Nightwind (27 page)

“Touch me, Agnes,” he whispered and smiled knowingly as the woman’s trembling fingers unzipped his

fly and moved without hesitation into the opening. He heard her gasp of pleasure as her hand cupped

him.

Anna trailed kisses over his jaw line and when he turned his head toward her, she claimed his lips,

groaning as his tongue thrust against her own. She slanted her mouth tightly over his and thrust her tongue

deep inside the warmth of his mouth, feeling the heat of him far down in the shriveled, never-touched core

of her sagging belly.

“Pleasure me, Agnes,” he whispered against Anna’s mouth.

Agnes slid to the floor at his feet, bending awkwardly as she slithered between the piano and the bench.

She put her head in his lap and covered his flesh with her lips in an attempt to draw from him the same

wonderment that filled her ears with such intoxicating sound. Her body thrilled as he moved his legs

further apart to accommodate her and she fastened on him like a hungry leech.

Syntian stopped playing, knowing the women were beyond hearing or feeling or seeing or caring what

they did. He stared into Anna’s lust-filled face as she continued to kiss him, her mouth now covering his

own so wetly, saliva oozed from the corner of his own mouth. He felt the rush of his seed spiraling

toward climax and he let himself relax, let the two of them have him. He reached behind him and drew

Anna around the side of the bench, insinuated his hand under her prim and proper dress and found that

part of her that had never known a man’s touch. At almost the same moment his fingers unerringly found

their way inside her wetness, she exploded around them with violent pulses of rapture and she threw

back her head and trilled with satisfaction.

Agnes slurped at him, drawing away every last drop from him, as though she had been a woman dying

of thirst. Suddenly, her entire body tensed and she jerked in the throes of such a powerful climax, her lips

clenched too painfully around his shaft.

Syntian laid a restraining hand on Agnes’ head. “Enough,” he said softly. He waited silently and patiently

until her pleasure had settled then bade her rise.

Agnes lifted her head and politely re-fastened his clothing then scrambled out from under the piano.

“Sit,” he commanded and both women moved as though in a trance to where they had been sitting.

Gracefully they sank to their seats, folded their hands primly in their laps and came out of their revelry at

the same moment.

“That was lovely,” Agnes was the first to say.

“You are very good,” Anna awarded him.

Syntian lowered the piano lid and stood up, gazing down at the two old women with a half-smile. “I am

happy to have pleasured you.”

“More tea?” Agnes asked.

“Perhaps just a tad,” he answered, grinning at them as he resumed his seat. He held his cup out to Agnes

and winked up at her as she poured.

Agnes nearly dropped the teapot. Her cheeks rushed with color and she glanced guiltily at Anna, hoping

her sister had not seen the handsome gentleman caller flirting with her. It just wouldn’t do. Anna would

be jealous!

“I have wanted to come over to speak with you ladies for some time now,” Syntian said, gaining their

immediate attention. He let his hot gaze bathe them with its intensity. “I am sure you know I have been

courting Miss Fowler.”

Agnes nodded politely. “We thought you might be.”

Syntian’s gaze sharpened. “Miss Fowler is a fine woman.”

Anna’s brows drew together then relaxed as her guest’s attention narrowed on her. “She certainly is.”

“And very well-educated,” Syntian added. “One must, of course, overlook her parentage.” He took a

sip of his tea and peered at the two old women over the rim of his cup.

“Lauren can’t be held responsible for the kind of father she has,” Anna agreed.

“Or mother,” Agnes put in.

“Naturally not,” Anna said emphatically.

“Miss Fowler is what we call in Boston ‘a lady of genteel breeding,’” Syntian informed them. “A woman

to be respected.”

“And admired!” Agnes echoed.

“She is, sister,” Anna admitted.

Syntian set aside his cup. “I am, as you must be aware, quite taken with Miss Fowler.”

“Who can blame you?” Anna asked.

“Lauren is such a delight,” added Agnes.

He stood up, looking down on the women with a benevolent expression. “I would take it as a personal

favor if you two sophisticated and worldly women would take Lauren under your wing, so to speak. I

would not think of entering her home without a chaperone.”

“Gossips can do a good woman’s reputation much harm,” Agnes said sadly.

