Red Lily

by Nora Roberts

  expect from him.

  “She okay?” he asked her.

  “Fine. She goes down pretty easy, doesn’t always stay that way through the night though.”

  “Then we should take advantage of the quiet.” He slid his hands down her arms, then back up the sides of her body. “I love making love with you. Touching you. Watching you when I touch you. The way your body moves with mine.”

  “Maybe we’re just in lust.”

  “I’ve been in lust.” His lips cruised over her jaw. “Is that what this feels like to you?”

  “No.” She turned her head so their lips could meet. “Not just.”

  “I think about you. How you look, how you sound, how you feel. And here we are.”

  She linked her arms around his neck as he lowered her to the bed. His hands glided down, up, then palmed over her breast.

  “You are perfect. Perfect, perfect.” He nibbled his way down, then nipped lightly at her nipple through her shirt until she quivered under him.

  Then he tugged her shirt down, and took flesh.

  More than arousal, she thought even as her body bowed up in response. There was joy fizzing through the excitement, like the bubbles in champagne. He loved her. Harper with the patient hands and ripping temper loved her.

  Whatever happened, she was loved. And the love that rose so full and strong inside her was welcomed. There was no gift she treasured more.

  To show him, and how she needed to show him, she poured herself into a kiss on a flood of that love.

  She surrounded him with it so he felt his heart ache from the brilliance. He loved. It had never come to him before, this stunning surge of emotion that filled heart and soul, gut and mind. This woman, the one who moved with him, merged with him, was the one who sparked it.

  He savored the scent and flavor of her skin as the sky deepened to night and a whippoorwill began to sing in the apple tree outside his window.

  Inside, the air went soft and thick, throbbing with the sounds of sighs. He felt her rise, tremble, and tremble on the peak, then float down on a moan that was his name. Her skin quivered where he touched and his own warmed as her hands glided over him.

  Her lips. He could sink into them until pleasure swirled and shimmered in his mind like mists.

  When she rolled over him, rose over him, he could see her face in the candlelight. The glow of it framed by her dark hair, the delicate blue of her eyes deepened with passion.

  Her lips reclaimed his, soft, soft even as the kiss deepened. Then the throaty hum as she took him into her. He closed his eyes, riding the sensation as she closed around him.

  “This is what you want,” she whispered. “What you all want.”

  The change was like a finger snap, the cold like a sheath of ice. He looked at her, and everything inside him stilled.

  “No.”

  “To penetrate. To bury yourself.”

  “Stop.” Even as she rocked, arousal mixing with horror, he gripped her hips to hold her still.

  “Tell her anything. Love. Promises. Lies. As long as you get between her legs.” Her thighs clamped him, long, lean vises. Hayley’s body, he knew, but not Hayley. Revulsion rose in his throat.

  “Stop.” He reached up, and what was inside her laughed.

  “Shall I make you come? Shall I ride you like a pony until you—”

  He shoved her back, and she continued to laugh, sprawled naked in the flickering light.

  “Leave her alone.” He hauled her back. “You’ve got no right to her.”

  “As much as you. More. We’re the same, she and I. The same.”

  “No. You’re not. She doesn’t look for the easy way. She’s warm and strong and honest.”

  “I could have been.” Something else came into her eyes then. Regret, grief, need. “I can be. And I know better than she does what can be done with this body.” She pressed it to his, began to whisper erotic suggestions in his ear.

  With sick panic burning in his belly, he shook her. “Hayley. Damn it, Hayley. You’re stronger than her. Don’t let her do this.” And though it was still something else that looked at him, though her lips were cold, so cold, he kissed her. Gently. “I love you. Hayley, I love you. Come back to me.”

  He knew when she did, the instant. And gathered her hard and close while she shivered. “Harper.”

  “Ssh. It’s okay.”

  “She was—Oh God. It wasn’t me. I didn’t mean those things. Harper—”

  Comfort, he thought, wasn’t the answer, not here, not now. “It’s you I want.” His lips skimmed over her face, and his hands began to stroke her warm once more. “Just you, just me. We won’t let her touch this. Look at me.”

