Cast a Pale Shadow - By Barbara Scott Page 0,77

along beside him, back to the car. He turned her to face him and lifted her chin with one finger. "You be the lookout. If you see anybody coming, whistle like a whippoorwill. Let me hear you."

"A lookout? What are you going to do?"

He pressed two fingers lightly across her mouth. "Do not question orders. Let me hear you whistle."

She wet her lips and puckered up, a fine strong whistle.

"Good! Once more so I can attune my hearing to it."

This time when her lips formed that tempting, moist circle, he kissed them quickly. "Excellent! Keep a sharp eye!" He hurried off toward the conservatory, searching his pockets as he went.

"Nicholas?"

"Shhh, don't use real names. Try Uncle Pete," came his stage whisper over his shoulder. He followed the shadow of the building until he reached the pink granite steps of its entrance. There the corner of the greenhouse blocked him from her view.

"What are you doing?"

"Quiet. Watch. Whistle."

Before she had time to think of abandoning her post, he reappeared out of the shadows. "Success!" he grinned. "Grab something and follow me." He opened the trunk and took out the picnic basket. Next to it were her rescued record player and the extra blanket from their bed. He lifted the record player, and she got the blanket and pushed the trunk shut. Into the shadows again, he crept with her close behind.

"Where are we going?"

"Eternal Spring," he whispered.

When they rounded the front of the building, Trissa saw that one of the doors was propped open with a rock. "Nicholas, you broke in!"

He put his finger to his lips. "Hush, didn't I tell you to use my alias? Damn, looks like this may be my last caper. I broke my burglar's tool." He held out his palm to show her the broken tip of his old Boy Scout pocketknife. He ushered her through the door and entered after her. Kicking the rock away, he shut the door.

Peace and darkness and the soothing tranquility of softly flowing water enveloped them. It took a few moments for their eyes to gather the available light in the stonewalled vestibule. Trissa's were owl-like with shock, and her mouth formed a perfect circle as she looked around her and back at him.

Nicholas put down the record player and offered her his arm. "Shall we dine among the lilies, milady?" Arm in arm he led her through the portal into the green glow beyond.

Nearly three stories above them, arc lamps suspended from the arch supports cast their dim light down. From the outside at night the glass walls and the verdigris of Jewel Box's framework gleamed with gemlike luster from peridot green at its heights deepening to emerald. The daytime roar of the waterfall and fountains was hushed to a soothing patter as water dribbled down a stone grotto on the back wall into a little stream that meandered the floor to a cedar mill where it was drawn up then splashed down the troughs to the floor again.

The Jewel Box was a favorite place for bridal parties to come to use its seasonal backdrops for wedding pictures and receptions. Nicholas and Trissa had been here in the sparkle of daylight and taken photographs of each other posed against the waterfall, the old mill, on the stone bridge, and up the winding iron stairway to the balcony.

But this night held a special enchantment, like walking on the floor of a rain forest where the only light that penetrated was the luminous emerald reflection like sunlight on leaves. Hundreds of Easter lilies, like tiny trumpet moons, beamed a ghostly white along the pathways.

Nicholas set down the basket, took the blanket from her and tossed it across the ticket desk. He caught her around the waist and drew her close.

"We can't stay. We--" was all she managed before her silenced her protest with a kiss.

"We're the captives of spring now. She'll never let us go," he said against her lips, his promise and vow. The full moon Roger had promised showed its face through the green glass panes, casting eerie shadows in the leaves. They ambled the winding stone paths among the ferns, fichus trees, and trailing philodendron. The lilies smiled their approval when they paused to kiss again by the old mill, the rock bridge, and the grotto.

When they circled back to where they had begun, they took up their basket, blanket, and the record player and carried them to a wide spot in the brick path near the waterfall.

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