She ran her hands along his sides, smiling when his muscles twitched. His mouth touched her collarbone, nibbling a path along it to the base of her throat. Beryl moaned. The center of her throbbed. She reached for him, the hard rod that could bring her pleasure. His tip found her folds, but he didn’t enter her. More hot kisses rained down on her neck, her jawline, the sensitive flesh behind her ear.
“Eb.”
“All in good time,” he promised, voice husky.
She closed her eyes, stroking his length and earning a groan that rivaled hers. He pulled away from her neck and massaged one of her breasts in his hands, laving attention on the other with his tongue. Her nipples tightened as he flicked one with his thumb and suckled the other. A gentle nip had her arching off the bed, panting.
He chuckled, sending a shiver through her as the vibration raced across her skin. The tip of his rod parted her, slipping through her dampness with an agonizingly slow motion. Beryl held her breath as he sheathed himself.
His jaw strained, mouth tight as he looked down at her.
She reached up and pushed his hair back, arching against him. “Don’t hold back. It’s been too long and I’ve wanted this, well, since I’ve been strong enough to do it.”
She cupped his shoulders, holding his gaze, but she blinked when he moved, another of those long, slow, torturous motions.
“You deserve better,” he whispered, mouth near her ear.
His tongue traced the outline of her ear. She let out a little squeak, tightening around him. Her earlobe was inside his warm mouth and she couldn’t think. His shaft throbbed inside her, almost in time to her own heartbeat.
Beryl crossed her ankles behind him, holding him close as he moved above her. She bit back a cry when he pushed deeper. Though she knew it had been some time since she’d last held a man this way, she couldn’t remember pleasure like this.
“Beryl, Beryl, hold on.” He moved faster, pressing his pelvis against her.
She couldn’t answer, too out of breath to do more than feel. Instead she kissed him, let herself get lost in his mouth, in the unique taste of Eban. Salty, but vaguely minty from his tooth powder. She cried out when the climax hit, pressing her head back into the pillow. He stiffened, enjoying his own release.
After a moment, he slid off and rested on his back next to her, breathing hard. She reached over and entwined her fingers with his. Staring at the ceiling, she hoped he wouldn’t come to regret this tomorrow. Making love with Eban was the best thing that had happened to her since they crossed the town’s borders.
I could enjoy a lifetime of this.
The voice inside her head laughed. And so you shall.
She banished both thoughts. She’d promised it wouldn’t be that way. Instead of turned to him and cuddling, she remained where she was. Eban stretched his arms overhead, crossing his wrists behind his neck.
Neither of them spoke. She wasn’t sure she could maintain a steady tone if he wanted her to say anything. Maybe he attributed her silence to the glowing aftermath of lovemaking.
It had to be enough that they were side by side now. She’d take every moment with him day by day.
Beryl felt like a little girl playing dress-up in the gown Rhia had given her. Cap sleeves showed more of her arms than she was used to, but the square neckline was modest and trimmed in buttercup-yellow lace. The top gave way to a sage green taffeta fitted bodice with laces up the front that made her waist look impossibly thin. The yellow underskirt flared at the hips with a little ruffle around it and more lace rows decorated the hem. It was more elegant than anything she could remember wearing. Soft white silk gloves covered her hands and the little hat Rhia had picked out nestled on top of her hair.
The outfit was probably better suited to an evening out than a birthday party, but she hadn’t been able to resist wearing it. She twirled in front of her mirror, pleased when the skirt flared around her. It had taken most of the morning to curl her hair and secure it in neat waves down her back. If Eban didn’t find her beautiful now, he must be blind.
She gathered her skirt in her hand as she hurried down the stairs where he waited in the study with Sylvie’s gift balanced on his knee. As usual, he wore a pressed pair of trousers, a crisp white shirt, silky gray vest to match his pants, and a light jacket. He glanced up, his face a mask of self-pity, but his eyes widened when she smiled.
“Rhia has good taste, don’t you think?”
