Pariah (The New Covenant Series) (11 page)

I envisioned her with, but anyw
ay...I thought it would be like the introduction,” she said. I was worried. I hoped she wasn’t disappointed. “But God knows what’s best for us all, and I am excited to start a new chapter in my life. Right?” she said, tucking a stray curl behind her pointed ear and smiled.

“Right,” I agreed, looking
at Wes and then over at Lil and Faric. Faric’s eyes caught mine and lingered a little too long.

He looked at me and sort of
raised one side of his mouth in an almost-smile and then shrugged his shoulders, darting his eyes at Lil. Was he disappointed with having Lillian? My eyes grew large. How could anyone be disappointed with Lil? She was perfect and beautiful and good. He must have applied for her, right? Was he telling me that he wished it was me? No. Lil is so much better. I wiped the thought from my brain and excused myself to get another glass of wine. Most everyone’s glasses were still full, but Toran asked that I get his refilled while I was at it.

I made my way over to the table with the assortment of wine,
which was across the room in a darker corner. The gentleman offered me a sip of peach and then a sip of a berry concoction. I loved the berry. It was the color of eggplant but smelled like sweet succulent forbidden fruits. As he filled the two glasses, someone grabbed a hold of my elbow. I turned to see who it was before trying in vain to pull away. Altair had me by the arm, his grip like a vice. He dragged me back toward him. “Make a scene, and I will kill you, Solara. Don’t test me. I always keep my promises. I just want to talk to you.” He jerked me toward him and then eased his grip and let go, holding his hands up as if to surrender.

“What do you want? Can’t you just leave me alone? I’m
married to Wesley now,” I begged, exhausted of his constant invasion in my life.

“I just want you to know that this isn’t over. I
t won’t be over until I have you.
I
should have been given permission to marry you. My father pushed for us, but the others somehow found out about the little argument we had on the balcony, and he was overruled.
You
were taken from
me
.” He spat, dragging back his dark hair from his face.

“Little argument? Are you kidding me? You are such a crazy
jerk. I am the happiest woman in the world having
not
married
you
. And for the record, this
is
over. You come near me again, and

I’ll have someone kick the life ou
t of you. Do you understand? Now leave me alone. I’m not yours and never will be,” I whispered loudly. I hated him with every bone in my body. My stomach knotted. He was serious. He would never leave me alone.

As I walked back, head down, muttering to myse
lf about what a psycho Altair was, someone stopped in the aisle in front of me. Looking up, I saw Faric, jaw clenched, anger emanating from his eyes. “What did he say to you?” he asked in a low, angry tone.

“It’s fine, Faric. Let’s just go back and enjoy t
he rest of the evening. Okay?” I forced a smile and hoped he bought it.

“He’s been glaring at you all night. What did he say? Tell me
now, or I’m going to drag him outside and make him tell me himself.” The look in his eyes said he was serious.

“Okay. Fine. But I don’t want to cause a scene or ruin this for
any of the other women here. This is their special day, and Altair shouldn’t ruin it for anyone,” I said and waited until he nodded.

“He said that I was taken fr
om him, and he should have been married to me and that this wasn’t over. He said it wouldn’t be over until he had me.”

His face turned red. I looked over at the others who, thankfully,
were laughing and still enjoying themselves. He started to go around me, but I held Toran’s glass out for him to take. “Can you give this to Toran, please?” I smiled.

“No,” he said, eyes narrowing
on his prey, which was standing in the corner with a wide grin on his face. He tried to go around me again, and I moved over to block him.

“Look, we can dance all night if
you want, but I really want to go back and enjoy myself. And I can’t go back unless you go with me.” He rolled his eyes in annoyance and stood back up straight. “I can take care of myself. I told him he was a crazy jerk and that if he messed with me again, I would have someone kick the crap out of him. And I will totally let that someone be you, if you just come back with me. Please.” I prayed he would acquiesce.

“Fine,” he said, grabbing T
oran’s drink out of my hand and stalking back toward Lillian.
Crisis averted.

Before we left, I saw Garric
k, the ornery thirtyish widower I’d danced with at the introduction. He gave me a sly grin and nodded toward a very busty thirtyish woman with black curly hair, a crown of roses and wildflowers framing her round face. I smiled and nodded back toward Wes, and Garrick smiled and nodded in approval. So much could be said in silence.

I
t was just past eight
o’clock in the evening when it became obvious from the people cleaning up around us that we needed to leave. Outside, I hugged Rachel and Lil goodnight, and we three exchanged worried glances. I promised to find them tomorrow so that we could see one another’s homes. The day after tomorrow, we would be assigned to our kingdom duties. I prayed we would be together in whatever field they chose for us. Rachel and Toran and Lil and Faric walked down the cobbled street to our right.

Wesley offered his arm and said, “Our home is this way,” nodding
toward the opposite direction, showing off his perfect teeth and the dimple that I found so sexy.

