He snatched her wrist and placed it against his chest again. “Please… don’t stop.”
Clara realized then that the agony in his eyes was not from any pain she was causing him, but from need. He hadn’t been joking when he’d told her he needed her—his body was trembling from the force he used to hold himself back. Guilt swamped her. Who was she to deny him, especially since giving it to him would cost her nothing?
Taking a breath, she slid her hands underneath his tunic and pushed the fabric up, exposing his upper body. His chest rose and fell with his labored breaths as she glided her hands over the expanse of tawny skin. Tiny dark hairs teased her fingers as she explored the ridges and curves of muscle. When she leaned down to press a kiss against his chest, his entire body went rigid, and he let out another husky groan.
“Mmm,” Clara murmured, flicking her tongue against his skin. “I had no idea those were sensitive on a man.”
“A little too sensitive,” Kellan said through gritted teeth, and Clara giggled.
After a time, she pulled away, and Kellan groaned. “Clara, you’re killing me here.”
“I… I think it’s best if we stop. If I continue, I’ll be crossing a line I don’t think I’m ready for yet.”
“Is there a line?” Kellan wanted to know. “What’s holding you back, Clara?”
Clara pulled away with a sigh. “I… I don’t know, Kellan.” She didn’t know how to make him understand. “You’re not the one being asked to leave your way of life.”
Kellan flinched as though she’d struck him, and she continued. “I have friends who care about me, and an aunt who loves me and needs my help. What am I going to tell them? And how will I ever be able to see them again if I am living with you?”
“Clara, I’m sorry,” he said as she surged to her feet. “I…”
“Didn’t think about my end of things very much, did you?” she finished softly, her blue eyes sad. “I know. And that’s why I’m not sure I can do this yet.”
Turning on her heel, she left Kellan staring helplessly after her, and did her best to ignore the stinging in her eyes as she walked home.
* * *
When Clara came home, it was to find her aunt rocking quietly in her chair, a knitting project sitting untouched in her lap. Lines of sadness were carved into her face, and she looked about ten years older than she had at the funeral when she’d offered Clara a new home.
Grabbing the stool by the fire, Clara sat down next to her and took her hand. “You’re cold,” she said, startled by the icy touch of Eve’s hand. “Too cold. Are you not well?”
Her aunt shook her head. “I think I’m just getting old, child.” She squeezed Clara’s hand gently. “It’s hard, seeing young people die. Their whole lives are ahead of them, with such promise, and then it’s gone. Whereas I’m sitting here, comfortable in my sixties.”
“I’m sorry, ” Clara paused. “How are the Bennets?”
Eve shook her head. “Grieving. Poor little Katie, their daughter, is beside herself, and Judy is in no position to comfort her. Kent simply stands around with a dazed, lost look in his eye, like he’s a child instead of a grown man.” She sighed. “The funeral is tomorrow. You’ll come?”
Clara nodded. “Of course.”
Chapter Eight
Like the last funeral, Clara wore a borrowed black dress. Unlike the last funeral, it was simple muslin, and not the stiff, costly taffeta that, despite its color, had seemed almost too gaudy for a funeral. In this dress she felt simple, humble. Just a woman, coming to pay her respects to the newly deceased.
The funeral rites were not the boring, ostentatious and pretentious affair her parents had been treated to. These boys were well-known and loved by everyone, including the local pastor, and it showed. Rather than cold, stark faces, there were heartfelt tears.
Nearly everyone stepped forward to give their final words to the Bennet boys, including Lucas. He regaled a tale of mischief and fun that had everyone smiling through their tears, and gave them a heartfelt goodbye that had tears rolling down even Clara’s cheeks, who hadn’t even known them. She licked her lips, tasting salt as the caskets were lowered into the ground, and then covered.
After the funeral was over, when Eve had gone over to the Bennet family to offer her support once again, Clara found Lucas, who was standing off to the side, staring down at the graves with a pensive expression on his face.
