She’d handle Lily. Take her rightful place in Nash’s arms. He loved her, she knew it. If he didn’t realize it, he’d learn to. Rebecca, Connie and Lily bound them together. He’d know he was at fault for their deaths as much as she was—and that death and secrets yoked an unbreakable tie.
He’d be her forever love. Her forever home. And if he left, she would follow him to every square inch of the globe and poison any other woman he ever looked at. She would warn him of her intention, too.
Because you had to be fair about it. If you didn’t play fair, you were as bad as the rest of them, deserving of hell and vengeance and death. Those filthy sluts deserved to die.
As did Lily.
Chapter 11
Nash stroked the curve of Lily’s hip as she lay on her side, one arm stretching out, head cradled on her forearm, eyes closed. He wished he had his camera to capture the image of his dark, rough hand as his fingers rested on the fair plane of her hip. Lily’s skin wasn’t a pure vanilla-white. Pinpricks of pink and silver and green and blue pastels shimmered, as if she’d been dipped in crushed mica. A black-and-white photo alone couldn’t capture the nuances of Lily’s beauty.
One day he’d have to ask her permission to photograph her nude. Not for public view, but for his own nostalgic remembrance when he was alone again far from his bayou home.
Home. Nash eased up on an elbow, determined to move past such sentimental musings. Special as it was, the bayou was not home. The world was his home. He’d achieved a slice of fame, and a milder portion of fortune, but he was in his prime, beginning what could be a long, profitable career. He could maybe even become the best wildlife photographer ever.
Better yet, he would leave Bayou La Siryna with the issue of the mysterious stalker resolved and be here for his grandfather in his dying days.
If this morning was no hallucination—no trick of the mind—if Lily was truly his destiny, then she would have to follow him. But he couldn’t imagine her uprooting from this place and her family.
Nash ran his hand up and down Lily’s right thigh. “Hey, sleepyhead, you’ll burn up if you stay naked out here with no sunscreen.”
Blue eyes popped open. “True. My skin burns in no time.”
“I remember.”
Even as a kid, Lily had been fastidious about applying sunscreen and avoiding direct sun at midday. Nash grinned as Lily retrieved and shook out the now-wrinkled nightgown. She pulled it on and began braiding her long hair, the colorful beads of her friendship bracelet highlighting the graceful bend of her wrist.
“Allow me.” He took hold of her hair, gently teased it into three parts and weaved them into a thick plait, enjoying the feel of shifting satin in the roughened skin of his palms and fingers. He tugged gently at the end. “You have anything to fasten it with?”
“No, but this will do to keep the wind from whipping my face until we reach the lodge.”
Nash kissed the exposed nape of her neck and an unexpected tenderness twisted inside. It would be hard to leave Lily. And he wouldn’t until the killer was found and she was safe.
With effort, Nash brushed aside the worry that invaded his peace. This morning was for exploration and he wanted to prolong the lightness from his burdens. He couldn’t recall the last time he’d felt so free, so light and open.
Inspiration struck. “How about a morning swim?”
“You know I can’t swim.” She stood and stretched, the thin nightgown so transparent he could trace the rosy nipples and thatch of hair between her legs. He imagined the gown wet and plastered against her skin.
“C’mon, I’ll teach you,” he said past the thickness of his tongue. “It’ll be fun.”
“I don’t want to learn.”
Lily stepped off the blanket and dug her pretty pedicured toes in the sand. “Shouldn’t we head back to the lodge for breakfast?” she asked.
Nash rose. “We’re on an island. Now’s the perfect time to learn to swim.”
Impatience swept across her face. “Maybe later.”
“Okay.” He dropped a kiss on her forehead. “No swim lessons. But let’s bathe in the ocean. You don’t have to go farther than waist-deep. I’ll hold you.”
Lily turned up her exquisite nose and he laughed, feeling as playful as he had in childhood. On impulse, he scooped her into his arms and twirled her around. Lily threw back her head and giggled. The sound enchanted him.
