“There’s nothing between me and Rhia.”
Tell’s face was unreadable. “If you say so. I’m just trying to make sure Eban doesn’t get hurt.”
“Eban can take care of himself.”
Even if Rhia spurned Eban, Wystan didn’t see Eban moping about it long. He’d warned Eban not to get attached to the humans. He’d see the error of his ways if Rhia didn’t want to be courted by a half demon.
“He’s coming this way.” Tell’s uncanny sense of knowing something right before it happened was often irritating, but always accurate.
Eban rounded the block, a basket hanging from one hand and a forlorn expression on his face. Clearly he hadn’t gotten anywhere with Rhia. A splash of guilt churned in Wystan’s gut. He’d been seducing her while his brother waited for her to return.
“Evening, Eban.” He kept his voice neutral.
Eban sat on the boardwalk without answering. Tell narrowed his eyes at Wystan.
Why was it his job as the oldest to fix broken hearts and bolster his brothers’ spirits? “Something wrong?”
“No. Nothing.” Eban stared out at the empty street.
“Miss Brookshier doing all right? She said anything else about where she came from?”
Eban shook his head. “Not a word. She doesn’t say much.”
Which was troubling. Wystan wished one of them could figure out what was going on in the woman’s head. “She’d be pretty if she was fed up a little more, maybe had a dress that fit right. Make someone a good wife if we knew what she was. If she was as gentle as she seems.” Wystan glanced up at Tell, whose eyes almost bulged from their sockets.
Eban sat up a little straighter. “Maybe. Get Tell to figure out who and what she is.”
“I tried my best. You both know I’ve never had that sort of trouble with a demon,” Tell said.
“She’s not a demon. Can’t be.” Eban tapped his knuckles against his leg. “You thinking about taking up with her, Wys?”
Wystan’s chair tipped backward and his arms pinwheeled to keep him upright. The front legs clattered against the boards and he leaned forward. “Not with Beryl Brookshier.”
Tell’s eyebrows almost touched his forehead. “Then who?”
“No one!” Wystan glared. “Just because there are human women in town for the first time in twenty years doesn’t mean I’m taking up with one of them. Or whatever else Miss Brookshier might be.”
“I, for one, am satisfied with the entertainment of the succubi at the saloon. They know what a man wants and they’re not afraid to give it. Human women are trouble.” Tell framed his hips with his hands. “Want to come to Miss Hattie’s, Eban? We’ll have a few drinks, reacquaint ourselves with a couple of the succubi.”
“Not tonight. I should get back to the clinic. It’s almost time to treat Beryl’s cough again.” Eban slid off the boardwalk. “A couple more weeks and I think we’ll see some real improvement.”
Wystan rose from his chair. “Tell, don’t stay out all night. I’ve spent the last week patrolling and I could use some relief around midnight.”
“Aw, Wys, I just got back to town a few days ago. Don’t I deserve a rest?”
“The succubi aren’t going anywhere. They’ll be right where you left them. Go on, before all the pretty ones are taken and you end up with that old decrepit one. What’s her name?”
“Agatha. I swear she has more scales than Zaïre.” Tell gave an exaggerated shudder. “I’ll be back at midnight. God knows you need your beauty rest. Gotta keep a fresh face in case any other humans stumble into town.”
Eban took a few steps to leave.
“Wait a minute, Eb.”
“Yeah?”
Wystan looked his brother over. There wasn’t anything unusual about his dress or his hair. His shoulders slumped a little and dark circles stained the skin beneath his eyes, but he’d taken a few shifts on patrol this week too. Maybe it was nothing more than a lack of sleep.
“Anything you want to discuss?” Wystan looked pointedly at the basket. “You know…feelings.”
“Fee—Wys, is there something you want to discuss?” Eban’s surprise was genuine and he fought a smile as though it the strangest thing he’d heard. “Since when do Heckmasters talk about feelings?”
They’d never raised the issue of love before. He wasn’t sure where to start.
