For Valancy, there were few luxuries in life sweeter than being able to read a novel beside a great, crackling fire, and she availed herself of every opportunity to do so, stretched out on the bearskin before the fireplace, elbow propped on a cushion, an open book before her. In the Blue Castle, she had become the voracious reader she'd never had a chance to be at her mother's house, making frequent trips to the library and returning each time with an armful of books. Novels, poetry, history and nature books—there was so much she didn't know, so much to learn and discover and experience, and so little time for all of it. There were days when she stared at two or three books side-by-side, genuinely unable to decide which one to read first, wondering all the while what secrets and joys the other books held even as she read the one she ultimately chose.
Tonight, however, there was no uncertainty. She had become engrossed in the story of a tumultuous love affair between a young seamstress and a charming but shadowy duke, and looked forward to its continuing development. It was the kind of book Barney would laugh and roll his eyes at; it was also the kind of book her mother would not dream of letting her even touch, and that alone made it far more entertaining and satisfying than it had any right to be. The seamstress had just bidden the duke a tearful farewell over what Valancy thought was an incredibly petty argument and fled to her sister's home when Barney entered from the veranda, a rush of early-autumn chill sneaking in with him. She glanced at him and he smiled, then wandered over and sat down behind her, lightly rubbing her shoulder through the sleeve of her dress.
"You looked positively enraptured by that book when I walked in," he said, his voice dipping into that deliciously intimate tone he reserved only for her. "Just what has you so enchanted, Moonlight?"
"Nothing of particular literary value," she replied evasively. "A novel I got from the library."
He laughed softly, but not in the derisive way she expected. Nor did he move away. Rather, he stretched out behind her, hand still on her shoulder. "It must have some value to put that look on your face—dreamy, faraway—"
"And slightly vexed. The heroine is quite short-tempered, leading to misunderstandings over the most trivial things."
Another laugh. Then, resting his chin in the crook of her neck, he asked, "Will you read some to me?"
"You don't like novels."
"Maybe not, but I love the sound of your voice."
How could she argue with that? There was a kind of magic in the changing of the seasons, a bewitching energy in the rhythms of nature playing out all around, that invigorated body and soul and invited one to playfulness. She'd felt it keenly a few days before when, walking with Barney in a brisk wind, she felt compelled to seize him by the hand and dance gaily among the drifting leaves. He was surprised, but indulged her anyway, both of them laughing as they twirled to a melody no one could hear. And tonight, it seemed that that same magic held him in its thrall.
Valancy leaned back against him and began reading from where she'd left off.
The first kiss was nearly imperceptible, a light touch at the juncture of her neck and shoulder. It was followed by another, and another, as Barney worked his way toward the back of her neck, trailing soft kisses up to her nape. She shivered but kept reading, unwilling to break whatever spell held him. He listened politely for a few more paragraphs, then began again, pressing his lips to the side of her neck and moving, slowly and lightly, toward her jaw, to her cheek. She closed her eyes with a shuddering sigh.
"Keep reading," he whispered, then placed a kiss just behind her ear. The heat of his breath and the brush of his lips on her skin made her tremble, and a knot of desire began to form low in her abdomen. She swallowed hard and turned back to the book even as he slipped the sleeve of her dress down and kissed her exposed shoulder. His hand began to wander, as well, down her arm, her side, her waist, coming to rest at the curve of her hip, where he wrapped his arm around her and pulled her closer to him. Through it all, his delicate ministrations never faltered, and the words began to swim before Valancy's eyes. She did not so much read the last line as exhale it.
Oh, how she longed to turn and kiss him properly, to bury herself in his arms! But Barney, it seemed, had managed to keep an eye on the book all this while. He reached out and, with an efficient flick, turned the page.
"Go on," he murmured against her skin.
How could she, when every kiss now felt like fire, when every fiber of her body thrummed with desire? It was an exquisite torture, and it had robbed her of words, leaving her with a language only of sighs and quiet whimpers. Still, she tried, and she had made it through a paragraph and a half when she stopped abruptly, the next words suddenly obscured by a dainty brown paw. She looked up, into Good Luck's bright green eyes, and laughed. Behind her, Barney gave an incredulous huff.
"Good Luck?" he cried. "Bad Timing is more like it! What are you doing here?"
Good Luck gave a quiet mew, willfully oblivious to the scene he just interrupted.
"I suppose he wants attention," Valancy said, stroking Good Luck's head with a still-trembling hand. Luck responded by curling his slender, striped length against Valancy's stomach. She scratched behind his ears. "Everyone deserves attention. Such a sweet boy."
"I'm not entirely convinced he didn't do that on purpose." Barney sighed. "Oh what shame, to lose out to a cat!"
Valancy tossed her head back with a playful grin. "You haven't lost anything. Luck only wants to cuddle for a little while. You and I have the rest of the evening to ourselves."
Barney arched his crooked eyebrow, giving what Valancy guessed was supposed to be a seductive expression a comical flair. Then, without warning, he leaned forward and kissed her right on the hollow of her collarbone. She laughed, then tilted his face up to finally capture his lips with her own. With the warmth of a little Lucky cat against her stomach, and the heat of Barney's body pressing against her back, she was enveloped in affection, lost in one of those few luxuries sweeter than a good book and a great, crackling fire.