by Trudi Jaye
Tilly grabbed at Cal’s jeans, attempting to pull them down. Cal laughed softly and pushed her hands away. He stood back and dragged them off quickly, until he was standing naked in front of her. Tilly held her breath for a moment, unable to take it all in—his body, his expression, his touch.
She let it out again as he moved close, put his hands to her face, and kissed her. She wrapped her legs around his body, and he put his fingers between them, gently probing. “You’re so wet,” he said against her neck.
“I want you,” she replied simply, arching her back toward him until her body was pressed hard against his, skin to skin.
He slowly pushed into her, filling her completely, and Tilly gasped as the sensations hit her full force. She clung to his body as he pulled out and plunged in again. And again. The heat between them grew, and Tilly’s breaths came in gasps as she rode the waves of desire cascading through her body. When she came, her scream filled the kitchen, and he joined her moments later. She was only half aware when he picked her up and carried her to his bedroom, where she curled against his body and fell asleep.
For the first time in a long time, everything felt right.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
A knock on the front door woke Tilly. She stretched out her arms and opened her eyes to an unfamiliar room. But Cal’s scent was there, even if he wasn’t. She breathed in the smell of spices and honey, loving that it hadn’t changed in all these years.
Her eyes opened wide when she recognized the voices at the door. Rilla and Jack. Frantically, she looked around the room for her clothes and relaxed when she saw a clean shirt and trousers lying across the back of a chair. Cal had grabbed her a change of clothes from her room.
Dressing quickly, she tried not to let the frantic beating of her heart overwhelm her. It didn’t matter if they threw her out. She hadn’t lived here for a long time. But the thought of Cal, his soft touches and careful glances, had her breathing unsteadily as she walked down the hallway to the kitchen, where all the important discussions seemed to happen in this house. If she had to leave now, it would hurt even more than it had the last time.
“Hi, Tilly,” said Rilla. “This is Jack, my husband.”
The tall, serious man beside Rilla bowed his head.
“Hi.” Tilly studied their faces, trying to predict what they were about to say. Rilla looked neutral, but Jack’s face didn’t even leak a hint of friendliness, just tension and anger. Her heart sank. They were going to tell her to leave after all. Tears filled her eyes. Beside her, Cal moved closer, his hand touching her back.
“Tilly…” Rilla began softly. “This has been hard for us. You’ve admitted your mother was at the start of everything, the reason we now face the terrible odds stacked against us.”
Tilly nodded. They were right. She deserved to be thrown out. “It’s okay. I understand.” She stepped away from Cal’s hand. It was too much of a reminder of what she was going to miss out on when she left. Cal stepped closer again and grabbed her hand. When she tried to pull away, he just held tighter.
“Do you?” Rilla tipped her head to one side.
“Of course. You want me gone. I’ll pack up tonight and leave immediately.” Tilly swallowed the tears lodged in her throat, trying to be strong in front of the Carnival leaders.
Rilla took a step forward, reaching out to grasp Tilly’s other hand. “Oh, no, Tilly. That’s not what I mean at all. I don’t understand how you’re as lovely as you are, given the life you’ve had to lead. We want you to stay. But we need your assurance that the Carnival comes first.”
Tilly shook her head. “My sister…”
Rilla nodded. “Cal told me about your sister. Kitten, isn’t it?”
Nodding, Tilly tried to blink away the tears.
“What if we promise we’ll make it a priority to get Kitten away from the people your mother is working for?”
“I’ve tried. Believe me, I’ve tried. They’re too strong, too powerful. Curse magic makes them so strong.” Tilly heard the whine in her voice, but she couldn’t do anything about it. She’d been fighting them for so long.
“We’re strong too. And we’re getting stronger all the time. With someone like you around, we’ll be even more than we already are.”
Tilly frowned. “Someone like me?”
Rilla nodded. “Who defends those she loves at every turn. Who thinks of others before herself. We would like you to stay. But we need to know you’re committed to the Carnival. If you commit to us, we’ll commit to you and to your sister.”
Tilly let out a ragged breath. It didn’t seem real, and she wondered if she was still asleep. She glanced back at Cal, who grinned and squeezed her hand. “Of course I can do that. This is the only place I’ve ever felt at home.”
Rilla grabbed Tilly in an embrace, her arms tight around Tilly’s shoulders. “I’m glad to hear that.”
Tilly stepped back and looked at Jack. He was smiling, although not widely, and he held out his hand. Tilly shook it, nodding to him. “You don’t need to worry, Jack. I take my promises seriously.”
“It’s good to have you on board, Tilly,” he said, his low voice rumbling along her spine.
Tilly shivered. She had a home.
***
Leaning back into the hot pool, Tilly sighed. The water rippled over her body, soothing her senses and calming her thoughts. It had been the worst moment of her life, having to admit to Cal, Garth, Viktor, and the others what she’d done. That she’d been using them. But Rilla and Jack had understood, had promised to help get Kitten back. Rilla had even hugged Cal and told him to take care of her in her new home.
Home.
