by BETH KERY
When Dylan held her, it felt different. It grounded her; it was also a pleasure to her senses. When he sought her out in the darkness, it seemed like a natural pull of their bodies, as if when they were close together, they were meant to touch. Alice had the strange, vague idea that he felt reassured by having her against him, as if it eased him to know she was present. It was a fuzzy concept that made no sense now that she considered it lying there in the darkness.
He was probably worried she was going to sleepwalk again, like she had that first night when she slept at the castle.
She shivered involuntarily recalling that night. Surely it had all been a product of her imagination. Either that, or she really had been walking around while in that realm between sleep and wakefulness.
Fear slinked into her awareness.
Don’t think about that night. You’re going to spook yourself.
Since she’d told herself not to recall the details of that night, that’s precisely what her brain decided to do, of course. She could hear that eerie woman’s call replay in her memory. Her eyes opened in the darkness, searching out familiar landmarks in the large suite. Her ears, too, went on high alert, as if on a search mission.
And she heard precisely what she dreaded hearing.
Aaa—eee!
Alice started. It was like the voice from her memory had jumped out of her head and into the house. It was indistinct, and she couldn’t quite make it out, but she had the single horrifying thought that the voice had been calling her name.
“You okay?”
“What?” Alice asked in a high-pitched voice, Dylan’s deep, sleep-roughened voice ringing in her ears. His hand opened on her naked hip and followed the curve up to her waist. It took her a moment to realize she’d awakened him when she jumped. She waited, anxious for the woman to call again so that Dylan could confirm it. Silence pressed on her ears.
“Alice?”
“Uh … yeah, I was dreaming. Sorry I woke you.”
His warm hand coasted down her thigh. “It must have been a nightmare. You’re covered in goose bumps. What were you dreaming about?”
“That woman …” she muttered.
“What woman?”
She swallowed thickly. “Nothing. It’s fading,” she evaded. “I don’t remember.”
He didn’t reply, but his warm hand kept moving, soothing her roughened, tingling skin. She was positive she hadn’t convinced him.
As the seconds passed, however, she realized she was being ridiculous. There was no way Dylan could have possibly understood that strange, atavistic fear that had swept through her just now. She sensed him lifting his head, and realized he was glancing at the clock.
“It’s the time we usually wake up,” he said. She snuggled deeper into his hold, taking solace in it.
“I know. Bad luck.”
“Maybe not.”
She turned her chin toward him and felt his nose and lips nuzzle her ear. “What do you mean?”
“We could take advantage instead of going back to sleep right away,” he said, making her shiver in pleasure as his lips moved against her ear.
“What’d you have in mind?” she asked, wiggling her ass against him. He grunted softly and spread his large hand over her naked hip.
“That, for certain,” he said dryly, sinking his fingers into her buttock suggestively. “But maybe we can go up and catch the sunrise first?”
She turned onto her other hip hastily. “Really?”
“Yeah. Why not?”
“For someone who claims he doesn’t do romance, you certainly get some pretty romantic ideas.”
“Are you complaining? Because if you are, you’re going to cut off my attempts just as I’m getting started,” he said dryly, whipping the sheet and comforter off them.
She jumped and laughed when he swatted her butt playfully. “No complaints, I promise.”
“Then on your feet, you romance-slacker.”
TEN minutes later, Dylan led her from the kitchen to the backstairs they’d taken that first evening of the party, when he’d found her alone in the dining room. Dylan had quickly and efficiently made them cups of coffee using the Keurig machine in the large kitchen. They both clutched steaming mugs now as Alice followed him up to the second, third, and then a fourth level of the stairs.
“Where are we going?” she whispered. Dylan had turned on a dim light to illuminate the narrow set of stairs, but Alice realized that their spontaneous little activity in the darkness had a furtive, exciting feeling to it, similar to how a lot of things felt in this grand old house.
Just like a lot of things felt with Dylan.
