by Maura Seger
By the time Odetsu slid open a screen partition and beckoned her to enter, Erin was trembling. Nothing she had ever imagined had prepared her for this moment.
Vainly she wished she had paid more attention to the giggling confidences of young girls exchanging what little information they could ferret out about the mysteries of love. However much of it might have been inaccurate, she would at least feel better prepared to deal with whatever lay ahead. Instead, she felt for all the world as though she were jumping off a cliff.
Pride stiffened her spine and held her head erect as she stepped into a room much like the one she herself occupied, but larger and more elaborately furnished. A low lacquer table set against a wall held papers and maps. Beside it, shelves built into a recess were crowded with books.
Across the room, a raised platform was covered by a mattress and quilts. Nearby, another table was surrounded by silk cushions and set with stoneware dishes and a charcoal brazier. The dining area faced a grouping of indoor plants placed on polished stones. A tiny waterfall sent glistening droplets of light and sound down among the verdant setting.
Her spirit responded intuitively to the harmonious surroundings, so much so that for a moment she began to relax. Until she saw the man standing in the shadows at the far end of the room. As Storm turned to her, all her apprehension returned tenfold.
He was dressed in an ankle-length robe of heavy black silk loosely belted at his narrow waist. Against the richly dark material, the burnished skin of his hair-roughened chest shone clearly. He looked even bigger and more threatening than he had when he killed the samurai, only now it was on her that his attention focused.
The heat of his gaze taking in every detail of her appearance made her flush. She knew full well that he missed nothing, from the top of her shining hair falling in a silken tumult down her back, to the tips of her slipper-shod feet peeking out from beneath her robe.
What he saw must have pleased him, for he smiled sardonically. "I see my instructions were carried out, Odetsu. You have done very well."
The Japanese woman bowed, obviously relieved by her employer's praise. Modestly she said, "Miss Conroy is very beautiful, Davin-san. It was necessary to do very little."
Erin's chagrined look did not go unnoticed by Storm. He laughed softly as he came toward her. "No matter how annoyed you try to appear, you will not be able to convince me that you didn't enjoy Odetsu's pampering." Perceptively, he added, "I would guess it's been a long time since you were so well cared for."
That was true. Erin's busy fife had left little time or energy to coddle herself, and Meg's advancing age made her spare the older woman all possible effort. She had forgotten how good it could feel to be looked after. Reluctant though she was to admit as much, she couldn't deny the truth of what he said.
Turning to Odetsu, she smiled gently. "Thank you for your help. But you really mustn't be concerned about looking after me while I'm here. I'm sure you have quite enough to do as it is."
Surprised by such consideration, the Japanese woman was flustered for a moment. But she quickly recovered and returned Erin's smile before hurrying away to check on dinner.
"I suppose you will soon have all my servants on your side," Storm grumbled as he led her over to the low table. "Whatever else you've done in the last few years, you haven't forgotten how to be charming."
"It's a simple matter of courtesy," Erin said, settling herself carefully on one of the cushions. She still wasn't comfortable kneeling with her legs tucked under her and her weight on the heels of her feet, as Odetsu had shown her, but given what she was wearing, it seemed the safest posture.
Storm folded himself agilely beside her, cross-legged so that his robe fell open to reveal the muscular expanse of powerful calves covered with thick, dark curls. At Erin's startled look, he laughed.
"Don't try to tell me you've never seen a man's legs before. That I won't believe."
She hadn't been about to claim any such thing, but the difference between the shattered bodies she had cared for during the war and the compellingly male physique beside her was painfully obvious. The contrast with her own far smaller and softer form enthralled her. Even as she wondered at the wanton direction of her thoughts, she was helpless to hide her response to him.
In a futile effort to appear unmoved, she murmured, "I'm just not accustomed to such . . . informality."
Storm grinned appreciatively. He gave her top marks for spirit. Any other woman of her background would be frozen with horror at the impropriety of her situation. But then, Erin was never one to let circumstances get the better of her. She possessed a degree of resiliency he could not help but admire.
