“Even the sheets are hot,” Cail complained. He had taken to sleeping in the nude in an effort to find some relief from the heat and was stripping off his suspenders. “Bring me a wet rag when you come to bed, dearling.”
“Won’t help you any,” Lorna said under her breath. “I promise it’ll only make you the hotter.”
He was stretching out on the bed with one leg crooked at the knee and one hand cupping the back of his head when she brought him the rag. He reached out to take the rag, dropped it on his chest, and then caught her wrist before she could move away.
“The cobblers smell good,” he said. “I bet they’ll be a big hit tomorrow.”
“They’ll do the trick,” Lorna said, tugging on her hand but he pulled her to him, giving her no choice but to sit on the mattress beside him.
“It’s late, Cail,” she said.
“Not too late to show my woman how much I love her,” he said.
He drew her down for a kiss—the only thing Chrysty was going to allow she thought—so she endured it. As much as she hated the touch of Cail’s lips on hers, she grudgingly admitted the spark that had flared in her body the first time he touched her was still there. It confused her, puzzled her, but did nothing to alleviate the hatred she bore him.
The moment he reached for her breast, he shuddered then released her, taking up the rag to run it over his face.
“The gods-be-damn it, it is sweltering in here!” he said.
Along the edge of her vision she saw Chrysty moving and knew it was only a matter of a few minutes before McGregor would be sound asleep, locked until dawn in an unbreakable web woven by the demon. The only thing she regretted about it was Cail would spend an entire night dreaming he was having sex with her and she was enjoying it.
“It’s necessary to maintain the illusion,” Chrysty had told her but it rankled knowing Cail thought she would gladly accept his flesh to hers.
As she did every night, she used the excuse that would give her demon the chance to take Cail out of the equation.
“I think I left the door open,” she said. “We don’t need a coon coming through the screen.”
And just as he did every night, her husband accepted the excuse without question—his demon-fogged brain unable to question the flimsy pretext.
“It would be so easy to pick up the pillow and smother,” she said as she stood at the front door where a sweet, gentle breeze—meant only for her—pressed through the screen.
Chrysty’s strong hands cupped her shoulders and he drew her back against his hard, masculine body.
“But then he wouldn’t suffer,” he responded.
She laid her head to one side so his lips could roam down the column of her neck. “Is that what you want?” she asked. “For them to suffer?”
“As I suffered,” he said, nibbling his way from the crest of her jawline to the tender hollow of her shoulder. “As Duncan did. As Allyn did.”
“But the men of the clan alive today had nothing to do with what happened to the three of you,” she reminded him.
“The sins of the father are visited upon the child,” he countered. He wedged his hands under her arms to mold his fingers over her breasts. He fanned the pad of his thumbs over the straining peaks beneath the thin cotton of her gown while he sank his teeth lightly upon her earlobe, his warm breath spiraling through her ear to make her shiver.
“I don’t really care what happens to them,” she said.
“Aye, you do,” he disagreed. “But you are a practical woman, Lorna Tabor. You know what needs to be done and you will see it to its completion.”
She could feel the hard bulge of his erection pressing against her rump and shamelessly wiggled against it. His throaty growl thrilled her. With one sure move, he twisted her around, pushed her against the doorjamb and reached for the hem of her gown, dragging it up. Insinuating one black denim-clad thigh between her legs, he lifted her clear of the floor, his mouth locked on the indentation at the base of her throat.
Lorna threaded her fingers through his thick dark hair as he lapped at her flesh with a tongue as hot as a strike of lightning. Heat curled in her belly. Her juices flowed. She wanted to be lying in the tall wet grass with his heavy body weighing her down.
No sooner had the image formed in her mind than she was transported deep into the forest where lush, sweet grass grew tall around them and a faint mist covered their naked flesh. He was lodged between her wide-spread legs with his mouth latched to her breast, his shaft weeping against her thigh.
