by Leigh Morgan
Jesse and Taryn were alone in their borrowed castle.
“Eppie?”
Jesse shook his head. “Ram insisted on naming their daughter after Rhia.”
Taryn didn’t get it at first, then the light dawned. Apparently she wasn’t the only one on the planet interested in the old gods and goddesses. “Ah…I get it. Rhiannon is Rhia’s full name. The Welsh horse goddess, Epona, is sometimes identified with Rhiannon.”
“Yep.”
“But, Eppie? It sounds like something you shave with.”
“It could have been worse. They could have named her Apple.”
Jesse set the skeleton key on the kitchen table and came to her. There was something different in his easy stance and his ready smile. He was relaxed here, at ease in a way she hadn’t experienced him being before. Real warmth settled into his deep blue eyes. His smile as he took her hand in his was more devastating to her senses than the memory of his lovemaking. She wanted him like this always. Open, at ease, wanting nothing but her company.
He bent down to her. Taryn parted her lips and closed her eyes for a kiss that didn’t come. Her eyes popped open at his softly spoken words as he pulled her with him.
“Shall we explore our new domain, my queen?” His smile was small, but real. Again her heart flipped in her chest as she looked into the deep blue sea of his eyes. With every step she took by his side and every breath she took inhaling his grass and herb scent, the closer to her heart he grew and the farther her heart moved from her control.
Heaven help her. Instead of heading back to England with him zip-tied in the back seat, Taryn returned his smile, squeezed his hand and said, “As long as we start with Rhia’s dungeon, I’m all in.”
Jesse, who’d been irritated by Taryn’s extreme reaction to Ram, a friend he’d never envied before today, laughed, a full-throated, all-body sound. He’d watched Taryn’s embarrassed and intrigued reaction as Rhia described the sexual playground she called her ‘dungeon’ and he’d turned as hard as the stone holding up these castle walls.
Jesse figured he’d have to coax Taryn into making love again since asking never seemed to get him anywhere with her. For the first time since she came flying out of her office brandishing her shillelagh at him, Jesse felt like he’d made the right move bringing her here.
“The dungeon it is.” He said, feeling hopeful for the first time since Taryn left him in his gazebo.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
The dungeon was actually a separate building that could have been used as a bed and breakfast suite. It was decorated in period and modern naughty. There were chains on the walls, feathers on canes, and chairs made out of silicone built for two, and those were just the accoutrements Taryn could readily identify. Tame by the standards of people who took toys seriously, but deliciously intriguing for someone like her who didn’t have more than one battery operated device. One that she never used in mixed company.
A king-sized canopy bed with sheers flowing from a tapestry curtain top took up residence in the middle of the main room, which had been designed with one function in mind. Every element here was selected for its beauty and its sensuality: silk in burgundy, gold and grass green, Egyptian cotton, Hungarian goose down pillows. Even the appliances in the galley kitchen were done in rich enamel colors that gleamed in the afternoon sun. Flickering incandescent bulbs shaped like flames burned in the cast iron fleur-de-lis wall sconces. A multi-bottle wine chiller housed what had to be twenty bottles of champagne and assorted white wines. Thirty or so bottles of red hung from an ivy shaped wrought iron wine rack, next to an enormous refrigerator, which Taryn had no doubt was well stocked.
A sixty inch flat screen T.V. hung from the wall opposite the bed. Taryn hadn’t seen the bathroom yet, but the wall separating it from the open space living and loving room was done in stained glass depicting lovers in various states of action and repose. The space was so over-the-top it should have been gaudy or tawdry, instead, Taryn found it joyously and elementally vulgar in a way that made her want to look further rather than turn away.
“I may never want to leave here, especially if there’s popcorn in the cupboard and butter in the fridge.” Taryn said, more to herself than to Jesse, who’d dropped her hand when they entered and left her to explore the room on her own. Jesse seemed to take pleasure in the way her hands caressed the bedding and the textured surfaces of the furnishings. He sat at the kitchen island where he had an unobstructed view of the spacious room and the grounds beyond, watching her.
