by Anne Bishop
Overcast? This wasn’t bright?
With his face still safely hidden by his arm, he grimaced at the prim tone in her voice. She’d been sounding like that since they woke up—as if they’d slept on opposite sides of the bed instead of being twined around each other.
And did she appreciate the fact that he had untwined himself instead of rolling that little bit necessary to bring her under him and feed the hunger she stirred in him? No, apparently she did not.
And the way she’d pulled his underwear out of the pack, with thumb and forefinger, as if it were encrusted with who knew what instead of being clean—and then calling it his “unmentionables.” When he pointed out it was called underwear, she told him it wasn’t made out of enough material to mention.
He’d never had any complaints. In fact, most women liked that next-to-nothing he wore under his pants.
And she wouldn’t have said anything either if you’d made love to her last night instead of acting like some prissy prig human. “I can’t,” you said. As if being a virgin meant the country girl couldn’t figure out what was making that lump in your pants. And you let her curl up on her side of the bed without explaining that it wasn’t your body that was having trouble where she was concerned. Not that you’re ever going to explain that—for both your sakes.
She’d gotten back at him, even if she didn’t know it. After she’d fallen asleep and he’d cuddled up against her, her dreams had shifted to a sweet erotica that didn’t go nearly far enough to satisfy the hunger in him—and left him panting with the effort to remain a passive participant instead of sliding deeper into the dream, as he’d done with so many other women, and taking her to the limits of his experience rather than remaining confined by the limits of hers.
But he hadn’t done that. Being so close to her physically, he couldn’t resist the lure of her dreams, but he’d held himself at the edge. Because she was innocent. Because she belonged in a landscape that saw the sun rise and set.
Because he was scared to death that if he had her once he wouldn’t be able to let her go.
“Are you still mad at me?” he asked, lowering his arm the rest of the way now that he could squint at the light without feeling like his eyeballs would cook.
“I’m not mad at you.”
The words said one thing; the tone of voice said something else. Definitely still mad at him. And it was funny, in a tear-your-hair-out kind of way. For all his experience with women, he’d never had to deal with moods. When the woman got moody, it was time to leave and become someone else’s fantasy lover.
But human men lived with female moods day after day, month after month, year after year.
They were out of their minds.
And he envied every one of them.
He looked around the clearing. In Sanctuary, the bridge that crossed over to this landscape was a simple wooden bridge that spanned a piece of a water garden. Lee had called it a one-way stationary bridge, which he hadn’t understood at the time. Now he did.
In this landscape, the bridge was just the space between two large stones set in the middle of the clearing—a space wide enough for a handcart but nothing bigger. And on this side, it was a resonating bridge.
Since he’d never heard of a bridge being stationary on one side and resonating on the other, he wondered if this was another unique aspect of Lee’s gift.
“Lee said to take the right-hand path when it forks,” Sebastian said, taking Lynnea’s stiff hand and leading her toward the edge of the clearing. “That will take us to Aunt Nadia’s house. She’ll be up by now.” He hoped.
The path out of the clearing was plain to see, but he wasn’t sure he would have found the fork if it hadn’t been for the sign nailed to a tree—a plain piece of wood with a bird etched into it.
“Don’t you ever visit your auntie?” Lynnea asked, censure now added to that prim tone.
“Three or four times a year,” Sebastian replied, feeling testy as they followed the barely visible path. “But I’ve never come here from that particular bridge.”
They walked in silence until the path ended at a break in the stone wall that separated the woodland from Nadia’s lawn and gardens. Releasing Lynnea’s hand, Sebastian stepped over the knee-high stones, then watched to make sure she didn’t stumble when she stepped through the break.
“Did something damage the wall?” Lynnea asked, sounding worried.
“Not as far as I know,” Sebastian replied, taking her hand again as he walked toward the house. “It’s been like that for as long as I can remember.”
“And you never offered to fix it for her? She’s your auntie.”