  He gripped her hands in his, and plunged into her. “Look at me,” he repeated. “Stay with me.”

  The cold became heat, the horror became joy. She stayed with him. Linked.

  SHE COULDN’T SPEAK, even when his head was pillowed on her belly and the whippoorwill had given way to the cicadas. So much churned inside her she couldn’t separate the shock from the fear, the fear from the shame.

  He brushed a kiss over her flesh, then rose.

  “I’m going to get us some water, and I’ll look in on Lily.”

  She had to choke back words now. Pleas that he not leave her alone, even for a moment. But that was foolish, and impossible. She couldn’t be watched every minute. More, she couldn’t bear the idea that he might feel he had to watch her, waiting for Amelia to use her again.

  She sat up, drawing her knees up to rest her brow on them.

  She stayed that way when he came back, sat on the bed beside her.

  “Harper. I don’t know what to say.”

  “It wasn’t your fault, let’s just get that out of the way. And you pushed her out, or pushed through her, whatever the hell.”

  “I don’t know how you could stand to touch me after.”

  “You think I’d let her win? You think I’d let her beat us?”

  The barely restrained fury in his voice had her lifting her head. “You . . . you were inside me when she—It’s so creepy.”

  “Here.” He nudged the water on her. “Creepy for both of us,” he agreed. “And a little incestuous for me. Jesus. Nothing like getting really close to your great-great-grandmother.”

  “She wasn’t thinking of you that way. I don’t know if that helps.” Fighting off a shudder, she handed the water back to him. “She was . . . I felt like she was seeing him. Reginald. She was—I was—all turned on, you know, then it was like this spit of rage spewing up through that. But the kind that makes it more, sort of more exciting. Darker. Then it was all blurred together. Her and me, him and you. And I was so wound up I couldn’t get a grip on anything. Then you said you loved me, you kissed me and I could hold on to that.”

  “She tried to use us. We didn’t let her.” He set the water aside before easing her back so he could lie beside her and draw her close. “It’s going to be okay.”

  But even lying beside him, held firm and safe in his arms, she couldn’t quite believe it.

  IT WAS AWKWARD, but Harper felt Mitch should know about any incident involving Amelia. Even if that incident had happened in bed with Hayley.

  At least it was a man-to-man sort of thing. If his mother had to have the information, Harper would just as soon have it filtered through his stepfather.

  “How long did it last?” Mitch asked.

  “Maybe a couple of minutes. Seemed longer, considering the situation, but probably around that.”

  “She wasn’t violent.”

  “No. But you know . . .” He had to pause a moment and give his attention fully to the work board in the library. “Rape’s not always violent, but it’s still . . . Anyway, that’s what it felt like, to me. Like a kind of rape. Like a power thing. Got you by the dick, so I’m in charge.”

  “It fits the kind of personality profile we’ve been building. She wouldn’t get that while what’s between you and Hayley is sexual, sex for the sak
e of sex isn’t the driving force. Must’ve shaken you up.”

  Harper only nodded. There was still a coating of that raw sickness in his belly. “How much more do we need to know before we can stop this?”

  “I wish I could tell you. We have her name, her circumstance. We know your bloodline comes down through her. We know her baby was taken, and we’re assuming without her consent. Or that after she gave it, she changed her mind. We know she came here, to Harper House, and we have to believe she died here. Maybe if we find out how, but that’s no guarantee.”

  He’d never counted on guarantees, not in his life or in his work. His father had died when he’d been seven, which had put paid to any sort of traditional family warranty. His work was a series of experiments, calculated risks, learned skills, and sheer luck. None of those guaranteed success.

  Harper considered failure a postponement at worst, and another step in the process at best.

  But things were considerably different when it involved the woman he loved, and her welfare, her well-being.

  He was reminded of that when he found her watering flats.

  She wore the cotton shorts and tank that was a kind of summer uniform around the nursery. Her feet were tucked into thin, backless canvas shoes that could take a soaking, and her face was shaded by the bill of one of the nursery’s gimme caps.