“You trust me, right?” he asked.
She lightly brushed her fingers along the side of his neck. “With my life. After all, you saved me once before.” She grew serious. “I never thanked you properly.”
“No need,” he assured her. “I think you just did.”
Lily kissed him on the mouth, a hard press of lips that left him wanting a repeat performance of the morning’s activities. But if he did, he’d lose all track of time. Nash strode to the water. A quick skinny-dip, and then they needed to get dressed before the ferry arrived.
“What are you doing?” Lily shrieked, craning her neck toward the sea. “Put me down.”
Nash hesitated. Did the water scare her that badly?
She leveled him a gaze that meant business. “Now.”
Wordlessly, he released her. Lily hit the sand running, bits of white sand puffing at her heels. Near the dunes she turned and waved, face sunny again.
“Beat you to the lodge,” she shouted.
Would he ever understand her? The woman was even more of an enigma than most. But he liked that she stood up to him, not afraid to express her feelings. He was used to women fawning over him, seemingly grateful for his attention.
It wasn’t as fun as you’d think. Not after a few years, anyway.
Nash gathered his treasures, placed them in the medicine bag and sheathed the knife, everything now blessed and cleansed by the sun. He shook sand from the blanket and made his way back to the lodge, wondering at Lily’s changing mood.
A hiss of pipes sounded as he climbed the front steps, announcing she was in the shower. He debated joining her but decided it’d be best to wait for Lily to offer such invitations. Their rustic accommodations didn’t include a large supply of hot water and he doubted there would be any left when Lily finished. With a sigh, Nash set his things on the porch and headed back to shore. He’d bathe in the ocean alone.
Cleansed, he returned to the lodge and was greeted by the smell of bacon. Sex had kicked his appetite in gear and he followed his nose to the kitchen. A pot of cheese grits bubbled on the stove and three crisp bacon slices lay on a paper towel.
Nash opened a pine cupboard and got a bowl. “Lily?” He ladled the gooey orange goodness into the bowl and rattled around the drawers for a spoon. “Lily?” he called again.
No answer, but he was too hungry to wait. He spooned up a mouthful of the grits, and the melted cheddar and butter was hot, creamy heaven. He looked out the kitchen window, eating grits and taking bites of crisp, salty bacon. Where had she gone? He was used to the solitary life, but an unexpected pang of disappointment hit him, as well as worry for her safety. Would have been nice to share breakfast. She must already be out with her watercolors, searching for a subject to paint.
At least he wouldn’t have to worry about keeping her amused while he worked. But he’d caution her from now on to let him know where she was before other people arrived on the island. He wanted to keep a close watch.
Nash’s fingers tightened on the counter. In the excitement of the morning, last night’s events had slipped to the background of his mind. Now they burst forth again, the ripped canvases, angry slashes of paint and, worse, the hissing snake.
Who?
Nash circled around the long list of women he’d ever been involved with, inwardly wincing. Sex had been too quick, too easy for him in his youth, and he’d done little to resist the women who’d made adva
nces. Eventually, he’d grown bored with the easy pickups and ashamed of the casual flings. Both Rebecca and Connie had been longer-term relationships; they hadn’t seemed to mind his frequent trips and lack of exclusive affection.
Nash mentally shook off the painful reveries. This didn’t do anybody any good. He stretched, stiff muscles alerting him he’d been reminiscing more than a few minutes. He went to the fridge, poured a glass of orange juice and took a sip, the sugar hitting his veins with a pop of instant energy.
Faint splashes and voices drifted through the open window. Nash checked the stove clock and frowned at the time—almost 7:30 a.m. Ned was usually predictable in his scheduled ferry arrivals: 8:00 a.m., noon, 3:00 p.m. and 5:00 p.m. People had arrived and he didn’t know where Lily had run off to. Nash set the glass of OJ down on the cheap laminate countertop so hard he was surprised the glass didn’t shatter.
