She closed her eyes a moment and when she opened them again, she looked up. “Oh, the stars.”
She could see him now—or at least his silhouette.
He tilted his head back. “They’re rather nice tonight.”
They walked in silence for a bit, the music wafting behind them, and then a sort of wall seemed to loom ahead.
“What is it?” she asked.
He paused for a moment and she knew—she wasn’t sure how, but she knew—he was smiling. “A maze.”
PERHAPS APOLLO WAS mad to bring a girl to see a maze at night, but somehow it’d seemed exactly the right thing to do.
“Come on,” he said to her, pulling her hand.
Lily followed easily enough, but her voice was uncertain as they made the first turn. “We’ll get lost.”
“No,” he said easily. “I found it this afternoon and explored it then. It’s simple enough.”
“Even in the dark.”
“Even in the dark,” he assured her. “But it’s not quite dark, is it?” He pointed up at the stars and the crescent moon.
“Humph.” She didn’t sound entirely reassured, but she followed him nonetheless, and that made him glad.
The maze was an old one with a fully matured hedge over eight feet tall. In places the hedge threatened to grow into the path and he had to lead her single file, but she never protested. He could hear the rustle of her skirts, the sound of her breathing right behind him, and once in a while her scent came to him, orange and clove, tantalizing and sweet.
He tightened his grip on her hand.
By the time he turned the final corner he was heavy and hard.
“Where are we?” she whispered, as if she knew the import of this place. Of where he’d brought her and why.
Before them was a shallow stone pool, rimmed with stone benches, a statue standing at the center. It had probably once been a fountain, but time and neglect had stopped it running, and now it was dry save for a few rotting leaves blown against the edges.
“We’re at the heart,” he replied, his throat thick.
She tugged his hand as she stepped closer to the stone pool. She stared at the statue and then back at him. “The heart of the maze?”
He looked into her eyes, reflecting the starlight, the entire universe, really, and nodded. “The heart.”
She stood still a moment, watching him, and he had no idea at all what she was thinking.
Finally she laughed quietly, gesturing with her free hand at the marble figure. “It’s a minotaur. I suppose that’s appropriate.”
He looked at the figure, all horns and massive shoulders. “The monster in the maze?”
“Yes.” She turned in the dark to face him, and all he could see was the limned starlight on her cheek, the glimmer of the reflected moon in her eyes. “Indio thought you were a monster at first. Did I ever tell you?”
He shook his head slowly. “Am I still a monster to you?”
“No.” She reached up to trace his eyebrow. “You’re not… that. You never were, really.”
And she pulled his head down to meet her mouth. She kissed him with a woman’s passion, a woman’s want, frank and sweet. He fought to keep from grasping, from holding too tight, lest the very harshness of his grip drive her from him.
He let her lead, opening his mouth when her tender tongue ran across his lips. Let her explore and seek. She thrust her hands into his hair, pulling the tie out, framing his face with his coarse locks.
“Apollo,” she breathed against him, her hands restless on his waistcoat. “Apollo, make love to me.”