  She looked entirely too sad and thoughtful. The thoughtful part was proven right when she jumped nearly a foot off the ground when he said, “Hey.”

  “God, you scared me.”

  “That’s what you get for taking side-trips when you’re on the clock. Speaking of which, I’m going to start that hybridizing, and could use an assist.”

  “You still want to do that?”

  “Why wouldn’t I?”

  “I thought maybe when you thought things through, you’d want to keep your distance for a while.”

  He simply stepped up to her, cautiously nudging the watering wand aside and kissed her. “Guess you’re wrong.”

  “Guess I am. Lucky for me.”

  “Just come on over when you’re done. I already let Stella know I was stealing you for a while.”

  He spent the time setting up for the work, lining up the tools, the plants he wanted to use. He logged the species, the cultivar, the name and characteristics of the desired plant in his files.

  Since headphones wouldn’t be an option as he wouldn’t be working alone, he switched Beethoven for Loreena McKennitt. He figured his plants would like it fine, and he’d be a lot happier.

  When Hayley came in, he was digging out a Coke, so he pulled out two.

  “This is pretty exciting.”

  He handed her the can. “Tell me what you know about hybridizing first.”

  “Well, it’s like you have a mama and a daddy, the parents. Two different plants—they can be the same type or two different . . . What is it?”

  “Genera.”

  “Right. So you want ones with stable characteristics and you cross them by hand-pollinating. Like pollen from one, seed from the other—like sex.”

  “Not bad. We’re going to use this miniature I’ve been screening as a parent plant. And this variegated will be the other, the seed parent. See I’ve had it protected with a bag—that keeps insect pollinators from messing with it, and we’re going to remove the stamens now, before it can self-pollinate. I potted these up, brought them in last winter so they could develop.”

  “You’ve been thinking about doing this for a while.”

  “Yeah, since she was born, more or less. Anyway, we work with the pollen parent today. You know how?”

  “Roz did it before. I really just watched.”

  “This time, you try it. I cut this one already, just above the node, see? It’s been in water and it’s fully open now. See how the anthers are split? They’re ready for pollen.”

  “So, you did the foreplay.”

  “One of my little skills.”

  She gave an exaggerated roll of her eyes. “Tell me about it.”

  “You go next.”

  “Oh man. I have to pull the petals off, right?”

  “Quick, gentle twists, work inward until you see the anthers.”

  “Here goes.”

  “That’s good,” he said as he watched her. “Just be careful to leave the anthers intact. Yeah, nice work, good hands.”

  “I’m nervous. I hate screwing up.”

  “You’re not.” Her fingers were quick and precise as they twisted the petals away. “And if you do, we’ll pick another.”

  “Is that right? Is that okay?”

  “What do you see?”

  She bit her lip. “The little anthers are all naked.”

  “Next step.” He picked up a clean camel-hair brush. “You need to collect the pollen. Use this, brush it over the anthers. We’ll store it in this dish, keep it dry. See, it’s fluffy, so it’s ripe. I’ll label the dish.”

  “This is fun. You wouldn’t believe how totally I sucked in high school chemistry.”

  “Just needed a better lab partner. All mine aced. Now we’re going to prep the seed parent. See this?” He held up the lily he’d chosen. “We don’t want her fully open. We’re looking for well-developed but with immature anthers—before self-pollination can happen. We take petals and anthers off her.”

  “Strip her right down.”

  “So to speak. No fragments left, they can cause rot fungi, then you’re screwed. What we’re after is nice exposed stigmas.”

  “You do that part. Then it’s like a team.”

  “Okay.” He twisted off the petals, then reached for his tweezers, skillfully plucking out the anthers. “Now she waits until tomorrow for the pollen. That gives her stigmas time to get sticky. Then we’ll transfer the ripe pollen onto the stigmas. You can use a brush, but I like using my finger. There.”

  He stepped back.

  “That’s it?”

  “That’s the first one. Let’s do the next. We’ve got a good dozen seed parents on here. I think we’ll try a couple of pollen parents on her. See what we get.”