It was a strange concept. Tilly still felt edgy about being here at the Carnival, safe and sound, while her little sister was in the lion’s den. But she was going to take care of that, and now she would have help.
Footsteps sounded on the gravel, and she glanced up as Cal walked toward her. She smiled.
“I thought I might join you,” he said. He pulled his shirt over his head, showing off the sleek muscles on his chest and arms. He pulled off his shorts and climbed in naked.
Tilly’s heart skipped a beat.
This time, instead of sitting across from her, he slid into the water and came to rest right next to her. His added warmth sent a shiver up Tilly’s spine, and she took a shaky breath. She didn’t know what to make of this new revelation that Cal was on her side no matter what. What did he want from her? She didn’t really know, and she was trying to keep her hopes in check.
“How are you feeling?” he asked. He lifted one big hand and placed it against her cheek.
She shrugged. “A little shell-shocked. I can’t believe they didn’t throw me out.” She paused. “Thank you. For standing by me and convincing them I could still be trusted.”
Cal smiled down at her, and she caught a glimpse of the boy she remembered. “I know you and what you’re capable of. You’d never do anything like this without being forced. And as soon as I heard you talk about Kitten, I knew what happened.”
“What do you mean?” Tilly asked cautiously.
“You always defend people. When we were kids and someone was down and out, you were the one who helped them out. You got us into so many scrapes, but most of them were because you were trying to save some animal or fix some problem. Even Indigo, who you’d refused to speak to after she told on us that time, you helped her when she broke her arm falling off the climbing frame. You’re a natural born defender.” He paused. “It’s what I always loved about you.”
Tilly’s breath stalled at his words. He said he’d loved her back then. But how did he feel now? She searched his face and couldn’t see the answer she needed. “What about now?” she asked softly, almost afraid of his response.
He moved closer, and slowly, softly, his lips touched hers. Sparks flew, and he deepened the kiss. Tilly lifted her arms and ran her hands over the hard muscles of his shoulders. She shivered in response to the heat welling inside her
. He’d been her first love, and now she’d discovered she’d always loved him, had never stopped loving him.
“I love you,” she murmured against his mouth, hoping against hope that he wouldn’t suddenly throw it all back in her face and announce it had been a cruel joke.
He smiled down at her. “I love you back, Tillemina Shaw.”
THE END
Bonus Short Story: Wrecked (or How It All Began…)
The good ship Winifred
Just off the Virginia coastline, 1715
Constance clung to the ship’s rigging, her hands frozen and bloodied. The wind had long since pulled her hair out of its tight bun; it hung in a long dripping tangle down her back. The rain pounded at her from above, leaving her clothes heavy and wet.
The sea clawed at the ship, trying to drag them into its depths. It was like a great angry beast fighting their every move over its back. She shivered. She couldn’t swim, so she’d go down faster than anyone else, a tasty morsel for the beast’s belly.
Darkness lay heavy over the ship, only the shouts of the crew let her know others were still nearby. Every so often she would catch a glimpse of an eerie glowing circle through the clouds. The lunar eclipse had stolen even the small amount of light they might have expected from the moon during the storm.
Under her feet, the ship rocked over the waves like a bull off to the spring markets. Her foot slipped and she clutched again at the ropes, holding on with all her remaining strength. It wasn’t going to be long before her hands slipped completely off the ropes. A terrified whimper worked its way up her throat, but Constance refused to give in to the weakness. She swallowed it down and glared out at the storm surrounding her.
Lightning flashed through the sky and Constance jerked, her foot sliding out once more. Her heart pounded in her chest and her breath hitched. She had thought she was too tired to be startled, but the lightning’s burst of power frightened her even now, as she prepared for her death aboard this God-forsaken ship.
A massive wave pelted sea water over the ship, shoving the vessel even further to one side. Constance gasped as the cold water soaked into her long skirts and stole away the last of her body warmth. For a moment it seemed like her legs might give out from under her, and she held herself tight to the ropes. She longed for the relative calm and the reeking stench of the below-decks berth she’d been cursing for the last six weeks.
The crammed ship and lack of good food and water had meant it was an uncertain journey over the sea from England. Death and disease had been their constant companion. But none of them had expected a storm this big—especially so close to America they could actually see land.
A massive tree of lightning flashed again. This time she steeled herself, and was able to catch a glimpse of the rich folk fighting for a place on the last of the three ship’s tenders not far from where she was hiding.
“I demand you let me onto that boat immediately. Do you know who I am?”
She heard the voice even through the storm. In the burst of brightness from the lightning she glimpsed a tall man in what had once been fine garb looking down his nose at a sailor helping people onto the small boat. The gentleman was barely keeping his feet, and he clung to the rail, but he still managed to convey his sense of self-importance.
The burly sailor looked at the man like he was insane.
Darkness descended again, and Constance heard another voice call out.
“Ho there. If he is to be given special treatment, I shall have it also.” The voice was young and pompous. Lightning flashed, and a young man with a gold braided jacket and fancy pantaloons became visible as he poked his trout-face at the crew member. His hair was plastered down onto his face, and he had a wild look in his fishy eyes.