“There’s an east-facing balcony. This area is known for our sunsets over the lake, but if you can see over the tree line, the sunrises are nice, too. The view is good up here.”
“You sound like you watch the sunrise there a lot,” Alice said, stepping through a door on the fourth floor when Dylan opened it.
“Not a lot, but I’ve told you I’m not the best of sleepers.”
Alice didn’t respond, because they were on an even narrower staircase now, going from the third to the fourth floor, the wooden steps squeaking loudly beneath their bare feet. She opened the door at the top of the stairs and they walked into the inky-black, warm night. The light from the opened doors allowed her to navigate across a long twelve-foot-deep terrace.
“A swing,” she exclaimed, ignoring several Adirondack chairs and making a beeline for a large wooden porch swing suspended from the eaves. She plopped down on the swing, careful not to spill her coffee. She caught Dylan’s small smile as he came to sit next to her.
“Little girls always love a swing,” he said, pushing with his feet so that they swayed gently.
“This big girl does, anyway,” Alice said, grinning. The ropes squeaked in the hooks above them, the sound cozy and somehow relaxing as it resounded into the darkness of predawn. “It’s old,” she observed, running her fingertips along the worn wood.
“Yeah. I’ve been meaning to have it repainted,” Dylan said, his arm going around her. Alice snuggled up next to him, her cheek pressing against his T-shirt-covered chest. She still felt a little sleepy, but also very content.
“White,” Alice said quietly, the sound of the squeaking swing lulling her.
“Hmmm?” Dylan asked, his hand cupping her shoulder. Alice noticed distractedly that although his query sounded casual, he’d halted taking a sip of his coffee mid-motion.
“You should paint the porch swing white,” Alice clarified. “And put pots of flowers along there,” she said, waving her coffee cup along the white posts of the balcony. She took a sip of her coffee. “That’s how it should be.”
“I see,” Dylan said before he lifted his coffee cup to his lips. Even though he sounded very sober, Alice was sure he was humoring her dozy flight of fancy.
“The sky is starting to lighten a little,” Alice murmured a moment later, her gaze on the tree line. The birds had started their predawn chatter. “I think I’ll call Maggie later today.”
One long finger reached and caressed her neck. “What made you think of Maggie?”
“I don’t know,” she mumbled, turning her face into his T-shirt and inhaling the delicious scent of clean cotton and Dylan. “I guess it’s because this has been the longest I haven’t talked to her since I moved into her place a few years ago.”
“You guys talk regularly?”
“Yeah. We talked at school, of course, in Maggie’s lab. But we usually had dinner together at her house, and we’d watch TV and stuff.” She kissed his chest before taking another sip of coffee. “I miss Doby,” she reflected after a moment.
“Doby, the flea-ridden dog who hates the vet?”
She looked up into his face, beaming. “You remember I told you that?”
He shrugged. “Apparently,” he said with a small smile. Their gazes held. “Maggie sounds like she’s family to you,” he said, stroking the shell of her ear.
Alice thought
about that for a moment.
“She is, I guess. She’s been very good to me. If it weren’t for her, I don’t think I could have gotten through graduate school. You’d think she won a spot as a Camp Durand counselor herself, as proud as she’s been about me getting in here.”
“She’s almost like a mother.”
Alice blinked. “Maybe. Sort of. Certainly more of a mother than I’ve ever had,” she laughed shortly. “What about you?” she asked tentatively after a moment, taking a sip of coffee and straightening.
“You better not be thinking I’m like a mother figure.”
She laughed at that. As if. “No, I mean … do you ever see your mom? You never talk about family.”
“That’s because I don’t have any.”
“None? You don’t have brothers or sisters?”
He shook his head. “Not that I know of.”
She nodded, recalling all too well what he’d told her about his mother.
“I know you never knew your father,” she said in a rush, as if to get it over with. “But your mom? Is she still alive?”
“No. She died of liver disease five years ago.”