I felt very comfortable with Wesley just strolling down the
street. A strange sense of déjà vu blanketed me. We walked arm in arm toward the west. The stars blinked their approval at our union. The sounds of shrouded night creatures echoed through the onyx sky, and a warm breeze stirred around us. I was free to walk down the street. Finally. After seventeen years of restriction,

I was actually strolling down the street, seeing the things that
made the sounds and smelling the scents that I caught every so often from the balcony. It was as if I had been blind, and now I could see so sharply that it was overwhelming. I grazed my hand over the ivy that grew along someone’s gate, saw the brilliant red the rose buds were trying to conceal, and jumped from the dogs that came near. I’d never seen one up close before, let alone had one lunge and bark at me. I nearly jumped onto Wes’s back! His deep laughter rang out into the night, mine followed as we added to the sounds collecting in the evening air.

At the end of the street, jus
t beyond where the cobblestones ended, was a newly constructed home. Its exterior walls were made of large, hauntingly rectangular gray stones. Its roof and small porch framed and shingled with wood—freshly-cut wood.

It was still vibrant amber and smelled of pine. A small pathway
of flat gray stones led to the front door. Wes stopped short of the path and smiled and said, “This is
our
home, Solara.” He blushed as he smiled at me from under his thick dark lashes. I returned his smile and stood gazing at my new house, wondering what was inside. I was like a child opening a precious gift.

While I stared, I was tak
en aback when Wes scooped me up into his arms, one arm under my knees and one around my back. I put my arms around his neck to keep from falling. “What are you doing?” I squealed. He just grinned and walked toward the door, pushing it open. He carried me over the threshold.
How sweet is that?

“Some traditions are important.” He smirked. I just laughed
and straightened my dress, taking care to make sure the back hadn’t dipped too low. Looking around, we were in a large room with a window facing the street and front and back wooden doors.

Wrought iron scrolling sconces hung in the mortar between the
stones around the room, holding the illuminated white candles. There was a long bench with dark green cushions perpendicular to the fireplace, a wooden rocking chair across from the bench.

The kitchen area was situated
at the back of the dwelling and sported another small fireplace and simple wooden table flanked by six matching chairs. “It’s beautiful,” I whispered, taking it all in.

Wes motioned to a doorway t
o our right between the kitchen and main room. “There are more rooms in here,” he said, taking my hand in his. The lights flickered in a small room that held a wooden wardrobe and dresser, a small mirrored table with a wooden stool and some crates stacked in the far corner. The water basin sat empty near the doorway, ready to be filled. Wes was patient as my eyes searched over every surface, carefully committing every item to memory before gently guiding me toward the back room.
The bedroom.
I held my breath.
Oh my
goodness. What does he expect from me tonight? I’m not sure that I’m
ready. Oh no.
I felt my face spark, and my palm felt slick and hot against his.

The room held only one thi
ng—a massive wooden four poster bed draped with dark brown fabric cascading from canopy to the wooden floor boards. Awkward silence filled the room until Wes cleared his throat. Rubbing the back of his neck, he said, “This is the bedroom.”
Duh.
I smiled, not wanting to embarrass him and nodded my head. My teeth raked over my bottom lip. “Well then,” he said, “I’ll go out and get a bundle or two of firewood, so yeah, okay.” He turned and stepped quickly to the door.
It didn’t squeak!
I’d had enough of squeaky old doors to last a lifetime. I wringed my hands and wondered what the night might bring. Wes was a beautiful specimen of a man and being intimate with him wouldn’t be the worst thing to ever happen to me, and it would happen eventually anyway because we were married now. Thoughts rapidly swelled over me.

He was back within ten minutes, sweat glistening on his brow.
He threw one bunch of wood, tied together with an unfortunately familiar coarse brown twine in the corner and untied the other, placing some pieces in the fireplace. He ran back outside and emerged with a small torch and ignited the tinder beneath. I watched in awe as the fire grew and licked the wood sensuously as it consumed it. “I’ll get some water for the basin, okay?” he said over his shoulder as he headed back out the door.
Okay
. Again he returned with a wooden bucket full of water. I followed him as he went in the back room to fill the basin. He stood, staring blankly into the cream-colored basin.

“Is everything all right?” I ask softly.

“What? Oh yeah. I was just thinking about things. Sorry,” he apologized, sitting the bucket on the floor. He unbuttoned the top of his shirt and exhaled. He was nervous. I never imagined him being nervous—ever. In class, he was confident. He was confident in his music. He was confident when conversing with strangers and when just relaxing with his sister. But with me here tonight, he was nervous.
Hmmm.
That was flattering and amazing at the same time. I certainly had no prior knowledge of having this effect on a man.

“Want to go sit by the fire?” I asked, clenching my abdominal
muscles. He agreed, and I told him I would meet him there. My hair was hurting from all of the bending and twisting and layers of pins. I just wanted to take it down and let it breathe. He stepped out, and I began trying to figure out how to dismantle the mass of curls and braids. After fighting the tangle with little success, I decided to beg for mercy. After all, he would be able to see the pins and braids, and it would be much easier and quicker with help. I gingerly sat down beside him in the floor on a blanket that he’d laid out for us, praying that my dress would give with the bending motion. A curl that I had managed to free flipped down over my left eye, and I blew it up, making Wes laugh. “Need some help?” He laughed.

