by Brenna Lyons
“Mother,” James hinted.
Beth looked around at Georgia, watching her remove Michelle’s bonnet. James’s mother fluffed the baby’s golden curls, and Michelle rubbed a fist to her eye, yawning and then looking around in curiosity at the new place she found herself in.
“Stand down, Hunter,” James whispered.
Melissa patted Beth’s chest, bringing her attention back to Corwyn Hunter...and the Warriors crowding behind him.
The man’s expression had changed to one of pain and longing. He offered a tip of his head, unfisting his hands.
Melissa grasped James’s shirt, twisting to lay her cheek on his arm, then stuffing her free thumb in her mouth.
James stroked the fingertips of his opposite hand over her cheek, his eyes still on the Warrior facing them. “It’s okay, Baby Doll,” he breathed.
Hunter cleared his throat. “My apologies for frightening you,” he grumbled. “They’re...beautiful.” He nodded to James. “Protect them.” That sounded like an order.
“You know I will.”
“They are beautiful,” he repeated.
Beth shifted further into James’s back. “Thank you,” she replied woodenly. She wanted to offer her condolences for his loss, but something told her that his pain was too raw for that.
He turned and left, slipping between the Warriors who parted for him. The oldest, an ancient man with snow-white hair, motioned to two of the others, turning toward the library while they followed Corwyn. The remaining two trailed the older man into the room.
“My apologies,” the leader intoned. “You must be Elizabeth.”
She nodded.
James turned to her, placing his hand on Melissa’s back. “It’s Beth, Grandfather. Are you all right?” His eyes offered comfort.
Beth managed a strained smile. “We’re fine,” she assured him. “Just shaken.”
“I’m sure Corwyn wouldn’t have hurt you.”
The leader nodded emphatically. “Even if he’d wished to, he wouldn’t have made it more than another step toward you. You have my vow on that, Beth.”
“Thank you.”
He offered his hand. “This wasn’t how I’d envisioned meeting you, but welcome to Armen manor. I’m Carrick.”
James lifted Melissa to his shoulder, freeing Beth to shake hands. But Carrick didn’t shake her hand; he raised it to his lips and kissed it. She blushed at that.
The next Warrior did the same. “Aaron, ma’am. I’m James’s uncle.”
And the final one. “I’m Ben. James is my son. I’m pleased to meet you and...” He looked from one of her daughters to the other, fingering Melissa’s hair. “Melissa.” He nodded to Michelle. “And Princess Michelle?”
Beth realized her mouth was hanging open and snapped it shut. “Yes, but how could you know which is which?”
He smiled. “The three of you are all my son has talked about for more than a week. How could I get it wrong?”
Her heart leapt at that.
James cleared his throat, going red-faced, turning his attention to his mother. “Will dinner be ready soon? I’m sure we’re all famished.”
Beth dimly noted Georgia’s response, too busy considering what Ben’s comment signified to pay attention to anything else.
* * * *
Beth tucked the blankets around Melissa, noting James doing the same for Michelle. The girls were exhausted from hours of play with both children and adults. By the time they left the manor, not a single person there confused ‘Princess’ for ‘Baby Doll.’
As James had foretold, his family adored Michelle and Melissa. Aside from the disturbing encounter with Corwyn Hunter, all three of them had been treated like honored guests. Georgia and Ben had even pressed them to return for Christmas Eve dinner. It had taken Beth less than a minute of self-argument to agree.
The reason for her disquiet was hard to quantify. Their presence was welcomed, even encouraged by his family, and yet... There was a tension unrelated to Corwyn Hunter; his family seemed to watch Beth and the girls, assess every move they made. When she’d taken time to deliberate, the entire room seemed to hold its breath until she answered. Even now, she wasn’t certain whether they were happy that she’d agreed or bearing her presence for James’s sake.
She wasn’t exactly the typical girl next door that most parents hoped their sons would bring home. It would be understandable if they weren’t happy about him taking on the responsibility for another man’s children, especially since family was obviously so important to them. Michelle and Melissa were ‘playmates’ to the Armen children, but could they ever be accepted as ‘cousins?’
James touched her cheek, bringing her back to reality. Beth turned to him, wrapping her arms around his neck, drawing his mouth down to hers. They came together, ravenous, needing the passion that they shared so well.
He lifted her, sweeping Beth out of the bedroom and into the living room. Hands pulled at clothing and shoes were toed off, a frantic race to disrobe. Beth bit back a moan, wiggling her hips as James pushed her jeans down her body.
God, had she ever been this crazy for Ethan? She pushed that question out of her mind, kicking the last of her clothing away as James did the same. Ethan was dead. She wasn’t being unfaithful to him, and there was no use comparing James to him. There was no either/or; there was only James.
He rolled a condom down his length, his expression intense. She shivered, her nipples coming to points unrelated to the slight chill of the room.
There was no denying that James wasn’t Ethan. The men were polar opposites. Ethan had been little more than Beth’s five feet eight, a slight man with the body of a runner. He’d been blond and blue-eyed. Most of all, he’d been...a relaxed lover.
James pulled her to his chest: six feet three, broad, and dark. “You make me crazy,” he breathed.