He started to run out the front door in his underwear. “Damn it,” he muttered, hand paused on the door handle. He snagged a pair of jeans hanging on the back of a chair in his bedroom. Zipping and buttoning the waistband, he took off in the direction of the voices, somewhat mollified that there only seemed to be a few voices and the tone was light. No screams or angry words signaling danger.
Past a bend in the curve of a shallow inlet, he found an older woman with hair the color and length of Lily’s slipping on a pair of jeweled sandals. She wore a long coral sundress and her eyes widened when she caught his glance, then cut quickly out to sea.
Nash followed her gaze and saw two clones of the woman as well as another with short, dark hair. Was that—? His eyes narrowed and he shaded them with one hand until he made out the delicate planes of Lily’s face.
Lily—who repeatedly claimed she couldn’t swim and had refused to even get her toes wet with him this morning. She was too far out in the ocean for her not to be swimming or doing some sort of dog paddle that kept her torso above water.
She lied to me. Disappointment warred with anger and confusion. Why lie about such a trivial thing? More important, what else had Lily lied about? Even after the morning’s intimacy, he noticed a secrecy, a holding back on her part.
The older woman on shore let out a shrill whistle and three startled faces turned as one in his direction.
A seagull shrieked overhead. They all are of two spirits.
Whatever the hell that meant.
“Hello,” said the woman, walking toward him with a confident smile. “You must be Nashoba Bowman. I’m Adriana Bosarge, Lily’s mother. We’ve met before when you were a little tyke.”
She took his arm and started leading him back to the lodge. He glanced over his shoulder, but Lily and the others had vanished.
“You’ve placed my daughter in danger,” Adriana admonished, drawing his attention to her once again.
The tone was light but the reprimand was there, sharp steel wrapped in delicate silk.
“Yes, ma’am, but I’m watching her and won’t let anyone hurt her.”
She cocked a brow. “Watching her so well that her family arrived and you didn’t even realize it for several minutes.”
Nash’s face burned, but not from the summer heat. “What did you do—bribe Ned to ride out early?”
“Ned’s an old friend,” she answered, sweeping past him and up the porch steps.
Which didn’t really answer his question.
He followed her inside, where she settled in on the old, faded sofa. Her dress billowed out with a coral glow that attracted the room’s light and energy. What an arresting photographic subject she’d make. He’d develop the photograph in black-and-white; the only spot of color would be the dress. Nash shook off his professional wanderings. This moment could be an opportunity. Lily and the others might traipse in at any moment.
“Great to see Lily in the water this morning,” he said, settling in a chair opposite Adriana. “Considering her childhood trauma.”
“What?” She straightened, alarm flickering across her placid face. “Oh, that.” She jiggled a set of thin gold bangles on her right arm. “Lily told you about it, then.”
“Yes. Must have been a difficult time. How did she escape?”
“Escape from what?” Adriana’s smooth brow furrowed and her jaw dropped a fraction until she regained her composure. “I really don’t like to talk about it. You understand.”
“Escape her fear of the water,” he insisted. He understood he was being fed a load of bullshit. Secrecy must be a Bosarge family trait. Privacy and reticence Nash understood from his own childhood warnings not to broadcast his grandfather’s healing abilities outside their tribe. But outright deception was an altogether different kettle.
“No. I really don’t understand.”
Adrianne crossed her legs and smiled. “That’s because you don’t have children and understand how hard it is to talk about their problems. Be a dear and fix me a glass of cold water or iced tea. Whatever’s easiest.”
He rose reluctantly, but Southern manners had been drilled into him too deeply to refuse her request or to continue challenging an elder. And this was Lily’s mother, after all. No point in antagonizing her family.
Nash entered the kitchen, poured a glass of iced tea and returned.
Adriana thanked him demurely and nodded at the chair opposite the sofa.
“I’ll be direct with you, Nashoba. I am not thrilled about your relationship with my Lily.”
