Eban (9 page)

Eban rolled his eyes. “Rhia had better watch out, or he'll teach Sylvie how to use every weapon under the sun. I wouldn't be surprised if he didn't give her a knife for her birthday.”

“You'll come tomorrow and find out. She'll be disappointed if you leave early. Like it or not, she thinks of you as family.”

“She is family.” He sighed. “I'll go, but only for you and Sylvie.”

She beamed. “Good!”

Good for everyone else, maybe. He shoved his discomfort aside. “You're feeling better, then?”

“Physically, yes, but my head hurts when I try to imagine how I wound up in that shape.” Her slender eyebrows drew together. “You were going to tell me.”

His mind went blank. She watched him with a mixture of anxiety and curiosity.

“It's complicated.”

Her brows arched. “How?”

“We argued.” He dug his fingernails into his hips. It was a poor lie, as far as they went, but he'd never been good at it. “You stormed away and I was busy with Eliakim.”

“You let me walk out of the clinic?” She crossed her arms. “It's still dangerous around here at night.”

“I had to talk to the angel. I'm sorry.” He stared past her out the window so he could still see her, but didn't have to look at her directly.

Her eyes narrowed, letting only the slightest hint of green show through her lashes. “Why?”

“There's trouble with the Pit and I thought he could help. Wystan ordered Tell to call the three demon lords whose seals are broken. We're going to try and fix it once and for all. Nothing will be able to get through.”

“Oh.” She tilted her head. “That's a good thing. Berner would really be a safe haven then.”

“That's the idea.” He withdrew his hands from his pockets. “Keep yourself hydrated. It's bad enough with the heat around here, but the liquor will dry you out worse than one of those hot winds.”

“I will.” Her keen green eyes never left his face. “What did we fight about?”

“Ah, about… Leaving. You don't want me to go, remember?” He dabbed his sleeve against his forehead. “It's hot in here. Maybe we should go for a ride, see if we can't stir up a breeze.”

“I don't want you to go, but I can't recall fighting about it. It's your choice, of course.” She fiddled with a button at her collar.

“You haven't been here long enough to understand what it's really like.” New frustration overtook his nervousness.

“I like it here.”

“Because you don't know any better. If you'd grown up here, you'd see what a mess this place is.”

“It's not without its charms.” She moved toward him, then rested her hands on his shoulders. A glimmer of mischief colored her smile. “If that's what we really argued about, I don't want to do it again. Let's have a picnic. Just the two of us. We'll talk about things more pleasant than living and dying in Berner.”

Relieved she was giving up the conversation, a half smile tugged at his lips. “I like that idea.”

Beryl lay on her back, soaking in the warmth of the ground in Berner's park. The oak tree overhead moved in the breeze, making the sunlight sparkle through wide leaves. Eban had his back against the trunk, staring out at the grassy lawn in front of them. He looked lost in thought.

Over the crumbling adobe wall surrounding the park, she heard people talking and the jingle of harnesses. Business was better in town and the citizens seemed less afraid to move around on the streets than they had been before the Heckmasters banished Noem. Almost like a real town.

She put her hand over Eban's. He smiled, the same smile she'd fallen in love with when she saw it the first time. She wanted to crawl into his lap, curl against him and let the rest of the world fade away. Perfect, kissable lips begged her to cover them with her mouth, even if the rest of him feigned indifference.

Beryl closed her eyes, tracing the long thin bones in his hand. She nudged it over, letting her fingertips skim his pads. They weren't rough with calluses, but softer than she remembered. This same set had touched her a few nights ago in an intimate fashion. She ached for that again.

I want him.
Strong desire to be next to him, skin against skin burned through her. She thought she'd die if she couldn't convince him to bed her.

Peeking through her lashes, she saw he'd closed his eyes as well. Old memories of men touching her filtered through her mind. Once upon a time she'd allowed men to use her in exchange for money. The knowledge sat heavily on her chest. She drew in a breath that was half sob. There was a chance she'd never have what Rhia did. No handsome, doting husband, no family to look after. Just her alone forever.

“Eban.”

“Hmm?” He didn't open his eyes. Sitting up, she trailed her hand up his arm, to his chest, slipping her fingers between the buttons. “The other night we didn't do anything I didn't want.”

His eyes popped open. “What?”

“I wanted you. I still want you.” She passed her tongue over her lips. “Don't think I mean forever. I know that's not what you want. But I'm familiar with adult desires and we could both benefit from a mutual relationship.”

He sat up straighter. “I don't think you mean that. The last thing I'd want to do is hurt you.”

