Saliva pooled in my mouth, forcing me to swallow or risk my second drowning in forty-eight hours. This was not what I needed at the moment. “Lucky you. Now scoot. I want privacy, unlike your precious Clayton.”
Her tone turned confiding. “He doesn’t look the same way a female does, you know.”
I didn’t want to know why she knew what Clayton looked like nude or why she sounded so puzzled over the differences in male and female anatomy. Even worse, I didn’t want to know the naked female in question. “I should hope so.” Unbidden, thoughts of Clayton twined with Dana flashed through my mind, ruining the fantasy I had created.
I shoved Figment across the threshold into the bedroom with a thrust of my foot, closing the bathroom door firmly behind her. A quick twist of vintage, four-pronged handles made water rush from the bathtub’s faucet. I tweaked until I had the temperature perfect. The steam even seemed to help relax me from the shock of seeing Figment again. I stepped into the clawfoot tub and pulled the metal pin, activating the shower. I could almost hear my skin sizzle under the cascade of hot water.
Scrubbing my hair and humming along, I shivered when a cool blast of air sucked the warmth from the room. I looked towards the door even though it was obscured by the opaque shower curtain and got an eyeful of shampoo for my trouble.
“Did you finish cooking already?” Eyes stinging, I jerked open the shower curtain and groped blindly for the towel bar. “Can you hand me that towel? This Tea Tree stuff burns.”
A harsh intake of breath drew my burning eyes open in alarm. Instead of my sister, Clayton’s wide-set shoulders filled the entrance to my tiny bathroom. His death grip on the doorknob loosened as he reached to toss a bundle of warm terrycloth into my waiting arms.
“Damn it.” His gaze cut to the floor. His finger pointed down at Figment. “She told me you expected me. I didn’t mean to—”
“You didn’t mean to play peeping Tom?” I used the towel he’d tossed to wipe my face. Seeking refuge behind the curtain, I tossed the towel over the curtain rod at the far end of the tub.
Clayton growled. “The door was already open. I stepped over to shut it when you opened the shower curtain.”
I stepped beneath the gentle spray to rinse my hair and give myself a moment to think. “How convenient for you,” I said loud enough to be heard over the cascading water. I was going to strangle Figment. If Clayton had found the door open, somehow I knew she was to blame. “And you couldn’t have said something?”
He didn’t respond. At first, I thought he must have left. I bent down and turned off the water. Peering around the curtain’s edge, I found Clayton standing right where I’d left him.
Molten black pools crashed into mine. His true self stared out where blue eyes should be. His lips parted slightly. I could almost hear his erratic heart rate bouncing across the small space between us.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to barge in uninvited.”
I waved away his apology as the last shred of my feminine mystique flew out the window. “No problem. I’m sure a savvy, earth-dwelling male such as you has seen plenty of prime female assets before. Mine don’t rate a second glance.” I blotted my face again before clutching the plush towel across my chest. “I’m sure I don’t have anything you haven’t seen before.” Only I did, so I arranged the towel to drape across my shoulders and cover the curve of my spine.
Before either of us compounded the awkwardness of the situation, Emma barreled into the room, catching a glimpse of me, mostly naked, over Clayton’s shoulder.
“What the hell are you doing up here?” Lavender runes crept across her face, swirling angrily as her glamour shorted out in her rage.
The same question had plagued me as well. More to the point, I wondered how he would blame Figment, the seemingly innocent dog, for being caught trespassing.
Clayton’s voice was curt. “I saw my dog run up the stairs and I followed. Finding Madelyn this way was incidental.”
Emma’s pointer fingernail lengthened to a razor-sharp claw. She tapped once against his chest, slicing through the tailored dress shirt like a hot knife through butter. “Incidental? How very convenient. Haven’t you heard of knocking before entering?” she snarled. “You don’t just come barging into other people’s homes. You wait for an invitation.” She tapped again, this time drawing a fine line of blood.
I cleared my throat, hoping to lighten the tension crackling thick and fast between them. “Um, hello? I’m trying to dry off here.” Neither responded, and both ignored the squeak of my bare feet leaving tub for tile.