Another offense laid at his feet—as if he knew anything about fixing walls. Maybe Aunt Nadia knew how to deal with a woman in a snit. After all, she had a daughter, and, being older and sensible, she’d understand that by not becoming Lynnea’s lover, he was just doing what was right for once in his life.
The kitchen’s wood door was open to let in the fresh summer air. So were the windows. It looked dark inside the house compared to the daylight, but through the screen door, he thought he saw two people standing close together.
And something about the way they were standing…
“Hey-a!” he called. “Aunt Nadia!”
The figures jumped apart. One disappeared into another part of the house.
Sebastian strode up to the kitchen’s screen door and grabbed the handle just as Nadia hurried up to the door from the other side.
“Oh,” she said, looking—and sounding—flustered. “Sebastian. What a pleasant surprise.”
A surprise, anyway.
“You going to let me in?” Sebastian asked.
“Oh. Yes. Of course.”
As she unlatched the screen door and pushed it open, he kept his eyes on her face. But damn it all, he was an incubus, and she was wearing a summer dress, and it wasn’t his fault her nipples were acting perky enough to make little bumps in the thin material—and they were both going to get through this visit by pretending he didn’t know she wasn’t wearing anything under that dress.
“This is Lynnea,” Sebastian said, hauling his little rabbit into the kitchen. Maybe Lynnea, being another woman, could suggest that Nadia put a coat on over that dress.
“I’m pleased to meet you,” Nadia said.
“It’s early to be dropping in so sudden-like…” Lynnea stammered.
“Nonsense. I was just starting breakfast. Sit down. Be at home.”
“Can I help?”
“You could—”
A small blue-and-white bird hit the screen door between the kitchen and the adjoining room and started scolding.
“—entertain Sparky,” Nadia finished, walking over to that door. “Sebastian, make sure that outside door is closed properly.”
“You could always leave him there,” Sebastian said as he made sure the kitchen’s screen door was secured.
“He’ll just keep scolding if I do that, and then he’ll get the rest of them started and we’ll have to shout to hear one another.”
“Come on,” Sebastian said, cupping Lynnea’s elbow in his hand. “It’s safer sitting down.”
“What? Why?” Lynnea kept her eyes on the inside screen door while Sebastian guided her to a chair at the kitchen table.
Dropping into another chair, he watched Nadia open the door just enough to offer a hand for the bird to perch on. The scolding changed to excited chatter.
Did the chatterhead just stay on Nadia’s finger and look cute? Of course not. The moment the bird spotted him, Sparky zipped across the kitchen to land on top of Sebastian’s head.
“Pretty boy,” Sparky said, digging his sharp little nails into Sebastian’s scalp as he walked back and forth. Then he stopped and made kissy noises.
Sebastian raised his hand slowly, hoping the bird would take the hint and hop on his finger. He liked Sparky. He really did. But he liked the little chatterhead better when he could see what the bird was up to.
&nb
sp; But the moment Sparky saw the hand, he began beating Sebastian’s head with his wings and scolding in a volume that made all the humans wince.
“Fine,” Sebastian grumbled, lowering his hand. “Have it your way.”
The scolding stopped; the wings were folded back. Sparky marched to the top of Sebastian’s forehead, leaned over, and said, “Behave.”
“Oh,” Lynnea said. “He’s adorable. Do you think he’d come to me?” She held up a hand.
With an extra dig of his nails that Sebastian knew was deliberate, Sparky flew over to Lynnea to be properly admired. While woman and bird exchanged “Pretty birds,” Sebastian started to ease out of his chair, intending to give Nadia a hand with breakfast.
Then Sparky said, “Kismrz.”
Settling back in his chair, Sebastian said, “Sparky is a keet. The species originally came from a distant landscape. Isn’t that right, Aunt Nadia?”
“Yes, that’s right,” Nadia replied as she laid strips of bacon into a skillet.
“They’re bright little birds,” Sebastian continued. “And they can talk. Some things they learn because a person teaches them. And sometimes they hear something often enough that they just pick it up. Thing is, if the words aren’t enunciated clearly, the bird might not pick up all the sounds.”