“I love you, Chrysty Brell,” she told him and he lifted his head.
“What?’ he asked, his amber eyes glowing.
“I love you,” she repeated, putting a hand to his cheek to caress his face.
The demon quivered as though he’d been pierced with a hot iron. He stared down into her face with an intense expression that was almost frightening.
“No woman has ever said that to me before,” he said. “Not and meant it and I believe you meant it.”
“I did mean it,” she said. Her fingers soothed his flesh. “With all my heart I mean it.”
Another strange expression flickered over Chrysty’s face then his eyes glowed a deep, scarlet red.
Lorna recoiled from the wild, feral look in those alien eyes but as soon as it sparked, it was gone and his molten gold eyes filled with moisture.
“Nothing between heaven and hell, Jeeoil and the Abyss will ever take you from me,” he said, lips skinned back from his teeth. “Nothing!”
She wasn’t sure exactly what she had set into motion by telling him she loved him. She wasn’t even sure it was the truth for she had no real conception of what love truly was. But it had sounded right. Had seemed right at the moment she’d said it but now as she stared into the fierce possessiveness that had settled in the demon’s eyes, she wasn’t sure it had been a safe thing to say.
“Let me love you as I have wanted to since first I saw you,” he said, his voice ragged, his breathing rough.
“Chrysty, I don’t…” she began, suddenly very afraid of him. His entire body seemed to have expanded so he was looming over her like a gigantic bird of prey. The heat of his erection was searing her between the legs as he thrust it against her.
“Trust me, sweeting,” he said. “I will never hurt you.”
How she knew that to be true she couldn’t really say. Demons weren’t to be trusted—or so she’d been taught during catechism—but she doubted she could refuse him without there being dire consequences. That, too, she knew on some primordial level that scared her even more.
“Let me love you,” he said, his voice thick with lust.
She stared into his golden eyes for a moment longer then slowly nodded, tensing as he reached down between them to guide his flesh into hers.
He didn’t so much thrust into her as he impaled her. In one smooth glide of his thick rod, he stretched her more than he had before and filled her so tightly, so completely, so fully she felt staked to the forest floor. When he began to move in and out of her with sure, deep, and commanding probes of his iron-hard shaft, she swore she felt the earth moving beneath her bare ass.
Lightning sizzled overhead—stitching through the high canopy of the leaves—and thunder rolled, echoed down into the valley. A thousand fireflies appeared to swirl in dozens of concentric rings above where she lay. The faint scent of ozone filled the air then a low humming sound that slowly grew in volume until it was all she could hear. It blotted out her whisper of breath and Chrysty’s heavy intakes of air. It overpowered the thundering beat of the demon’s heart as he increased the speed of his thrusts until he was ramming into her so ferociously she began to pant.
Passion gave way to intense desire within her. Desire gave way to craving. The craving writhed into a lust so strong, so brutally forceful she raised her head to sink her teeth into her lover’s shoulder.
He roared and began to slam his body against hers. The pounding of their flesh, where it met was so po
werful she could feel the bruises forming between her legs. Possessed, obsessed, crazed, he was like a runaway engine smashing against her. Where his juices seeped inside her, she could feel the strange, otherworldly heat of his sperm.
She clawed at his back, drew blood with her teeth on his shoulder and nails raking down his flesh. He bucked against her—mindless in his rutting, completely lost to the hunger that screamed to be sated.
“Lorna!” he bellowed and his seed shot thickly into her on wave after wave of searing heat.
She threw her legs around him, arched her hips and allowed the jerks of his cock to set her own climax into motion. She came so hard she passed out and when she finally regained consciousness, she was lying atop his still body with his arms crushing her to his sweaty chest.
“No man will ever take you from me,” she heard him say.
“I’ve no desire to have any man other than you,” she told him and felt his arms tighten even more around her.