“I don’t think so. Not right this minute.” Eban’s smile washed out. “I appreciate your concern.”
Wystan cleared his throat. “I figured Father would have offered. Maybe I ought to listen a little better once in a while.”
Eban stared. “I’m starting to wonder if you have parasite imps. That doesn’t sound like the Wystan I know.”
“Hell, go back to your clinic. See if I offer again.” Wystan reclaimed his seat and leaned back in it. “Can’t do anything for either of you. Ungrateful pups.”
“More surprised than ungrateful.” Eban turned his head away. “I can take a shift tonight if you’d rather stay in.”
“You’ve got Miss Brookshier to look after. Get some rest. You look like something Astaroth rejected.”
“So poetic. You’re an ass.” Eban turned his back and left, but there was a teasing note in his voice that hadn’t been there moments before.
Damned if Wystan didn’t feel the need to be a big brother where Eban’s feelings for Rhia were concerned. He wanted her, no denying it, but he didn’t want her toying with Eban’s emotions. It seemed more and more likely that humans were going to be the death of him instead of Astaroth.
Chapter Fifteen
Rhia pushed the shovel blade into the ground with a grunt, then scraped up the tiniest amount of hard sandy dirt and tossed it aside. With her first week of school behind her and some hope for the future of her students and herself, she’d decided to do something a little more permanent. Planting seeds in Berner’s dry soil might seem foolish, but she thought it would give the children the benefit of watching tiny miracles happen. Especially since Berner’s first flower had its second bloom. If a primrose could grow at the fountain, why couldn’t she have sunflowers at the school?
“What are you up to?”
She hefted the shovel, bringing it over her shoulder, ready to strike the intruder. Blinking through the curtain of dust she’d raised, she saw Wystan watching her, hip cocked, toothpick hanging between his lips.
“Oh. I’m starting a garden.” Sheepishly, she lowered the shovel and wiped sweat from her forehead. “What are you up to, as you so eloquently put it?”
“Watching you waste time. In case you didn’t notice, not much grows here except weeds, especially the kind with thorns.” He rolled the toothpick from one side of his mouth to the other.
Rhia’s nipples hardened as she thought about his tongue. She jabbed the blade at the ground again. “Haven’t you been to see the primrose? It’s getting bigger, so I’m planting sunflowers.”
No one was going to tell her any different. She already had the seeds, brought here from their garden in Virginia, and she was going to gloat when the impossible happened.
“You could be doing other things.”
She pushed the shovel down into the earth. “I’m not a teacher right now, Sheriff. This is my own time and I’m doing what I want.”
He put his hands on his hips. “Rumor has it Eban’s courting you. Or tried to.”
The shovel hit a rock and jarred her. It almost fell out of her grip. She grasped the handle hard and willed herself to be calm. “Where did you hear that?”
“Tell’s spreading the story.”
“What!” Rhia tightened her hold on the shovel, wishing it was Tell’s neck. “Why would he do that?”
“Settle down. He only told me. I couldn’t get a word about it out of Eban. Which leads me to believe you don’t want to be courted.” He shifted his weight t
o his other leg and gave her a look so penetrating, she shivered.
“Schoolteachers don’t marry. I need this work. Without it, Sylvie and I will starve.”
“He has money, Rhia. You wouldn’t go hungry and barefoot with Eban for a husband.”
She glared at him and pushed the image of Wystan’s roving hands out of her mind. “For a man who’s trying to talk me into seeking his brother’s affections, you were certainly friendly the other day.”
Wystan’s eyes hardened. “I’ve been thinking about it. He’s your ticket out of here. You could convince him to leave. When Astaroth forces his way out of the Pit, all your sunflowers and book learning won’t help a damn thing. If I can get Eban to leave, I can get Tell out too.”
Rhia leaned on the shovel and laughed. “The pair of you are ridiculous, do you know that? He wants to leave, but he knows you’re going to do something foolhardy if he isn’t here to save you. He thought if he made an excuse about how I want to leave, then you wouldn’t feel as if you’d driven him away.”