Taryn moved to a large wooden chest that was next to the burgundy velvet covered love seat at the end of the bed and opened it. She pulled out a set of padded velvet lined handcuffs and dangled them from one index finger.
“These are nicer than the ones you used on me. Care to slip out of your clothes and into these?” Taryn smiled at Jesse before giving him a slow exaggerated wink. His mood must have been wearing off on her because she felt more relaxed with him than she’d felt before. That might have had something to do with the fact that he’d already seen her naked, and she him. Now that the embarrassing bit was over, she wanted to explore more with him.
And, she didn’t want this playfulness to stop once they’d climaxed.
She wanted it to continue as she cuddled into him, and as they talked about whatever silly things sprang into their heads. Maybe then she’d fall asleep in his arms after they’d watched a cheesy movie and ate too much buttered popcorn. Then, after they woke up, they’d take a bath and do it all over again, substituting breakfast for popcorn.
“Not a chance, sweetheart. But feel free to lay down and secure your wrists to the headboard. After a suitable amount of time I’ll come find you.”
Taryn liked the spark in his eyes almost as much as his obvious enjoyment of her saunter, as she made a show of swishing her ample hips. She added a breast shimmy and shake just to see that appreciation turn to flame with his, Oh Baby, do it again, look.
She did, and he whistled. Then their eyes met and all pretense fell away.
She stopped several feet from Jesse. Not close enough to touch yet not far enough away to turn tail and run. Taryn didn’t want to run. Truth be told, she wanted a partner for awhile rather than an adversary. She wanted, even for a small moment, to enjoy a sense of belonging to something greater than just herself. She hadn’t felt that in more than a decade since she and her mother became a duo of sorts, with Aunt Olive acting the part of third wheel once or twice a year.
“Truce?” She said.
Jesse turned his squared jaw, looking at her like he didn’t quite trust the word. His navy eyes shifted to neutral making her almost regret her choice of words. But she didn’t regret it, or him, or pulling out the velvet handcuffs that she now tossed aside.
“I mean it, Jesse. I want to pretend.”
He sat straighter, but otherwise didn’t move. Not closer to her, nor farther away. She got the message that she was on her own here and she didn’t have a flipping clue what she was doing, or why she was doing it. She plowed forward anyway sure that she was right in her mixed up purpose.
“I live. I love. And, every once in awhile I have to fight.” Said Jesse. “I create. I plant. And, I take great joy in helping at Potter’s Woods. I don’t eat red meat. I don’t swear in front of grandmothers. I don’t pretend. Not anymore. Not ever.” His jaw turned rigid, and Taryn wanted nothing more in that moment than to take away his tension and his pain. “I haven’t had to pretend since Reed adopted me. Not once. I won’t do it now. What you see is what you get. If you want to know what I’m thinking, ask. It’s that simple. That straight forward.”
Taryn didn’t think, she just blurted out what popped into her head. “I don’t usually pretend either, but I’d like to pretend now. I’m not asking you to. You can act any way you like. I’d just like to stop pushing against this thing between us.”
“I’m listening.”
“I’d like to pretend our contract means we’re really married. I’d like to ac
t like we love one another.” Oh God…she was starting to sweat and ramble and she had no clue how this was going to end…
Not badly. Please… not badly.
Jesse stood, pushed in his chair, but otherwise didn’t move closer or farther away from her. His expression was kind, but held none of the teasing of moments before.
“I’m not sure what you’re saying to me, Taryn. I have no idea what you want me to do or say.” His tone was measured and he appeared calm. That was good, right? He also looked confused. Oh, hell. So was she. Confused and making about as much sense as a penguin in the castle.
