Spring fancy

'It's not too bad outside for March. In the fifties. Want to go out for a minute and cool off?'

'We'll probably catch pneumonia.'

'We'll only stay a minute, and if you get shivery, we'll come back in. Or better yet, I'll grab my jacket.' He retrieved it from the chair, and Winnie found herself crossing toward the great front door without having consciously made the decision to be alone with him.

Outside the moon was at its apex-it was nearly midnight. Stillness surrounded them, for it was too early in the year for frogs, crickets or any of the other night sounds that would bring midnight alive when summer came. They stood on the highest of three white steps, breathing deeply. Joseph slung his tuxedo jacket across his left shoulder, suspending it from two fingers. He scanned the dark star-dappled sky. Winnifred ran a hand up the back of her neck, lifting the tendrils of hair that had come loose. Her nape was damp and the air felt wonderful. Joseph turned, watching the outline of her face as she lifted it, hung her head back and let her eyes sink shut. God, she was lovely. He wondered if she ever had any doubts about her impending marriage; if Hildebrandt was too ignorant to see the dangers of letting a woman like her drift free on a night like this. Around a man like himself.

'Come on…' He slid his hand from the soft inner curve of her left elbow down to her wrist and intertwined his fingers with hers. 'Let's walk.'

He held her hand loosely, and it would have taken the simplest movement for Winnie to withdraw, but it felt right, ambling down the steps, across the withered pale grass, around the side of the house with her hand innocently in Joseph Duggan's.

The lawn sprawled and rolled in two gentle undulations toward a small creek and a patch of woodland beyond. The Victorian Club had, in its prime, been a property of estate proportions, thus the grounds were measured in spacious acres. Here and there tall oaks lifted their bare branches toward the stars, and a line of evergreens created a black barrier against the slightly lighter hue of the night sky. They sauntered downhill. Winnie felt the heels of her shoes sinking into the grass at times, throwing her slightly off balance. Whenever she lurched, Joseph's fingers gripped hers more tightly.

Ahead of them the white latticed foundation of the gazebo clarified as they approached, its hexagonal rails and roof beckoning as they moved closer and closer. Again Winnie sensed the same queer time-lapse sensation. Deja vu, perhaps, brought about by the fact that the gazebo, like so many other props today, was a hallmark of another time. In her slim-hipped dress and dated hairdo she felt as if she belonged in the nostalgic enclosure.

She shivered at the strong compulsion of yesteryear.

'Cold?'

She turned to meet his eyes but could make out only that he looked her way, for there were two deep shadows from which he studied her. What is it about a man with a coat slung over his shoulder that way that's so alluring, she wondered. The unhurried look of it, perhaps, or the sense that his pose meant he was at ease with her. But just then he pulled the jacket forward and placed it around her shoulders, leaving his arm there, too, to keep her warm. She was surrounded by that lime-cedar scent emanating from the jacket and by a sense of the forbidden, for she knew they were hovering on the brink of something neither of them felt it wisest to begin. They were not dancing now. His arm had no legitimate reason for encircling her.

But the yearning that beckoned to them both was too powerful to fight.

They watched their feet take slower and slower steps, lazy swinging steps in the fashion of idle lovers. They heard the crush of dried grass and within their heads the pounding of their own hearts.

Dammit, Duggan, don't kiss her. Once you do, you're in for a helluva problem.

He told you he had every intention of kissing you again. Will you let him? You must not, Winnifred Gardner. You must not.

The gazebo was made totally of wood. The steps were wide and echoed as Joseph and Winnie lifted their knees in unison, mounting the risers toward the elevated floor in lazy measured steps. Above them the peak of the hexagonal roof couched secret shadows. She looked up, shivered and held Joseph's jacket closed with one hand. Around them ran a hip-high railing supported by white columns and a half wall of lattices. A wooden bench ran around the five trellised sides of the structure. She began moving toward it, but his hand closed gently around the back of her neck. 'You'd better not. It's probably dirty, and you'll soil your dress.'

At his touch she inhaled sharply, then held her breath. She shrugged her shoulders, hoping he'd free her from the terrible sweetness of his touch. Instead, he began moving his fingers softly on the skin and hair that were so soft beneath his tough skin. Her neck was cool now as the night sipped up the beads of perspiration generated on the dance floor.

'Joseph… don't,' she whispered, terrified of how much she wanted him to ignore her demand.

'In your opinion, does a man dishonor a woman by kissing her if she's already engaged to someone else?'

'Oh…' she groaned and dropped her head backward, intending to shrug his hand away. Instead, the back of her skull touched his knuckles, and as her eyelids slid closed, she found her head moving as if to caress him. His fingers stroked her hairline, then just above-then just inside-the stiff collar of his jacket. She shuddered, and a shaft of liquid fire darted to her loins.

'Joseph, we shouldn't have come out here.'

'I know,' he agreed huskily.

'Then let's go back in. Quick, before it's too late.'

'I'm right behind you. Just lead the way.'

Her voice was strained and throaty as she remained where she was. 'Joseph Duggan, you don't play fair.'

'I'm not playing. I'm as serious as I've ever been in my life when I say something very, very special has happened to me since last night. When I looked up and saw you across the vestibule-'

She spun and covered his lips with her fingers. 'Don't!' Her plea was shaken, her breathing harried. 'Please, don't.'

He jerked his head aside to free his lips but captured her hand and held it to his thudding heart. 'Then why did you come out here with me?'

'I was hot.'

'That makes two of us.'

'Don't misconstrue wh-'

'You came out here for the same reason I did. You feel it, too, but now you're getting cold feet.' His heart was ramming his chest walls like a jackhammer.

'You're right. I was wrong. Let's go ba-'

'No! Not yet!' He grabbed the lapels of his tuxedo jacket in both fists, jerked and lifted until she was forced onto tiptoe. But his voice lost its harsh bark and turned into a soft caress as he released the jacket and found her shoulders with his broad palms. 'Not yet, Winn. I told you in the car I intended to do this again, and I meant it. But keep that jacket on tight if you know what's good for both of us.'

She clung to it, turning the lapels inside, gripping them for dear life, covering her breasts with both arms while Joseph Duggan's hands slid to her shoulder blades and urged her close.

'Joseph, I'm eng-'

His warm mouth smothered the word and drove the fact from her mind. The kiss was gentle, exploratory and totally unhurried. It seemed to say, 'Let's see what we think.' He slanted his head aside, moving it in gentle circular nudges, licking her closed lips with a come-hither invitation until she could fight the urge no longer and opened her mouth tentatively. His tongue slipped immediately inside, and she hugged her chest tighter. His left arm pressed more firmly around her shoulder, his right moved caressingly until he spanned her lower skull commandingly, making her tip her head sideways to accommodate his wishes. When she refrained from moving her head seductively as he did, he moved it for her, gently gyrating it and forcing her mouth open more fully as the provocative seconds passed.

Within her mouth his tongue was sleek and seeking, circling hers, riding over it, under it, as if the world may as well go its way without them-this must be done and done properly. He delved and stroked, learning her every texture-from rough to smooth. She learned his, too: the wet velvet of his undertongue, the sharp edges of his teeth, the resilient softness of his inner cheeks and the hard ripples upon the roof of his mouth.

They became masters of exploration, overcome with a need to experience all they could of each other's