I cast around for a secondary towel or scrap of clothing. There was nothing besides the empty hamper and the scent of pine cleaner from Emma’s daily cleansing regimen. Abandoning hope of making a concealed getaway, I pulled the towel tighter across my shoulders, turned sideways and slipped through the narrow gap left between Clayton’s body and the doorway.
An almost imperceptible shiver coursed through him. My nipples puckered into tight buds. The slide of skin on skin seared me where I’d brushed past his arm and felt the rake of his coarse hairs over my soft flesh.
His stare branded me like a tangible caress, marking me as his. My legs wobbled unsteadily as I stepped away. Turning, I faced him before dropping my towel, carefully keeping my back to the wall. I slowly pulled panties up my thighs and hooked my bra in front before twisting it around back. Instinct made me seek revenge on his intrusion by teasing his senses with each slow tug of satin over my curves.
Emma snarled threateningly. “Don’t look at her like that.”
He did not avert his face. “Like what?” he asked, his eyes never leaving me.
“Like you just ate dinner and she’s the dessert.” Emma shoved him backwards. “She is untouched—”
This was becoming humiliating. I tuned out their argument as I zipped up jeans and shrugged into a cap-sleeve shirt. Clayton knew Harper and I never physically crossed the finish line. Just like he had to know, because of my stigma, no one else would have wanted me beyond furthering their social aspirations. But still—I’d rather not be present while my virtue was brought up for debate.
The aroma of bacon wafted up from downstairs. My tummy rumbled in response. “I’m heading down for breakfast.” I waited for a response. They ignored me.
Emma crawled into Clayton’s face, twisting her sharpened finger into his chest. “You can’t be a part of her life.” I half expected to see her hand emerge through his back. She was pushing that hard.
He leaned down, bringing them nose to nose. “I won’t hide myself from her any longer.”
I didn’t see what difference it could possibly make. I knew about him now. That cat was out of the bag. “Breakfast anyone?” I grabbed my hairbrush and combed out the long, wet locks. “Any takers?”
I shrugged and left them to it, taking the stairs down to the first floor and walking into the kitchen. Here, the scent of fried bacon, sausage, eggs seasoned with peppers and onions mingled with the fragrance of buttery biscuits cooling on a rack. Even a tiny boiler filled with sugared grits sat cooling off to one side of the stove.
I spooned some of the scrambled mixture onto a plate, then grabbed a clean spoon and added grits, careful not to let the two touch. I snagged a couple of biscuits and poured a glass of milk from the carafe left out on the counter. I pulled my usual chair out with my foot and dropped into it.
I munched casually through my breakfast. The eggs were a little dry, probably from sitting in the pan while Emma charged into my room dead set on apprehending our guest. Today’s crossword puzzle sat in the center of the table with a blue line squiggled off one corner like she’d stopped in the middle of penning her answer, probably when she’d heard me talking to Clayton.
I paused to listen. I wonder where that pesky Figment got to. Around me the sounds of a tired old house creaked and groaned. As I swallowed the last mouthful of milk, footsteps, some quick and some slow, descended the stairs. Emma entered the kitchen, gaze darting ferv
ently until she zeroed in on my place at the table. Clayton followed close on her heels with a crimson smear across his rapidly swelling bottom lip.
I gave Emma a quizzical look. She shrugged. “He had it coming.”
“Yip! Yip! Yip!” High-pitched barks heralded Figment’s return. She bounded in like a bunny through a field of clover, stopping to lick Emma’s ankle.
I ignored the dog, which thankfully made no attempt to speak to me. My attention focused on Clayton instead. “Would you like some breakfast?” I pointedly looked at his split lip. “Or some ice to take the swelling down?”
He touched the sore spot, drawing away red-tinged fingers. “No thank you. I’m not hungry.”
“In that case…” Emma smiled at Figment. By the time she looked back at Clayton, her bared teeth were gleaming. “Don’t let the door hit you on the way out.”
