On her left, fingertips trailed along her jaw. “And I’ll stay with you.”
Relief soothed her worry, and she gave in to the pull of slumber.
Chapter 7
Heath almost convinced himself whatever Heléna’s mother had put in the tea had made their patient delusional, but the image of the white-haired old woman was burned in his memory. She could easily be Heléna’s great grandmother. The power emanating from her suggested she might be someone capable of magic spells and curses.
And maybe I’m the one who’s delusional.
Magic wasn’t real. It was an illusion created by masters of the art, performing to induce the awe of their audiences. Did Heléna come from a family of magical entertainers? A new generation of Houdinis?
Damn, I need some sleep.
“How do you think we got here?” Owen’s whisper came out of the dark to bring up the subject Heath had avoided thinking about so far.
“Don’t know.”
“Any idea where we are?”
“Nope.” Considering Heléna’s visitors had been wearing skirts and sweaters similar to what his and Owen’s stowaway wore, somewhere other than the Bahamas was a safe bet.
The mattress shifted. “Not that I’m complaining, but don’t you think it’s kind of strange the women allowed us to stay here? With Heléna, I mean. Hell, they insisted on it. For all they know, we could be a couple of deviants.”
Aren’t we? We agreed to share Heléna. “I’m too damned tired to care. You want to try to stay awake with her, or do you think she’ll be okay if we both get some sleep?”
“Not sure I can stay awake.” Owen yawned, proving the point. “I doubt her family would’ve left her if they thought her injuries were that serious.”
Heath grunted, too exhausted to even open his mouth to reply. He rolled to his side, facing Heléna to drape his arm across her waist, but Owen’s forearm already lay there. Frustration simmered in his blood. How could they share her when sleeping on either side of her caused his temper to burn? All he wanted was to hold her while he slept.
Capturing the sigh that tried to escape, he turned to his back again. The king bed provided plenty of room for three people sleeping side by side or one person by himself with a couple cuddling close together.
It isn’t going to work.
He slid his feet to the floor to stand, debating his options. One of the armchairs by the fireplace couldn’t be any less comfortable to sleep in than a bed with too many people. Navigating his way around the foot of the bed, he aimed for the faint moonlight streaming in the bathroom window.
He closed the door before flipping the switch and about blinding himself with sudden light. A quick splash of water on his face didn’t improve his mood. Neither did a long cool drink. Turning off the light, he waited for his eyes to adjust and went to look out the window. Maybe the view would give him a hint at their location.
The mostly full moon hung above a line of skeletal trees, its light reflecting off snow-covered ground.
Snow? Where the hell am I?
White drifts pushed against the west side of a thick row of bushes, while the ground to the east was coated in a glittering layer only a third as deep. What part of the world would have two or more feet of snow in late December? Better yet, how could he have traveled there in a split-second from the mild climate of Hawksbill Cays?
Was he having the most realistic weird dream of his life, or had he gone completely nuts? Time to wake up.
Heading back to the bedroom, he opened the door. Although he’d planned to settle in a chair, the scene on the bed sent him walking toward the exit the three women had taken. Owen still had his arm wrapped around Heléna’s waist, and now his face was buried in her hair and her hand held him in place.
She doesn’t need or want me. Crawling back under the covers wasn’t even an option anymore. Disappointment surged through his veins faster than he could pretend not to care.
Heath moved through a living room area lit by moonlight and tried the first door he came to, hoping for a way out. A wide hallway with several dim wall lights stretched out before him. Ignoring the doors on each side of the corridor, he followed the polished wood floor to a staircase and scuttled down the steps without slowing.
At the second landing, another hall identical to the upper one didn’t tempt him to explore. He continued descending until he reached what seemed to be a vestibule, the stained-oak double doors resembling a main entrance to the house. Given the choice of another hall to the right or left, he went left toward faint voices.
He passed a large dining room that seated at least fifty people at the two banquet tables. Plates, silverware, and napkins marked each place. Several highchairs were interspersed among the wooden chairs, and Heath changed his reference to Heléna’s home from house to mansion. If all her relatives resided with her, she had a good-sized family—much bigger than his had ever been.
The Macskas didn’t live hand to mouth. The fancy light fixtures, plank floors, and oak moldings spoke of old money, with plenty of new mixed in. The furniture looked to be well made and expensive.
A thought occurred to him as he stopped outside a spacious formal living room. His wealthy boss had an estate in New England and daughters of marriageable age. Had the cheap bastard set his sights on Heath and Owen taking the girls off his hands as payment for the work they’d done for him? He certainly wouldn’t put it past Kilpatrick to sacrifice his kids to pay off the pilots he’d damn near killed by being stingy.
Or maybe Heléna could’ve snuck onto the plane to spy on her father’s employees and lied about her last name. Did the son of a bitch think Heath and Owen were dealing with a competitor on the sly?
Could be I’m losing my sanity, and paranoia is only the beginning.
“You should be resting rather than exploring.”