“We would be most pleased to chaperone you, Mr. Cree,” Anna breathed.

“Synti,” he corrected her and stepped over to take her hand in his. He kissed the parchment-like flesh

and heard Anna’s quick in drawn breath.

“Synti,” Anna sighed, lost once more in his infinite eyes.

“And perhaps you could speak to Mrs. Malone?” he asked, still holding Anna’s hand. “Inform her that I

will be calling upon her this morning?”

“Yes,” Anna said dreamily. Her brows drew together. “Why?”

Syntian smiled. “Tell her I am your nephew, a distant relative. I am Cousin Maureen’s son.” His gaze

bored into hers. “Anything that grants me entry to her home.” He tightened his hold on her hand. “I must

have her permission to enter to do what I must do.”

Agnes shot out of her chair as though she had been snagged on her skinny rump by a hellhound. “I will

call her!”

“The phones are not in service,” Anna said, not taking her gaze from Syntian.

“Yes, they are,” he answered and stared into Anna’s face as Agnes hurried to the phone and jerked up

the receiver, dialing Henrietta Malone’s number so fast she broke a fingernail.

“Henrietta? Agnes Black. Have you noticed we have a visitor? Yes. Oh, yes! But did you know he’s

our nephew?” There was a brief pause. “Boston. Our cousin Maureen’s boy. He wants to meet you.”

Nina Athertonopened the door with a smile. “Mr. Cree, so nice to meet you! Henrietta has told us all

about you! Won’t you come in?”

Thaddeus Atherton put out his hand as their guest entered the living room. “Pleased to meet you, Mr.

Cree. I didn’t know Henrietta had a nephew living up in New Haven! You are originally from Boston,

eh?” He glanced at his wife. “And to think he’s been over to Lauren’s and we didn’t even know he was

practically kin!”

Ben Hurlbertlooked up from his report and frowned. “I’ve been looking for you, Mr. Cree.”

Syntian smiled. “So, I’ve heard.” He sat down on the chair in front of the acting Sheriff’s desk. “How

may I help you?”

Lauren’s faceshowed her surprise when she answered the knock on her door. She unhooked the latch

and pushed the screen open. “Miss Agnes,” she said, confusion drawing her brows together at the warm

and friendly smile on the old woman’s face.

“Anna and I were baking cinnamon rolls this morning and thought you just might like some with your

coffee, Lauren.” She moved past the startled younger woman and entered the living room. “We just

knew you’d have made this place as pretty as a picture.” She turned, looked lovingly at Lauren then

cocked her head to one side. “And you have, haven’t you?”

Lauren stared at her, taking the proffered plate of warm rolls in her hand as the old lady extended them

to her.

“And where is that adorable little ragamuffin?” Agnes chirped, sweeping her gaze about the room.

“What is it you call him, again? Onyx?” She bent forward, clucking her tongue. “Here, kitty-kitty! Come

here, you pretty boy, you!” The old woman ventured on into the dining alcove, then pushed her way into

the kitchen, calling the cat the whole time. “Here, kitty-kitty!”

Lauren’s brows shot up and she just stood where she was, rooted in the middle of the living room floor,

hearing odd sounds in her kitchen as pots and pans rattled. As the tap turned on and she heard the

unmistakable sound of water filling a boiler, she managed to make herself move, walking slowly toward

the kitchen as though a madman were lurking about inside.

“He’s out there on the picnic table,” Miss Agnes informed Lauren as the young woman entered the

kitchen. “Just look at him sitting there like a little prince!” She carried a two-quart boiler over to the stove

and turned on the burner.

“Miss Agnes?” Lauren asked, placing the plate of cinnamon rolls on the kitchen table. “May I ask what

you’re doing?”

Agnes Black giggled as she began to rummage through the cabinet over the stove. “I woke up this

morning,” she said, pushing aside spices, standing on her tiptoes to reach for a tin of sage, “and I said to

myself, ‘Aggie, that young woman works all day long and has to come in and fix herself supper.’” She

flipped up the lid of the tin and began to shake a liberal amount of sage into the boiler. “So, I discussed it

with Sister and we decided to make you a nice pot of chicken and dumplings!”

Lauren’s eyes grew wide and she had to reach out to grab the edge of the table. “Chicken and

dumplings?” she echoed.

