Moonlight danced silver sovereigns on the flagstones of the terrace beneath the weeping bottlebrush and sentinel melaleucas. By day the trees swarmed with lorikeets and honeyeaters. Now, they were like the house. Brooding. Waiting. A night breeze tugged at her hair. Freed from its daytime confinement, the thick honey blonde curtain brushed shoulders that gleamed white in the pale light. A small sound on the terrace alerted her. The atmosphere underwent a subtle change. Blood pounded in her veins and nerve ends tingled. Leon crossed the flagstones, the moonlight's shadow moving ahead of him. Outside the French doors to her suite, he paused. Veronica never hesitated. She opened the door and he stepped inside. "Is Jordan sleeping?" She was first to break the pulsing silence. Why had he come to her? "Yes." He moved closer, leaned against the opposite sill of the bay window and tilted his head back on the frame. His shoulders drooped and his hand hung limp. "You need rest," she said, her concern genuine.