Heath recognized the white-haired woman’s voice before he saw her sitting in the rocking chair. “I couldn’t sleep.”
She gestured to the couch. “Will you join me?”
A perfect opportunity to gather some information presented itself. “If you’re sure I’m not intruding.”
“Those who care for my daughters are not intruders. I am Romána. Sit.”
He nodded, obeying her instructions. “Heath Ulrich. I didn’t mean to interrupt your morning tea, but I’m a little puzzled about how we got from the Bahamas to someplace with snow so fast. We must’ve been knocked out cold for several hours.”
Her piercing stare from over the edge of her teacup made his shoulder blades tingle. “Heléna will explain after she has rested. Would you care for coffee?”
How could Heléna know what had happened? She’d been unconscious longer than he and Owen. “Yeah, coffee would be great. Uh, do you mind if I ask where we are?”
“We are in the main parlor of the Macska home in Ohio.” The old woman leaned forward, setting her drink on the coffee table between them and pouring steaming hot liquid from a silver coffee pot into a dainty cup. She returned to her previous position in the rocker. “Sometimes we must simply accept our circumstances and the destiny life has in store for us.”
While her philosophy sounded like it might work for some people, Heath didn’t sit back and let shit happen to him if he could help it. He raised the hot brew to his lips, willing to risk a scalded tongue for the pick-me-up. Strong, bold flavor blanketed his taste buds. “Mm, good coffee. I prefer to control my own destiny.”
“You would rather have spent the remainder of your days without the woman you desire?”
Choking on a swallow of coffee, he coughed to clear his throat and blinked his watery eyes. Coffee burned his nasal passages, but he refused to allow his shock at her statement to show. Wanting Heléna was one thing. Having her great grandmother point it out was something else.
Romána smiled. “That you do not deny your feelings toward my granddaughter speaks louder than your silence. I do not believe you would choose to leave her for your prior...situation. Nor w
ould your friend. You are permitted to stay if you wish to.”
At least she wasn’t kicking him out into the blowing and drifting snow. “How I feel about Heléna means nothing if she doesn’t feel the same.”
“You have told her how you feel?” The old woman’s expression didn’t change, but her eyes said she knew he hadn’t.
He took another drink, delaying as long as he dared. Discussing his relationship with Heléna could get a little dicey if he wasn’t careful. He doubted Romána would approve of his and Owen’s agreement to share her granddaughter. Circumstances had changed since then anyway. “We haven’t had much of a chance to talk about it.”
“Our time on Earth is limited, and she cannot know what is in your heart if you hide it from her.” Pushing up from her chair, she set her empty cup on the tray that held the coffee pot. “Will you escort me to the dining room? Breakfast is ready.”
As Heath rose to offer her his arm, a woman appeared in the doorway. Her long dark hair, intelligent eyes, and high cheekbones matched those of Heléna. Was she a sister or cousin? “Good morning, Great Grandmother. Oh, I didn’t realize you had company. Shall I set another place for breakfast?”
“Good morning, Rebeka. Yes, Mr. Ulrich is joining us.” When the woman nodded and hurried away, Romána smiled. “She is Heléna’s oldest sister. You will dine with me so we may continue our conversation?”
Although the rise of her voice indicated she asked a question, her penetrating gaze demanded Heath accept her invitation. “Yes, thank you.”
The walk to the dining room brought them closer to a hum of voices that hadn’t been there minutes before. Most of the seats were filled, and the room quieted except for the giggles of several babies. A sea of eyes turned toward them as he escorted his hostess to the head of the larger table.
Romána gestured to the chair to her right. “Blessings on our bounty, my children.”
Heath remembered his manners enough to help her into her seat. A scan of the tables as he sat immediately negated his thoughts that Kilpatrick was behind the rescue. Every female but one shared at least a couple of Heléna’s facial features. He recognized Flóra and Agnes as well as Rebeka, the oldest sister. She was seated between two men, each cradling a blue blanket-wrapped bundle. A pair of guys also flanked the only black-haired woman—and her very pregnant belly.
Sure he was imagining the unconventional groupings, Heath turned his attention to the other table. A woman with short, cropped hair kissed the broad-shouldered Goliath on her left before doing the same to another hulking strongman on her other side. She caught Heath staring and cocked her head. Her eyebrows rose in a way that reminded him of Heléna. Could she be the older sister?
Who the hell cares? Those kisses weren’t of the casual acquaintance kind. Lack of sleep—not to mention his discussion with Owen about sharing Heléna on the island—had to have affected his brain. Unless he’d been transported to a place that allowed polygamy, he was seeing things that weren’t there.
Romána leaned toward him. “The heart has an endless supply of love, whether for family, friends, or lovers. Does it not?”
The answer was beyond the scope of his experience. He’d had a few girlfriends, but he’d never been in love, even with those he’d had sex with. Being a flyboy had only hardened his attitude against women. They didn’t give a damn about anything but being able to say they’d screwed a pilot. Add to that, his mom had deserted him and his dad on his fourth birthday, and fifteen years of heavy drinking had turned his father from dead drunk to a dead man. No wonder Heath didn’t trust women.
