Only 04 - Only Love

you, if you’ll let me. Will you let me, Shannon?”
    A shiver lanced through her.
    “Yes,” she whispered.
    “Then come to me,” he whispered in return.
    When Shannon stood up, Whip took her left hand and led her to the center of the living room floor. There he turned and faced her, lifting her hand as he did. If they had been alone, he wouldhave kissed the center of her palm. Instead, he circled it with his thumb before pressing lightly in the very center.
    Shannon felt as though her palm had been kissed. Her breath shortened and her eyes widened to luminous pools of blue.
    “Put your left hand on my shoulder,” Whip said in a deep voice.
    “Like this?”
    “Yes. Now, rest your right hand in mine.”
    A betraying shiver went through Shannon when her palm brushed over Whip’s. He shifted his hand until he could grip hers lightly with his fingers.
    “Can you hear the beats of the music?” Whip asked.
    Shannon cocked her head, listening despite her nearly overwhelming awareness of Whip’s body close to hers, their breaths mingling, the strong surge of the pulse in his neck. After the space of a few breaths, she heard the rhythms Whip was counting. She began counting with him, softly.
    “That’s it,” Whip said. “Now, beginning with your right foot, follow my lead.”
    Whip’s grip on Shannon changed, becoming more secure, guiding her at all times and supporting her if she wavered. He began with simple steps, but quickly went on to more intricate ones as it became clear that Shannon was capable of more than schoolroom exercises.
    “Are you certain you don’t know how to waltz?” Whip asked, turning swiftly, taking Shannon with him.
    She laughed and hung on to Whip, trusting him to lead her through the dance. His strength and confidence made learning easy for her.
    “I’ve dreamed of dancing like this,” Shannonsaid softly to Whip, “but I never did it. The closest I came was huddling behind the potted plants and peeking through the balustrade at all the lovely, swirling dancers.”
    “How old were you?”
    “Five or six or seven. It was a long, long time ago,” Shannon said absently, counting the beat, “before Papa deserted us and Mama took to laudanum.”
    Whip was shocked, but he didn’t pursue the subject. He wanted to erase the shadows from Shannon’s magnificent eyes, not create more darkness by recalling unhappy memories.
    “I think she’s ready for a polka,” Whip said, looking over Shannon’s head to Caleb.
    Immediately the harmonica’s music went from stately to raucous, with rollicking refrains that made Willow laugh out loud and tap her foot to the driving, infectious rhythm.
    “Hear the beat?” Whip asked Shannon.
    “I’d have to be dead not to!”
    “Or dead drunk,” he said. “I suspect the Germans invented this dance as a way to get thirsty enough to drink beer all night long.”
    Whip took Shannon’s hands and placed them on his shoulders. By now her foot was tapping along with Willow’s.
    “Ready?” he asked.
    “For what?”
    “To romp with me like I was Prettyface and we were in a high-mountain meadow with nothing around but wildflowers and the sun.”
    The thought of romping like that with Whip charmed Shannon. Laughter gleamed in her eyes and curved her lips into a dazzling smile.
    Then laughter fled in a hot rush as Whip put hishands on her hips. His fingers flexed subtly, savoring the feminine flesh just beneath the worn cloth trousers. The smile he gave her was as reckless and sexy as the glittering light in his eyes.
    With no more warning than that, Whip began the polka, counting out the measure as he had the waltz. But this time his voice was nearly a shout rather than a murmur. Shannon caught on quickly, for the polka was much more simple than the waltz. Whatever lack of experience she had was more than made up for by Whip’s sheer strength. If Shannon faltered, Whip simply lifted her right off her feet.
    Soon the two of them were romping and stomping from the living room to the kitchen and down the hall and back again. Every few steps Whip would lift Shannon entirely off her feet, whirl her around, then set her down and head off in another direction.
    Cheeks flushed, eyes alight, laughing, Shannon gave herself to the music and to the man who laughed and danced with her. Finally, on the tenth trip from living room to kitchen, she was breathless from laughter and from the polka itself. She clung to Whip and begged for mercy. He whirled her