Waiting For You

by Glenda Diana

  "Have you and Zebual had another tiff?"

  Arysa spun around at the sound of Justin's voice behind her. "I don't think that's any of your business," she replied, turning her back on him.

  "He cares very much for you."

  "Yes, he cares so much that he infuriates me."

  "I was right." Justin laughed.

  Arysa swung around and scowled. "I find nothing funny about the situation."

  "Use that head of yours, Arysa."

  For some reason the smile on his face seemed to cool her temper slightly. "I do use my head, thank you very much."

  Justin smiled. "Getting mad at me isn't going to help matters. You loved him once and if I'm not mistaken, you love him again."

  Arysa gritted her teeth.

  "The question that nags me is why haven't you told him?"

  "And ruin his mental image of himself?" she hissed. "He has everything settled in his mind. He thinks himself too ugly for any to have tender feelings toward him."

  "Show him that he's wrong."

  "Now, why didn't I think of that?" Her words dripped of sarcasm. "I'm not totally stupid, you know. And just how can you be sure that I love him?"

  "I see it every time you look upon him. At first you were too wrapped up in finding out about your past that you paid him little heed. But then you noticed him ... really noticed him ... and I saw the love that you once had for him bloom into a new love."

  "Perhaps you're just fanciful in your thoughts."

  Justin's face turned hard. "Perhaps you should stop treating me as if I'm your enemy."

  Arysa was taken back by the rough timber of his voice. "Well, then you shouldn't make me feel as though I am."

  "We can banter words until the end of time, but that will settle nothing. I'm not your enemy and you're not mine. Both of us have a care for Zebual and that, my dear, is what does matter. I admit that I have kept a close eye on you since you have awakened, but my defense is pure of heart. Zebual has been my dearest friend for many years and I would give my life to protect him just as he would me."

  "And you thought I would do him harm? A man that is supposedly my husband?"

  Justin shook his head. "Not harm as in bodily, but in heart. He loves you more than life itself and to have you reject him would kill what's left of him."

  Arysa sat down on the top stone step. Her mind went in several directions, as she recalled words that had been spoken in the past few weeks, expressions that passed between Zebual and Justin, and feelings that had churned to life.

  "Will he ever recover from this illness that has him?"

  Justin turned away and stared out at the darkened garden. "I don't know. I guess that would depend on you."

  "Why me?"

  "You are what he needs in order to survive. You and your love for him will bring back the life to him."

  Arysa shook her head. "I don't understand. How can I save him from a sickness?"

  "If you take a flower and hide it in the shade it will slowly die. But if you let the sun warm its petals and heat the earth around it, the flower will grow and thrive with life. You are that sunlight to Zebual. You and your love will give him the strength to fight this final battle."

  "What if my love isn't strong enough?"

  Justin turned to face her. "It has to be or he's lost."

  "Well, there's nothing like a little added pressure to make me feel more confident."

  A smile hovered over Justin's mouth. "Your sense of humor has always been keen. I watched the care you gave him last night, I don't think you have to worry over that particular subject much. You care for him more than even you realize ... but you will in time."

  "Riddles," she muttered and then smiled. "Thank you, Justin."

  His eyebrows lifted in surprise.

  "I take it that's the first time I've ever said those words to you." Arysa laughed.

  "No, you have said them before to me. I'm just curious as to why you are saying them now."

  Coming to her feet, Arysa moved to his side and before he knew what she was about, she placed a kiss on his cheek. "You made me look at the situation with a whole new perspective. Have you heard that he asked me to marry him?"

  Justin shook his head. "No," he murmured.

  "He did last night."

  "But you're already joined." He pointed out.

  "Yes, but I don't remember."

  "And what did you tell him?"

  "I haven't answered him as of yet. And don't bother to ask me what I'm going to say, because I'll tell you that it's none of your business."

  Justin watched the way her eyes twinkled with humor. "That's rather unfair of you."

  "Yes, it is." Arysa laughed, as she turned away and hurried into the dining hall. She passed through the door that led to the portrait gallery and made her way to the painting of Connor.

  She stared into eyes so like those of Zebual's. The more she stared at the portrait the more resemblance she could see between the two men. Both had thin hard lips, long noses, high cheekbones and the stubborn haughty lift of their jaws.

  Giving Connor one last glance she headed back down the hallway. She could smell the tantalizing aroma of food before she ever reached the kitchen. Mrs. Reed smiled and set the plate on the table for her and then left. Arysa nibbled at the food as she thought over her and Justin's conversation. He had turned out to be a very nice man. She almost laughed aloud at that. He wasn't worried about her, but about Zebual. She couldn't fault him for that.

  Picking up the plates and placing them on the counter, she headed up to her room. She would make an early night of it. If she stayed awake the only thing that she would accomplish was to drive herself crazy with her thoughts of Zebual.

  She quickly bathed and dressed for bed. It seemed that no matter where she was in her room, she listened for any noises coming from Zebual's room. Constantly she found her gaze on the closed door that separated their rooms. Turning down the light, she climbed into bed and turned her back to the door. Slowly, she began counting each breath she took and soon her body was relaxing into a state of slumber.