Agnes nodded. She peeked out the window and clapped her hands together. She looked around at

Lauren and winked. “Here she comes!”

There was a shadow moving across the side window off the back stoop and Agnes Black hurried to the

door to unlatch it and open the portal for her sister. Anna Black climbed the steps and came into the

kitchen with a wide grin of pleasure on her wrinkled face.

“I thought this one would do, don’t you agree, Sister?” Anna asked, handing a small broiler chicken to

Agnes.

“Perfect,” Agnes answered. She hefted the chicken and then carried it to the sink where she began to

remove the plastic wrap. “It’ll do nicely.”

Anna startled Lauren when she came over to her and embraced her, putting a dry kiss on her cheek.

“Did you sleep well, dear?”

“Yes, ma’am.” Lauren watched the two old women bustling about her kitchen, getting out bowls and

spices and milk and shortening. She sat down with total confusion as Anna found the rolling pin for Agnes

as the other woman tore off a sheet of waxed paper, moistened the counter top and then spread the

waxed paper on it.

“Keeps it from sliding about,” Anna explained to Lauren.

“You make the dumplings while I stew the chicken, Sister,” said Agnes.

“Sister!” Anna exclaimed, making Agnes turn in surprise.

“Have we forgotten something?” Agnes asked, frowning.

“She hasn’t had her coffee!” Anna said in an aggrieved tone.

Lauren’s mouth dropped open. “Really I don’t think--”

“She has to have her morning coffee, Agnes,” Anna reprimanded. “You know she does every morning!”

Agnes looked apologetically at Lauren. “Forgive me, my dear. I just got so carried away, I entirely

forgot to make your coffee.” She rushed to the Mr. Coffee machine and jerked up the canister to fill it.

“Miss Agnes,” Lauren protested, coming to her feet, finding a voice that was squeaky with absolute

astonishment.

A polite tap came at the back door and all three women turned to see Syntian framed in the opened

doorway. Smiles: two filled with rapture, one filled with bewilderment, slipped unerringly over the female

faces.

“May I join you lovely ladies?” he asked.

“You certainly may!” Anna answered for them all. She hurried over and took his arm, led him to the

kitchen table and pushed him gently into the chair beside Lauren’s. “Sister? Where’s that coffee?”

Lauren looked at him, shrugging at his questioning look. She gripped his hand as he slid it across the

table to her and she re-seated herself, her puzzled gaze going to the two old ladies who were scrambling

around her kitchen as though it were an every day affair.

Syntian leaned back in his chair, his fingers still clutching Lauren’s hand and an amused smile slipped into

place. He cocked a brow at Lauren.

“I don’t know,” Lauren whispered.

“You are up and about early this morning, Synti,” Agnes accused as she poured water into the coffee

maker. “Have you had breakfast, son?”

“Synti?” Lauren questioned, throwing him an arch look.

“Yes, ma’am,” he answered, his gaze going to the bowl of cat food on the floor. Though he did not eat

human food, the feline part of him reveled in a nice presentation of fish...the smellier, the better. “Did you

know Lauren had a guest yesterday morning?” Anna asked, grinning conspiratorially at Lauren.

Lauren looked away from the challenging look on Syntian’s face. “Ben Hurlbert,” she muttered.

“Ah,” Syntian laughed. “Our new Sheriff.” He grinned at Anna. “Think there’s something between him

and Lauren, Miss Anna?”

Lauren gasped, jerking her hand from his tender grip.

“From the way Benny was looking at her,” Agnes giggled, “he’d like to come courting.”

Lauren swung her head toward the old woman and stared at her.

“Synti wouldn’t allow that, would you, son?” Agnes stated as she switched on the coffee maker.

“No, ma’am, I would not,” Syntian answered, meeting Lauren’s shocked look with a bland one of his

own.

Anna came up to Syntian’s side and slid her arm across his shoulders, sighing with pleasure as he

reached up to put a hand on the small of her back. “Are you going to take her to lunch again today,

Synti?”

Syntian turned and looked at Lauren. There was something electric in his gaze. “If she’ll go, Miss Anna.”

Anna chuckled. “Oh, she will, won’t you, Lauren?”