“Stop being rude.”
She grumbled under her breath and stabbed a sausage fresh off the hotplate with her fork.
“It’s all right. Emma has never made her feelings for me a secret.”
Emma lifted the impaled link to her lips and snapped it cleanly in half. He didn’t have to shudder. I did it for him. She chewed and skewered another piece. “And you’ve never made a secret of your feelings, either.”
I clapped my hands loudly, bringing their attention back to me. I pointed at Emma, who ignored me in favor of the stove. “Stop the maneater routine and behave.” She began heaping her plate with food. “This is my last day off this week and I would really like to get outside today. Are you sure you don’t want to come?”
“I can’t.” She poured a glass of milk. “Someone has to go to work today. I’m dropping you off at the inn to spend your off day with Dana sans boyfriend. She has a spare room set up for you and everything.”
I shook my head determinedly. I couldn’t stand the thought of seeing Dana. Her saccharine sweetness turned my stomach at twenty paces. “I’m not going to the inn.”
Emma carried her plate to the table and slammed it down over her placemat. “You can’t stay out here alone. Think about it. We can’t risk a repeat of what happened Tuesday.”
Clayton crossed his arms over his chest as if preparing for battle. “I’ll stay with her.”
Hope stirred in me, but Emma crushed it flat.
“No, you will not. She will go to Dana’s and like it. You’re the last male she can trust herself to alone. I think you proved that last night.”
I couldn’t handle being the white elephant in the room any longer. I took the front doorknob in hand and turned towards my sister. “I love you, but you are not my mother. I respect that you want to keep me safe, but I am not spending the day with Dana unless it’s shackled to the headboard.”
I ignored the way Clayton’s eyes darkened at my casual reference to bondage. I plucked at my shirt, sweltering under his stare. “I’m going to get some air.”
“Stay on the porch,” Emma yelled at my retreating back.
“Arrgghh!” I punched the screen door open and walked until the tips of my toes curled over the top porch step. Clayton stopped just behind me. Heat rolled off him in waves and broke against my back. I almost leaned into his warmth. I could tell he would have let me.
Clayton stepped aside and gave me room. “So I take it you don’t like Dana.”
“I didn’t say that.”
“No, you didn’t have to say anything.” I could hear the smile in his voice. When I didn’t respond, his amusement waned. “You really don’t like her, do you?”
“No, I really don’t. I should like her. Everyone likes her. She’s never done or said anything out of line to me. She’s just too perfect, too perky. It’s not natural.” The words tumbled out, having never been spoken. “You did ask.”
“So I did.” His broad-tipped fingers skimmed my arm. “What about me? Do you like me well enough to pass the day in my company?”
While I debated how wise it was to tell him exactly how much I liked him, I settled on a simple, “Yes.” Then I spied my backpack slumped against the caned back of my rocking chair.
Clayton followed my line of sight. “I found it in the guard shack. I thought I’d return it while I was here.”
“Thank you.” I felt detached from the drama of two days past. Like it had happened to someone else or in one of those Lifetime movies Emma’s always raving about.
“You mentioned wanting to go outside today. Did you mean Emasen or did you have something else in mind?”
I pointed down the snaking driveway where forest encroached on civilization and a wooded peak rose just far enough away you might have thought it was a mirage. “The mountain gives me the kind of peace I can’t find anywhere else.”
My means of obtaining that peace, I chose not to share. He had wings and would understand the rush of standing at the cliff’s edge, feeling a breeze rise up to beckon you forward. He could answer the wind’s call while I could only pretend.
“Is your leg up to it?”
I met his stormy eyes and challenged him. “It gets stronger every minute.” I imitated Dana’s southern-belle accent. “A big, strong male such as your sweet self shouldn’t have any problem keeping up with a little ol’ crippled demoness such as me.” I hadn’t meant to throw that last part in, but it was too late to take the words back now.
“You aren’t crippled.” He reached out, but let his hand fall back to his side. “You were brutalized. It doesn’t change who you are.”