Constance grimaced. The rain made them look ridiculous, but they didn’t seem to see it. This wretched storm had equalized them all.
“Sirs, stay in line. There’s room for everyone.” The sailor barely looked at the men before the darkness returned. He’d been not-so-gently pushing a gently-bred lady into the boat. At least it was women and children first, even if it was the just the gentry.
She huddled further back into her corner. Some of the more fortunate below-decks folk—those with more money and influence than Constance possessed—had made it onto the two earlier tenders along with the toffs. But there was no way she would have that privilege. Not unless she could figure out a way to sneak on the boat.
“Rain covered her face, and she wiped the moisture away. Closing her eyes, Constance tried to pretend she was somewhere else. The rocking of the boat was the gentle rocking of her mother’s arms, and she was wet because she’d just stepped out of a warm bath. She tried not to let the tears burning at her throat spill out.
If she hadn’t crossed Larkin, she wouldn’t be here. It was her own stupid fault. Anger stirred in her chest. She’d been soft, helping that kid. It had seemed the only choice at the time, but she should have known better than to piss off the crime lord. Now she was paying for it with her life. She bit at her nail, chewing on the quick. If only she’d stayed to face him. She glanced up at the violent sky overhead. At least she would have had more of a chance against him than this raging beast.
Lightning hit the sky again. It was like the moment a match was lit, that quick flick of heat and power, but on a massive scale. This time thunder followed, rolling over the night sky, rumbling like a set of drums. It drowned out the arguments, and for a moment time held still. Constance paused in her breathing, waiting for something to happen. But the thunder simply ended, and the toffs continued struggling and fighting to get onto the lifeboats.
Just as another fork of lightning spread across the sky, a shaggy head appeared over the top of every else, and Constance’s breath hitched.
Sunrise Jolly.
She’d thought he would be on one of the other small boats already in the water. He’d been below-decks with the rest of them, but he could charm the elbow off a donkey. She’d seen him at it, convincing a sailor to give him extra dried fruit for the kids, or lend him a game. She wondered if he was as good at getting a pretty girl to give him a kiss.
She frowned into the stormy darkness. Probably.
There was no way Sunrise Jolly could be as generous as he appeared. He must have a fault. Handsome and charming men were always terrible womanisers. She tightened her lips. It was galling to admit she found him so attractive, just like all the other eligble women below-decks. She’d thought she’d long ago learned how to avoid being conned.
Lightning lit up his blonde head as he strode across the deck toward her, his eyes searching the shadows. She bit her lip. What was he looking for?
Something about Sunrise Jolly had pulled at her ever since she’d first glimpsed him leading his troupe up the gangplank of the ship, smiling and joking with the sailors as they passed by. He’d had a small carpet bag in his hand, and a lute slung over his broad shoulders. She’d been hiding among the big oak barrels sitting on deck, waiting to be loaded below. She’d paid for her berth, but until the ship sailed, she’d been hiding out from Larkin. His tentacles reached everywhere across London; it was entirely possible he’d find her even after she’d boarded the ship.
It all seemed so long ago now. So unimportant.
Constance clenched her fists. She wished Larkin had come for her. Then she wouldn’t be stuck in this nightmare of wind and rain.
The ship shuddered again and she lost her footing. Her stiff, frozen fingers were ripped from the ropes that had kept her safe. She slammed down onto the wooden boards, and slid wildly along the slippery deck. Desperately Constance grabbed for something to halt her fall, but her cold hands couldn’t find purchase.
She was almost to the edge of the ship, certain she was about to meet her fate in the thrashing waters below, when a pair of strong hands grabbed her from behind and pulled her back against a muscled chest.
“Hold tight, Constance. It’s not our turn to die just yet,” a deep voice whispered in her ea
r.
Constance shuddered, not entirely in reaction to being saved at last minute. His arms around her waist and his warm breath on her neck affected her in ways she didn’t quite understand. “I thought you’d be on one of the first boats, Sunny,” she said, an angry sneer in her voice. Damned if she would be another of his flirts, even now.
“You’re welcome, Constance,” he said, grimly. But he kept her crushed tightly against his body, like he knew she didn’t really mean it.
She touched his forearm, lightly, just to make sure he was real. His arms tightened on her fractionally, and then he released her, tucking her back into a spot on the deck that was somewhat sheltered.
“Stay here,” he said gruffly. “I’ll return for you.” Rain dripped down his face, and plastered his curly hair to his head.
Constance looked into his golden brown eyes. “Where are you going?” she asked, grabbing his arm.
“To arrange our transportation.” He waited a heartbeat. “Will you wait?”
She hesitated, then nodded. She would wait for him, no question.
Then he was gone, striding off into the night, as if there wasn’t a storm raging around them, and the boat wasn’t tipping and rolling like it was a dying fish in the bottom of a fisherman’s boat.
She forced herself to take deep breaths, to calm down. Would he really be back? Probably not, sneered a small voice somewhere deep inside. It came from the small hardened part of her that had spent the last ten years eking out a living on the streets, doing whatever it took to stay alive.