by Taylor Brent
“Good gracious!” Margery exclaimed. “Your hands are like icicles.”
“I’m a little cold,” Jill said, sipping the hot cider. “But I’ll be okay.”
Margery narrowed her eyes and then marched around the table and grasped Jill’s chin, gently pulling her face up to the light.
“You are paler than a ghost, child,” Margery scolded. “You go lie down on one of those comfy couches in the living room while I make you something to eat. Your father will build up the fire for you.”
“But I wanted to stay and visit with all of you,” Jill protested.
“Then we’ll all come to you in the living room,” Margery countered, placing her hands on her hips.
She glared at Danny and Luke who both jumped up and agreed. They escorted Jill into the living room, and Niyol followed after giving Margery a grateful look. Margery returned his smile, then bustled around the kitchen putting together a snack for Jill. Rose studied her friend for a moment and then looked toward the living room.
“I’m not taking very good care of her, am I?” Rose asked Margery, her face flashing with guilt.
“Nonsense,” Margery replied. “You’re running an inn and taking care of your guests. Besides, Rose, you haven’t been pregnant before, so you can’t understand how it gets. Jill just needs to listen to her body more. You’re doing a great job with her.”
Rose gave Margery a small smile. “I’ve never been the nurturer you are, Margie.”
“You have your own strengths, Rose,” Margery answered.
Rose laughed and nodded. “Well,” she said, amusement coloring her voice. “Go feed the girl before her father pulls all his hair out with worry. I can’t imagine you would be very happy to see all that gorgeous hair disappear. You’ll miss the chance to run your fingers through it.”
“What are you talking about, Rose?”
Rose shrugged, and Margery narrowed her eyes.
“I know you aren’t meddling in my life, Rose,” Margery said, a slight warning in her voice. “Because you promised you never would.”
“Actually, my dear Margie, I promised I wouldn’t meddle with you and Mitchell. I never said anything about not meddling with you and Niyol.”
“There is no me and Niyol,” Margery snapped, scooping up Jill’s plate and stalking out of the kitchen.
“Not yet,” Rose said, smiling and turning the stove down to a simmer before following Margery into the living room to join the others.
Chapter Six: A Lesson in Desire
The fire was roaring when Margery stepped into the living room. It had taken Niyol no time at all to get it started. She gazed around at the scene in front of her. Luke and Jill sat on the sofa in front of the fire while Danny lounged in an armchair nearby and Niyol relaxed on the loveseat. They were all laughing and chatting, and warmth radiated from them. Margery couldn’t help the longing that stole into her heart at the sight. Here was a real family who loved each other.
Niyol looked up at her and smiled, turning the longing into something more primal. He gestured for her to come closer, and she did, half expecting her legs to shake under her. Her legs remained steady, however; the turmoil seemed to be just inside herself—which she supposed was a good thing. Margery handed Jill the plate of food as she passed the sofa to sit next to Niyol, settling beside him and watching as the young woman tore into the food as if she hadn’t eaten in weeks. Niyol was right; Jill wasn’t taking care of herself.
Rose walked in and noted Jill eating ravenously. Her thoughts must have been similar to Margery’s, because she grimaced before sitting in the chair next to Danny, looking guilty and thoughtful as she stared into the fire.
“The snow’s coming down hard,” Luke said. He had gotten up to look out the window. “Rose, do you think anyone will come to the bar tonight?”
“It’s a Friday night. There will be plenty who brave the snow. But I still think it would be a good idea for you to stay here tonight, Margery. I imagine I’ll be putting up others who don’t want to risk the drive back.”
“Or those who are too drunk to drive,” Danny added. “The cabs won’t come up the pass in this weather.”
Rose nodded and looked at Margery.
“I can stay,” Margery answered. Ainsley was at her father’s house, so there was no need for Margery to rush home. “I’d like to call Ainsley, though. Just to let her know where I’m at if she needs to reach me. She has my cell number, but you never know.”
“I’ll show you the phone while everyone else helps open the bar,” Jill offered. “We can meet them down there.”
Margery frowned. “Are you sure you feel up to that? You should probably get some rest.”
“I feel better after eating, and I’ll just sit at the bar and watch people for a little while. I promise I won’t overdo it.” Jill smiled at Margery before standing and gesturing her toward the phone in the kitchen.
In the kitchen, Margery dialed Mitchell’s number, waiting patiently while it rang three times. Mitchell answered and put Ainsley on. Margery listened for a few minutes while Ainsley told her about the fall festival her dad had taken her to, and all the fun games they had played. She told Margery they were about to play a board game together. Relief flooded Margery at the news that Mitchell had taken her words about spending time with Ainsley to heart. She told Ainsley that she was spending the night with Aunt Rose and that if Ainsley needed anything, she could call the inn. They said a happy goodbye, and Margery glanced at Jill. The young woman looked a little better after eating something, but she still looked tired.
“Just an hour or two,” Margery said to her, “and then, it’s time for bed.”