“I want you to be my friend. I want to hold your hand whenever I want to. I want to kiss you good morning and good night after sleeping beside you every night as you promised we would.” Her chin went up with the reminder. He had made that part of their contract, so that couldn’t be hard for him to agree to.
Both of his eyebrows shot up as he widened his stance, hands palm up at his sides as if imploring her to be clear and get on with it.
“I want access to your heart, your body and your mind without guilt or remorse or…or…questions about how I feel… about wanting this… or you… or wanting us to be together.” She was stammering and she knew it, but Taryn couldn’t seem to stem the list of wants tumbling from her mouth.
“I just want to feel like I belong in your company…like I have a right to love you and expect your love in return…if just for a while.”
Taryn looked at him, her heart jumping, tears in her eyes, that, as long as they were pretending, she felt entitled not to have to defend.
“Can you pretend to love me? Just for a little while…just until our contract expires?”
…
There were tears in Taryn’s eyes and a spear in her heart she intended to slay him with. That is, if her words didn’t kill him first. Pretend?
He didn’t need to pretend a goddamned thing. And here she was, the supplicant, asking him to pretend to love her. Taryn had more balls than most of the men he’d met and yet not enough stones to ask for what she really wanted. How did one deal with such a woman?
He had no clue how to pretend anything.
When he was an ass, she forgave him. When he insinuated himself into her life, she let him. When he introduced her to his mother…her birth mother…she stayed. She put up with Sensei Schwartz and his ninja boot camp, which was no small thing. She put up with his crazy family. The only thing that sent her running was his lovemaking.
As much as that bruised his ego, such as it was, it also gave him hope. She didn’t fool him, not in this. She ran from him because she felt something more than thanks for their time together.
Jesse approached Taryn and cupped her face in both of his palms.
“I don’t need to pretend anything, wife. I’ve thought of you as my wife since we said our vows. You’re the one who insisted on calling what we have a contract. Not me.”
The kindness in his eyes nearly undid her. She couldn’t help it, she believed him.
“It is a contract. It has conditions and a finite term.”
“So does every marriage vow I’ve ever heard. Don’t kid yourself that what we have is any less than anyone else who’s ever said ‘I do’.”
Jesse pulled her to him with none of the gentleness in his tone. His eyes narrowed slightly, his body rigid, radiating an energy that was more than attraction or anger at her obtuseness. He kissed her, one arm locked around her lower back, the other holding her higher, his hand at her nape. Taryn threw her arms around him and kissed him back.
She was good, he’d give her that. She may have wanted to pretend the energy sparking between them and flowing in a giant Möbius strip around them, with no beginning and no end, wasn’t any different from any other relationship she’d experienced, but her reaction to him told him more than words could have that that was a lie. She put everything she wouldn’t say into her kiss. It did more than explore and it certainly gave, but not in an attempt to seduce. Taryn wasn’t that subtle with him now, she was channeling her deep need to belong, to be fully loved, into her mouth, her hands, her tongue.
Jesse pulled away from her. When she tried to follow, he held her firmly away from him. He wasn’t above using her desire for him. If she asked he’d tell her that too.
“Every time you pretend, I’ll call you on it.” Jesse said. “I won’t let you hide from me. You can lie to yourself. You can tell yourself whatever you need to, to get yourself through, but don’t expect me to not call you on your bullshit. I’ve seen inside you, Taryn. I see you and I love you. I won’t be pretending about that or anything else.”
Jesse let her go and ran both his hands through his shoulder length hair, holding his hands at the back of his head so he couldn’t grab Taryn again. This was too important to him to gloss over it with a quick roll in the sack.
“I’m going back to the main rooms. I’m not going to pretend I don’t want to explore the possibilities this room presents, I do. And we will. Just as soon as you find the courage to come to me honestly and without pretense. I’m easy, honey, but I’m not cheap. You’ll have to come to me naked with more than simple wanting in your heart.”