  Chapter Eleven

  He was here with her. He wasn't touching her, but she could feel his presence. Slowly he moved closer until she could feel his shadowy figure looming over her. Was he the ghost of Connor? Or was he a phantom of her dreams?

  "Shhh," he whispered, as if he had heard her thoughts.

  Emotions churned within her as he began making love to her with his hands and mouth. It seemed as if he were touching her everywhere at once. Setting her blood to boil and her body on fire with the raw desires that cried out to be fed.

  Lips moved over her face, stopping to inhale her breaths as they issued from her parted lips. It was tantalizing the way his mouth just hovered over hers, drawing her air into his lungs. Then she felt the burning trail of heat that he left as he moved over her. The heat enveloped her left nipple bringing it alive with sensations. Just when she thought that she couldn't take anymore of his exquisite torture, his mouth moved over to lavish his attention on her right nipple.

  She moaned and thrashed her head as a deep burn began storming all her senses. Her breath caught when his lips moved down over her ribs. The rough texture of his tongue increased her thrashing. Then she felt him at the very core of her body. Her hips raised from the bed, begging for his touch, begging for him to take all he wanted.

  'Please," she moaned.

  "Feel my lips. Taste me and my essence on your lips," he breathed, moving back up her body until his mouth was again just above hers.

  It was happening too quickly. The tightening in her center core pulled, making her stomach clench and her muscles quiver. It was too fast, she wanted it to last longer. But he was in control just as always. The night rose up around her, a soft scream passed her lips and was inhaled by him.

  As her body floated back and the pants of breath hissed from her lungs, she could feel him absorbing them from his position above her. Tears prickled her eyes and she fou
ght against the loneliness that ate at her. This was Heaven and yet it was an all too real Hell. What she wouldn't give to touch him just once ... to feel the texture of his skin, if only for a second, against her fingertips.

  His lips moved over her cheek, his breath lightly touching her ear as he whispered what sounded like her name.

  Again she tried to see him through the darkness, but closed her eyes in defeat. Her imagination took over ... she could see the thin, firm lips ... eyes of light blue took shape ... and hair of black and silver white touched her skin.

  Arysa came instantly awake. The only light in the room came from the moon outside her window. Pushing back the covers, she sat up and tried to clear the webs of sleep from her mind. That's when she noticed the door between her and Zebual's room was slightly ajar. Had he been calling to her instead of the dream? A feeling of dread washed over her, as she sprang from the bed.

  His room was dark and silent. She paused on the threshold of his bedchamber. Once she knew for certain that he was all right, she would return to her room and let him rest. With that thought in mind, she approached the large bed. Darkness prevented her from seeing anything but a dark outline. Her heart jumped when she heard a scratching noise. She glanced up as if she could see through the ceiling and flooring to the room above ... to the Lord of the Manor's room. With breath held, she waited for another sound but only silence rang softly in her ear.

  "This has become a habit of yours, I see."

  Arysa screamed and turned, bumping into Zebual who was standing directly behind her. It took a moment to get her fright under control. She raised her hands, but they shook so badly that there was no way she could strangle the beast of a man.

  "Blast it all, do you have to scare me to death?" she practically shouted.

  "I see I'm to blame again," Zebual said, with a slight laugh.

  "This isn't funny!"

  "Is this becoming a habit of yours?" Zebual asked, resorting back to his first question.

  The first thing that came to mind once she got a firm hold on her emotions was that he was all right. Relief shot through her. "What habit?" she sighed.

  "Sneaking into my room."

  So much for relief, she thought and then sighed again. "I was just checking on you. And I wasn't sneaking around."

  Zebual studied her in the silence. She was standing just inches from him. Her pale pink nightgown was a beacon in the dark of his room. Now that he was close to her he could see the soft sleepy look on her face attesting that she had only been awake for a few minutes. "As you can see, I'm fine."

  Arysa stiffened. "Then I'll see you tomorrow." With a lift of her chin she moved back a step and bumped into the bed. She would have walked around him, but unless she wanted to knock him down she would have to wait until he moved back first.

  He moved, but not in the right direction. Her eyes stared at his shirt, after all the weeks she had spent with him she knew the rise and fall of his chest as well as she knew her own. He was so close that she could smell him ... she glanced up and found him staring at her.

  The touch of his hands on her arms sent a shiver coursing through her body. The dim red glow in his eyes seemed to flash and then disappear. Her heart pounded when his dry hands moved upward to her shoulders, then he was cupping her face, his thumbs connected beneath her chin, keeping her face tilted upward.

  She licked her dry lips before whispering, "Zebual?"

  He shook his head slightly before leaning forward. Softly his lips brushed over hers. Her breath caught and held, then it sighed from her, fanning out across his face. His next kiss brushed up the side of her jaw to her ear. His unshaven cheek rubbing against her soft skin, causing a brilliant friction to vibrate through her. His hands moved down until his thumbs were over the beating pulse at the base of her neck. His lips moved to her hairline and she felt his chest expand as he breathed in the scent of her hair.