Jill grinned at her and nodded. They walked arm in arm into the front room with the huge bookcase that was the hidden entrance to the bar downstairs. It had a speakeasy feel to it, and Rose liked to play that up a lot. Back in the day, when the townsfolk of Springvale had run all the brothel workers out of town, Kate Callahan had allowed the girls to work at the inn, creating secret entrances to the rooms they used so that Kate couldn’t get any real pushback from the town. During Prohibition, Kate’s granddaughter had turned the cellar into a speakeasy, and Rose’s family had kept it running since then. Rose had renovated the space, and it quickly became the most popular bar in the area.
The two women walked through the bookcase and down some wooden stairs into a small square room with barrels on one wall and shelves on the other. In front of them was a doorway leading to a much larger room. They walked through the doorway and toward the stone bar. It had a mirror running the entire length behind it and liquor lining glass shelves in front of the mirror. A few people already sat on the bar stools in front of the bar. Luke was playing the piano that rested on a platform next to the bar. Margery knew from experience that Rose sometimes held karaoke nights and used the stage for that purpose. She hoped that wasn’t the plan for tonight.
The pair sat opposite Rose who was filling glasses with her special brew. Rose smiled and poured Margery a glass and then gave Jill a glass of root beer which was also homemade—although by Danny and not Rose.
“I don’t know what Danny does to this stuff,” Jill said after draining her glass. “But it is amazing.”
Rose laughed. “I’ll pass that along to him.”
Margery sipped her beer and looked around at the people who had braved the snow to come out. Most of the people in the bar were guests at the inn although there were a few locals. Margery’s eyes lit on Niyol, and she couldn’t help the smile that spread across her face.
He really was an attractive man. His broad shoulders showed through the layers of flannel and thermal he wore, neither doing anything to mask his rippling muscles. He had tied his long hair back in a braid—his usual style—which accentuated his high cheekbones and angular jaw. Margery took the chance to drink him in, her fingers itching for a paintbrush. His eyes met hers across the room, and he made his way over to her, a small smile on his face.
“Everything goo
d?” he asked when he got to her.
She nodded.
“Want to go over there and talk?” he asked, gesturing further down the bar, away from both Luke and the piano and Jill and Rose who were looking at them with mischievous smiles on their faces.
“Sounds good,” Margery said, following him over to two bar stools.
Jill and Rose exchanged glances.
“Have you been practicing the love personality test?” Rose murmured.
Rose was from a long line of matchmakers, using a series of questions to gauge people’s “love personalities” and match them together. Her ancestors had called it magic, but Rose had taken enough psychology classes to know it was pure science. The magical part of it was that she had never been wrong about a couple before. But that was just because Rose was so good at reading people and their true feelings. She was trying to teach what she knew to Jill to pass on the family legacy.
“I’ve been practicing a little,” Jill admitted.
“Why don’t you practice on your father?”
Jill wrinkled her nose. “Why him?”
“Because I already know his personality, and I can tell you if you’re right.”
“He took the test for you? Just tell me his answers. I can deduce his love personality from there.”
“He didn’t, but once you get good enough—or you know someone well enough—you don’t need the test,” Rose said, winking at Jill.
Jill gave her an exasperated look.
“Oh, don’t give me that look. He’ll be more than happy to help. Just a second.”
She walked over to grab Niyol, dragging him away from Margery.
“It will only take a few seconds, Niyol, and she needs the practice,” Rose was saying as she pushed him down into a chair next to Jill.
“Fine,” Niyol sighed. “Ask away.”
Jill asked him the questions Rose had taught her, jotting his answers down on a napkin. After the last question, Niyol stood to leave.
“You don’t want the answer?” Jill asked.
Niyol shook his head. “I’m not interested in knowing my love personality. I’ve got all the love I need from you and Rose.”
He walked off, and Jill frowned after him.
“Something’s going on there,” she muttered.
“Glad I’m not the only one who noticed,” Rose agreed. “What’s your assessment?”
Jill looked down at her father’s answers and thought a few moments. “He needs a calm and nurturing person. Someone with an inner strength but a gentle personality.”
Rose who nodded, smiling. “You did great,” Rose’s expression turned mischievous. “Now, do you know anyone like that?” She winked.
Jill scowled back at her. “Butt out of people’s lives, Rose. All this meddling will come back to bite you in the ass if you don’t.”
Rose laughed but didn’t comment.
Niyol walked back over to Margery, feeling a little exasperated. He knew all about Rose’s matchmaking, but he hadn’t realized she was teaching the technique to Jill. It made sense for her to want to pass it on to the only living female relative she had, but it didn’t sit well with him.
He rolled his eyes at himself; he was probably just upset they used him as a test subject. Niyol didn’t want to know anything about his love personality, and he certainly didn’t want any matchmaking done on his behalf. As he sat down, he glanced over at Margery and tried not to grimace, schooling his features into a smile. He had no idea what he was doing with her; he just knew he couldn’t stay away.
“Sorry about that,” he said in a low voice.
“Oh, it’s fine. I hadn’t realized Rose was teaching Jill the matchmaking thing, although I guess it makes sense,” Margery murmured.
Niyol nodded. “How did the call go with your daughter?” he asked, changing the subject.
“Good. Mitchell took her to a fall festival, and they were getting ready to play a board game, so I think he took my words to heart. At least the ones about Ainsley.”
