by Nara Malone
Adam rose and went to her, pulling her into a hug. She was shivering, though her skin felt warm against him. He noticed the slightest tremor to her lower lip. She believed. He held her tighter.
“I added your chart to the database and ran the routine searches on it. The marker is rare and the program gives a warning. I ran the blood tests again with extreme attention to detail, with new samples from you. When I got the same results I asked you to let me monitor your fertility cycles. I called Ean in for a second opinion when I saw the signs that ovulation was imminent.”
Marie pulled away from Adam and sat in the rocking chair across from the couch, hugging herself again. He could feel the shock of it all creeping through her like cold wind. He felt the urge in Ean to go to her and warned him back. Her private thoughts reaffirmed his decision to go forward with this story. He had to do this for her.
“So why didn’t you call on me for an opinion?” Marie asked.
Impossible, her mind whispered. After all this time? After I finally accepted that I will never carry a child? Do I dare hope?
“I advised against it.” Ean said. “My experience as a doctor, and my emotional distance allowed me to counsel Adam. He was too close to you to be objective.”
Marie rocked back and forth, gently, almost imperceptibly, trying to comfort herself. “You thought there was a medical reason to deceive me? Or was it that you…” her voice thickened, stumbled on the words, “that you wanted to size up your prospects before you offered help?” She tugged the t-shirt hem, pulling it lower on her thighs.
“Marie!” Adam couldn’t keep frustration from crackling in his voice. The fragile confidence he’d seen blossom in her during the past year crumbled around Ean. “Ease up. This isn’t easy for Ean either. Leah died before she gave birth.”
Her eyes widened. Grief tugged at her attention. Adam noticed her body sway as if their emotion were a solid, physical force. Could she tell it flowed from two sources? Under stress Marie’s instincts rose to the surface. When she learned to control them she would be more than a match for him, she’d be the challenge he craved. He wasn’t ready for that challenge today.
“I’m sorry, Ean,” she said, head bowed.
“No, I want you to say what you’re thinking. I want us to trust each other that much.”
Adam cringed inside at the word trust. If she was angry now, what was going to happen when she discovered how much truth they danced around when they were asking her to trust them? Ean went to her now, knelt beside her chair, one hand on her knee.
“You have been through years of failed treatments, had your marriage destroyed by it. I’ve never been through a divorce but I know what it’s like to have your dreams snatched away. I wanted to have facts when we discussed this with you. You didn’t need false hope. Neither did I.”
He touched the side of her face and waited until she looked into his eyes. “Yesterday you gave me back my laugh. You made me feel more alive than I have in months. Whatever else happens is a bonus. If it doesn’t happen, I’m okay with that too.”
Ean turned halfway, grabbed a folder from the scattered papers on the coffee table, took out a picture and sat cross-legged at Marie’s feet.
“This is Leah.” His face was soft with love when he offered her the photograph.
Adam had memorized that picture in the months following her death. Leah looked about five months pregnant in the picture and her curly blond hair was blown back from her face. Stretched out beside her was Ean in tiger form with his head in her lap.
Marie put a hand on Ean’s arm. “She was beautiful, Ean. She looks happy and brave.” Ean looked puzzled.
Adam cut in. “The tiger was a pet, quite tame, raised by the family they stayed with. Ean sent me that picture from India.” More half-truths. He put a hand to his stomach.
“I can’t imagine letting a tiger put its head in my lap.” Marie handed the picture back. “I don’t care how tame the owners insist it is.”
“She loved adventure. She wanted to take a trip, see a bit of the world before the birth,” Ean explained. “I had volunteered to do some work for Doctors Without Borders. I took her along.”
Marie put her arms around Ean and leaned her head against his. “Ean, you lost so much.”
“You need to know,” Ean’s voice deepened, his Adam’s apple rose and fell on a swallow. “I need you to know. This thing with you, this bond growing between the three of us, is not about trying to get Leah back.”