Beth nodded her agreement, at a loss for words. That was the other difference between them. Whether their lovemaking was slow or fast, with James, it was all-consuming, as essential as the beat of her heart.
He tipped her chin up on the shelf of his curled hand, stroking his thumb over her lips, sensitizing them, preparing them for his kiss. She kissed the pad as it reached the center of her lips again, hinting that she wanted more. His thumb retreated and his mouth took its place, questing for her response. There was no question that he’d find it a favorable one.
James straightened, lifting her by his handhold beneath her buttocks so that their kiss was uninterrupted. His cock slid between her thighs, and she gasped, trying to find a way to hook her legs around him comfortably. Until now, they’d always made love somewhere where she had support, even when he’d taken her from behind in the shower. This wasn’t as easy as people made it sound when you had no support.
His mouth left hers. “No,” he grumbled. “Leave it to me.”
She settled into his hands. “Yes.” Show me.
He lowered her around him, stretching her open at a maddeningly slow pace. Beth held to his shoulders, breathing in sharp little blasts of air. It felt so good that it made her head spin, and yet it wasn’t enough.
“You do so much,” he whispered. “Just let me—”
“Yes. I’ll let you do whatever you want right now.” Just don’t stop.
James levered her up and down his length, pausing each time he filled her. She never knew what would spur him to motion again. Sometimes, he would wait for a sound from her, sometimes a movement, and sometimes meeting her gaze.
At last, she couldn’t hold off any longer. James moaned lightly as she started contracting around him, his heat pooling inside the condom.
He stood there, naked, holding Beth in his arms, his cock buried inside her. Her body pulsed in aftershocks at the image they presented.
“I never would have let him hurt you,” he whispered. “Any of you. You have my vow.”
Beth kissed his chest, enjoying the mixture of musk and salt on his skin. “Corwyn Hunter?” He wasn’t still upset about that,
was he?
“I would have died rather than let you come to harm.”
Her heart skipped a beat. He took his vow to protect her so literally.
“Let me share your bed,” he requested.
She paused with her lips pressed to the hollow of his throat. “Now?”
“Tonight. Now, if you wish. I...won’t make love to you there, if it disturbs you, but I’d like to hold you, to sleep with you in my arms.”
The image was almost too much for her. How long had it been? Well, that was a stupid question. She hadn’t shared a bed with anyone more than two and a half feet tall since Ethan, and she missed it...badly.
“Beth?”
“Yes. You can share my bed.”
Chapter Nine
Monday, December 18, 1978
James smiled at the feeling of Beth pressed to his side in sleep. By Ani, this felt right. How could any Warrior question this? How could any of them settle for simple release for their entire lives and never print?
He grimaced. Yes, he was printing, and it was downright uncomfortable already. Every time he touched Beth, he ached to ask her to be his. Every time he made love to her, the urge to seal her to him made him crazy.
But, it was undeniably too early for that. She’d just met his family and was still ill at ease with them. She’d had to consider whether she’d have dinner with them again...and whether she’d let him share her bed.
“What are you thinking?” she whispered.
“This is nice.”
“Then why are you scowling?”
He turned to her, grasping for a plausible explanation. One look at her breasts brushing his chest was his inspiration. “Just plotting how to arrange making love to you in a bed.” He pinched her nipple lightly, watching her eyes dilate in renewed hunger. “The couch is nice...”
“And the shower.”
“And the shower and the countertop, but I want to love you properly.”
“James, I—”
He brushed a kiss over her lips, and she stiffened in response, her eyes widening instead of sliding shut.
“Not here and now,” he promised. “Christmas weekend.”
“But, how are we going to arrange it?”
“We’ll get Alice to watch the girls for a few hours.” He offered her a sly smile. “I’ll offer her another bonus. She told you to hold on tight. She wouldn’t begrudge you listening to her, would she?”
“She goes to San Diego to stay with her son for the holidays. Since I have the week between Christmas and New Years off, it’s never been a problem for me.”
“My mother then. Tim and Alex would love to have the girls there.”
Beth hesitated. “She won’t mind? I don’t want to impose, James. Maybe I should—”
“She won’t mind.” He wound his hand in her hair, kissing her passionately. “Say yes,” he pleaded. Who would have believed that the entire meaning of his existence could come down to the acceptance of one woman?
“All right...if it’s all right with Georgia.”
“It will be. She loves you and the babies. She’s almost as happy that you’re coming for Christmas Eve as I am.”
Beth seemed about to question that when the first shouted complaint from the cribs sounded. James turned to his back, chuckling at Michelle, standing up, her hands fisted on the top bar.
“Good morning, Princess,” he greeted her.
She clapped her hands, overbalanced, and landed on her diapered backside.
Chapter Ten
Sunday, December 24, 1978
James fidgeted, trying to calm his jangling nerves. Damned if his father wasn’t right. Printing was more frightening than beasts on first night, more gut wrenching than a feeding, and a greater rush than Blutjagd.
He hadn’t planned to do this so soon, but his printing had forced him to it. If he didn’t change the status quo, the results would be disastrous. He just hoped he wasn’t rushing Beth too much.
