by Anya Breton
“Exactly,” she agreed in a strangely wary voice. “Or the dried leaves and heavy brush in the autumn.”
Now he understood why she’d led him here. The brook was a favored spot for her as well. His fingers curled up into a ball to keep from reaching for her shoulder. The spaghetti straps keeping her dress fixed to her body would be all too easy to unfasten. One flick to the bows and she’d be nearly nude.
Aston pressed his eyes shut. He needed to concentrate on something benign before his arousal became visible. He started for the boulder he’d made his official fishing post, though he’d never caught anything in the shallow water. The sturdy, cold stone would anchor him in reality.
This couldn’t be. She wanted Drew. He didn’t understand why she wanted his selfish brother, but there was no denying it. And the age difference…it was too great. She’d only just begun her life while Aston was beginning to believe he’d lived most of his.
But no, he had to focus on the future. Ascending to regional high priest would give him more of the same but little new. He had no doubt he’d excel in the position just as he had in the role of coven priest.
And it would make his mother happy.
“I didn’t figure you for an outdoorsman,” Gemma commented, crouched several feet to his right.
He was amazed she’d begun a conversation without his prompting. So he told her the truth when he’d have rather kept it quiet. “I loved to fish when I was young.”
“But not now?”
“Now I don’t have the time.”
“You could make the time,” she easily retorted. Before he could argue all the duties a coven priest was required to undertake, she continued, “You have an entire coven at your beck and call. Maybe you’d have time for fishing if you delegated a task or two.”
“I do delegate.”
“Delegate more.”
Aston chuckled lightly at her answer. “It isn’t only the coven I lead. There are businesses. And charity concerns.”
“So hire an assistant. You have enough money.” There was a sour cast to her final phrase. A reminder of the money he’d tried to throw at her, no doubt.
Gemma popped to her feet, drifting over to the brook so she could drag her digits over a particularly large waxy leaf hanging temptingly low. The curve of her breast beneath her arm enticed him far more than any leaf ever could.
Aston should come clean about what he’d done last night. Now was as good a time as any. They were alone, far enough from the house that her outraged shouts wouldn’t carry. His conscience had nagged him all day.
He ignored it, just as he’d done for the past eight hours.
Worse.
Aston was already making plans for how he’d seduce her tonight.
Chapter Seven
Gemma wasn’t quite sure how she’d gotten away without insulting Aston. But she had. A quick run to the front windows in the servants’ quarters showed her what she’d feared.
Drew’s car was still missing.
She slumped into the nearby chair, a heavy sigh puffing up her chest. So much for being a big girl who could handle one night of sex.
Dare she hope Drew had gone to see his fiancée to call off the betrothal? If only she could see him.
Her lover’s disappearance from the bedroom last night had been awfully abrupt. She’d never been a heavy sleeper yet she hadn’t noticed movement within the room. How had he gotten dressed?
Gemma made a grumpy noise because the questions did little good. Especially when she was required to dine with Drew’s intimidating brother. She’d best find something respectable to wear that wouldn’t fall off her smaller figure.
On her way to the bedroom, she took a detour by the phone to call the airline. There was a tiny update to her missing luggage. It had been sent to Manchester in the United Kingdom instead of Manchester in New Hampshire. Now it was slowly making its way back to the States. They reiterated that her things would be delivered within a week.
She heard the sound of wheels kicking up rocks on the drive outside. Gemma charged out of the bathroom. Was it Drew?
Amanda Haizea cut the engine of her luxury sedan. Gemma’s heart sank. She pulled back from the window, hiding from the smartly dressed female.
Smartly dressed… It was Tuesday. Why hadn’t Aston been at the office instead of hiking through the woods? He was usually obsessed with his work.
Was today a holiday she’d forgotten? Losing track of the date was easy now that she wasn’t attending classes.
Gemma took care fixing her hair and applying a light coating of makeup that would appear natural. She slipped her feet into a pair of three-inch heels she’d bought on a whim years ago. The lift might help with the smallness she felt beside Aston.
She grabbed her purse, double-checking that her phone was inside as she opened the door. Aston stood with knuckles raised as though he’d been about to knock. He dropped his hand to his side, a flash of surprise fading from his features.
He’d sought her out rather than wait at the main house? Strange.
Aston had changed since she’d seen him hours ago. He now wore a soft brown suit jacket atop a white button-down shirt sans tie. A pair of matching trousers coated his thick thighs. The top two buttons were undone on the shirt, showcasing a tantalizing sliver of skin. Gemma dropped her eyes to his shoes—a loafer done in a color-block design of brown-and-beige leather.
Aston indicated for her to go ahead of him as he had earlier. She did, aware of his attention on her. Her skirt was belted to her waist but otherwise loose and the top she’d picked was a corset-style, bell-sleeved item she’d laced tightly to her torso. The outfit had been the best she could do without clothes that fit.
“Do you have any allergies I should know about?”
Gemma shot him a perplexed look as he drew up beside her on the stone walk. “Cats,” she replied.
His lips spread in an amused smile, one she soon found was at her expense. “I don’t think the Department of Health and Human Services would allow that sort of thing at a restaurant.”
