And discovered that a bra was not the only item of underwear that she had neglected that evening.

He let the skirt drop to her ankles. Then he threaded his fingers through the triangle of curling hair. Damned if he would ever tell Eugene or any other man that Octavia was, indeed, a natural redhead.

"You're not wearing any panties," he said against her bare shoulder.

"I was in a hurry when I left the cottage tonight."

"I may go crazy here."

A smile played at the edges of her mouth. She started to unfasten his shirt. "Because I forgot to put on a pair of panties?"

"Doesn't take much to drive me over the edge when I'm this close to you."

"I'm glad."

She separated the edges of his shirt and flattened her palms against his chest. "I'm not feeling wholly sane myself at the moment."

He eased her backward, kissing her with every step, until she came up against the high bed. The ghostly bed curtains drifted gently behind her, guarding the interior of the secret bower.

He did not take his mouth from hers when he reached behind her to pull the hazy fabric aside. Grasping the quilt, he pulled it straight down to the foot of the bed, exposing pristine white sheets.

He picked her up, put her down on the pale bedding, and stepped back to finish undressing himself. The wispy bed hangings drifted closed. On the other side of the veil Octavia watched him through the misty material. She lay on her side, knees slightly bent, hips curved in graceful, seductive lines.

He stood there for a few seconds, every muscle rigid with the effort it took to exert some control over the aching, raging need that was uncoiling rapidly throughout his body. It had never been like this with any other woman, he thought, baffled and bemused. He could not seem to wrap his mind around this sensation. It was not just physical. He was old enough and sufficiently experienced to take the physical effects in stride.

There was something else going on here. He knew that in the depths of his soul. He'd been trying to ignore it, work around it, deny it, but there was no possibility of avoiding the reality. Octavia was different.

He looked at her through the drifting veils that surrounded the bed, and for a moment he wondered if she really was a sorceress who had somehow managed to enchant him.

He had no time to wonder about his predicament. The heaviness of his erection made it impossible to think clearly. He fought his way out of the rest of his clothing.

When he pulled the bed hangings aside the second time, Octavia reached for him, drawing him down onto the snowy sheets. He put one hand on the sweet, round curve of her hip and she twisted urgently against him.

"Nick."

"Not so fast," he whispered.

But she was moving, sliding, slipping along the length of him. He felt her mouth on his chest and then her tongue touched his belly.

When her fingers curled around him and her lips moved lower, he thought he disintegrate.

He rolled her onto her back, pinning her with one leg thrown across her thighs. "I meant what I said. We're going to take this nice and slow."

"Are we?" Her voice was both mischievous and sensual. A woman who knows she's in control of the situation. She wriggled a little beneath his weight. "Do you really want to go slow?"

"Most definitely," he said. "I want to go slow tonight. And what's more, I'm going to make sure that we do."

She drew her fingertips down the length of his back. "Wanna bet?"

"Oh, yeah."

He bent his head and covered her mouth with his own. When she was absorbed in the kiss, giving herself completely over to it, working her sorcery, he reached out and snagged one of the trailing bed hangings.

He looped the fabric around her left wrist and tied a quick knot in it. "Ummph?"

She wrenched her mouth away from his. Her eyes snapped open.

He grasped a wispy hanging on the opposite side of the bed and anchored her other wrist.

"Oh, my." She looked up at him, sexy laughter sparkling in her eyes. "This is interesting."

He leaned over her, bracing his weight on his elbows. "I thought so."

"All this just to slow me down?"

"I'm a desperate man."

She could pull the airy bed hangings down and free herself with a couple of quick tugs, but somehow he didn't think she would do that. He sensed that she was in a mood to walk on the wild side tonight. He could tell because he was inclined in the same direction. A shining example of synchronicity at work.

"What happens next?" she murmured.

"I don't know." He slid one hand between her legs and found the pearl in the oyster. He smiled when he felt her move beneath him, seeking more. "Shall we find out?"

"Oh, yes." She licked her lips and looked up at him through veiled lashes. "Let's do that."

He stroked her slowly, dampening his hand in her dew.

She lifted her hips against his fingers, tempting him with her body. She could have lured an angel into trouble. And he was no angel.

He moved down her body with his mouth, going lower until her scent enveloped him. He was so hard now he dared not brush his erection against her skin for fear of losing the fragile grip on his self-control. This was going to be a test of endurance and he was determined to make sure that he won tonight.

Eventually, when she was moaning and restless, he found the small, sensitive nubbin with his mouth. She caught her breath and tensed.

"Nick."

He used his tongue until she was gasping and writhing.

"Yes, please, yes. Now, damn it."

He slid a finger into her, searching for the spot; pressed upward. She gasped.

"Yes. Right there. Oh, yes. Oh, yes, oh, yes, oh, yes. Nick"

She came in shuddering little waves of raw, feminine energy that took his breath away. He barely made it back up her body in time to sink himself fully into her before his own climax ripped through him.

She jerked her arms abruptly and then her nails were in his back and her legs were wrapped snugly around his hips. The last thing he remembered was the feel of the bed hangings floating down like so many silken cobwebs, tangling him in a snare he did not think that he would ever be able to escape.

He came back to his senses a long time later. For a moment he did not open his eyes, preferring to savor the satisfaction that hummed through him. He was content to drift forever in the aftermath of the lovemaking.

Then he felt the soft touch of gauzy fabric twining around his right wrist. He opened one eye. Octavia's br**sts brushed across his chest when she leaned over him to secure his other wrist to the bedpost. He opened his other eye.