Foolish man. “We don't have to get our hearts involved. We could be something more than friends. Just until you decide to go.” She clutched his hand, afraid he'd pull away and leave her here alone. She pushed one button through a hole, opening the gap in his shirt. “Please.”

His mouth was inches away, lips parted the tiniest bit. It made her want to capture them, show him what kind of pleasure she could bring him if he'd give in.

“I'm worried you're saying this because of what little you remember.” He sucked a breath through his teeth. “You don't owe me anything, Beryl.”

Eban's free hand caressed her loose locks.

“It's not that. Believe me. I won't go back to a life like that. I don't need to.” She held his stare, praying he'd see the truth in her words. “I just want you.”

His hand guided her toward his mouth and their lips crushed together. Heat pooled in Beryl's center. His tongue pushed through her parted lips, tangling with hers, stroking it in a way that made her flesh pebble in anticipation. She put her hand all the way through the gap in his shirt, exploring hard muscles in his chest. He felt like a granite statue with a heartbeat. Eban might spend more time indoors than his brothers, but he wasn't a weakling. He held her against his chest, his embrace tight and possessive.

She loved every second of the kiss. When he pulled back, breathing hard, there was unmistakable desire in his eyes.

“All right.”

Those two words made her heart leap. She pulled away and gathered their picnic basket. Looking back at him over her shoulder, she gave him a smile that promised she'd give him everything his heart desired. He didn't hesitate as he climbed to his feet and followed her back to the clinic.

Chapter Nine

The bedclothes were cool against Beryl's bare flesh. Eban tumbled down on top of her, coming to rest between her legs. He braced himself on one palm, stroking her face with his other hand. His hair was tousled because she'd turned to him the second they entered the clinic, pressing kisses to his jaw, running her fingers through his hair, tugging at his clothes. He was more magnificent naked than she'd imagined.

Take him,
the voice in her head whispered.
Let's claim him, make him ours, never let him go.

She ran her hands along his sides, smiling when his muscles twitched. His mouth touched her collarbone, nibbling a path along it to the base of her throat. Beryl moaned. The center of her throbbed. She reached for him, the hard rod that could bring her pleasure. His tip found her folds, but he didn't enter her. More hot kisses rained down on her neck, her jawline, the sensitive flesh behind her ear.

“Eb.”

“All in good time,” he promised, voice husky.

She closed her eyes, stroking his length and earning a groan that rivaled hers. He pulled away from her neck and massaged one of her breasts in his hands, laving attention on the other with his tongue. Her nipples tightened as he flicked one with his thumb and suckled the other. A gentle nip had her arching off the bed, panting.

He chuckled, sending a shiver through her as the vibration raced across her skin. The tip of his rod parted her, slipping through her dampness with an agonizingly slow motion. Beryl held her breath as he sheathed himself.

His jaw strained, mouth tight as he looked down at her.

She reached up and pushed his hair back, arching against him. “Don't hold back. It's been too long and I've wanted this, well, since I've been strong enough to do it.”

She cupped his shoulders, holding his gaze, but she blinked when he moved, another of those long, slow, torturous motions.

“You deserve better,” he whispered, mouth near her ear.

His tongue traced the outline of her ear. She let out a little squeak, tightening around him. Her earlobe was inside his warm mouth and she couldn't think. His shaft throbbed inside her, almost in time to her own heartbeat.

Beryl crossed her ankles behind him, holding him close as he moved above her. She bit back a cry when he pushed deeper. Though she knew it had been some time since she'd last held a man this way, she couldn't remember pleasure like this.

“Beryl, Beryl, hold on.” He moved faster, pressing his pelvis against her.

She couldn't answer, too out of breath to do more than feel. Instead she kissed him, let herself get lost in his mouth, in the unique taste of Eban. Salty, but vaguely minty from his tooth powder. She cried out when the climax hit, pressing her head back into the pillow. He stiffened, enjoying his own release.

After a moment, he slid off and rested on his back next to her, breathing hard. She reached over and entwined her fingers with his. Staring at the ceiling, she hoped he wouldn't come to regret this tomorrow. Making love with Eban was the best thing that had happened to her since they crossed the town's borders.

I could enjoy a lifetime of this.

The voice inside her head laughed.
And so you shall.

She banished both thoughts. She'd promised it wouldn't be that way. Instead of turned to him and cuddling, she remained where she was. Eban stretched his arms overhead, crossing his wrists behind his neck.

Neither of them spoke. She wasn't sure she could maintain a steady tone if he wanted her to say anything. Maybe he attributed her silence to the glowing aftermath of lovemaking.