She regretted the words the moment they popped out of her mouth. Her friend had chosen Wystan over Eban. He wasn’t inclined to agree with her opinion.
“It suits you.” He rose. “Since you’re dead set on going, we should head over there.”
The compliment was less than she’d hoped for. “It’s pretty, isn’t it?”
“Like it was made for you.” He leaned closer, a smile pushing his mouth up. “You’re prettier without it.”
She returned his smile and smoothed her hands over the skirt. “All right, let’s go.”
Anyone who cared to look would see them walking together, which wasn’t unusual since she was his unofficial house guest—or clinic guest—but today they might notice something different about them. She tucked her present for Sylvie under one arm and looped her other through Eban’s.
He smiled at her, but it was tight and worried.
“Don’t look so excited,” she teased.
“It’s a little girl’s birthday party. She’ll have invited her school friends and she won’t know I’m there,” he grumbled. “She knows she can stop by the clinic any time she wants to talk.”
She smacked his arm playfully. “Sylvie is a young woman now, not a little girl. Thirteen is an important age.”
“I’ll try to remember that.” He clutched a wrapped book in his hand. “I barely remember being that age. There were more important things to worry about than birthdays.”
“I know.” She’d heard the tale about how his parents had died and Wystan assumed responsibility for his younger siblings. “She’s in much the same situation you were. I’m grateful she has guardians like Rhia and Wystan. Not to mention she has you and Tell if she needs to talk to someone else.”
He gave her a half smile. “To be honest, I’m a little scared of her.”
Beryl grinned. “Why?”
“She’s a spitfire. Too much sass packed into one little body.” He shuddered. “I pity her future husband. He’ll have his hands full.”
“She’ll grow out of some of that. It wasn’t easy, leaving their home, traveling across the country. The things Noem did to them were awful. It’s a miracle Rhia was able to protect her sister as long as she did before they got away.” She had a soft spot for Sylvie and admired the girl’s bravery. Young woman, she reminded herself.
“You sound so sure. Tell never grew out of his mouth.” Eban sighed. “Maybe I’ll wait outside.”
The house Wystan and Rhia had refurbished stood on a big lot on the outskirts of town. Although it was a single story, Beryl guessed it had plenty of room for the new family that occupied it. Flowers bloomed on bushes beneath the windows. The yard was shaded by a big cottonwood tree. A swing hung from one of the branches, inviting children to play beneath it.
The door stood open and Tell leaned against the frame, whittling a slender stick with his little knife and whistling tunelessly. He glanced up when they turned down the stone walkway.
“You look like a peach today, Beryl.” He blew across the stick he was carving and tucked the knife into its sheath.
“Thank you, Tell.” She smiled, but it felt wrong.
“Eb.”
“Tell.”
They nodded at each other and Tell moved aside to let them in. He stood by the door, leaning on the wall and propping one foot against the wallpaper while surveying the hall. Beryl tried not to let his direct stare bother her. She still had no answer f
or why he’d called her Rosemar, but she wasn’t sure she wanted one.
She hurried through the house to the kitchen, where Rhia was stirring a pitcher of lemonade.
“You made it!” Sylvie jumped up from the table and threw her arms around Beryl.
“Of course. I wouldn’t miss such an important event.”
She couldn’t remember her thirteenth birthday, but she was willing to bet it didn’t hold a candle to Sylvie’s. Beryl hugged the girl in return, then looked over her shoulder. Eban hadn’t followed her.
“I knew that dress would look stunning on you. Did Eban like it?” Rhia’s hazel eyes shined with good humor.
Beryl shrugged. “He said it was pretty.”
Sylvie rolled her eyes. “He’s a man. They don’t understand.”
She laughed. “You look so grown up, Sylvie. I can’t believe you’re thirteen. Seems like yesterday I crossed a prairie with a little girl made of sticks and straw hair and now you’re half grown.”
Sylvie’s blonde hair was slowly turning brown, though she suspected it would never be as dark as Rhia’s.