Lynnea gave Sparky a delighted smile. “Do you think he was trying to say something?”
Nadia, who was busy pouring egg batter into another skillet, didn’t answer.
Oh, yeah, Sebastian thought, watching his aunt. I think he was trying to say something. What I want to know is why Sparky would hear “kiss me” often enough to have learned it.
As if in answer, someone tapped on the screen door—and Nadia dropped the fork she was using to turn the bacon.
“Jeb,” Nadia said as she picked up the dirty fork. “Come in. You’re just in time for breakfast.” She put the fork in the sink, got a clean one out of the drawer, then turned back to her cooking.
Sebastian swiveled in his chair as the screen door opened, noticing how Jeb pulled the door open just enough to slip inside and paused to make sure it was properly latched. A frequent visitor, then. One who didn’t need to be told that some of Nadia’s birds might be loose in the house.
“Hey-a,” Jeb said as he removed his cap and put it on a peg next to the door.
“Hey-a,” Sebastian replied.
“Ah…Jeb, this is my nephew, Sebastian, and his friend Lynnea,” Nadia said.
Sebastian gave Jeb a smile that was brilliant and insincere. “You’re getting a lot of company for breakfast this morning,” he said, glancing at his aunt. He didn’t think the heat from the stove was the reason her face was flushed.
“Jeb is a neighbor,” Nadia said, taking plates and mugs out of the cupboards.
Taking the plates and mugs from her, Jeb set the table. “I help Nadia with some chores from time to time. I’m a woodworker by trade, so I’m handy with my hands.”
“I’m sure you are,” Sebastian said pleasantly. And wasn’t it interesting that this neighbor had been in such a hurry to help out with some chores that he hadn’t taken the time to button his shirt properly.
Nadia thumped a rack of toast on the table, which startled Sparky into another scold.
“Feed him some toast,” Nadia snapped. “Maybe that will keep him quiet.”
Taking the hint, Sebastian helped himself to a piece of toast, breaking off a corner for Lynnea to feed to Sparky, while Jeb poured koffee for all of them and Nadia dished out the bacon and eggs.
He’d managed to put two women in a snit before breakfast. Was that some kind of record?
He filled Lynnea’s plate, since Sparky was perched on her wrist and didn’t seem interested in going anywhere—and smiled at her when the stiff silence of the other two people at the table finally broke through her enchantment with the bird.
They didn’t linger over the meal. When Jeb pushed his chair back, thanked Nadia for breakfast, and offered to take care of a few of the chores, Sebastian said, “I’ll give you a hand”—and ignored the sharp look Nadia gave him as he followed Jeb out the door.
Lynnea kept her eyes on the bird dozing on her wrist. Such a small creature, but joyful and loving. What would it be like to have something that would love her just for being there, just for loving it in return? A companion that wouldn’t criticize or think her inadequate?
She’d felt the tension during breakfast, but she hadn’t known the cause. She hadn’t known what to do or say. And she’d been afraid that the tension would change to anger funneled toward her if she didn’t stay quiet.
But now Sebastian was outside helping Jeb, and a tigress wouldn’t cower at the thought of saying something to a nice woman.
“You have a lovely home,” she said, looking around the kitchen. And it was lovely. Comfortable and warm. Welcoming. It reminded her of Sebastian’s cottage. A place she’d probably never see again.
“Thank you. It’s been in my family for several generations.” Nadia stood up and began scraping the remains of their meal onto a single plate.
“Can I help?”
Nadia smiled and looked at Sparky. “You are.” She stacked the plates. “Have you known Sebastian long?”
“Not long. And, I guess, not for much longer.”
“What makes you say that?”
Her face burned with the shame of failure—and the shame of wanting. So she kept her eyes on the bird when she said, “He won’t have sex with me.”
Nadia bobbled the dishes, almost dropping the stack. “What do you mean, he won’t have sex with you?”
“He won’t. He says he can’t, but he could if he wanted to. I may not know a lot about…sex things…but I know enough to know that when a man’s…stuff…sticks out like that, he wants sex.”