“I know, I know, and I didn’t mean to snap at you.” I straightened my hair so the entire honey-blonde length fell down my back. “I’m just sensitive about it. If you’re serious about taking me, then I’ll go find a button-up to pull on.”
“Are you cold?” His rough hands smoothed up and down my arms, wiping away the slight chill in the early morning air.
“Not really, but…” I stepped away from his warmth. “This top…it’s tight and you can see…them.”
“And you don’t want me to?” His husky words thrilled me when they shouldn’t have.
“Don’t you not want to?”
His soft exhalation ended on a chuckle that seeped into my skin like pure sunshine, warming me to the tips of my bare toes. “Madelyn, you twist my head around until I don’t know what I’m saying or doing around you.”
“Sorry.” My toes flicked away a paint chip from one of the weathered boards.
“Don’t be. You’re a complicated woman. I can appreciate that.”
The click, click, click of nails on linoleum brought my attention back to the open front door. I smiled when I realized Clayton had left it open so Emma had a clear view of where we stood. Figment sat in the doorway, whining and flashing somber eyes at me.
“It’s okay, I’m not mad,” I said. “Feel free to go all Chatty Cathy on me.”
The dog’s tail wagged as she hopped up and trotted off to settle across Emma’s feet like a pair of house slippers. She left without uttering a single word. I watched her go, baffled by her silence.
“Figment?” Clayton’s cheeks dimpled. “Why do I think there’s a story behind that?”
I lowered my voice to a bare whisper. “You try being chased through the woods by a khaki-clad nightmare only to be rescued by a talking fox.” I looked back at Figment. “I thought I had gone crazy.” She kept her face on her dainty paws, but her ears perked and leaned in our direction. “The jury is still out on that one, by the way.”
“I didn’t mean for you two to meet like that.” He rubbed a hand across the nape of his neck. “I hadn’t expected you two to meet at all.”
“She was spying on me?” It would explain why our paths had crossed in the woods that night. “You asked her to follow me to the cemetery, didn’t you?”
“No.” He tucked his hands into his pockets, but still I saw them tighten into fists. “She did that on her own. She didn’t tell me anything until she had you safely underground.”
I chewed my bottom lip while digesting the fact th
at it seemed I owed her my life. “You always refer to her as she. What’s her real name?”
“I’ve never called her anything. It’s not my place.”
“She’s yours, how could you not name her?” I frowned. “What is she anyway?”
“She’s an Aisling, a sentient being of light given into the keeping of one female in every Evanti generation.”
I stated the obvious. “You aren’t female.”
“No,” he said grimly. “When my mother died, the Aisling’s name died with her. There were no females left to take Figment, so she came to me. She is the last of her kind.”
A rush of pity filled me for the annoyingly endearing creature. It was hard being alone, an outcast and different from everyone else. “How did she know where to find me?”
He took the first step down. “Think about it. You’re a half-Evanti female, the only surviving one I can name. By all rights, she should belong to you.” He smiled. “You were the first person she’s shown herself to in longer than I can remember.” He paused on the second step. “Can you wait for a bit? I have to speak with Mason before I can leave.”
“Sure,” I said. “Take your time.”
“Thanks.” He waved to me and gave a high-pitched whistle, calling Figment outside. “Pack whatever supplies you’ll need. I’ll be back in an hour, two hours tops, and we’ll take that hike.”
I watched him settle behind the wheel of his Jeep. The engine roared into life and he drove away. I closed one eye and framed his fire-engine-red Wrangler between my thumb and finger. Pinching them closed, I opened them quickly. He was gone.
Chapter Eleven
The toes of my worn sneakers touched off the porch with every forward rock, kicking me back until momentum swept me downward. I pushed off again, rocked back, repeated.
“You’re going to wear tracks in the porch if you don’t stop soon.” I glanced up as Emma pushed through the front door, pulling it closed behind her. Her lips puckered like she’d been sucking on a lemon. “Clayton said he would come, so he’ll come.” Bitterness laced her words. “He’s nothing if not a male of his word.” An angry tick worked in her cheek.
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