Driven by an irrepressible masculine urge to test the limits of her composure, he said, "This is hardly the height of abandon. We have quite a way to go before we reach there."
Erin blanched, but managed to answer him coolly. "Since you are undoubtedly an expert in such matters, I will defer to your far greater knowledge. Otherwise I might be tempted to say something rude about the wages of licentiousness."
"That would be foolish."
Accepting the quietly voiced warning, Erin fell silent. She occupied herself by looking around the room, taking in the subtly elegant appointments and the attention to detail that suggested Storm meant to stay in this house for a long time to come. Tempted to ask if he gave any thought to returning to the States, she did not do so for fear of arousing memories that could only worsen his mood.
When Odetsu returned carrying a lacquer tray with a small porcelain bottle and tiny cups, she almost sighed in relief. Several young serving maids followed, struggling to contain their wide-eyed stares as they laid out the ingredients for the meal which was apparently going to be cooked over the charcoal brazier before them.
The thin slices of beef, mushrooms, radishes and other vegetables Erin could not identify were undeniably appetizing. But she doubted she would be able to swallow a mouthful, given her nervousness. Her hope that Odetsu's presence might afford some slight reprieve from Storm's attentions proved misplaced.
As soon as the various foods began cooking in a covered dish full of steaming broth, he said, "There's no need for you to stay. I'm sure Miss Conroy can manage the rest."
That earned a soft smile from Odetsu and a glare from Erin, who watched in dismay as the servants bowed themselves out and the sliding panel was pushed shut behind them.
When she and Storm were once again alone, he gestured toward the stone bottle and cups. "In Japan, women do all the serving of food and drink."
"How interesting."
"That was not a rhetorical statement."
"If you expect to be waited on, you should have asked your servants to stay."
"Oh, no, that would have been far too easy. I prefer to get some idea of just how good a. . . house guest you will make." His eyes hardened as he said, "Pour the wine, Erin. Save your resistance for something more important."
Gritting her teeth, she silently acknowledged the wisdom of his advice. Already, she knew her small store of courage and strength was being strained. It would do no good to exhaust herself before the true battle began.
Lifting the bottle, she filled both cups, noting as she did so that each held barely a single swallow of the clear wine. As Storm raised his in a mocking salute, she forced herself to lift her own, but she barely touched the rim to her lips before setting it back down again.
Noting that, he laughed. "You're already more Japanese than you know. Here the women hardly ever drink sake, preferring to leave it to the men to get sore heads."
"If they like to drink it so much, why don't they have bigger cups?"
"And make less work for the women? Never. A Japanese man believes that the more his wife or concubine has to do, the better. That way, she's less likely to get into mischief and cause him to lose face."
Stifling her disapproval, Erin refilled his cup, but left her own as it was. "I've heard a little about face, but not much. What is it?"
&nb
sp; "Pride, honor, the respect of the community. It's considered absolutely vital to existence. People will go to incredible lengths to keep from being shamed in any way."
Erin glanced up at him sharply. Was he suggesting that she should have refused his demands, no matter what the cost? There was nothing in his expression to suggest his words were aimed at her directly, but she still felt compelled to say, "Some of us have different priorities. Pride can become a luxury when the simple necessities of life are in doubt."
"That depends on your definition of necessity. For instance, there was a time when you thought satin gowns and rare jewels were essential to your happiness. Yet now you seem perfectly content in the simplest clothes."
"I don't think I was ever quite as dependent on such things as you believe. They were a symbol of sorts for the security I was afraid to do without."
Storm emptied his cup again in a single swallow. Watching the play of muscles along his corded throat, Erin momentarily forgot her unease. So absorbed was she in the heady aura of his nearness that she was only distantly aware of what she had just revealed to him.