“Thanks, Beryl.” Sylvie beamed. “I’m gonna go wait for Lois.”
Beryl noted the absence of the cake. “We must be early, since none of your friends are here.”
Sylvie gave her a strange look. “No one else was invited.”
“Just the Heckmasters and me?”
She nodded.
Rhia moved the lemonade to the center of the table. “Go on and see if Lois is coming.”
Sylvie darted off like she was shot from Tell’s crossbow.
“What’s this about?”
“Wys didn’t want Eban making a scene. He’s been a little…out of sorts, apparently.” Rhia wiped her hands on her apron. “Have you noticed him doing anything abnormal?”
Beryl laughed. “In this town? I worry about people doing normal things.”
“Wystan’s watching Eliakim with a sharp eye and won’t tell me a single thing. I’m a little miffed about it.” She tipped her chin up, folding her arms. “I know he thinks it’s for my own good, but he should be able to trust me.”
“Don’t be mad at him. It’s too soon after your wedding.” Beryl settled into one of the chairs. “I haven’t seen Eliakim.”
“There’s not much to see. He doesn’t speak, at least not so I can hear him. Wys seems to understand him well enough. Must be because of their paranormal abilities. That suits me fine. I’m not sure I’d like to know what’s going on behind his scowling face.” Rhia dropped into a chair beside her. “I just hope whatever it is gets settled soon.”
“Me too.” Beryl propped her elbow on the table and settled her chin into her palm. “Things have been calm since Noem, and I liked it that way.”
She studied the stitching on her sleeve.
“You don’t know anything about a woman named Rosemar, do you?”
Rhia jumped up like her chair was hot and removed a wheel of cheese from the larder.
“I think I’ll slice this up. Won’t it be good melted on toast? A little something to offset the sweet cake.” She fumbled through a drawer until she pulled out a knife and cutting board.
“Rhia. Who is she?”
“Who mentioned her name?” Rhia turned her back on Beryl.
Her friend knew something. Probably the same thing Eban didn’t want her to know. “Tell.”
“Of course,” Rhia muttered.
“Well?”
“She’s a friend of Seere’s.” The words were almost drowned out by the sound of Rhia chopping cheese.
“I don’t think he has friends. More like servants and minions.” Beryl ran her finger across the lace. “Why would Tell call me that?”
The knife almost fell from Rhia’s hand. It clattered against the cabinet as she turned. “He did?”
“The other morning after he found out about Eliakim. When he found me in Eban’s bed.” She didn’t dare admit she’d gone back to him. It wasn’t anyone’s business, and she felt her face grow hot as she thought about it. “I know it wasn’t a mistake.”
“What did Eban say about it?” Rhia picked up the pieces of cheese she’d sliced and arranged them on a plate.
“He didn’t.”
“Then it’s not my place to say. I’m sorry, Beryl.” She truly looked it.
“I understand. I wondered if it might have something to do with my past. I hope not.” She shook her head. “I’m sorry too. This is Sylvie’s party and I don’t think we should cloud it up with things we don’t understand. Do you want me to toast the bread?”
“If you want to help.” Rhia smiled. “It was easy to pretending life was normal when we were in Santa Fe. We should take a trip, us girls, sometime. You’d enjoy it.”
Beryl listened while Rhia described the city with a touch of whimsy in her voice. Berner was a far cry from a real city and they only had supply deliveries once a month. They got what they needed and few extras if they were lucky. She agreed she’d like to visit Santa Fe. If Eban really left, she might need the distraction someday.
Sylvie bounded into the kitchen again with Lois in her wake. The cake she carried on a flat board was iced with pink frosting and had letters piped on top that read Happy Birthday, Sylvia.
“It’s beautiful, Lois.”
Lois made delicious desserts for her patrons at her cafe across the street from the jailhouse. No one would ever guess Lois was from a race of creatures known as brownies, which Beryl had believed to be a myth before she came to Berner.
Behind Lois, Wystan and Tell entered the kitchen. Eban wasn’t with them.