He gaped. The toothpick fell from his mouth. “You’re sure?”
“He told me so. But I plan to stay right here.” Sooner or later, Wystan would have to accept it. “I think it hurt him a little that I didn’t want his attention. I’m sorry for that. I like your brother. Someday he might realize that while Berner isn’t the place of his childhood, it is his home.”
The anger returned to Wystan’s eyes. “It’s no one’s home. It’s not a place to raise children or have dreams. Dammit, Rhia, now how am I supposed to make him leave?”
“You could get him to fall in love with Beryl. Maybe she’d take him off your hands if you’re so dead set on throwing him out. She’s half in love with him anyway. Or maybe you could hold him at knife point.” Her temper flared as his frown etched lines on his face.
He rubbed his fingers against his temples and sighed. “I shouldn’t have yelled. This is…it’s going to sound damn strange, but you’re the best hope I have of saving him.”
For all the weariness that dropped down on his shoulders, she couldn’t feel sorry for him. “I’m no one’s savior. Eban is my friend, but I don’t want any other sort of relationship with him.”
It’s you I want to share a bed with. Give my body to.
She almost blurted that out, but bit her tongue at the last second. She couldn’t tell him that. The man had death sentence written all over him. He was planning to fight Astaroth when the time came—if it came—and nothing would change his mind. Not his brothers’ love or her own. She felt as tired as he looked.
“I shouldn’t have put that on you. I overstepped my bounds,” Wystan said.
Stunned, she stared at him. “Did you apologize to me?”
A half smile quirked the corner of his mouth. “I might have.”
The little smile melted her heart and flushed away her anger. She wanted to press her lips against his and let her worries fade into the background.
“My goodness, will wonders never cease?” Rhia shook her head. “Next thing you’ll be digging these holes for me.”
He shrugged. “Never spent much time in a garden, did you?”
She had three small holes finished and while they weren’t in straight lines, they were shallow enough to accommodate the seeds.
“I suppose you’re a master gardener.”
He gestured for the tool as he walked toward her. “Give me the shovel, Rhia.”
She clutched it to her chest. “I’m doing fine on my own.”
“There are improvements to be made on your fine. Let’s have it.”
He wrapped his hand around the top of the handle and tugged. She almost lost her hold, but she jerked it back. He grinned. Before she could ask what was so funny, Wystan lowered his head and pressed his lips against hers. Shocked, her fingers slipped, allowing him to take the tool.
His mouth was warm and firm, his tongue searching. She was dimly aware of the clang of the shovel as it fell at his feet. Wystan’s arm snaked around her waist, pulling her to him. A squeak left Rhia’s throat as his erection pressed into her stomach. His free hand cupped her breast, kneading soft flesh against the cup of her corset. He could do so much more, and her body burned for it.
“Wys…”
The musky scent of his body surrounded her, making her forget whatever she’d been about to say. She met his hot gaze and boldly placed her hand over the bulge. He drew in a sharp breath, but when she started to pull away, he pressed his hand over hers. He desired her, despite trying moments ago to convince her to marry Eban. She felt confused, but her arousal outweighed the other emotion.
“Where’s Sylvie?” he asked, voice husky.
She shook her head to clear it. “Thomas Jefferson’s mother came to get him after school. She asked if Sylvie could join them for dinner. I wasn’t sure it was wise, but I didn’t want to seem rude.”
“Bao Jing will take care of her. When are you expecting her back?”
“I’m not sure.” She tried to step away, but he held her as tightly as he’d held the shovel. “Wystan, anyone could see.”
“Who? It’s too early for the werecats or the lamias. Too much sun for their tastes.” He glanced toward the schoolhouse. “Tell and Eban are on watch against creatures from the Pit.”
“Oh.” Rhia’s heart pounded. “Would you like to come inside?”
His arms fell away, but he took her hand, holding it as a young man might hold his sweetheart’s. Rhia hoped he couldn’t feel the trembling that seized her body. She ached for him, a needy gnawing deep inside her womb.