“This was all my fault,” he murmured, frowning.
“What do you mean?” Clara asked, and he jumped, startled.
“It shouldn’t have happened,” he said, scratching the back of his head, his brow furrowed.
“I don’t see how their deaths could be your fault,” Clara persisted, not willing to let the statement slide. “You did say they were mauled by a beast, didn’t you?”
“Yeah.” Lucas sighed, his eyes returning to the grave. “I just… I wish there was some way I could have prevented it. They were good men. We’d been friends a long time.” Sadness swam in the depths of his blue eyes, and Clara’s heart went out to him. He seemed genuinely haunted by what happened to them.
“I think the same way about my parents,” she told him, taking his hand and rubbing the back of it with her thumb. He looked her way, startled, and then down at their joined hands. “If only I’d thought to save them instead of worrying so much about my own safety…” she shook her head. “I guess we truly find out what kind of person we are when faced with a crisis. And I found out I was a coward.”
“That’s not fair,” Lucas said, turning to face her fully. “You were frightened, and had never been trained in how to deal with that kind of situation. You were facing a group of men much stronger than you. There was no guarantee you would have done anything except gotten yourself killed. And if that had happened, I never would have met you.”
Clara smiled. “You always know just the right thing to say, don’t you, Lucas?” She shook her head. “I should be comforting you, not the other way around.”
Lucas squeezed her hand. “You are comforting me. You’re reminding me that there’s still good in my life, despite the bad things that happen around us. That there’s always something worth fighting for.”
He reached out to touch her cheek, and Clara stood, frozen at the depth of emotion in his eyes. Suddenly she felt terribly guilty about running off to see Kellan yesterday; Lucas and her aunt had been suffering even as they’d tried to help the Bennets through their grief, and she’d been sitting in the lap of a man who was not even remotely invested in her world. While they had been seeing to the needs of others, she had been seeing to her own.
Hating herself, she turned her face away, dropping his hand from hers. “I’m… I’m not a very good person, Lucas. Not like you.”
Lucas laughed. “There’s always a battle between good and evil within all of us. I don’t know anyone who hasn’t done things they’re ashamed of, made mistakes they wished they could take back. What matters is what you do now, as you look toward the future.”
Clara stared at Lucas as though seeing him for the first time—he wasn’t just a fun-loving farmer boy. He was a strong, intelligent man, attentive to the needs of others, and willing to see more than what was just on the surface.
“I don’t think I’ve ever heard you sound so… serious before,” she said, only half-teasing.
He shot her a small grin, lifting his eyes to meet hers. “Sometimes you have to be, you know?” He sighed. “And today is a serious day.” He offered her his arm. “Why don’t we go offer our condolences?”
Clara took his arm. “But I’m not sure what to say.”
He tugged her forward. “You’ll do just fine. I’ll be right by your side.”
* * *
Clara didn’t visit Kellan the next day. Instead she took care of the chores at home while her Aunt was visiting with the Bennets, and then just sat on the front porch for a long time, staring out into the fields as she mulled over her situation. Should she continue seeing bo
th men? It seemed that whenever she and Kellan were together, sparks flew, and it was hard to think of anything else but him. Yet when she was here, away from him, and the mating call wasn’t pulling her toward the forest, she was uncertain. She loved her aunt, and she cared about Lucas. There was a sturdy community of people here whom she genuinely liked, which included Lucas’s family. And she was certain that if she was given enough time with just Lucas that something could form between them.
But with Kellan’s hold on her, it threw her life out of whack. She wished she didn’t have to make a choice at all. It would be easier on all her loved ones if she could just step back and walk away.
When her aunt came home she was more exhausted than ever, and Clara began to truly worry. But Eve waved her off, simply asking Clara to make her a pot of tea, and that she would have some after a nap. Clara sipped some of the tea herself as her aunt slept, and then, finally restless, she wandered over to the Rivers farm.