Not until she saw his assessing look did she feel driven to explain, "When I put on beautiful dresses and went to parties, I was like a child playing at being grown-up. I had been so overprotected and indulged that I never gave much thought to the consequences of my actions until it was too late."
"I've wondered sometimes if that might not have been the problem," Storm admitted reluctantly. "I was so acutely aware of you as a woman that it seemed impossible you didn't realize your own impact. But now I can see how that could have been the case."
Surprised by his understanding, Erin smiled. "Fortunately, I grew out of it. At least for me, the war accomplished some good. By the time it ended, I had become a very different person."
"Earlier today you said something about your experiences with wounded soldiers. Did you work in a hospital?"
"Several of them. There were never enough nurses. After I was sufficiently well trained, I was moved around wherever the need was greatest." Hesitating, she added, "Toward the end of the war, I worked in a camp for Southern prisoners. When the authorities realized the men were going to have to be released soon, they decided to try to improve their situation a little. It wasn't until then that I fully understood the level of brutality people were capable of."
She didn't add that throughout her time working in the prison camp, she was plagued by nightmares in which she suddenly discovered Storm among the starved, abused captives. Such dreams always ended with the sound of her own sobs driving her back to consciousness.
"Didn't anyone in your family object to what you were doing?"
Erin shook her head. After her parents' death, she was left with drunken Uncle Bates, two maiden aunts and a cluster of cousins, all of whom were much too busy with their own lives to give a thought to hers.
Their blatant disinterest had hurt, until she recognized it as a blessing in disguise. Because of it, she was able to grow into a truly strong, independent woman instead of being condemned to the shallow, frivolous existence that might otherwise have been her fate.
"Meg said you were hell on wheels to try to control," Storm muttered. "I can see now that she's had her work cut out for her."
"What else did Meg tell you?" Erin demanded. "For that matter, what did you say to her? She hardly batted an eyelash when I told her I was thinking of living here."
Storm shrugged, as though the answer were obvious. "I just assured both her and the Carmodys that we had a great deal of business to take care of and that it would be facilitated by your being close at hand."
"Is that all you said?"
"Pretty much."
Erin didn't believe him. She knew Meg far too well to think the older woman would docilely accept such a story, nor did she buy the idea that the Carmodys could be as easily fooled.
Storm must have offered some far more convincing explanation of why it was not a breach of propriety for her to be living with him, but she couldn't begin to imagine what he might have told them. Nor did he seem inclined to discuss the matter further.
Lifting the lid of the steaming bowl, he said, "I believe dinner is ready. Do you know how to use chopsticks?"
Erin was tempted to proclaim her ignorance, if only because that would make it very difficult for her to serve the meal. But she wasn't sure he wouldn't insist that she do so anyway.
"I learned during the voyage over here." Deftly wielding the slender sticks of polished wood, she filled two smaller bowls with choice pieces of beef and vegetables. The aroma was so appetizing that her stomach growled.
Having skipped both breakfast and lunch that day, she was ravenous. Her concern that she would be too nervous to eat vanished as she took her first bite. It got very quiet as both she and Storm did full justice to the meal.
When the bowls were being refilled for the third time, he grinned at her teasingly. "How do you manage to eat like this and still stay so slender?"
"I get a lot of exercise," Erin murmured, wondering if he thought her too slim. The look in his quicksilver eyes convinced her otherwise. A hot flush stained her cheeks as she stalwartly refused to think of what would happen after dinner.
Drawing out the meal as long as she could, she was still unprepared for its end. All too soon, Odetsu and the serving girls returned to carry away the dishes, pour glasses of plum wine, and vanish again into the nether reaches of the house.
When they were gone, Storm rose and stretched luxuriously. His big, hard body seemed to fill the room. The sense of latent strength and virility flowing from him was almost overwhelming in intensity.
Erin's breath caught in her throat as she looked at him. The yearnings he had set off in her eight years before were as nothing compared to what she was now feeling. Long-denied feminine instincts were stirring within her. Her carefully constructed defenses were crumbling even as the very core of her being seemed to glow with hidden fires.
