you haven't done this a hundred times before."

Hugo smiled, caressing a strand of her hair.  "Not with my wife I haven't.  What I'm terrified of is wanting you so badly that I go too quickly.  You wouldn't thank me for it, and I would hate myself." Bending down, he kissed the very tip of her nose. "So as much as I may desire you, I am determined to take my time. You, my greedy darling, will just have to put up with me."

He stripped back the counterpane, cursing as a flurry of rose petals rose from the bed, swirling everywhere.

Meggie burst into laughter as fragile pink blossoms drifted down over them, covering them both from head to toe.  "You look like a flower shop," she said, brushing her fingers through his hair and dislodging another shower.

"Damned old bats," Hugo said, plucking a petal out of his mouth.  He laid her down on the bed and stepped back, his gaze sweeping over her in admiration.  "On the other hand, I must say, you look rather charming dressed in nothing but rose petals."

Meggie pushed herself up on one elbow.  "I wish I could say the same for you," she replied, her lips trembling with mischief.

"Ah.  A hint, and I do believe a rather broad hint at that," he said, stripping off his coat and undoing the buttons on his shirt.  "I think I can oblige the lady."

Meggie's breath caught in her throat as he removed the fine linen.  Firelight flickered like gold over his smooth skin, revealing every last magnificently chiseled muscle of his broad chest, from the flat planes of his pectorals to the sculpted ridges that ran over the top of each rib.

Bending, he pulled off his shoes and stripped off his trousers.  He straightened then, as naked as she was, and looked straight at her, his expression unreadable.

Meggie stared, drinking in the absolute beauty and raw power of the male body.  Of Hugo's body.



    

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"One of the romance genre's best and brightest. . . a writer of infinite grace and perception." --Romantic Times