“I’m sorry,” Alice whispered, peering into her coffee cup. She didn’t like it. She didn’t like it at all, thinking of Dylan being so alone in the world. “Was she”—she swallowed thickly—“proud of you? For all you’d accomplished in your life? I hope she was, because you’re an incredible success story.”
She looked into his face when he didn’t respond immediately.
“No.”
“Oh,” Alice said, her shoulders slumping despondently.
He grimaced. “It’s not like that. I never expected her to be proud. My mother never wanted me to begin with. I was a burden to her from day one,” he said in a hard tone. “Why should she care what I was doing with my life? I’m not even entirely sure she knew what I did for a living, let alone had the wherewithal to be proud. It’s not a tragedy, though. I had someone, like you had Maggie.”
“Alan Durand?”
He nodded. For several seconds, both of them sat silently and stared out at the coming dawn. Alice could clearly make out the shape of the tops of the trees now against the backdrop of a pinkish gold sky.
“Was your mother an alcoholic? Or a drug abuser?” Alice asked softly, thinking of what he’d said about his mother dying of liver disease.
“Alcohol was her poison.”
Alice nodded in understanding. “I’m waiting for Sissy’s liver to give out any day now. It’s a miracle that woman keeps walking, the things she does to her body …”
The hand on her shoulder rose to her chin when she faded off. He nudged her slightly and Alice looked at his face.
“Do you love her?” he asked.
“My mother?”
“Sissy.”
Alice just stared for a moment. “I don’t want to love her. Most of me hates her.”
Her blunt words only seemed to highlight the other part. Alice wished like hell she didn’t cringe every time she witnessed or thought of Sissy destroying herself bit by bit every day, knowing there wasn’t a damn thing she could do to stop it. A fiery glow bathed Dylan’s rigid features now.
“What about you? Did you love your mother?”
His mouth tightened. “I didn’t want to love her,” he repeated her words after a pause.
A small spasm of emotion coursed through her. She brought her feet up next to her on the swing and curled into him, her cheek pressed to his chest, her hand on his abdomen. He cupped her shoulder, bringing her closer against him.
Together, they watched the burning dawn in a full, compassionate silence.
AFTER the orange ball of the sun had risen over the tree line, Dylan stood and wordlessly took her hand. She wasn’t exactly sure why, but Alice’s chest felt tight and achy as he led her through the house to his bedroom. There, he began to undress her, his actions deliberate and unhurried. When she finally stood before him, trembling and naked, he whisked both of his hands down her sides, cupping her hips.
“You’re a living miracle,” he said quietly. Something in his somber stare made her throat ache, making speech impossible. Was it reverence? Gratefulness? How could that be?
How could any of this be?
It was, though. There was no denying it, no matter how much she might want to try. Emotion swelled in her, uncomfortable and unstoppable. The truth hurt. It erupted in her, tore at her, like the Alice she’d been wasn’t big enough to hold it anymore. Is this why people rejected or sabotaged love, because they knew it would destroy what they were, that it’d shatter that old shell of identity and force them into being something different, insist that they transform?
She was falling for him. So hard.
Dylan held her stare as she lay on her back on the bed a moment later and entered her. The monumental fullness overwhelmed her. It broke through her brittle, hard-won armor.
She’d already fallen for him, and there was no going back.
“Shhh,” Dylan whispered, leaning down to kiss the tears that had spilled on her cheeks. She stared up at him as he began to move, knowing he saw her for what she was, vulnerable and naked, but unable to look away. Unable to protect herself. Sensation and emotion crashed together violently. Fused.
He should have been a near stranger to her, but he wasn’t.
Dylan braced himself on his arms and leaned down to touch her mouth with his.
LATE that morning, Alice heard the sound of dishes rattling in the distant kitchen. She grabbed Dylan’s hand, and he came to a halt, turning to where she’d stopped in the hallway.
“Is that Marie in there?” Alice asked him anxiously.
Dylan nodded. “Yeah. She usually makes a big breakfast on Sundays if I’m here, even though I tell her not to,” he replied quietly.