  Arysa could hear her own heartbeat as it pounded against her ribs. Her hands came up to his chest and she felt the beat of his heart beneath her palms. Common sense told her to go back to her room where she belonged, but some unknown part of her stalled. She gasped softly when his hands moved down to cup her breasts. Only one other time could she recall being touched like this ... the other night when he had returned her kiss. Her face heated when her nipples instantly turned hard against the palms of his hands. She felt the beating of his heart increase almost in unison with her own.

  Zebual watched the expressions on her face as he softly kneaded her breasts. She was caught between two desires. One to flee and one to stay. If he were any kind of decent man he would release her now so that she could escape, but at the moment he didn't feel one gram of decency in him. He released his gentle hold on her lush breasts and swept his hands upward. The straps of her nightgown slid down with one flick of his fingers. The descent of her straps was stopped at her elbows, where she had her hands braced against his chest. He could wait for her to make the next move or he could continue on another course.

  It was not a hard choice to make. His lips brushed against hers again then he moved closer, leaving just a whisper separating their bodies. His lips settled over hers softly. He could feel her hesitation and then shyly she answered his exploration. With a shuddering breath he tasted the inside of her mouth, savoring the essence of her as his hands moved down her arms to her waist. He had dreamed often of touching her like this again. The feel of her warm skin beneath the silk of her gown called to him like a siren. His bone-like fingers clutched at her nightgown and began gathering it. His goal was simple ... he had to feel the warmth of her. His mouth played upon hers as his hands sought out his goal. He groaned at the first touch of his sought-after treasure.

  Arysa broke the kiss at the loud sound of his groan. Several things came into focus. Her hands were no longer braced against his chest, instead they were on his shoulders, gripping the material of his shirt. Her breast were just barely covered from where her straps had fallen and were now cutting into her arm, yet where there should have been discomfort there was none. But the most startling of all was the feel of his hands on her naked hips.

  There was no way that Zebual was going to give up his attack on her senses. He knew that she was trying to come to reason with what was happening between them, but he didn't want her to use reason, he only wanted her to feel. His mouth moved down her jaw, down the side of her neck, until he was kissing the beating pulse at her neck. All the while his hands caressed and kneaded her round hips and then bravely moved on to other areas.

  Arysa moaned at the feel of his dry hands moving down the globes of her bottom. His fingers squeezed and massaged her until he was cupping her in each hand and pulling her toward him. The texture of his pants rubbed against her nakedness brought her senses alive, but it was the feel of his hardness burning through the material that brought a shiver melting over her. She couldn't remember ever feeling anything like this before. It frightened her and yet she couldn't deny the excitement that filled her.

  Zebual answered her moan with a soft groan. His tongue licked over the pulsing vein in her neck. If he died now, this instant, he could not complain. Not when he had her in his arms and was touching her. He had waited for so long for this moment in time to come and if it should all end now he could at least say he had this.

  Stepping back, he gathered the material of her gown and pulled it from her body. For several long seconds he looked upon her. This was life, his life, his eternal heaven and hell all wrapped up in this one luscious creature. He moved forward again, gathering her into his arms. He wanted nothing more than to feel her skin against his own. When she opened her mouth to speak, his lips were there to seal off her words. His hands moved over her, touching her everywhere except the place he most needed to touch.

  Liquid heat gathered in the dark recesses of her core. Every nerve in her body was alive with feelings. Her dreams had been glorious, but this was not a dream, this was real and she could if she wanted to, do the one thing her dr
eams had always denied her ... touch. She wasn't sure just what she was supposed to do or if she were to do anything. Her fingers made their way up his neck toward his face. She could feel the dry texture of his skin and her heart ached for his discomfort. Then her fingers were buried into his thick white/black hair, cradling his head as his lips continued to kiss and lick at her neck.

  Her hands moved down until she found the top button of his shirt. One by one she released them until she reached the band of his pants. She pulled his shirt free and continued until his shirt hung open. The white/black hairs tickled the palms of her hands as she again braced them to his chest and then slowly let them glide around to his back. Caressing his skin as her fingers softly brushed over the bones that stood out in prominent contrast. The sound of his raspy breathing soothed her nerves like nothing else could have.

  Zebual's breath caught when her fingers moved to the fastener of his pants. It seemed to take forever for her to have them open. He laughed silently, not forever, he knew exactly how long forever was and he was nearing the end of his. The loose pants fell to his ankles and he stepped out of them before pulling her against him. His hardness nestled against the soft rounding of her stomach. Without saying a word he moved forward, placing his knee on the mattress and pinning her between him and the bed.

  Arysa braced her hands on the bed and lifted herself up onto the mattress. He moved forward again, indicating that he wanted her to keep moving back. Finally when they were in the center of the bed he stopped nudging her. Placing a leg on either side of her, he straddled her legs. Then his mouth was on her, moving down the center of her chest. Each hand cupped a breast and began softly kneading. Her senses screamed when his fingers rolled her hard nipples. The heat of his mouth enveloped and lavished one and then the other, as she cradled his head, holding him to her.