Should she? Shouldn't she? The door beckoned and what, or rather who, lay beyond it beckoned even more. The burning question made Kisa nearly as hot as the fire that she sat beside, and her face was pink with repressed urges. He would not reject me, Kisa thought. Would he? No, of course not -- a man would have to be out of his mind or uninterested in women to reject this, Kisa told herself firmly, trying to bolster her confidence and bring a smile to her lips. But perhaps this nightgown was too bold, too obviously sensual for a gentleman like Cyrus? Perhaps the sight of her so eager for love would be distasteful to him? Perhaps Cyrus preferred cool women, women that he had to chase instead of women who launched themselves towards their bedroom -- and this nightgown, and Kisa's mood tonight, certainly lended themselves more towards the latter option than the former.
But it was Jenny who had picked this nightgown out, Jenny, who undoubtedly knew Cyrus even better than Kisa after spending years as his servant. She knew his tastes! Then again, Kisa thought, she does not know what has happened between Cyrus and I. How could she? How could she know the pressing ride, the kiss, the embrace, the confessions in the muddy garden?
Or perhaps she did know, knew all along -- perhaps Jenny was Cyrus's true love and Cyrus was only playing with Kisa's heart, or perhaps he brought home sodden ladies so often Jenny was used to it -- perhaps this very nightgown Kisa now wore belonged to one of those past sodden ladies, perhaps it was passed down from slut to slut, and now Kisa was wearing some slut's nightgown and she had to tear it off, rip this choking, humiliating garment off her body and--
"Oh, please," Kisa said aloud. "Shut up, brain. Cyrus would never." And she knew it, too; these were all pitiful excuses meant to keep her sitting here procrastinating longer. Kisa had grown up on a farm -- she knew about sex, the technicalities of breeding, mares and stallions and hogs and sows -- but between a man and a woman? She knew nothing of love, knew nothing of making love. The thought made her body surge with irresistible desire and shake in fear all at the same time.
"All I want to do," Kisa murmured, "is take this silly thing off, wrap my legs around him and--oh." She turned bright red, snickered, and stood, her body suddenly throbbing with heat. "That thought would have given Ana some competition."
There was no other answer. She had to visit him. There was a reason this night's events had happened, there was a reason for the ball, the storm, the kiss and the love -- this was fate, and Kisa knew it. How could she resist destiny? Why would she want to? By the trembling, heavy weight of her limbs, it was obvious that she very much did not want to resist it -- that she was being dragged along by destiny's force, and her own body's force, and Kisa was helpless to do anything about it (and glad of it, too).
Just before opening the door, Kisa took a deep breath, laying a hand on her pounding heart. "This is it, lady," she told herself quietly. "This is the one." And then, unable to resist it any longer, she tore open the door and almost broke into a run -- only to run into the very man she had been seeking.
"Cyrus," she breathed, feeling as if her whole body would melt into fire. "Oh, I was -- I was looking for you..." Kisa was suddenly all too aware of how exposed she was -- of how exposed he was, for that matter, with his long legs and lean lines -- of how their bodies almost touched, but not quite, and of how that small distance between them seemed to thrum and sing with the undeniable tension of desire. She reached to touch his hand, her eyes wide and shining, her mouth open, face flushed and breathing heavily, and a shock of lightning jolted through her body at that smallest contact. Her eyes closed, briefly, as if all these senses combined with the sight of him was a sum too great for her to handle. She burned, and with the last ounce of intelligent courage that she possessed, asked in a low, slow murmur, "Will you -- won't you come in?" There was a pause, the quick pounding of a heart, and every inch of skin on her throbbed. "Please," she added huskily.
It was not much of a question.