They call her Dana by Wilde Jennifer

Author:Wilde, Jennifer
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: New York : Ballantine Books
Published: 1989-09-03T04:00:00+00:00

dessert. He scowled, knowing he would face Jezebel's wrath when he delivered the message. I would apologize to her later. I couldn't take any more of this. I stood up and started toward the door, afraid I might break down if I didn't escape immediately.

*'Dana . . ."

I didn't turn. I didn't answer. I hurried out of the room and turned into the foyer and hurried up the stairs. Tears were spilling down my cheeks when I reached my bedroom. What a fool I had been. What an ass I had made of myself, wearing this red gown, painting my face, using the exotic perfume. I knew nothing about seduction, nothing about love, nothing about men. I knew only that I was utterly miserable and that I would never be able to face Charles again. How foolish I had been to ... to think that he wanted me, too. He couldn't stand to be alone in the same room with me. He was going to go away and leave me here with the servants because he couldn't bear being in the house with me. Charles despised me. He had every right to despise me. I was a complete ninny to think I could interest him.

I brushed the tears from ray cheeks and sat down, nursing my misery. A long time passed,'"and the candles were beginning to bum down and splutter when I finally stood up, stiff and sore now, feeling empty inside. I moved out onto the balcony and rested my hands on the wrought-iron railing and gazed up at the sky. The quarter moon was sailing like a ship of silver amidst a sea of ashen clouds. It was still warm and sultry and the night air seemed to caress my bare skin and the fragrance of flowers was dizzying. Kayla was in her lover's arms, writhing and moaning and relishing delight forbidden to me, and I had rarely felt so desolate, so alone.

I heard a low rumble of thunder in the distance. It was followed by a sudden rush of wind that caused leaves and plants to shiver in the courtyard below. We were going to have an evening shower, one of those light, pattering rainfalls that lasted an hour or two and lessened the heat not at all. I stepped back inside as the first warm drops began to splatter. Four or five of the candles had already burned out, the others spluttering wildly and throwing frantic gold shadows on the wall. I saw by the clock that it was after eleven. I was bone-weary, so weary I scarcely felt like undressing. The rain was falling faster now, making loud splat-

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