* * * *
As Cail hitched the horses to the two-seat buggy, he kept glancing up at the sky. There was a light breeze and the low-flying clouds scraped across the tops of the mountains as they passed overhead. The air was filled with moisture.
“It’s gonna rain before the day is out,” he commented as Lorna came out of the cabin carrying two of the four cobblers she’d made from the berries he’d brought home to her the day before.
“We need it,” she muttered.
He took the dishes from her and placed them alongside the other two that were nestled securely in a cardboard box wedged beneath the rear spring seat, commenting on how good they smelled.
Lorna was dressed sedately in a somber gray gown and a light straw bonnet with dark gray ribbon trim. Cail had surprised her by polishing her boots and as she put a foot on the buggy step, the toe of the boot gleamed. He placed a hand to her back as she climbed up, helped her onto the seat.
“Mayhap I’d best get the umbrella,” he told her as he pulled the buggy’s folding top forward to secure it in place.
She nodded her agreement for she knew well there would be a downpour right about the time lunch was finished.
When Cail returned, he pushed the umbrella along the floorboard at the front of the buggy then went around to climb aboard. The vehicle dipped to that side beneath his weight.
“I told Euan we would drop by his place and pick him up. His back has been bothering him and he didn’t think he’d feel like riding into town on his horse.”
Lorna’s mouth tightened at the mention of her husband’s twin brother. If she never saw him again it would be too soon for her. “What’s wrong with his back?” she asked, not caring but it seemed the polite thing to ask.
“Nothing serious,” Cail answered as he flicked the reins to set the horses into motion. “He strained it a few months back when he was working the ferry. Twisted the wrong way I suppose. That’s why I’ve been working there more than him.”
“Must be painful,” she said.
“It can be, I guess. He spent a day or two in bed right after it happened.” He laughed. “He’s a piss-poor patient, lemme tell you!”
Turning to stare at the passing scenery as the horses picked up speed Lorna filed that information in her mind for later. It occurred to her that most—if not all—the menfolk of the Hill would have some kind of Achilles' heel, failing or limitation. After all, they were only men susceptible to the vagaries of nature and time. It would be best if the Sisters shared their mates’ weaknesses with one another and together worked on intensifying and strengthening those flaws.
“Weaken the struts, you weaken the structure,” she remembered her father once saying of a support that had given way on a bridge that had collapsed.
“A chain is only as strong as its weakest link,” she mumbled another of her father’s sayings.
“Beg pardon?” Cail asked.
“I was just thinking out loud,” she said and reached up to touch the medallion that hung around her neck. “The chain is so finely wrought yet strong.”
“It’s called a sniemmagh dy lajer,” he told her. “It means knotted strong in the old language.” He clucked his tongue at the horses, snapped the reins. “It’s said it can’t be broken.”
“That’s good to know,” she replied.
They were nearing Euan’s place and she could see her husband’s brother leaning against the porch rail. It was uncanny how much they resembled one another and considering Euan was dressed in the same unrelieved black in which Cail was clad, the fact they were identical twins was even more pronounced.
“Gonna rain,” Euan said as Cail drove the buggy in a semi-circle in front of the cabin.
“Need it,” Cail acknowledged.
Without a word of greeting to his new sister-in-law, Euan strolled over to the buggy and climbed in the back, scooting over to sit directly behind his twin then swiveling his body in such a way he was facing Lorna.
“Reckon Jubal will be well enough to lead the meeting today?” Euan asked as Cail set the buggy rolling.
“He was pretty bad off yesterday. It wouldn’t surprise me if he stayed home.”
“Does it seem like the end is near for him to you?” Euan questioned. He was staring intently at Lorna’s stony profile.
“Aye, I’m afraid it does.”
“Do you think Maggie will be there today?” Lorna asked. She kept her eyes straight ahead—feeling Euan’s keen perusal but choosing to ignore it.
“A woman’s place is at the side of her husband,” Euan answered though she hadn’t asked the question of him.