It had to be enough that they were side by side now. She'd take every moment with him day by day.

Beryl felt like a little girl playing dress-up in the gown Rhia had given her. Cap sleeves showed more of her arms than she was used to, but the square neckline was modest and trimmed in buttercup-yellow lace. The top gave way to a sage green taffeta fitted bodice with laces up the front that made her waist look impossibly thin. The yellow underskirt flared at the hips with a little ruffle around it and more lace rows decorated the hem. It was more elegant than anything she could remember wearing. Soft white silk gloves covered her hands and the little hat Rhia had picked out nestled on top of her hair.

The outfit was probably better suited to an evening out than a birthday party, but she hadn't been able to resist wearing it. She twirled in front of her mirror, pleased when the skirt flared around her. It had taken most of the morning to curl her hair and secure it in neat waves down her back. If Eban didn't find her beautiful now, he must be blind.

She gathered her skirt in her hand as she hurried down the stairs where he waited in the study with Sylvie's gift balanced on his knee. As usual, he wore a pressed pair of trousers, a crisp white shirt, silky gray vest to match his pants, and a light jacket. He glanced up, his face a mask of self-pity, but his eyes widened when she smiled.

“Rhia has good taste, don't you think?”

She regretted the words the moment they popped out of her mouth. Her friend had chosen Wystan over Eban. He wasn't inclined to agree with her opinion.

“It suits you.” He rose. “Since you're dead set on going, we should head over there.”

The compliment was less than she'd hoped for. “It's pretty, isn't it?”

“Like it was made for you.” He leaned closer, a smile pushing his mouth up. “You're prettier without it.”

She returned his smile and smoothed her hands over the skirt. “All right, let's go.”

Anyone who cared to look would see them walking together, which wasn't unusual since she was his unofficial house guest—or clinic guest—but today they might notice something different about them. She tucked her present for Sylvie under one arm and looped her other through Eban's.

He smiled at her, but it was tight and worried.

“Don't look so excited,” she teased.

“It's a little girl's birthday party. She'll have invited her school friends and she won't know I'm there,” he grumbled. “She knows she can stop by the clinic any time she wants to talk.”

She smacked his arm playfully. “Sylvie is a young woman now, not a little girl. Thirteen is an important age.”

“I'll try to remember that.” He clutched a wrapped book in his hand. “I barely remember being that age. There were more important things to worry about than birthdays.”

“I know.” She'd heard the tale about how his parents had died and Wystan assumed responsibility for his younger siblings. “She's in much the same situation you were. I'm grateful she has guardians like Rhia and Wystan. Not to mention she has you and Tell if she needs to talk to someone else.”

He gave her a half smile. “To be honest, I'm a little scared of her.”

Beryl grinned. “Why?”

“She's a spitfire. Too much sass packed into one little body.” He shuddered. “I pity her future husband. He'll have his hands full.”

“She'll grow out of some of that. It wasn't easy, leaving their home, traveling across the country. The things Noem did to them were awful. It's a miracle Rhia was able to protect her sister as long as she did before they got away.” She had a soft spot for Sylvie and admired the girl's bravery.
Young woman,
she reminded herself.

“You sound so sure. Tell never grew out of his mouth.” Eban sighed. “Maybe I'll wait outside.”

The house Wystan and Rhia had refurbished stood on a big lot on the outskirts of town. Although it was a single story, Beryl guessed it had plenty of room for the new family that occupied it. Flowers bloomed on bushes beneath the windows. The yard was shaded by a big cottonwood tree. A swing hung from one of the branches, inviting children to play beneath it.

The door stood open and Tell leaned against the frame, whittling a slender stick with his little knife and whistling tunelessly. He glanced up when they turned down the stone walkway.

“You look like a peach today, Beryl.” He blew across the stick he was carving and tucked the knife into its sheath.

“Thank you, Tell.” She smiled, but it felt wrong.

“Eb.”

“Tell.”

They nodded at each other and Tell moved aside to let them in. He stood by the door, leaning on the wall and propping one foot against the wallpaper while surveying the hall. Beryl tried not to let his direct stare bother her. She still had no answer for why he'd called her Rosemar, but she wasn't sure she wanted one.

She hurried through the house to the kitchen, where Rhia was stirring a pitcher of lemonade.

“You made it!” Sylvie jumped up from the table and threw her arms around Beryl.

“Of course. I wouldn't miss such an important event.”