He went to work, patiently removing pin after pin. I helped
unwind the multitude of braids, and after what seemed like an eternity, my hair was free. “I must look awful, but my hair hurt so bad, I had to take it down,” I said, looking down to avoid his disapproval of my bird’s nest. I gasped when I felt his warm hand under my chin, pulling my eyes toward his.

I tried to look away, but he
leaned toward my gaze and said, “Your hair is wavy and beautiful. Don’t worry,” he said as he softly began to comb my hair with his fingers. My heart began to melt.

I closed my eyes and leaned into h
is shoulder, his delicious male scent enveloped my senses. “Thank you, Wes.”

“So what do you think abou
t Rachel’s husband?” He knitted his brows in concern.
What did I think about Toran?

“Well, he’s quiet and serious so
metimes, and his sense of humor is dry. He seems to enjoy being a guard, and I truthfully think Rachel will be happy with him. She’s outgoing and bubbly to his strong and serious.” I made my best serious face, trying to imitate Toran’s stony look. Wes burst out laughing at my impression. “Hey”—I shove him—“that was a
great
impression. Thank you very much!”

He pinched his tear ducts a
nd howled, “Yeah. Sure it was,” eliciting another shove from me. He kept laughing, and I started to laugh too.

Finally calming down, he mov
ed on to a more serious matter. “Are you happy with this? With me?” he asked, wrinkling his forehead and biting the inside of his dimpled cheek. I didn’t hesitate. “Yes. I am. Are you happy with me?” I asked, pushing hair behind my ear, impatient for his response.

“Solara, you’re the only one I’v
e ever even considered applying to marry. I’ve been eligible to apply for several years. When I was assigned as your instructor, I was immediately taken by you. You’re beautiful, intelligent, and I’m drawn to you as I am no other. When they announced that you were mine, I was the happiest man in the world,” he admitted, swallowing back a thick gulp of honesty.

“Thank you,” I blushed. His
green eyes bored into mine, and he stroked my cheek with his thumb.

“Solara?” he said, waiting for my response, looking in my eyes
. Oh my goodness. This is it. He wants to consummate!

“Yeah.” I looked at him nervous for his next words.

“I want you to know that I don’t expect anything from you tonight, that you don’t want to give. I know some men have certain expectations of their wives on their wedding night, but I want you to come to me willingly and only when you’re sure that you want to give yourself to me completely,” he said, still holding my eyes captive and stroking my cheek.
Oh thank you, Lord, for blessing me with this man.

“Thank you, Wesley,” I said softly.

“If you agree to it, I would love nothing more than to kiss you right now,” he said in a low sultry voice. My stomach jumped in anticipation. I inhaled and leaned toward him with my answer.

He covered the space between. His
lips parted, and I parted mine slightly to match. Quickly, I gasped as the hand that had been gently stroking my cheek wound itself in my hair at the nape of my neck and pulled me into a soft moist kiss. That first sweet kiss, which mirrored the one exchanged in our marriage ceremony today, was followed by one that revealed the passion and hunger this man felt for me. I sighed against his lips as I grazed his bottom lip with my teeth, eliciting a guttural growl from him. He pulled my body closer to his, and I put my hands on his chest, feeling the hard muscles beneath. Our tongues searched one another as our breaths became hotter, more labored as they mixed together in the passionate blaze we’d ignited.

I softly reached my hands inside his jacket and slid it down
over his shoulders. It pooled on the floor behind him as I began to unbutton his starched white shirt. His breath hitched as I unclasped the final button, and I pulled his shirt free from his trousers. It hitched again as I gently slid my hands over his rippled abdomen on the way to slide the shirt off his shoulders as well.

He looked at me hungrily and g
rabbed my wrists, pulling me so close that his lips grazed mine. “Solara, please tell me when to stop, and I will. I swear, okay?” he breathed. I nodded and nibbled my lip as I pulled back to look over the masterpiece of a man in front of me. Standing, I turned my back toward him. “God, I’m sorry, Solara, this went too far. I’m so sorry,” he said, grabbing his forehead.

What? What is he talking about?
Oh, he thinks I turned my back on him. Silly man!

“Wes,” my voice escaped in a low tone. “Wes?”

“I’m so sorry,” he muttered.

“Wes!” I snapped, to get his attention.

“What?” he said, his eyes reflecting pain and embarrassment.

“Unbutton my dress please.” I r
epressed a slight sultry smile.
Sultry Solara has finally arrived.

“What?” he asks in a voice
an octave too high, raising his brows high, his eyes widening.

“You heard me. Now, wo
uld you please be so kind as to unbutton my dress?” I said, raising one brow toward him as his mouth hung open in disbelief. He thought he’d pushed me too far too soon. In reality, maybe I pushed him too far, but I wasn’t ready to quit yet. I doubted I’d be brave enough to make love to him tonight, but I definitely wasn’t finished. After all, he was insanely hot, and we were married. He never said a word, just raised to his knees, and gently started to separate the delicate pearl buttons that began at my very lower back and continued down around the curve of my bottom.