by Joey W. Hill
Page 56
“I’m sorry. I apologize, Master. I don’t know . . . it won’t happen again. ” She hurried to the bathroom, not looking back as she closed the door, put her hands to her heated cheeks. Was it possible she didn’t have the strength to manage or suppress it? It seemed to be taking her over.
In the bedroom, Niall pressed his forehead to the quilts. He realized his mistake as the warmth of her body, the smell of her, filled his senses. Straightening, he willed his aching cock to ease off so the fit of his trousers wouldn’t be this damn uncomfortable. Was it necessary to be that harsh? ’Tis new to her, the wanting. And a pure pleasure to watch, even if it’s pure hell to resist.
She’s learning to be a different kind of servant, but she’s still a servant, Niall. She needs the boundaries, the reminders. For someone with her training, it’s critical.
Ye just wanted to deprive me.
There was that added benefit.
Niall had a creative response to that, to which Evan responded in kind. The Scot heaved out a sigh, shoved off the bed. “Join me in the kitchen,” he called out to Alanna. “We’ll make a quick breakfast, then start packing. ”
Evan, down in the cellar, gazed at the final prints drying, but his mind wasn’t on them. Niall wasn’t the only one aching. He’d wanted to join them both last night, as well as this morning. Alanna had slept in the back bedroom with Niall last night, not just because she wanted to be near his servant. She’d already made the connection that Evan could remain in that bedroom, at least during the early dawn hours, and she wanted to be accessible to both her Master and his servant. She was chastising herself for letting her passion override his command, but he himself had never managed the heady experience of a servant so committed to pleasing him. If it had been the rote response of her training, he could have contained his own response, but she was right. They’d opened something inside of her, something he was fairly sure Stephen had never discovered, the true gem of what she wanted.
A Master who would let her love as well as serve him.
He’d proven to her that, when her will and desire were added into the mix, it increased the pleasure for her Master, but in his self-appointed position as mentor for that sensual treasure trove, he hadn’t expected what it would do to him and Niall. His servant was getting as captured as his Master by the intriguing contradiction of Alanna. Since becoming Evan’s servant, Niall had enjoyed many women and some men as part of their travels. But he hadn’t truly wanted a female heart since the death of his wife. The circumstances of her death, his guilt about not loving her as much as he felt he should, had kept a wall in place.
Alanna was breaking that wall down, in more ways than one, and she didn’t even realize it. It’s obvious how much he loves you . . .
Evan shook his head, made himself focus on the photos again. Soon he’d have to sleep, and he needed to pack these up now, so that when he rose at dusk they’d be ready to get on the road.
The rest would figure itself out. Or not. Small fish in a big pond, he reminded himself. He was valued among the vampires because of Lord Uthe’s sponsorship. Like Alanna recognizing it didn’t matter who she served, she was still a servant, he had no illusions as to how much influence that sponsorship gave him.
Some of his original humanity remained, but Evan thought it was more his isolated circumstances than humanity that gave him latitude to exercise things that most vampires didn’t. Compassion, interest in the minds of their servants, what they were thinking, feeling, wanting . . . Niall wasn’t all wrong about the blank canvas. Sometimes Evan did have to remind himself there was a value separate from his artistic impulses. A separate soul.
But a soul that was his. It was hard to resist the vampire compulsion that told him his servant was all his, to do with as he would. And now he had two of them.
But that compulsion also helped him do what he’d done earlier, keeping Alanna mindful of her service. Raised from birth to be an InhServ, mandated to come to that service a virgin, untouched except for the clinically in-depth sexual training they were required to have, she’d never experienced the glow of first love, that overwhelming rush of emotions that attended it, except in her early naive fantasies of what a servant was. As she herself had recognized, her fervor was like that of a Catholic schoolgirl, her strict upbringing creating a rhapsodic relationship with Christ, confusing it with mortal passion and desire.
As pleasurable as it was to see her explore her real feelings, he wouldn’t let her completely lose her compass. Despite what Niall thought, Evan wasn’t ignorant of the consequences of that. He was in charge of protecting her, and he didn’t see that as limited to the time she was under her direct protection. The blank canvas wasn’t blank. There were obstacles already painted onto it. No matter how much the artist wanted to step back and watch her discover the woman beneath the InhServ—the true reason she was such a remarkable servant—he wouldn’t let her drop all her defenses.
Over the years, Niall had become skilled at packing up quickly. Thanks to Alanna, the job became even more efficient. He’d anticipated having everything transported down the mountain to the waiting RV by dusk. Instead, they finished by midafternoon, so he enjoyed playing cards with Alanna and watching her prepare him dinner from the few provisions they’d left for that purpose.