She couldn't remember her thirteenth birthday, but she was willing to bet it didn't hold a candle to Sylvie's. Beryl hugged the girl in return, then looked over her shoulder. Eban hadn't followed her.

“I knew that dress would look stunning on you. Did Eban like it?” Rhia's hazel eyes shined with good humor.

Beryl shrugged. “He said it was pretty.”

Sylvie rolled her eyes. “He's a man. They don't understand.”

She laughed. “You look so grown up, Sylvie. I can't believe you're thirteen. Seems like yesterday I crossed a prairie with a little girl made of sticks and straw hair and now you're half grown.”

Sylvie's blonde hair was slowly turning brown, though she suspected it would never be as dark as Rhia's.

“Thanks, Beryl.” Sylvie beamed. “I'm gonna go wait for Lois.”

Beryl noted the absence of the cake. “We must be early, since none of your friends are here.”

Sylvie gave her a strange look. “No one else was invited.”

“Just the Heckmasters and me?”

She nodded.

Rhia moved the lemonade to the center of the table. “Go on and see if Lois is coming.”

Sylvie darted off like she was shot from Tell's crossbow.

“What's this about?”

“Wys didn't want Eban making a scene. He's been a little…out of sorts, apparently.” Rhia wiped her hands on her apron. “Have you noticed him doing anything abnormal?”

Beryl laughed. “In this town? I worry about people doing normal things.”

“Wystan's watching Eliakim with a sharp eye and won't tell me a single thing. I'm a little miffed about it.” She tipped her chin up, folding her arms. “I know he thinks it's for my own good, but he should be able to trust me.”

“Don't be mad at him. It's too soon after your wedding.” Beryl settled into one of the chairs. “I haven't seen Eliakim.”

“There's not much to see. He doesn't speak, at least not so I can hear him. Wys seems to understand him well enough. Must be because of their paranormal abilities. That suits me fine. I'm not sure I'd like to know what's going on behind his scowling face.” Rhia dropped into a chair beside her. “I just hope whatever it is gets settled soon.”

“Me too.” Beryl propped her elbow on the table and settled her chin into her palm. “Things have been calm since Noem, and I liked it that way.”

She studied the stitching on her sleeve.

“You don't know anything about a woman named Rosemar, do you?”

Rhia jumped up like her chair was hot and removed a wheel of cheese from the larder.

“I think I'll slice this up. Won't it be good melted on toast? A little something to offset the sweet cake.” She fumbled through a drawer until she pulled out a knife and cutting board.

“Rhia. Who is she?”

“Who mentioned her name?” Rhia turned her back on Beryl.

Her friend knew something. Probably the same thing Eban didn't want her to know. “Tell.”

“Of course,” Rhia muttered.

“Well?”

“She's a friend of Seere's.” The words were almost drowned out by the sound of Rhia chopping cheese.

“I don't think he has friends. More like servants and minions.” Beryl ran her finger across the lace. “Why would Tell call me that?”

The knife almost fell from Rhia's hand. It clattered against the cabinet as she turned. “He did?”

“The other morning after he found out about Eliakim. When he found me in Eban's bed.” She didn't dare admit she'd gone back to him. It wasn't anyone's business, and she felt her face grow hot as she thought about it. “I know it wasn't a mistake.”

“What did Eban say about it?” Rhia picked up the pieces of cheese she'd sliced and arranged them on a plate.

“He didn't.”

“Then it's not my place to say. I'm sorry, Beryl.” She truly looked it.

“I understand. I wondered if it might have something to do with my past. I hope not.” She shook her head. “I'm sorry too. This is Sylvie's party and I don't think we should cloud it up with things we don't understand. Do you want me to toast the bread?”

“If you want to help.” Rhia smiled. “It was easy to pretending life was normal when we were in Santa Fe. We should take a trip, us girls, sometime. You'd enjoy it.”

Beryl listened while Rhia described the city with a touch of whimsy in her voice. Berner was a far cry from a real city and they only had supply deliveries once a month. They got what they needed and few extras if they were lucky. She agreed she'd like to visit Santa Fe. If Eban really left, she might need the distraction someday.

Sylvie bounded into the kitchen again with Lois in her wake. The cake she carried on a flat board was iced with pink frosting and had letters piped on top that read
Happy Birthday, Sylvia.

“It's beautiful, Lois.”

Lois made delicious desserts for her patrons at her cafe across the street from the jailhouse. No one would ever guess Lois was from a race of creatures known as brownies, which Beryl had believed to be a myth before she came to Berner.

Behind Lois, Wystan and Tell entered the kitchen. Eban wasn't with them.