Adam rose and joined Ean at her feet. Marie put a hand on his shoulder and he covered it with his own. For a small space of time it was enough to sit connected without words between the three of them.
Then Marie stood up. Adam couldn’t help the way his gaze wandered up her legs to the round curve of her bottom, a soft jiggle there when she stepped away and bent to retrieve another half a bagel. Adam risked a glance at Ean and saw his tongue go out and curl back in, his gaze following the same path as Adam’s.
When she started to turn, they both glanced hastily about for some safe place to put their attention. Adam wound up watching her take a thoughtful bite of bagel, her white teeth clamping down. He felt his nipples contract. His temperature rose and so did his cock. He had to concentrate. He was supposed to be the voice of reason here.
“I don’t know what to think of all this,” she said, waving a hand at all the charts and data he’d shown her.
“Don’t think,” Ean said.
Both she and Adam frowned at him.
“No, really.” Ean stretched his legs and rose to stretch his hands above his head bumping the ceiling when he did. “Trust us. Take a leap of faith. We do this, and if it works we have the miracle we’ve longed for. If it doesn’t, we had love and pleasure.”
Adam wished Ean would quit tossing the word “trust” at her. Marie looked from Ean to the heap of research. She was completely capable of discovering and understanding a few genetic details they hadn’t mentioned yet. He had to admit Ean’s way might be the best.
“He’s right.”
Ean’s eyebrows rose and his jaw dropped.
Marie laughed. “I could get used to having you two around.” She touched her fingertips to Ean’s chin. He snapped his mouth shut. Naturally, that didn’t last long.
“He’s never said that before,” Ean said.
“We should just let nature have her way with us,” Adam continued. “Not overthink this.”
Ean put an arm around Marie and whispered, “Don’t fall over. He’ll snap back to himself in a minute or two.”
“We should let it take its course with one exception,” Adam said. “No sex.”
“Isn’t that going to make conception a little difficult?” Marie asked.
“So now you want sex?” Ean looked really happy about that.
“Focus. Both of you. We spend time together, even sleep together, let all the pheromones do their thing, but no sex. By Saturday we should all be so ready that awkwardness won’t be an issue.”
“Define sex,” Ean said.
Marie grinned. With the pressure off it seemed she was already relaxing and starting to enjoy them.
“Marie, you should pack a few things, bring your rabbit along, stay with us a few days. Ean, maybe you could put together a picnic and the two of you go for a boat ride one day this week, spend a little time together.”
“I haven’t agreed to all this,” Marie pointed out.
“Have you decided against it?”
She shrugged and paced. “You want me to go off with the two of you, make a baby, and we will magically live happily ever after?”
Adam almost said people do it all the time, but that was in a world Marie had yet to discover.
“Why not?” Ean asked.
“It’s just so backwards, inside out and upside down from the way this is supposed to be.”
Adam caught an ankle as she passed and tumbled her into his lap. His cock strained upward under her wiggling body, like a compass needle seeking nort
h. Her wicked grin told him she knew what she was up to. She was soft, warm, aroused. It was going to be a long week.
“I wish I could promise you the fairytale ending, love.” He hoped she wouldn’t feel trapped in a horror story when she found out what they were.
“We’ll make this work,” Ean said. He put his arms around her too.
This is just how it is supposed to be, Adam thought, two of us to shelter and protect, her safely in the middle. If he had been in India with Ean and Leah instead of here wrapping up a ten-year research project, would he have made the difference? Could he have sensed the coming danger and saved Leah and their babies?
He pushed the weight of that guilt away. He’d made the mistake once of thinking they had all the time in the world.
* * * * *
The canoe sliced through the water as easily as shafts of sunlight sliced through the naked trees. Marie tried not to think about naked anything. Ean could have done the paddling by himself and he was the driving force. Her own graceless stabs at the water probably hindered more than helped but she needed to keep her hands and mind busy.