“Where’s…”
Wystan shrugged. “He stepped out, said he forgot something.”
“Oh.” Disappointment spiraled through her. “Maybe I should check on him.”
Rhia and Sylvie were exclaiming over the cake. Tell watched her go, but didn’t say anything as she left.
By the time she spotted him and caught up, he was several blocks away.
“Eban, wait!”
He turned, his face neutral of expression. She stopped beside him and placed her hand on his arm.
“You promised—”
“I don’t want to stay there and pretend to be happy when all I can think about is how I could have provided for Rhia and Sylvie. Better than Wystan ever could.”
A pain struck Beryl’s heart. She pressed a finger to his lips. Eban closed his eyes and she slipped her arms around him.
We haven’t won him yet, but we will, the voice assured her.
“To be fair, I think you’re underestimating your brother. I know it’s difficult. Seeing them together is hard, but you can’t run away forever. I’d give anything to have the kind of family you do.”
“It’s more than difficult! It’s—” He balled his hands into fists. “I hate him at times.”
Didn’t he think she understood how he felt? Of course Rhia was everything a man wanted in a wife. Beryl wasn’t a catch. Without much of a past and what little she had a tangled mess, she couldn’t deny she was jealous of Rhia’s fortune.
“I know,” she muttered. “I’ll make your excuses. You can go home.”
The anger melted out of his posture. “I talked to Sylvie when she came outside. She’ll understand. Just tell them there was an emergency at the clinic. I’ll fill in the details later.”
“All right.” Beryl hugged herself. She wanted to plaster a smile on her face and tell him he’d done well by coming in the first place, but she didn’t have the energy. “I’ll do it, but don’t be surprised if Rhia comes looking for you later.”
“I doubt that.” He faced the street again, walking away with his shoulders slumped as though the world rested on them.
I’m right here. I care about you, if you’d open your eyes. She remained silent, watching him leave
. When she turned for Rhia’s house again, she was blocked by a hulking figure in a long leather duster. More frightening was the scowl on his face and the broadsword in his hand.
Chapter Ten
A little squeak left Beryl’s throat when the stranger’s hand moved to the sword hilt.
“Rosemar.” His voice was deep. Although his mouth hadn’t moved, she heard him with perfect clarity. He watched her with bright silver eyes that seemed to emit their own light. Long blond hair spilled over his shoulders.
She shivered as though it wasn’t almost a hundred degrees on the street. “I don’t know who that is. Are you Seere?”
His scowl deepened. “I am Eliakim. God rises.”
He stood several inches taller than she, even bigger than Wystan. She tried not to cower. Eban hadn’t said the angel was dangerous, more of a nuisance, but the sword suggested otherwise.
“It’s nice to meet you.”
She eyed his clothing, which was unlike anything she expected an angel to wear. He looked as though he’d copied any passing cowboy in worn boots, dark brown duck pants, a rough cotton shirt, and with a bright red bandana circling his neck. His face was shaded by a wide, floppy-brimmed hat.
“We have met.”
She didn’t argue, but she was sure she’d remember someone like him. “I have to go. There’s a family event I can’t miss.”
“Rosemar.”
The name was a warning. Beryl felt rooted to the spot.
“I don’t know who that is,” she whispered.
“You reek of demon. She is with you. I wish to speak with her.”
Uneasiness crept over her and goose bumps rose on her arms. What if…no. Tell didn’t know what she was. If she had demon blood or a parasite imp, he’d have known right away. Eliakim was wrong about the way she smelled. She certainly didn’t smell anything out of the ordinary. “There’s no one else here. I’m afraid I can’t help you. If you’d kindly move out of my path.” She squared her shoulders, determined not to be cowed by this angel or any demon in town. Fear wouldn’t get her anywhere. “And I don’t smell like a demon. It’s rude to say so.”
The faintest twitch moved Eliakim’s lips. “I will not go until I’ve spoken with her.”
Eban Page 9