“Clara!” Jamie, Amelia’s little boy, rushed outside the house as soon as he saw her through the windows. He threw himself into her arms, and she hugged him tightly. “You’re back! Have you come to play with me?”
Clara smiled. “I would love to spend some time with you, little one.” She ruffled his hair, looking up as Amelia came outside, a gentle smile on her face. It was a big change from the wary look that used to enter her eyes whenever Clara would come by. “But first I did want to see your Uncle Lucas.”
“He’s not here right now,” Amelia told her. “He’s still at the Bennets, helping Kent with the preparations for the Harvest.” She sighed. “My brothers are out in the fields right now along with father, and mother went out to the market. It’s been rather lonely here, and I’ve cleaned from top to bottom so that you could eat off these floors.”
“It sounds like you could use some company,” Clara said.
“I would love some.”
They played a game of ball with Jamie outside, and then retired indoors for tea and biscuits. Jamie wrestled playfully with one of the dogs on the floor while Clara and Amelia chatted about nothing in particular.
“It has been awhile since you’ve last been by. What have you been doing these days?”
Clara shrugged, trying to ignore the jump in her gut. “Oh, just taking care of our own harvest preparations, and keeping up with the chores. I… I think my aunt Eve isn’t feeling very well. She doesn’t complain, and refuses to see a doctor, but she fatigues easily.”
Amelia’s eyes widened. “Do you think she’s ill?”
Clara bit her lip. “I… I don’t know, but I know she’s much paler than she used to be, and colder too.”
“It could be that age is catching up to her,” Amelia remarked. “Still, if you need anything, just let me know.”
Lucas walked into the house, looking sweaty and tired, but his eyes lit when he saw Clara sitting at the table. “Well hello there. Didn’t expect to see you when I came home today.”
“I decided to drop in and visit with your family.” Clara smiled at him. “It’s been awhile since I’ve last been here. But don’t let me keep you from cleaning up. You look like you could use a wash.”
“You could say that.” He grinned. “If you come close enough, you’ll say I smell like I could use one too.”
Clara held up her hand and wrinkled her nose. “No thanks.”
She rolled her eyes as he laughed and walked off, then turned to Amelia.
“He really does have feelings for you, Clara.”
Clara sighed. “I know.”
Amelia frowned. “Does that bother you?”
“I… no. I know he has feelings for me, and I care very deeply about your brother. I just…” she trailed off, not knowing what to say. She couldn’t very well tell Amelia about Kellan, could she? “I just have other things to think about.”
Amelia nodded. “I know better than anyone else the kind of damage jumping into a relationship with a man can do when you’re not thinking.” Bitterness twisted her lips briefly into a sneer. “But I know my brother isn’t that kind of man. If you ever need someone to talk to…”
Clara smiled. “Thank you.”
Lucas appeared wearing clean clothes and looking absolutely stunning, his chiseled, suntanned face lighting up, as he made his way closer to Clara.
Clara smiled, approvingly. “How can you look so good even though you’ve just come back from doing back-breaking labor?”
He grinned at her, taking a seat at the table. “I’ve got lots of energy.”
Amelia arched a brow. “With the amount of food you shovel in, you should,” she remarked as he tucked in four biscuits in as many seconds. “If I ate as much and as often as you did, I couldn’t walk!” She grabbed the plate and stood. “I’m going to go clean up.”
Lucas grabbed the remaining biscuits from the plate as his sister passed by, and Clara couldn’t help but laugh.
* * *
The next afternoon Clara returned to the forest—she’d barely gotten through the night before even though it had only been a day since she’d last seen Kellan. He’d been right about the mating call strengthening.
Kellan was waiting for her at the end of the maze, and a profound relief swept over her as soon as she caught sight of him. The emotion was mirrored in his own expression, but it was tempered with wariness.
“You didn’t come yesterday,” he said as they walked back to his cabin.
Clara lifted her chin. “I needed some time to think.”