I bet you aren’t. His fingers dug into the soft, worn leather of the armchair. Bitterness peppered his mouth and stomach, but he kept his tone civil. “Because we’re so different, right? Our backgrounds and heritage are too far apart.” Which was the polite way of saying he was the wrong color, the wrong ethnicity for her lily-white daughter. Like he hadn’t heard that before.
“Oh, not that.” Adriana shrugged and gave an I-know-something-you-don’t smile. “Although the two of you are monumentally mismatched in every way. But that’s not my greatest concern. I’ve spoken with Tillman and Landry. Your last two girlfriends didn’t fare too well.”
“I would do anything to change what happened.”
“I’m not blaming you. But of all humans, I would have wanted someone at least safe for my daughter.”
Humans? What an odd choice of words.
At the creak of the porch steps he turned to look out the front window. Lily and the other blonde looked so alike it was startling. Jet was the odd duck with the black hair and eyes. All had damp hair and T-shirts that clung to their sea-slick skin. They laughed and chattered like tourists on a vacay.
Lily entered first, wearing an insouciant smile like armor. “Mom’s not giving you the third degree, I hope.” Her tone sounded deliberately chirpy. She sank into the chair next to him and began twirling fistfuls of hair.
“She’s your mom. She has the right to speak her mind,” he said flatly.
The other two scampered in, sat on either side of the sofa by Adriana and began chattering away in earnest.
“I’m Lily’s cousin, Shelly,” the blond said, introducing herself. She turned to Adriana. “How long are we staying this morning?” she asked. “I’m teaching a water aerobics class at noon.”
“And don’t forget you’re supposed to take me shopping today in Mobile for nursery stuff,” Jet piped in.
It dawned on Nash that they wanted to spare him the mother-dragon act by engaging Adriana’s attention on them. He faced Lily.
“Have a nice swim?”
“I don’t know what you mean.” She crossed her legs and her right knee jittered back and forth.
He pointed to her damp hair. “You’re all wet. Besides, I saw you out there swimming.”
“No, you didn’t.” Lily’s eyes were steady, her gaze steadfast and true. “I only stepped into the water a few feet, and my hair’s wet because Jet splashed me.”<
br />
Jet nodded their way. “That’s right. Sorry, Lily. I do still like to tease my little sis.”
“Lily’s afraid of the water,” Shelly said. “Ever since that time she almost drowned.”
The girls had evidently concocted a story on the way in. “Of course,” he agreed, folding his arms across his chest. Unbelievable. Nash frowned, but he wouldn’t call Lily out in front of her family. A frisson of disappointment gnawed his gut. After the earlier intimacy, a chasm now separated them and he felt further from Lily than the day he’d bumped into her at Winn Dixie.
“Excuse me a moment,” he said, walking out of the room. He’d had enough of their chatter. The minute he and Lily were alone, he’d get some answers.
* * *
Adriana’s long hair tossed wildly in the sea breeze as they stood on the shore, saying their goodbyes.
“Sweet seven seas, Mom. What did you say to him?”
Adriana lifted her chin. “That the two of you are totally unsuitable.”
Jet stood behind Adriana and rolled her eyes. “No one’s good enough for Lily.”
Lily inwardly winced at the slight bitterness in Jet’s voice. Having their mother’s favoritism growing up had complicated their sibling bond. Things were better between them these days, but Lily realized she’d often been insensitive in the past, especially last year when Jet had won her event in the annual Poseidon Games. Her sister had trained relentlessly for months, yet when Lily had entered and won the Siren’s Call event, as she effortlessly did every year, the family and merfolk had excessively lauded her instead of Jet. Yet she’d only done what came naturally.
Lily made a mental note to have a private talk with Jet to apologize and try to set things right. She couldn’t change her mother’s behavior, but she didn’t have to encourage it.
Shelly, ever the peacekeeper, hugged Lily’s neck. “We need to get a move on. If Ned sees us, he’ll wonder how we got here without his ship.”
Siren's Call (Dark Seas) Page 15
