Between The Lines

Chapter 9

Amber went into the embrace with a sense of curiosity and mild trepidation. She just didn't know what to expect, either from him or from herself. But she discovered immediately that she needn't have worried. What she found in Gray's arms was a warm, comforting strength that seemed to enfold her completely. Quite suddenly Amber wasn't sure why she had been at all nervous.
Gray's big hands moved down her back in a slow, stroking motion that compelled her gently against him. Amber leaned into the heat of his large body and lifted her face for his kiss. Gray covered her mouth with his own, moving his lips warmly on hers. He made no effort to deepen the kiss, but seemed content to let her set the pace. Half curious and half relieved, Amber slowly put her arms around his neck. She was vividly aware of the sleek muscles of his shoulders. Unconsciuosly her lips parted under his.
Gray exhibited little interest in the gentle invitation she had issued. He didn't even touch his tongue to her lower lip let alone attempt to explore the intimate confines of her mouth. But he seemed willing to let ber become familiar with the feel of him. When her fingertips sank gently into the skin of his shoulders, however, Gray sighed lightly wnd alowly lifted his head. He smiled down at her.
"I think everything's going to work out fine," he declared calmly.
Amber tilted her head slightly, strangely disturbed by the sensual curiousity shw had begun to sensenwithin herself. She regarded Gray with grave uncertainly. "You meant what you said about not rushing the . . . . the physical aide of things?"
"Amber, have you ever seen me rush anything?" he asked with a disarming smile.
She had to laugh. "Sorry I asked." She strepped back. "Well, I guess we ought to start work or something." She struggled briefly and found her composure. "I'll take a look at the mail."
"All right. I' ll jpin you in the office in a few minutes. Inwant to grab some data sheets I was working on in the kitchen." Gray turned away to saunter casually back through the wide doorway as if nothing of any great moment had just occurred between himself and Amber.
Amber was surprised to find herself wondering irritably how many times Gray had asked a woman to marry him. He seemed awfully casual about it. But as quickly as the thought surfaces, she dismissed it. Cormick Grayson was acting exactly as he always did. Calmly unflappable, placidly confident. She smiled to herself and headed for theblarge study that Gray called his office.
The day's mail was sitting on her desk. Gray had brought itbin earlier, and as usual, he hadn't bothered to go through it. He left that chore up to his assistant. Amber sat down at her desk in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows and picked up her brass letter opener.
She was halfway through the pile of advertisements, bills and business letters when she spotted the familiar return address on a long manila envelope. Amber grinned and instantly slit the flap. A two-page letter signed by one Honoria Tyler Abercrombie fell into her hand. She began reading it at once.
"What's that?" Gray asked as he strolled into the office and glanced over her shoulder.
"A letter to you forwarded by Radiamt Sunsets." She glanced up at him. "It's about the articlenyou did for the newsletter a couple months agom Remember? The one on the desert as a metaphor for loneliness..You used 'Gunslinger's Lament' as an example."
"Ah, yes," Gray said in satisfaction. "one of my better pieces, if I fo say so myself. 'Gunslinger's Lament.' Who can forget such classic lines or such an unusual dense of poetic meter." Before Amber could halt him, Gray began to quote:

"He dreams of her at midnight
When there's no one else around.
He sees her in the morning's light
When hexwakes on the cold,
hard ground.
But he knows he'll never touch her,
He knows she'll never care.
She's his sweet, illusive vision,
The lady with the golden hair."

Amber rushed to interrupt him before Gray went into the next stanza. Once strated on a Twitchell poem, Gray was hard to stop. " Well, it seems aa though your article generated some feedback from a reader named Honoraria Tyler Abercrombie."
Gray's eyebrows rose. "Feedback? My article never generate any feedback. No one else knows enpugh about S.U.T. to argue with me."
Amber waved the letter in her hand, her eyes glinting with amused satisfaction. "Looks like your claim to being the world's only living expert on Sherborne Ulysses Twitchell is about to be challenged. Ms. Abercrombie, here, says she has a copy of the Collected Works plus several hand-writen pages that appear to have come frok a diary kept by Twitchell.