Nadia set the dishes back down on the table. “And Sebastian’s…stuff…sticks out when he’s around you?”
Lynnea nodded. “But he won’t do anything, even though I’m a trollop.”
Nadia sank into the chair. “Trollop?”
“I’m a bad person. That’s why I ended up in the Den. If I’m a bad person, why can’t I have sex with a man who makes my heart feel so strange? When he kissed me, it felt wonderful. I felt wonderful. Like the tigress spell he put on me was still working, and I was still strong and powerful.”
“I think,” Nadia said slowly, “that I should put on another pot of koffee. Then you can tell me the whole story of how you came to the Den and about this spell Sebastian put on you.”
Sebastian waited until they’d fallen into the rhythm of filling the watering cans from the buckets drawn from the well.
“So,” he said while he watched Jeb carefully soak the ground in one of the flower beds, “how long have you been sleeping with Aunt Nadia?”
Jeb hesitated a moment, then moved over to the next part of the bed. “Don’t rightly know that it’s any of your business.”
“What about Lee? Is it his business?”
“No, I don’t reckon it is. Nadia is a grown woman, well able to make up her own mind about such things.”
“So you just sneak over here a couple times a week for some—”
Jeb dropped the watering can and straightened up. “You’ve no call to be saying things that would shame your auntie. No call. She’s a fine woman. The best I’ve ever known.”
Sebastian gauged the anger in Jeb’s eyes. Not the bluster of a man caught doing something he shouldn’t but the anger of a man defending something—or someone—that mattered to him. “Do you love her?”
“I do.” With a mild curse, Jeb reached down and righted the watering can, which had spilled out too much water on that flower bed. “I’m content with the way things are between us. I’d like more, but until Nadia’s ready, I’m content with how things are.” He took off his cap, slapped it against his thigh, then settled it on his head again. “I can’t say what Lee does or doesn’t know, but if it sets your mind at ease, Glorianna is…aware…of how things sta
nd between Nadia and me.”
“And you’re still here,” Sebastian murmured.
“I’m still here.”
It wasn’t that he objected to two people—two humans—having sex without marriage. And it wasn’t as if he didn’t know what men and women did together—and why. But he couldn’t quite wrap his mind around Aunt Nadia panting and moaning under a man—or over a man.
“What about you?” Jeb demanded. “You sleeping with that girl?”
Already off balance, he felt as if the question mentally knocked him on his ass. “We slept together,” he stammered. “There was only one bed in the room, so we slept together. But we didn’t…we haven’t…” He raised a hand as if to gesture, then let it fall back to his side. “Daylight,” he muttered. “I never thought I’d be having this conversation.”
“Comes as a surprise to me, too,” Jeb admitted. He scratched the back of his neck. “Thought you were an incubus.”
“So did I.”
“Ah.”
Flustered and embarrassed, Sebastian looked around the garden…and remembered why he’d come here.
“You live far from here, Jeb?”
“Just a few minutes’ walk along that path,” Jeb replied, pointing in the general direction. “Have a nice little cottage. Too small for someone thinking of raising a family, but it suits me. And I took it on because the barn makes a good workshop, gives me plenty of room to store my wood and build things.”
“But it’s still a distance from here.” Sebastian hesitated. Jeb had a bit of a drawl, which indicated that he’d come to this landscape from another place at some point in his life. But his manner still said “country” rather than “city,” and folks from a country landscape could be earthy and easy or as prim and starched as an old spinster’s knickers when it came to men and women. “You should move in with Nadia. You should live here.”
“Now, wait up a minute.”
“Trouble’s coming.” Sebastian glanced toward the kitchen windows and lowered his voice. “Bad trouble. Landscapers have died. That’s what I came to tell Aunt Nadia.”
“And you think something will try to hurt Nadia?”
He nodded. “Not only is she a strong Landscaper in her own right; she’s Belladonna’s mother. So I’m asking you, Jeb. What if being a few minutes away is too far away?”