Witchcraft

you sure know how to walk a risky line." His hands fell away from her, and he moved slowly back to stand in front of the fire. "You'd better go to bed, Kim," he went on in an unnaturally level voice. "I'll sleep out here on the couch. I know where the blankets are." Kimberly trembled with love and emotion. She could feel the leashed emotion in him even though she couldn't be certain just what those emotions were. The intensity of his manner ate at her heart and she longed to comfort him. But there was a self-protective wariness in her, too. Cavenaugh had the power to hurt her as no one else could. And she was still uncertain of his underlying feelings for her. He was asking her to take all the risks, Kimberly told herself as she watched the rigid line of his back. No, that wasn't strictly true. Whatever he felt for her, it was not superficial. She knew that with her deepest instincts. While she couldn't actually read his mind, she did know that the intensity and power of his commitment was genuine. He would be a strong, dependable, honorable husband. And she loved him. " Cavenaugh ," Kimberly whispered, "I'll marry you." He swung around, his gaze piercing in the soft light. But he made no move toward her. A curious tension hovered between them. "You're sure? Be sure, Kim, because I won't let you change your mind in the morning." She shook her head. "I won't change my mind." He took a deep breath and inclined his head almost formally. "I will do my best to make you happy, Kim." In spite of her tension, Kimberly found herself smiling.
    "Yes, I think you will. And I'll try to make you a good wife, Cavenaugh ." They stood quietly for a long moment, absorbing the impact of their simple promises to each other. And then Kimberly turned to walk down the hall to her bedroom. "Good night," she said, not quite knowing what else to say. It was obvious he didn't intend to follow her. "Good night, Kim." She was almost at the door of her bedroom when his voice stopped her once more. "Kim?" Her head came up quickly. Had he changed his mind about sleeping with her? She would welcome him, she thought. She would welcome him with all her heart. "I think you should invite your grandparents to the wedding, Kim." Kimberly's mouth curved wryly and she lifted silently beseeching eyes heavenward. "You don't know when to quit, do you, Cavenaugh ?" She slammed the door of her bedroom behind her.

CHAPTER ELEVEN.
    Starke had ignored the wedding champagne and concentrated on whiskey most of the evening. Kimberly decided he'd had enough to put him in one of his philosophical moods, and when she found herself momentarily alone she decided to talk to him. Holding her champagne glass in one hand she lifted the skirts of her wedding gown with the other and moved quickly across the crowded room. "Enjoying yourself, Starke?" She smiled. His craggy face cracked into a genuine grin.
    "Would you believe this is only the second wedding I've been to in my entire life?"
    "When was the first?"
    "My own."
    "Oh." Kimberly tilted her head, uncertain about whether or not to pry further. "Somehow, I don't see you married," she ventured. "Neither did I. But I was only nineteen and the girl claimed she was pregnant." He shrugged his massive shoulders. "I thought I ought to do the right thing."
    "But she wasn't pregnant?" Kimberly hazarded. "No. And my wife quickly decided that marriage wasn't all it was made out to be. Not when you're nineteen and stone broke. We split by mutual agreement within six months."
    "I see."
    He gave her a sharp glance. "Hey, you're not drawing any parallels here, are you? Believe me, if you're pregnant, Dare's going to be thrilled." Kimberly felt the blush stain her cheeks and concentrated determinedly on the cluster of men across the room. Cavenaugh , austerely formal in his conservative wedding jacket and ruffled shirt, was the focus of the laughing, jesting group. She was married to him now, Kimberly had to remind herself. Tied to him with vows and a band of gold. But she felt more nervously uncertain about his true feelings and thoughts tonight than she had at any point during the entire time she had known him. It was no wonder she was so apprehensive. For the past six weeks they had seen relatively little of each other. Kimberly had stayed in her beach house working on Vendetta, and Cavenaugh `=-«/' had only come to see her on the weekends. When he was there he had slept on the sofa. On the one or two occasions when she had spent a