Jesse tossed her the key to the dungeon and headed to the heavy wooden door, where he stopped. Looking over his shoulder, he said, “The next time you give me that key I’ll show you just how medieval I can be. Until then, fair maiden, this is one knight you’re going to have to court with an honest heart.”
He opened the door, walked through, closing it with a soft click. He’d just left the woman he loved in a wet dream of a room with a look in her eye that said she’d be willing to show him heaven on earth if he stayed. It took every ounce of his courage to walk away, hoping she’d come to him unarmed, instead of running again.
On his way to the room Rhia Macleod made up for him and Taryn, he grabbed the keys to the Rover and Taryn’s cell phone. He wasn’t taking any chances. Jesse looked at his watch. He’d give her half an hour then he’d go get her. Thirty seconds after that he’d sink into her, courting or no courting.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
The doorbell to Sham’s home rang, jolting Mari out of her various plots to poison Sham without actually murdering the man. Murder was a mortal sin and she didn’t commit mortal sins when she could help it. Good Catholics didn’t go around doing those kinds of things. Even though Mari was fairly certain plotting poisoning was sinful, it was worth the time in purgatory for the sheer salacious temporal joy it brought. In fact, in the forty-eight hours since Shay left, she’d felt the best since she settled on mandrake and nutmeg tea. The thought came to her after watching Arsenic and Old Lace on the late night feature as she raided Sham’s kitchen.
The doorbell chimed again and since she was the only one in the house, she went to answer it. Magnus left early for the art museum and her father was having breakfast with the widowed mother of the woman who battered Sham’s face. Mari opened the door wide, coming face to face with two women baring gifts.
“Good morning?” Mari said, her voice a question.
“Good morning, Mrs. Alexander.” Said the shorter woman with light red hair and striking turquoise eyes, sticking out a small hand in a masculine gesture. “My name is Reed Mohr and this is my aunt, Finn Platzke. Shay asked us to check in and make sure you’re comfortable.”
The blond Amazon who didn’t look old enough to be Reed’s aunt stifled a laugh, then choked. Reed hit her aunt in the middle of the back with a wallop that would have made Magnus stagger. The blond held her ground well enough and smiled unrepentantly at Mari, making Mari decide right then and there that she was going to like Reed’s aunt.
“You mean he made you promise to check up on me and make sure I stay where he left me.”
Finn grinned and Reed flushed before she too gave up trying to pretend this was something less than it was. “That about sums it up.”
“You’d better come in then.” Mari gestured toward the interior of the foyer, holding the doo
r wide. “I was just plotting what to poison Sham with on his return. You’re welcome to join me in my effort.”
Finn was the first one through the door, handing Mari a basket full of bakery. “Those are flax-seed and cranberry muffins. I made them this morning. I’d give you my recipe so you could add your poison to them, but Shay never eats them.”
Both women made themselves busy in the kitchen, Reed unloaded a casserole dish and four bottles of wine. Finn made tea. Before Mari was settled, new plates, tea, butter and the muffins were on the table and her guests were sitting beside her. Finn took a muffin, broke it into pieces and popped some in her mouth, not seeming to notice it had a small twig sticking out of it.
“So what are you planning to use?” Finn asked, seeming genuinely curious. “Candied ginger and pineapple mixed with some bran makes Shay stay within five feet of the toilet for about a day. I learned that by happy accident.” Finn shrugged. “He hasn’t eaten anything I’ve baked since, so you’ll have to think of your own delivery system.”
“Knock it off, Finn. Mari will think you’re serious.”
“I am.”
“She’s not.” Reed narrowed her eyes at her aunt, who shrugged and continued to eat her muffin, un-intimidated.
Like everything else in this place, these women were slightly off. They didn’t seem to be anything other than what they presented. Mari found that refreshing. She poured tea, first for her guests and then for herself, wondering how to respond.
“Try a muffin.” Finn gestured to the basket of dark saucer sized baked goods with small sticks and what looked to be bits of carrot sticking out of the surface.