“Aren’t you worried about her seeing me?”
He came closer and lowered his head, brushing his lips against her temple. Alice shivered and stepped into him. They’d fallen asleep after they’d made love and when they’d wakened, shared a shower. Dylan hadn’t shaved afterward, and there was a scruff on his jaw and around his mouth. He looked delectable, wearing a pair of jeans and a dark blue T-shirt, his feet bare, his thick lustrous hair still a little damp. He smelled even better, Alice acknowledged as she lifted her face and nuzzled his whiskered jaw. They hadn’t spoken about that rush of violent emotion she’d experienced while they made love, but somehow, those moments were present, like a delicate, newly born energy that seemed to pulse between them. She swore Dylan felt it, too, because he couldn’t seem to stop touching her. Maybe she was being stupid, but she felt wonder in his searching, pleasure-giving hands and lips.
“No,” he answered against her lips a moment later. Alice blinked, straining to recall the topic. “Why shouldn’t Marie see you? She has no problem speaking her mind with Louise or me, but she’s discreet. This is her domain as much as mine,” he added wryly as they resumed down the hallway. “And the queen keeps the secrets of her castle safe.”
“You make it sound like there are lots of secrets to keep up here,” Alice observed wryly as they descended the back stairs.
“I’m sure Marie knows about more of them than I do,” Dylan replied. They crossed into the kitchen. Alice inhaled a delicious aroma.
“What are you saying behind my back?” Marie called out from where she stood behind a large granite-topped kitchen island. She was a middle-aged woman with a square jaw and short honey-colored hair. Her heft suggested that she appreciated her own cooking as much as anyone, and wasn’t afraid to admit it. She held an egg-dripping whisk over a mixing bowl while she regarded Alice with a frankly curious stare.
“Just the usual praise,” Dylan replied smoothly, leading Alice toward the cook. Marie’s doubtful smirk said she wasn’t buying it, and Dylan’s reciprocated one indicated he didn’t expect her to. Marie nodded when Dylan introduced them and resumed beating her eggs.
“Nice to meet you, Alice. Ther
e’s coffee ready, and I’m making omelets for you both. We’ve got muffins in the oven. I set the table for two on the terrace.”
“How did you know I was here?” Alice asked, bemused. This was the first time she’d ever shared Dylan’s bed and awakened with his staff there. God, what if Marie or Louise had heard them making love?
“I saw the two Keurig containers, and figured Dylan had a guest,” she said, referring to the discarded cups they used to make their coffee early that morning. “There’s no need to look like that,” Marie told Alice bluntly as she poured the egg mixture into a sizzling skillet. “He doesn’t usually have them stick around to serve them coffee. I figured we were due an exception, and made breakfast for two.”
Alice gave a bark of stunned laughter at the cook’s statement. Marie must have clearly read Alice’s flash of concern as she’d watched Louise’s preparations. Does Dylan regularly have female companions for his Sunday brunch?
Dylan cleared his throat to break the awkward silence. “Tactful to the last,” he muttered under his breath. Marie gave him an arch look. He just shook his head and rolled his eyes as he opened a cabinet. “Coffee, Alice?”
Suppressing a grin, Alice nodded.
“It’s so beautiful out here,” Alice said a while later before she popped her last bite of succulent apple cinnamon muffin into her mouth. The day was shiny and golden, and Alice didn’t think that was just because of her euphoric mood. “So this is your normal Sunday routine?”
“No.”
“What is, may I ask?” Alice asked with amused sarcasm over his brevity. He smiled.
“The same routine as every day of the week.”
“Work, you mean?” Alice replied knowingly.
“If I’m here, I usually take my omelet in the den,” he said, pointing his fork toward a window in the house. He took a swift bite of fluffy egg, watching her steadily, and swallowed. “But I’m traveling half the time. If I am here, I often skip breakfast altogether and go into the office. This is nicer,” he said after he took a swig of some juice.