Chapter Six #2
The lights were on. Everything seemed in order.
But to be sure, he walked around to the back. Malika had commented on the magical fairyland outside of her window, which meant her bedroom butted up to the trees.
He spotted her balcony at once. Light spilled through open glass doors. She stood at the rail, her head tipped back and facing the sky, her long hair flowing freely behind her. The moon bathed her bare skin. She was naked.
Naked.
He ducked into the shadows, his heart pounding, and squeezed his eyes shut, but it was too late.
That wasn’t a sight he’d be forgetting anytime soon.
What the heck was she thinking, standing naked outside, for the whole world to see?
He sneaked another quick peek to confirm that his eyes weren’t making things up.
They were not. She was stark, bare-ass-to-the-breeze, naked, and completely indifferent as to who might be watching. To make things infinitely worse, at least from his perspective, she ran her hands over her breasts, as if she were, indeed, bathing in moonlight.
The woman was shameless.
He collected his thoughts and his wits. She was here, safe and sound. No need to hang around any longer. He should go.
Except his feet wouldn’t move. His eyes refused to stay shut.
And he continued to watch until she returned to her room.
*
Malika
There were a few perks to this kidnapping. Unguarded moments of privacy were one.
Malika took naughty pleasure in the decadence of cool air on her bare skin. Of standing naked in moonlight glowing bright as the sun, while tiny sparkles of fairy light flittered in and out of the trees.
She saw him the moment he came round the lodge. She saw him stop. He backed into the shadows. Then, he watched.
Maybe there was hope for him yet.
Her heart thrummed with desire. They could share an even greater flirtation this evening, in a place such as this. A fleeting moment of passion for them both to remember. To help her prepare for her new career. To help him move on.
No one would know.
And right under Adeel’s nose.
Tomorrow would be an excellent night for escape. But not tonight. What would bring him to her?
One of her sisters had a husband who enjoyed watching her touch herself. Was that what Jayce liked? Was that why he hid in the shadows? She ran her hands over her breasts.
She was proud of her breasts. They were the right size—not overly large, but not small—and they were firm, not saggy from childbearing and age. Aisha’s breasts were no longer perfect, although she said her husband had no complaints, because their household was happy.
She slid one hand over her belly.
The beautiful cowboy, who made her ache, and want to slide her hand lower, stayed in the shadows.
Disappointment in him dampened her daring. Jamal would have scaled a rock wall using his fingertips to accept the invitation she’d sent.
She wasn’t interested in Jamal, however. She wanted the cowboy.
Who wanted another woman.
The reminder came as a cold shock. She would be second to no one.
She went inside.
She would have to finish the evening alone.
*
It was a beautiful day for a wedding.
Malika wore a dress made of heavy gray silk, and a tiny gray hat with a flimsy gray veil.
She’d pinned her hair in a knot, the best style she could manage without help.
She followed Adeel and the other guests into the church, another first on her adventure.
Normally, Jiorjis would enter a venue such as this through a separate entrance.
They’d be surrounded by security. She didn’t mind being treated as one of the people.
If anything, she preferred it. These people were fun.
Most of them.
She did mind the flat wooden bench without padding where she was expected to sit. Nineteenth century Christians apparently didn’t believe in comfort.
“It’s to make sure no one falls asleep,” Huck Hanson said when she commented on it.
Malika and Adeel sat with the Hansons, which she gathered was quite the honor. Vanessa sat on one side of Adeel with Malika between him and Huck Hanson. Jayce was nowhere in sight.
Malika liked Jayce’s father. He reminded her of the little banty roosters the villagers kept near her home, all puffed chest and ruffled feathers, and an attitude that could take on the world. He was as gruff as his beautiful wife was genteel.
It was lovely to see Jayce’s mother again too. Her dress was gorgeous, all flounces and lace, and a dark, forest green.
Jayce, however…
Malika blamed the moonlight, the fairies, and the magical forest for her behavior last night. She’d gotten swept up in a fantasy of becoming one with the dryads. Dryads were notorious flirts.
She made no excuses for Jayce and his lack of imagination or sense of adventure. If he wanted Belle, fine. But he was missing out on many wonderful opportunities by pining for something that would never be his.
Malika was not going to miss out on opportunities.
The groom’s sisters and mother entered the church, accompanied by the bride’s grandmother. She’d asked Adeel about Belle’s mother but got an unsatisfactory answer. All she’d learned was that Shanda Jenkins Forsythe wasn’t welcome in Burning Scrub and had not been invited.
Jayce arrived late, a few minutes ahead of the bride, which was bad manners, or so Malika inferred. Jayce’s father leaped out of the pew so that Jayce and Malika were forced to sit together. She tucked the skirt of her gown out of harm’s way and edged closer to Adeel, giving him room.
Jayce’s handsome face turned red when he realized who he’d be sitting beside. He greeted his mother and Adeel, took his seat, then proceeded to ignore her and stared straight ahead.
He hadn’t ignored her last night. He’d stayed long enough that she knew he liked what he saw. And yet he’d turned her down.
A rage switch tripped in her head. She was second best to no woman, no matter how perfect that other woman might be.
Beau Jones entered the church through the sacristy, a small room off the altar. He caught Jayce staring and flashed him a grin. Then he winked.
Malika’s rage was forgotten. She went weak in the knees. Beau Jones. In all his blond-haired, blue-eyed perfection. She could feel the charisma from here. If he sang a love song for Belle, then she could die happy.
“He’s so dreamy,” she whispered to Jayce, because she knew it would annoy him, and annoying him was her new mission in life.
At least until the moon rose.
His jaw muscle tightened. She wriggled in satisfaction.
But the truth was, while Beau Jones might be excellent to fantasize over, he had nothing on Jayce. Beau was glitz and shine. The charisma was real. Jayce, though…
Jayce didn’t need glitz. He didn’t need shine. Jayce was a cowboy. He was hard muscles, no nonsense, and strength, with his own brand of charm—when he chose to employ it.
Malika was very conscious of all that muscle and strength by her side, even if it was currently lacking in charm. Maybe she should have approached things differently last night, but he was unlike the men in her world, and what her sisters had taught her about men wasn’t enough.
A man from her world would have known how to flirt.
He would have acknowledged her invitation.
He would have come to her bed and shown her how to please him, then pleased her in return.
And if a man from her world had decided he wanted to keep her, he would have approached Adeel and pleaded his case. He would have paid mahr.
Jayce was not from her world. He likely knew nothing of mahr.
But he was a man. Surely, he must know something about how to please women.
Belle entered the church on Adam’s arm, looking breathtakingly lovely. Light from the stained-glass windows splashed color on her full-skirted gold dress. Adam delivered her to the front of the church and passed her to Beau.
And as Benny Jenkins delivered his blistering, long-winded, God-fearing sermon, Malika experienced firsthand how the uncomfortable pews came in handy to keep people awake.
Finally, they got to the vows.
The vows started off fairly standard. The groom promised to love, cherish, and hold his new wife until death, for better for worse, for richer and for poorer, in sickness and in health. Malika understood that.
The audience participation was where things got confusing for her.