“That’s good.”
“For as long as it lasts,” Margery said bitterly. “Mitchell has a way of doing well for a little while, but then he gets bored and goes back to being a selfish ass. I hope he doesn’t do the same thing this time, but I’m afraid he will.”
“I’m sorry,” Niyol said for lack of anything better to say. He didn’t know how to help with this particular problem. “Hey,” he said as an idea popped into his head. “Do you want to play pool?”
Margery smiled and nodded, and he escorted her over to the pool table, racking the balls with deft hands.
“I’m sorry you had to witness our argument yesterday,” Margery muttered.
Niyol was leaning over the pool table, about to take a shot, but he paused at Margery’s low apology. Frowning, he studied her for a few seconds. “You have nothing to be sorry for, Margery. Your ex-husband was the one who caused the scene, and if I were a betting man, I’d bet my life savings he did it intentionally. He seems to enjoy humiliating you.”
Margery’s face flushed. “He’s always been that way…”
Niyol grunted his disapproval, not trusting himself to speak. Mitchell was the father of her child, and Niyol didn’t know her well enough to know how she would react to his honest opinion of Mitchell. Leaning over the table, he hit the white cue ball, breaking the triangular group of balls at the other end of the table, scattering them across the green cloth.
“Just because he’s always been like that,” Niyol said, stepping closer to Margery, “doesn’t mean it’s right. From what I heard, you were merely trying to talk to him about concerns over your daughter.”
“He has a temper,” Margery mumbled, her eyes widening at Niyol’s proximity.
Niyol knew her wide eyes were not a sign of distress but of desire. That—and the blush on her cheeks—made his blood roar through his veins, and he had to take a moment to focus on what she had said.
“Just because you have a temper,” he said, his voice rumbling near her ear and sending shivers down her spine, “doesn’t mean you have the right to lose it whenever you want. He’s a grown man. He should know this.”
Niyol stepped back from her, clearing his throat. While he had been talking to Margery, the sound in the room had faded away, and the world had narrowed to just the two of them. The spell broke as he turned away, and sound came rushing at him from all sides.
Chapter Seven: Gentle Passion
“It’s your turn,” Niyol told Margery, clearing his throat.
Margery looked at the pool table a little dubiously and struggled to get her breathing under control as her heart rate slowed down. She had agreed to a game of pool to get out from under Niyol’s heated gaze, but she had no idea what she was doing. She cast a bewildered look toward Niyol who grinned at her.
“Margery, have you ever actually played pool before?” he asked, amusement in his voice.
“I’ve seen other people play it.”
He chuckled. “Come here. I’ll show you how to do it. This round can be a practice one.”
Margery stepped closer to Niyol, inhaling his scent as he motioned her closer to the table. He smelled like vanilla, sandalwood, and a spicy undertone she couldn’t name. She walked up to the edge of the table.
“It’s a good idea to turn your hips this way,” Niyol said, his strong fingers grasping her hips and turning her sideways. His hands lingered there for a few seconds before sliding away. He reached his arms around her, enveloping her from behind. Margery fought the urge to lean back into him and concentrated on what he was saying. He placed the pool stick in her hands and then cleared his throat. “You have to lean over,” he rasped in her ear.
Heat spread through her body, pooling just below her belly button and burning her face. “Okay,” she squeaked and bent at the waist.
His hands came around her again and rested over her hands, positioning them on the pool cue. Margery forced her mind away from another stick she could be holding and tried to pay
attention to Niyol’s instructions. She realized how much of a mistake it was to give him her full attention when his scent hit her like a freight train a moment later, making her pleasantly dizzy. She turned her head to look at him.
Would he think me crazy if I threw him down and had my way with him right now? she thought, her mind buzzing from both the alcohol and his scent. Probably, but it might be worth it.
A small smile spread across her face, and she mentally shook herself. What the hell was wrong with her? She was acting like a teenager. Taking a deep breath through her mouth, Margery mastered her self-control with difficulty and listened as Niyol explained the best strategy for hitting the cue ball and why she should avoid hitting the black eight-ball.
Talking about pool strategy was the only thing Niyol could think of to keep his mind off the warm, soft body pressed against his. He knew the moment he leaned over her that this would not end well for him. It had been too long since he had held a woman in his arms, and it didn’t help that Margery smelled so damn good. Niyol moved her hands into the correct position and helped her pull back on the cue, giving it a little extra power to make the shot he had told her about. The pool cue met the cue ball with a small crack, sending the white ball into its intended target with another softer crack.
Clearing his throat, Niyol straightened. “Now you try,” he said, his voice hoarse.
Margery nodded and moved around the table, squinting at the balls scattered on the green felt. She picked a shot directly across from him and, leaning over, took careful aim.
Niyol bit back a groan and looked at the ceiling as she gave him a view of her ample cleavage. At this rate, he wouldn’t survive the game. He heard the two cracks signaling she made contact, and then she squealed. He tore his gaze away from the ceiling and looked back at her face. She was beaming at him as she rushed over and threw her arms around his neck.
“I did it,” she squeaked in his ear. “I made my first shot!”