Fingers of cold wind brushed her cheeks and ran through her hair. She wasn’t a nature sort of girl. She enjoyed a walk in the park or a romantic picnic on a summer afternoon. But the river and the wind and a blustery autumn day made her crave a warm fireside and a good book to hide in.
She took comfort in the fact that at least outside she could wear layers of clothes. Adam and Ean might be comfortable strutting around the house in their birthday suits but Marie wasn’t. If they expected naked she was going to have to work out more. She compromised and wore one of Adam’s shirts, unbuttoned to appease them, but she kept it pulled close and wrapped around her when she sat.
Added to her own self-consciousness was her reaction to the sight of naked male everywhere she looked. Her hormones were on overdrive and her temper short. She had an insatiable urge to bite something, bite something firm like a nipple, or pliant like…
“Heads down,” Ean shouted and she ducked in time to miss a low-hanging branch as they skimmed close to the shore to avoid some large rocks.
Up ahead the water had a foamy, threatening look. She risked turning to look back at Ean. “Is that rapids up ahead?”
“Yeah!” Ean whooped.
“Oh joy,” Marie muttered.
“Pull your paddle in. I’ll steer us through it.”
Marie watched the water boil under the bow, or stern, or starboard, or whatever you called the front of a boat. Her stomach churned harder than the water. The motion sickness she had managed to keep in check with positive thoughts and chewing gum kicked into full gear. She knew she needed to look straight ahead, try to keep her eyes level with the horizon, concentrate on the wind on her face. She couldn’t tear her eyes from the riffles and eddies, or the shadowy shapes of large rocks lurking just below the surface.
When she managed to look back to Ean for reassurance that death wasn’t imminent, he was laughing, dipping his paddle first on one side, then on the other, fully absorbed in the task.
She faced forward just as they caught the edge of a whirlpool that spun them around full circle before spitting them out the other side. Marie clutched the sides of the canoe and closed her eyes.
Behind her Ean whooped and laughed. This was so good for him. She’d caught that somber look that crept over him when he thought no one was watching. He still grieved but she knew this time with her and Adam had moved him back to living and hoping again.
Her head was spinning and her stomach was rolling over and over. She called up all she learned about breath and concentration in yoga class. She would not throw up and spoil the fun. She opened her eyes, the whole world was heaving like a tilt-a-whirl. The horizon leaned hard left, then right.
Deep breaths. Deep breaths. Moan. Deep breaths.
And then, mercifully, they were through the rough patch. Marie knew she should pick up her paddle. It was going to take Ean with the Jaws of Life to release the grip she had on the sides of the canoe. Her stomach and brain were still pitching and rolling. Even now, the gentle roll of the river had the same effect on her as waves on the high seas.
“This is the spot where we leave the canoe,” Ean called.
“There is a God,” she whispered. Despite the cool air, she could taste sweat when she licked her dry lips. Marie wanted to signal Ean she heard, but movement, even turning her head to smile, was just too risky. Just a few more lurching swells to bounce across as he turned the boat sideways and they slid into the sandy shore. Ean jumped out and came forward, splashing.
She smiled at him through gritted teeth and hoped it might fool him. She reached for the hand he held out. The boat shifted to the right when she rose. Her brain shifted left and instead of stepping gracefully out onto solid ground, jelly knees wobbled under her and pitched her over the side, legs and arms flailing. She saw Ean’s eyes go wide and his mouth drop open just before ice water filled her ears, sent burning fingers up her nose and closed over her face.
Chapter Three
“Adam will kill me,” Ean muttered.
And when he pulled Marie up, streaming water and mud, he thought he might beat Adam to it. River mud coated her back and clung to her hair. She grabbed fistfuls of his shirt, rested her forehead against his chest and stood shivering. He could see the chill bumps on her arms, just above her wrists where her soggy jacket slid back toward her elbows. Her hands were cold enough to freeze water. He put one arm around her shoulders and bent to put another just behind her knees.