He opened the schoolhouse door for her and shut it firmly behind them.
“The bed squeaks,” she said, blushing as soon as the words were out of her mouth.
They passed the desks where her hardworking students had spent the day. It seemed almost vulgar to make love in the next room, but her blood surged like a tidal wave.
She shoved the door to the living quarters open and pulled her blouse from her skirt before Wystan was through the doorway. He paused mid-step to watch.
He clucked his tongue. “Wearing a shimmy today. Did you grow a sense of modesty over the last week?”
Rhia hesitated over the buttons holding her skirt closed. He hadn’t made a move to undress, but watched her with a sultry gaze that fairly sizzled. “It was dirty before.”
“I prefer it that way.” He approached with a rolling stride, never taking his eyes off her chest. “Too much wrapping.”
Wystan brushed her hands aside and unfastened her corset clasps. He wasted no time sliding her chemise down her shoulders, revealing the tops of her breasts. Rhia’s skirt dropped around her ankles and the shimmy followed. Only drawers and stockings remained, and he left her to remove them as he pulled his shirt over his head. New pink scars marred his shoulder, but they seemed to cause no hindrance as he unfastened his knife belt. He laid the weapon on the small table with care, but he popped a button as he jerked his trousers down.
Nude and sun-kissed, a warrior dominating her quarters, Wystan looked no more like a demon than any of the angels in the Renaissance paintings. His manhood jutted ahead of him and Rhia stepped forward to touch him. First, she traced the scars crisscrossing his hard stomach. Lower until her fingertips skimmed his length. She’d seldom seen men in any state of undress, had never touched one intimately, but she was drawn to Wystan in a way she’d never experienced.
He groaned with pleasure.
“Does it ache? I feel so heavy inside.” The words slipped free before she could stop them.
“Yes, but what you’re doing feels good.”
Wystan put his hands on either side of her face. The braid she’d carelessly fashioned after school came loose, allowing hair to tumble free around her face. Wystan stroked his hand down the mass, then tipped her face up.
“Those freckles.”
> “I hate them. I look like a child,” she muttered, trying to turn away.
He wouldn’t let go. “You’re nothing like a child. I’ve admired them since the day you stormed up to me at the jail.”
“I was rude that day.” She shivered as he trailed his fingers to her right breast. Her nipple hardened and he rolled the bud, giving it slight tug. Thoughts of their first sparring match fled.
“You were frightened. With good reason.” He leaned down to kiss the space between her mounds.
Rhia tilted her head back, the ends of her hair brushing her shoulders and back, but the sensation didn’t compare to Wystan’s touch. He gave the drawstring of her drawers a tug, loosening the waist, then tugged them down her thighs.
He released a breath and looked at her. “Rhia.”
She knew each of her faults. The freckles, her narrow hips and skinny chicken legs. Not the type of woman built to keep a man warm on a cold night. She waited for him to back away and say he had something pressing he’d forgotten.
Instead, he smiled. It was the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen. The smile she’d known he had if he would only use it was for her. Wystan’s joy made her forget her fears.
His fingers slipped through her curls, against her most private place, and his touch jarred her. Her eyelids fluttered as he rubbed, and she bit her lip to prevent a cry. She pressed her upper body against his, wrapping her arms around his waist to keep her balance. Everything about him made her feel off center, but she didn’t mind. The dampness grew between her legs as her need intensified.
Wystan pulled away and she opened her eyes, wondering what she’d done wrong. Before she opened her mouth, he swept her off her feet and carried her to the bed. Her thighs parted when he placed her across the comforter and his weight made the mattress sink. He touched her, hands scorching paths on her skin, pushing her legs farther apart, and he rose over her.
“I don’t want to hurt you.” He kissed her neck, her collarbone, murmuring against her flesh.
Her mother had died long before she could explain any bedroom habits to Rhia, but there were books and she’d secreted them away from her father’s eyes.
Wystan Page 13