  They took turns with the steps. A nice, companionable rhythm, Hayley thought, and a satisfying one. “How did you pick the plants to work with?”

  “I’ve been scoping them out awhile, tracking growth habits and form, color patterns.”

  “Since she was born.”

  “Yeah, pretty much.”

  “Harper, you know how I said if things don’t work out with us, I’ll hate you for the rest of my life?”

  “Yeah, I got that.”

  “Well, I will, but I’ll suck it in—mostly—because I know you love her. You really do.”

  “She’s got me wrapped. I gotta admit. Tomorrow, we’ll pollinate, label, log. Then we’ll keep an eye on her. Probably take about a week before we see the ovary swelling, if we’re successful here.”

  “Swelling ovaries. Takes me back.”

  He grinned, kept working. “Couple weeks more, the pod should be formed, then it takes about a month more for the seed to ripen. We’ll know it has when the top begins to split.”

  “Yeah, déjà vu.”

  “Cut it out. That’s just weird.”

  He moved to his computer, his long fingers tapping keys as he input data. “What we’ll do is take the seeds, dry them and plant them late fall. I like to do it that way so it won’t germinate until spring.”

  “We plant them outside?”

  “No, in here. Mama’s potting soil, four-inch pots, then we put them out. When they’re big enough, we’ll put them in nursery beds. It’ll take another year before they bloom and we see what we’ve really got.”

  “Fortunately, I know nothing about a two-year pregnancy.”

  “Yeah, women get by with nine little months. Blink of an eye.”

  “You try it, pal.”

  “I’m a fan of the way things work. So. I’ve got the records logged, and if things work out, we should eventually see some new flowers, and some of them should have
characteristics of each parent.” He glanced over the work, nodded. “We’ll get what we’re after, or if not exactly, hopefully something close enough that we can do another generation, or try a different parent.”

  “In other words, this could take years.”

  “Serious hybridizing isn’t for weenies.”

  “I like it. And I like that it’s not an overnight kind of deal. You have all this anticipation. And maybe you won’t get exactly what you had in mind, but something else. Something, not necessarily better, but just as beautiful.”

  “Now you’re talking the talk.”

  “I feel good.” She stepped back from the worktable. “I was having such a bad day. I kept thinking about what happened last night, circling around and around it, and just feeling sick about the whole thing.”

  “It wasn’t your fault.”

  “I know—in my head. But somewhere in there I wondered if we’d be able to be easy together again—or at least this soon. If you’d be, I don’t know, uncomfortable and I’d be jittery. It seemed like the chance we had to just be in love might’ve been spoiled.”

  “Nothing’s changed for me.”

  “I know.” They stood side-by-side at the workbench and she tilted her head onto his shoulder. “And I feel calmer knowing it.”

  “I better let you know I told Mitch what happened.”

  “Oh.” She sucked in a breath, winced. “I guess it had to be done, and better you than me. Was it awful?”

  “No. Just a little weird. We spent a lot of time talking about it without making any eye contact.”

  “I’m not going to think about it,” Hayley decided. “I’m just not.” She turned just enough to kiss him. “I’d better get on with the work I really get paid for. I’ll see you back home.”

  AS SHE HUMMED her way through the rest of the day, Stella passed by, then stopped to put her hands on her hips. “Hybridizing certainly agrees with you.”

  “Feel great. Step two tomorrow.”

  “Well, good. You looked a little draggy this morning.”

  “Didn’t sleep very well, but I’ve got my second wind, and then some.” She glanced around to be sure no one was within hearing distance. “We’re in love.” Grinning, she used the index fingers of both hands to draw a heart in the air. “Me and Harper. Together.”

  “Wow. News flash.”

  With a laugh, Hayley continued hauling bags of potting soil from cart to shelf. “I mean really in love. So we said the L word to each other.”

  “I’m happy for you.” She gave Hayley a hug. “Seriously.”

  “I’m happy for me, too. But there’s this . . . I have to tell you about this