“No!” The desperation, the tightening of her hands on his shirt, had him leaning back and stooping to look into her face. Normally pale-skinned, she had taken pale to a new level. Her eyes were scrunched shut and her teeth had a death grip on her lower lip.
“You hurt?”
“Motion sickness,” she gasped between pants. “I need a minute.”
He pried the fingers of her right hand from his shirt and massaged her wrist. He felt the soft ticking beat of her pulse beneath his fingertips and then pressed his index finger into a pressure point.
“It’s okay if you want to stand back,” she said through chattering teeth. “I’m a mess and there’s no sense in you risking wearing my breakfast home.” She opened her eyes. Her gaze traveled from his face to the water swirling around her knees. How was it she managed to get paler? Her teeth dug into that lower lip again.
“I’m not going anywhere.” He tried distracting her. “Here, see this pressure point I’m holding? Use your other hand and keep pressure there.”
Marie followed his direction and he scooped her up. She fussed at him but held the breakfast she threatened to lose. He set her in the grass at the shore and pretended cheer he didn’t feel when he turned back to the boat. He worked fast, grabbing a small daypack from the boat and pulling it up onto the beach. Then he scooped up Marie again and headed for the barn where he had intended to spend a lazy, romantic couple of hours with her before heading back. Making her sick and nearly drowning her were definitely negatives on the wooing scale.
She was a cold, soggy lump in his arms. He needed to get her out of the wind.
“I can walk, Ean. You’ll put your back out carrying me.”
“You’re a featherweight.”
“Oh, right.”
Ean lost the rest of what she said when an alarming scent caught his attention just where the trail started to thread through the forest. He tilted his head, nostrils flaring. Dogs had scent-marked a tree there. A few yards further along he saw a red and white label beer can atop the leaves and wrinkled his nose at the scent of human urine. Two men, Ean decided.
Adam owned several hundred acres on both sides of the river. The perimeter was fenced and posted. Whoever came in would have come by river where signs marked the property as private, so there was no mistaking they were trespassing. Hunters. They were a constant annoyance this time of year.
His heart raced. While they wouldn’t be hunting tigers
or men, instinct was difficult to reason with. Getting Marie to a safe place that he could defend became a need hammering in his chest. He picked up his pace.
Marie put her arms around his neck. “I’m okay, Ean. You don’t have to run.”
“This is barely a stroll. When I go fast I’m a blur.”
“I love your modesty.”
* * * * *
Windburn heated Marie’s cheeks. She pressed her hands to them, as if those little spots of heat could warm her frozen fingers. After the rush through the woods, with the wind singing in her ears, stepping into the barn was like stepping into the hush of a library. In the distance, the sound of baying—hounds on the trail of some poor creature—made her shiver.
“Son of a…” Ean kicked and shoved at the great door.”Grrr.”
Rusted wheels screeched in the track, then gave. The whole thing slid home with a shudder, shutting out the wind and the light.
Marie was halfway up the ladder to the loft by then and she heard Ean moving quickly toward her, unhindered by darkness or unfamiliar surroundings. Cat eyes, her father had called it. Ean, it seemed, shared her uncanny ability to find her way in the dark.
The loft window was shuttered, blocking the meadow view and sunshine along with the wind, just as surely as Ean meant to block out her thoughts of Adam. Light leaked in around the edges, bathing the hay-strewn floor in a sleepy twilight glow.
She turned to see Ean peeling wet jeans down muscled thighs, his cock thick and bobbing with his movements. He wasn’t wasting any time.
He looked up to catch her staring.
Heat rose, blooming from her center and spreading out over her skin. She didn’t want it. It consumed her anyway. Her teeth stopped chattering and her mouth turned to desert, too dry for a swallow. Her eyes were glued to the dark curls framing his cock. Her stomach clenched. Her tongue throbbed. God, she wanted to lick him!
He looked down at his rigid cock and back at her. “I’m not going to be able to do much about that. Just ignore it.”
Ignore it? Ignore the elephant in the hayloft, or rather the elephant’s trunk. Was he serious?