He nodded. “I’ve been thinking a lot about what you said.”
Clara blinked. “You have?”
He arched a brow. “You needn’t sound so surprised. I’m not completely insensitive. Although considering the way I’ve been acting lately, I suppose I deserve it. I know that I’m asking you to give up your entire life for me, and that I haven’t really given you much incentive to do so.” He paused. “If it were possible for me to leave my village to come and live with you, I would. But even if I weren’t concerned about my responsibility to the pack, the fact is that it would be too dangerous. If anyone ever found out that I was a shifter…”
Clara nodded. “We would both be executed.”
“I’ve heard that burning is in season right now,” Kellan remarked, making Clara shudder. “It still doesn’t excuse my behavior. If I want you to stay with me, I need to give you a reason to do so. And so here we are.”
They turned a corner, and Clara realized that he’d led her past his cabin and into the village square. The small, open space was filled with women chattering, but they all stopped and turned as one to look at her.
Leah rushed forward from the group, her hands outstretched, a welcome smile on her face. “Oh, Clara, it’s good to see you!” She gave Clara a gentle hug, then beamed at her brother. “I was worried you were wrong and that she wasn’t going to come today, but I should know better than to doubt your instincts.”
“What is this all about?” Clara asked, taking a wary step back as she looked over at the group of women. At least they were eyeing her with speculation and curiosity rather than outright resentment or hostility… but Clara didn’t like to be stared at regardless of the reason.
“Kellan and I thought the easiest way for you to become comfortable with the villagers is to… get to know them.” Leah took Clara’s hand and pulled her forward. “They’ve promised to give you a chance,” she murmured, “because they love Kellan and want him to be happy. So be sociable. I’m sure you learned how back in the London tearooms.”
The reminder dissipated some of the fear tunneling through Clara’s chest—Leah was right. She might be in the wilderness instead of a drawing room, and these women might be wearing muslin instead of silk, but the basic idea was the same. Drawing in a breath, she pasted a polite smile onto her face and allowed Leah to begin the introductions.
The introductions were made, the names of women young and old whirling through Clara’s brain too fast for her to be able to get ahold of. There were
several wooden tables set out, heaping with food, and they all seated themselves, rotating places so that each of the women would be able to talk to her individually.
Soon Clara no longer had to keep a firm expression plastered on her face—though these women were here to judge her, most of them were kind despite their fear of humans. Clara relaxed as she answered their questions about who she was, where she came from, what did she think of Kellan… and on it went. She was glad that someone had the foresight to bring along pitchers of cider—she would have lost her voice if she hadn’t been able to wet her throat.
Eventually she started turning the tables a bit, asking questions of the women, and trying to find out more about them. She learned that for the most part they led simple lives, which was partly because they were forced into isolation for their own protection. They were allowed to hunt with the pack, for they were shifters as well and couldn’t resist the call any more than the men, but otherwise they did not venture out of the village. To amuse themselves they indulged in arts and crafts—pottery, sculpting, painting—as well as music and dancing, often holding little competitions or festivals.
Mira, one of the younger women around Clara’s age, made beautiful jewelry from colored stones she had her husband bring back to her during his forest treks. She gave one of her pieces to Clara—a leather necklace with a dark purple pendant in the shape of a heart. Another woman, an older one, pressed a small clay pot with black and white designs painted on it into her hands. Several of the women decided to show off their musical talent, three joining their voices in song while two accompanied them with a harp and flute. Clara didn’t recognize the music they made, but it was uplifting, folksy, and made her feet itch to dance.
She wasn’t the only one who felt that way because many of the women left their seats to do so, joining hands with their friends and family as they danced. Clara noticed some of the men, who had been conspicuously absent, had started to appear, warily at first as they tossed glances toward Clara, but evidently they decided that if their women weren’t going to be bothered by her, they wouldn’t either, and joined in.
Happily Ever Alpha Page 9