If it had been Drew, she’d have laughed. The elder brother was too intimidating to be amusing, especially when he was mocking her. Gemma focused on the vehicle waiting beside the smart sedan without giving him a response. The hybrid SUV was gray, tall and every bit as imposing as its owner.
Aston opened the door for her, exacerbating an already awkward situation as she tried to get in without showing any skin. Seconds later they were leaving Haizea House behind. Each mile increased the jittering of Gemma’s nerves. He could do anything to her now and no one would be the wiser.
When had she come to fear him? It had to be something from her early years because she couldn’t remember a single instance in which Aston had been deliberately cruel or frightening. He’d merely been the staunch, older male in the house who scolded Drew for running wild. But he’d rarely scolded her.
If she was truthful, she couldn’t recall a time when Aston had been anything but kind to her. Was his behavior with his younger sibling reason enough to explain her fear? She’d have to ponder it later when he wasn’t pulling into the parking lot of a place featuring an image of the Taj Mahal on its sign.
He tugged the keys from the ignition and then faced her. “Have you ever had Indian food?”
“I lived in England for the past year. They’re mad about curry.”
“Then I picked the correct…person for this place.” He covered a cough with his fist.
Gemma worked not to react to the reminder that he’d been looking for a victim. All she could manage in answer was a slight nod. And then she opened the car door before he could.
He made no comment as he joined her behind the vehicle. Gemma started for the entrance. He let her have plenty of space, as he had all day.
Aston gave his name at the host’s station. A young man in a white shirt, black vest and matching slacks saw them to a table toward the back of the restaurant. He helped her into her seat before leaving them.
The menu was a good distraction from the familiar face across the table. She read it in depth despite knowing she’d either get curry or kebabs. Gemma had come to love the food when dining in England with her friend Justin. Had he gotten the straight As he’d hoped for while abroad? She should call him. A friendly ear would be good right now. As would an unbiased male opinion.
“I’d like to try the sampler platter but I know I can’t finish it. Will you share it with me?”
Her mouth pressed tight behind the glossy page. Her obligation to him as priest made her feel as though she had to agree to everything he asked. The obligation ought to only extend to magical matters. Quickly, she skimmed the sheet until she found the sampler. The dish contained both curry and kebabs. Gemma lifted her gaze above the menu to give him his answer. “Okay.”
The neutral expression plastered on his face didn’t change. No smile at her agreement? Aston’s lack of emotion was strange enough that she used it as an excuse to duck behind the menu again.
Aston’s dining companion was nervous. Hell, he was nervous. What if he said something that terrified her? The furtive glances she sent him every other minute hinted she was no closer to being comfortable with him than she had been yesterday. She had reason to be wary around him. Gemma simply didn’t know it.
Her auburn head bobbed behind the menu she used like a shield. She’d changed her hairstyle since this morning. Was that a good sign? Likewise, she’d replaced her summer dress with a tantalizing corset top. Aston had imagined unlacing her ribbons no less than four times since they’d sat. She’d have picked something different if she’d known the effect it had on him.
The waiter arrived to take their order. Aston put in the request for the sampler platter with an extra plate. Gemma set about unwrapping her cloth napkin and draping it just so over her lap. She then concentrated on the glass of ice water she’d recently received. Only when she ran out distractions did she fix her attention on him.
“I can’t believe you’ve never tried Indian food,” she remarked.
“I can’t believe you spent the year in England,” he replied without thinking.
She fingered a silver spoon. “Why not?”
He forced his eyes from her digits and the contemplation of what it would feel like to have her fingering him. Aston had her attention, a first since he’d picked her up at the servants’ quarters. “I didn’t think you’d ever leave the state. You were a skittish child.”
“Yes, well…” Her gaze slid to the right, focusing on someone who wasn’t him. Someone she didn’t know. “That’s part of why I went.”
Aston remained quiet in the hope it would facilitate more truth telling. The ploy failed. “Why England?” he prompted.
“They speak English.” A slightly wry smile accompanied her answer.
“They speak English in Canada.”
“The English-speaking part of Canada is only a half-day’s drive from here. I wanted someplace I couldn’t easily escape.” Gemma’s pale fingers circled the sweating glass of water. She sipped slowly before setting it aside. Only then did she continue. “I also planned to do my senior thesis on gothic architecture. Studying in England gave me access to their cathedrals and also enabled me to cross the Channel into France.”
He imagined her looking at the marvels of old-world Europe. In all his years he’d never crossed the ocean. Yet this female, once a skittish child, had accomplished more in the past year than he’d dreamed of doing.
“I envy you.” He didn’t considered the words prior to speaking them. But he did envy her courage to leave everything she knew behind so she could study in a foreign locale.
Her cheeks were pink when she gave a nervous laugh. “I’m not the coven priest.”
Aston glanced about them, checking for prying ears who might hear things about the Underground they weren’t meant to know. They were free of neighbors for several tables. “I’ve heard the Underground is…difficult there.”
“Yes, the vampires and shifters are more plentiful.”
“Yet you went.” He enunciated the word with careful emphasis.