Of course, I’m rushing her. She’s a sensible woman, and this is crazy.
“Fingers crossed?” he asked Melissa.
She smiled, bouncing up and down in her patent leather Mary Janes.
“I’ll take that as a ‘yes.’”
“Da-da-da-da-da,” she babbled at him.
“I’m trying, Baby Doll. I’m trying my best.”
Beth breezed into the kitchen, tucking spare sleepers and outfits into the dangerously-overstuffed diaper bag. “Have I forgotten anything?” she muttered, placing the bag next to the sack of milk bottles.
“No. I don’t believe so.”
She had already packed half of the girls’ cold-weather clothing, a few lightweight alternatives in case the cold snap suddenly broke, blankets, toiletries, and food. He’d argued that there was milk at the manor...and bottles, but Beth had packed them, all the same.
He recognized Beth’s nervousness, though he didn’t understand it. She wanted to prove something to his family, though he couldn’t name what she wanted to prove yet. Trying to convince her that she had nothing to prove was an exercise in futility, and so he let her continue this mad packing expedition.
“I’m sure I have,” she fretted.
“Beth—”
“Balmex?”
“In the front pocket of the bag. Beth, I—”
“Spare diaper pins?”
“Underneath the Balmex. I want to—”
She touched the pile of items over the back of the chair closest to her. “Heavy coats, blankets... The winter bonnets!”
He grasped her by the shoulders as she started to turn away. “Beth, I need to ask you something before we leave.”
“All right.” Her expression was wary, leaving him wondering yet again what he was doing that made her so unbalanced with him.
James lowered himself to one knee, taking her hands in his. Her mouth opened in shock, and she looked ready to bolt.
“I know this is fast,” he apologized. “You probably think I’m insane, but I want to spend the rest of my life with you.”
Beth didn’t answer. Her pallor convinced him that he wasn’t imagining her failure to breathe.
He winced at his choice of words. How stupid was he? Beth was a widow; Ethan had literally spent the rest of his life with her and died all too soon for her comfort.
At a loss for something better to do, he pulled the ring box from his pocket and opened it, offering it to her.
She touched it with trembling fingers, seemingly torn. “It’s too much,” she gasped.
“I know it’s too soon for you...and I don’t mean to rush you.” If she refuses me, how will I survive the wait?
Somehow. I have to give her time. She deserves that.
“I know Ethan hasn’t been gone long.” Maybe it was better to address the issue head-on.
Beth shook her head. “No. It’s not Ethan. It’s...” She motioned to the ring. “It’s too much, James. I can’t accept something so...”
He stared at the ring in confusion. It wasn’t that large, only half a karat and no nested stones. Knowing Beth’s tastes in simple things, he’d chosen a classic ring, smaller than he’d originally considered by far. It was a curse of printing that Warriors wanted to show off how precious their mates were in any way they could. Getting a diamond as small as he had had rankled, and she thought it was too big?
“You can have any ring you want,” he managed, though he suspected size didn’t matter to her as much as she protested it did. Beth had other reservations.
“I need time to think,” she pleaded. “Would you—”
“As much as you need,” he vowed. As long as I can survive the wait, but how long is that?
She shifted, obviously discomfited.
“Just promise that you’ll consider it,” he requested.
“Yes. Of course, I will.” Beth fled to the bedroom.
James pushed to his feet, stuffing the ring back into his jacket pocket.
The sound of a raspberry brought his head around. Michell
e stood next to Melissa. She met his eyes, then started chewing on the top bar of the playpen.
“Maybe I should have asked you to cross yours, too,” he muttered.
Two pairs of solemn blue eyes were his only answers.
* * * *
“James!”
He grumbled a curse, pulling the car back under control. “The girls?” he asked, not daring to take his attention from the road. Where in the hell had this storm come from? He’d never seen one hit with this much ferocity, speed, and stealth. It was the meteorological equivalent of a beast attack.
Beth turned onto her knees on the seat, clutching the back, pale. “Good. I think they’re amused.”
He smiled, allowing the vehicle to coast to slow them down. With the suddenly-icy condition of the road, he didn’t dare hit the brakes to accomplish the job. “They would be.”
The car slid again, and Beth pitched toward him. James took his right hand off the wheel long enough to scoop her to his side, then set her on the passenger seat.
“Seatbelt,” he barked, pulling the car back into the lane again. The wind sheers and ice fought him.
Beth fastened her belt, grasping at her door. “We should turn back,” she managed, panicked.
“No. We’re almost off the bridge. The rest of the way to the manor is less hazardous than taking the bridge again in this mess.”
She nodded her agreement.
James managed to keep the car facing forward and in the lane, despite the elements, and before long, they were off the bridge. Beth relaxed slightly as the trees closed around them, affording a wind break from the worst of it. She groaned aloud as the moderate rain became a downpour so bad that he could barely see the road.
“It’s okay,” he assured her. “The manor is just over the next rise.”
“Good.” Her voice was worn nearly to exhaustion.
He pulled off the driveway and over the lawn, bringing her door as close to the front door as he could. James turned off the car, taking a calming breath. The battle wasn’t won yet. They still had to get two babies and supplies safely to the house.