When Storm glanced down at her a moment later, his mouth quirked. She seemed enthralled by the surface of the table and refused to meet his eyes. Reaching out a hand, he touched her shoulder gently. When she jumped, he laughed. "Here, let me help you up. You may be a bit stiff."
More than a bit, she thought grudgingly. After being sat on for more than an hour, her legs were almost numb. As she tried to stand, they gave way under her. Instinctively she grabbed for Storm's hand, only to be saved from falling by his arms closing gently but implacably around her.
Lifting her easily, he cradled her against his hard chest. For a moment he hesitated, as though struggling with a temptation that swiftly proved irresistible. Before she could open her mouth to protest, he strode across the room and laid her down on the low platform bed.
The touch of soft fabric beneath her back sent lightning bolts of panic through Erin. Everything was happening much too quickly. She wasn't ready for such sudden intimacy. A very natural fear of the unknown threatened to smother her.
Frantically, she tried to twist free of him, only to realize swiftly that her struggles were worsening the situation. The movement of her slender body against his aroused Storm to a point where he could not deny the urge to bend her to his will.
A big hand on her shoulder pushed her farther into the soft mattress. He loomed above her, his bronzed features taut with need. The molten glitter of his eyes warned her of what he meant to do in the instant before his mouth claimed hers with compelling intensity.
At the touch of his lips against hers, Erin moaned. The fierceness of her own response stunned her. A shimmering flame of desire flared within her, quickly raging out of control.
His mouth was cool, liquid flame, burning away the last remnants of fear and doubt. His long, hard body pressed to hers was the only security in a world tilting out of control.
Work-roughened fingers gently stroked down along the delicate curve of her cheek to the smooth line of her throat and the vulnerable hollow between her collarbones, making her yearn for
closer contact. His deep voice rumbled in her ear, whispering words of tenderness and reassurance she could not quite catch but whose meaning was still unmistakable.
No thought of resistance remained in her when his tongue gently demanded entrance to the moist secrets of her mouth. She gave it willingly, arching against him in unbridled response.
The groan that rumbled from him was her reward. Delighted by the knowledge that she could so move him, she thrilled to the touch of his big hands cupping her breasts through the thin silk of her robe. As his callused thumbs rubbed rhythmically over her straining nipples, a low whimper broke from her. Her head tossed wildly back and forth across the down-filled mattress as undulating waves of pleasure claimed every cell of her being.
Without even being aware that she did so, Erin reached out to him. Driven by the desperate need to give pleasure as well as receive it, she stroked the massive breadth of his shoulders and arms before yielding to the urge to touch the hair-roughened expanse of his chest.
Drowning in sensation, she savored the enthralling differences between them, loving what her fingers discovered about the bulging strength of his muscles, the fiery heat of his rough-textured skin, the shudders of pleasure that followed the path of her gentle touch.
The harsh intake of his breath thrilled her, as did the racing beat of his heart beneath her hand. When his mouth slipped down to nuzzle the sensitive line of her throat, she could not help but respond in kind. Her tongue darted out to taste the faintly salty flavor of his skin, lapping at him like a kitten at a dish of cream.
"So beautiful" he moaned huskily, his fingers trembling as they swiftly undid the tie of her robe, pushing open the delicate fabric to reveal the lovely body beneath.
The flickering light of oil lamps shone on the opalescent perfection of her skin. Her breasts swelled at his touch, the velvet tips hard and taut. His hands easily spanned the narrowness of her waist, brushing down across her flat abdomen toward the dark tangle of curls between her thighs.
Slowly, almost reverently, he bent his head, tracing the curve of her breast with his lips, coming ever closer to the straining peak that begged for his touch. As he drew her gently into his mouth, Erin gasped. It had never occurred to her that a man might suckle her, much less that the effect would be so devastating.