She gave him the first true smile he could recall, a nearly shy quirk of her lush lips. “My coven priest contacted the coven there to ensure I’d be safe.” There was a pause before she spoke again. “Thank you for that, Priest Haizea.”
He shifted uncomfortably beneath her soft gratitude. “It was nothing more than I vowed to do.” Aston shrugged with nonchalance he didn’t feel.
“Nonetheless, it was your backing that smoothed my time.”
“Then I’m glad.”
She fixed her attention across the restaurant—at what, Aston couldn’t tell. The thoughtfully distant cast to her gaze made him wonder what she was thinking of. Drew, no doubt. His teeth clenched at the thought.
“Tell me about your time there,” Aston prompted. “What did you like best?”
“I liked me best. Everything was new, the people were different and the Underground was frightening yet I adapted. I’d never felt braver or stronger. It did wonders for my self-esteem.”
He could see that. The skittish child had returned a strong woman—beautiful and lively. She had an inner glow she’d lacked before. And strength…she’d definitely gained that. Little Gemmy never would have stared him down and demanded he leave the servants’ quarters.
“I wonder if I’d like me in England.” What had prompted that? He feigned indifference by examining the paintings on the wall behind her.
“You don’t like yourself here?”
He resisted the urge to tug at his collar. “Maybe I’d like me better there.”
Gemma shifted in her chair, closer to the table. Her forearms rested against the edge in front of her. The movement sent her lilac scent wafting across the space into his nose. Such a delicate smell here among all the raucous spices.
“What do you think would be improved?” the lovely woman persisted.
“I’d have more free time.”
“To fish?”
A smile lit his face because she’d remembered. “Yes, among other things.”
She withdrew until her spine was flush with the chair. Instead of an answering smile, she was now uneasy. What had he done this time?
He was about to ask if everything was all right when a band struck a beat. And then a belly dancer whirled into view.
Gemma was glad for the distraction the woman in the jingling outfit posed.
Aston had never smiled like that before. She’d have remembered. Because his likeness to Drew was disturbing when he did. Even worse, he might be more attractive than the younger brother…at least when he was happy. Gemma needed a nap or a good meal to clear her head if she was comparing the two brothers and finding Drew lacking.
The clanking of the finger cymbals was too loud to carry on a conversation. And the dancer’s preoccupation with Aston was likewise a factor in the chat’s end. Gemma settled into her seat to enjoy the show.
However, with each passing second Aston’s features morphed from calmly indulgent into darkly agitated. Minutes ticked by in which Gemma’s coven priest suffered in uncomfortable silence as the woman shook her hips within inches of his knees. Somehow he was immune to the dancer’s come-hither eyes and sensual gyrations while all other males in the restaurant hooted with appreciation.
He clearly required saving from the big, bad belly dancer. Gemma fetched a twenty-dollar bill from her purse. She slipped it to the dancer and then gestured for the woman to visit the next table. The petite woman accepted the tip with a small bow. And then they were alone again.
“Where were we?” Aston asked as soon as the clanking grew faint. “Ah, you were telling me about England.”
Actually, he’d been telling her his perceived faults. She wanted to direct him there again. Her curiousness would have to wait until he was in a receptive mood. Did Aston Haizea drink alcohol?
“There isn’t much I can tell you about England that you don’t already know.” She
flipped her palms up, a helpless gesture because she didn’t know what else to say that wouldn’t take hours. Maybe he’d be happy with a bare answer. “It’s full of history, old buildings, amazing art and plenty of ghost stories. They speak an approximation of our language. And the food isn’t terribly good.”
“Did you meet any royalty?”
Was he teasing her? The slight, uncharacteristic curve of his lips certainly wasn’t a marker of seriousness.
He was due a little teasing. What better way to do it than with the truth? “I met the prince of England.”
Aston’s eyelids snapped wide at her deadpan response. “Which one?”
“Frederick Lewis.”
“Is that some unknown child of Albert’s?”
Gemma could no longer hide her amusement. “No.” She lowered her volume. “He’s a vampire turned in the eighteenth century.”
“You met a three-hundred-year-old vampire?”
“He didn’t look a day over fifty.”
Aston’s fist closed over his water glass in a white-knuckled grip. Her amusement promptly fled. In its place was confusion.
Tentatively, she asked, “What?”
He shook his head at her question, a sign he wasn’t going to answer. Their food arrived seconds later, further distracting him. Gemma released a small sigh because she’d never learn why the news of the prince had irritated him.
Her consolation was watching him sample several dishes he’d never tried. His eyes lit up when he discovered one he liked. However, she wasn’t comfortable with how he gazed at her—as if it was all because of her.
He’d come up with the idea to try Indian food. She’d merely been his willing victim.
`She hadn’t thought of Drew in some time. It felt like a betrayal to be out with his brother. He could be back at Haizea House looking for her as they nibbled on kebabs. And she still had to suffer through visiting an art gallery before she’d know for sure.
Aston announced he was stuffed. The bill arrived soon after. Gemma used a visit to the restroom as an excuse to avoid awkwardness. He was ready with a box of leftovers once she emerged.