“No, I doubt she’ll be there today,” Cail said, turning his head to give her a warm look. “Sadie will, though, so you don’t have to worry about being alone. You’ll soon be friends with all the Hill folk.”
A snort from the back of the buggy let Lorna know what Euan thought of that statement. Her fingers were threaded together in her lap and she flexed them like claws, hiding the action in the folds of her skirt. As the two men discussed the health and impending demise of Jubal Regis, she conjured the Book to mind and began to mentally turn the pages until she found a page with a spell for causing back pain.
* * * *
By the time Cail pulled the buggy into an open area where a dozen or so others sat, the sky was a dark pearl color and Euan was shifting uncomfortably in his seat.
“Back bothering you?” Cail asked as he stepped down and saw the pained look on his twin’s face.
“Aye and I don’t understand it. It was doing okay when I got up this morning,” Euan said, wincing as he, too, left the buggy with a hand to the small of his back. “Now, it’s hurting something fierce.” He rubbed his back, face scrunched against the discomfort.
“Well, just take it easy. If you need me to go home, I’ll have Sam take you,” Cail told him. He walked around to help his wife to the ground. He smiled at her but she did not return the gesture as he lifted her from the buggy. His smile wavered.
“Where do I need to take the cobblers?” she asked, moving away from him as quickly as she could.
“They need to go into the Meeting House,” he said. “I’ll help you carry them.”
“Why should you?” Euan asked. “That’s woman’s work, Cail. Let her see to it.” He headed for the long building Lorna knew was the Meeting House without a backward glance.
“Cail?” Lorna questioned.
Cail’s face turned red and he looked away from Lorna’s arched eyebrow. Shoving his hands into his pockets, he shrugged then fell in behind his brother.
“Son of a bitch,” Lorna hissed under her breath. She narrowed her eyes and Euan stumbled, nearly falling. Her smile was nasty when Cail had to snake out an arm to keep his twin from pitching to the ground.
“Temper, temper,” came the low, amused whisper in her ear.
Lorna could feel Chrysty’s hand smoothing over her rump. She stood still as that phantom hand moved along her waist then gently touched her breast. She smiled then sighed as the
touch vanished. She turned to pull the box containing the cobblers from under the back seat but found it was empty. The cobblers were no doubt already in the Meeting House where her demon had sent them.
“And with just a little something extra added to each dish,” Chrysty cooed in her other ear.
“Something I hope that causes as much trouble and pain to the menfolk as possible,” she mumbled softly.
“You may count on it, dearling.”
Spying Sadie with a trio of other women, Lorna headed toward them. In the distance, thunder boomed and the four women looked up with wide grins.
“Definitely looks like rain,” Sadie commented as Lorna joined them.
“We sure need it,” Ellen McKenna stated. “I’ve been a’praying for it.” She winked and the women laughed.
“You haven’t met Alana,” Sadie said, introducing one of the two women Lorna didn’t know. “She’s our brother Wiley’s wife.”
Lorna shook hands with Alana then smiled at the third woman Sadie informed her was Sam’s mother, Mary Reid. She took Mary’s hand and would have spoken to her but an older lady came hurrying up to them.
“I think we’d best be getting in, ladies,” the woman said. “Don’t want the men to have to send for us. They’re all inside.”
“Lorna, this is Tippy Kirkpatrick,” Sadie said.
“Lorna,” Tippy said with a nod. “We are pleased as punch to have you with us.” Her dark brown eyes danced in a face filled with wrinkles. “I just know you’re gonna be a true asset to the women of the Hill.”
“I’m gonna try, Tippy,” Lorna said as they all started toward the Meeting House door.
Thunder boomed again and the women broke into laughter that was quickly cut off as they entered the building, for the men, seated on the left side of the two sections of seats facing the podium, were turned and glaring at them.
“Remember your decorum, ladies,” the man standing at the podium snapped. “Be ye seen and not heard in the house of the Lord.”
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