She stayed quiet most of the day. Whenever they brushed hands in the course of their duties, she would still, like a bird deciding whether to take flight, then resume moving as if nothing had happened. When he met her eyes, hers would often skitter away as she smiled at something he said. He wanted to kiss her about twenty times, but held himself back, mindful of Evan’s words. Not so much because he was obeying, but because he did understand the other man’s logic.
Whatever it helps to tell yourself, my ever-obedient servant.
That made him snort, in a way that won a curious look from Alanna. It was almost midday at that point, so it was the last time he’d heard from Evan. His words had been slurred even then, telling him the idiot had pushed his waking hours longer than he should, probably finishing up his last film roll.
Since they had some spare time, Niall took her on a quick hike to a waterfall surrounded by jewel-toned autumn trees. The magical place won him the pleasure of seeing a rare, wide smile on her face. She leaned out on slippery rocks to put her hand under the water and feel its flow. It was the most natural thing in the world to hold her about the waist to keep her steady. When she looked up at him, eyes shining, he was lost in her brown eyes like a starstruck lad. It was absurd, and yet he couldn’t help smiling down at her.
Once they were back on level ground, they stayed by the falls for a while. He whittled at a knot he found, and when she came to sit by him, she studied it. “It’s a bear,” she exclaimed.
He nodded, handed it to her. “Rough work, but bears are rough creatures. Best not make them too refined. ”
She turned it over in her hand. “It would be an impossible task, anyway. ”
“Hmmph. ” He bumped her with his shoulder, and she smiled at him again.
“Why . . . ” She paused. “May I ask you a question?”
“Depends on the question. Have tae ask it, no?”
“Evan said you’ve never wanted to go back to Scotland. Would you tell me why?”
He could tell she was worried she’d bring on a dour mood, so he made an effort to appear casual about it. “People tend to romanticize things. We were hungry to the point o’ starving, cold in the winter. What we had as roads were as likely to kill ye, if you didnae turn into an old man trying to get anywhere on them. Nothing could change your lot in life, nothing that wasnae against God’s law or man’s. By the time I was born, the clans were long gone, that community and solidarity my grandda got all misty-eyed about. A lot of folks went to America, Canada, Jamaica . . . if they could figure out how to afford it. ”
His lip curled. “Walter Scott wrote his Rob Roy tale and reinve
nted Scotland, making it seem this place of romantic, undaunted heroes . . . For my time, that was an imaginary place. Scotland was strong enough to become its mythology later but I . . . couldnae reconcile myself to the lie and return. Evan has never made me go back. I’m . . . grateful to him for that. ”
“I saw the drawing of your children. In the box in the bedroom. I wasn’t prying,” she added hastily. “Just checking . . . ”
He shook his head. “You’re welcome to look through my life, lass. There’s not much to it. Evan sketched that on one of his visits to my home, watching the wee ones play by the fire. He won a smile out of Ceana, for no one but wealthy folk had pictures of their bairns. ”
Alanna sensed it wasn’t a moment for contact, but she drew close enough she was folded on her knees next to his elbow, where he sat on a rock by the creek. “In fact, Evan’s picture, for all it was just a pencil drawing, was much better. Those fancy portraits in the homes of noble folk were mostly poor, stiff things. There was even an artist traveling about Scotland around that time who had a stack of preset poses. He’d put the likeness of your head on top of whichever one you wanted. ” He gave her a wry grin. “’Twas one o’ many reasons I was suspicious of Evan. No one drew pictures of trees, rocks, hills. What was the purpose o’ that? He was a crazy heidbanger, was all, and somehow had enough money to support the nonsense. But the day he drew that picture, the wee ones were playing, and . . . ”
He stopped, staring at the waterfall. “For a long time, I carried it in a pouch to protect it, but things happened to damage it. Couldnae bring myself to throw it away, even when the lines all faded away. Then one day, Evan happens tae see it. A couple days later there’s a new one in my box, redrawn, just as he had done that day. Only . . . ”
A smile touched Niall’s face, twisting Alanna’s heart. “He’d added a dimple to Eric’s face. Said he’d forgotten it that day, having sketched it out so quickly. ‘Your son had a dimple,’ he says, ‘Just like you do. ’ Then he touches it. ” Niall brushed the corner of his mouth. Alanna, unable to restrain herself any longer, did the same. Niall’s gaze turned to her.