He shrugged and held the platter of fried potatoes for Romána. “Leaves you open to people walking all over you.”
“Ah.” She didn’t elaborate as she scooped a helping onto her plate and then did the same for him.
“Thanks.” Handing the dish to the gray-haired man to Romána’s left, Heath hoped she would drop the subject.
With a nod, she gave him another of those disconcerting looks. “Learning to accept love can be more difficult than giving it.”
Piling scrambled eggs on his potatoes, he clamped his lips together to hold in a sarcastic retort. Surrounded by her family, the old woman couldn’t possibly understand having nobody to rely on but himself. Owen was the only person Heath ever allowed to fly while he was monitoring the dials. Even then, he hated relinquishing control. The emergency landing had almost cost him his sanity. Without Heléna strapped on his lap, he wouldn’t have hesitated to grab the yoke and take over landing the plane.
More plates of food made their way around the table before he finally relaxed. Romána didn’t speak about love again, but she aimed her unsettling gaze at him several times throughout the meal.
He drained his coffee cup, washing down the last bite of breakfast and waiting for the moment one of the family distracted her. Luck seemed to be with him when the shorthaired woman approached Romána. Both men shadowed her, each carrying a sleeping baby.
The younger woman leaned down to kiss the old woman on the cheek, but her eyes never left Heath. “Good morning, Great Grandmother. I see we have a...guest.”
Any chance of a quick escape deserted Heath when Romána turned her attention back to him. “Mr. Ulrich, this is Heléna’s other sister. Lujza, say hello to Heath Ulrich. Politely please, daughter.”
The sister rolled her eyes. “I’m always polite.”
He’d been correct in his guess about her relationship to Heléna and Rebeka, and Flóra hadn’t been exaggerating about her middle daughter’s less-than-sweet disposition. “Good to meet you, Lujza.”
“Hello, Heath. You hurt my little sister and I’ll—”
“Must I remind you of your manners again?” Romána gave her great granddaughter a quelling look.
“No, ma’am.” Lujza extended her hand and pasted an obviously fake smile on her face. “The pleasure is all mine, I’m sure.”
Both men behind her snorted. They had to possess unlimited patience and a boundless sense of humor to put up with such an outspoken woman.
The darker man offered a smile. “I am Amalric, and this is Ranulf. Welcome to the Macska estate.”
Giving a nod, Heath surrendered to the delay. Although he was fairly certain Amalric didn’t really welcome him, Heath gave him the benefit of the doubt for now. The idea that Kilpatrick had brought him to this place was laughable. The greedy bastard would never allow his daughters and multiple husbands to live under his roof. “Amalric. Ranulf. Thanks for the welcome.”
Romána opened her arms to accept one of the babies. “Heléna will be waking soon, Mr. Ulrich. You must rest while you are able.”
The old woman’s sudden permission to excuse himself caught him off guard, but he didn’t hesitate. As he rose from his chair, an unexpected wave of exhaustion had him wishing he’d already climbed the stairs to the third floor. He had to concentrate on his words to speak clearly. “I appreciate your hospitality, Romána.”
Not waiting for her response, he focused on walking back to Heléna’s rooms. His legs grew heavier with every step, and when he crawled into bed beside her, his whole body sank into the cloud of a mattress.
She rolled over to settle her head on his chest, erasing his earlier frustration. Her silky hair caressed his neck, and he let sleep take him.
Chapter 8
She had to be dreaming. Nothing else could explain the body heat and masculine scent surrounding Heléna. The unbelievably realistic nightmare about Kazmer creating a hurricane to kill her on a tropical island had morphed into a delicious fantasy.
A long, hard cock pressed against her hip, and a hand cupped her breast. Male pheromones filled her senses. That rich, musky drug kept her from opening her eyes and discovering she lay between bunched-up pillows and blankets. She wasn’t ready to face reality.
The palm slid over her nipple, sending a riot of electrical sparks to her pussy. Would arching into the erection ruin her wonderful waking-dream? The urge won, but instead of the disap
pointment of discovering covers that moved with the pressure, the stiff length pushed back. A low moan accompanied the movement.
Her eyes flew wide at the vibrations traveling along her spine. A familiar face lay in front of her. Almost afraid to look over her shoulder, she swallowed a jolt of panic and prayed to the Goddess she hadn’t slept through losing her virginity. How had she ended up in her own bed with Heath and Owen? Did they know they weren’t stranded on a cay in the Bahamas anymore?
Warm lips touched her temple. “Feeling okay this morning?”
Is Owen asking because we had sex? I’d remember that, wouldn’t I? No soreness nagged at her vaginal muscles. “Um, sure.”
“I was worried you might have a headache from that nasty bump.” He kissed a line from her cheekbone to her neck. “I’m glad you’re all right.”
The bump. The nightmare hadn’t been a bad dream. Kazmer really had tried to hurt her and her pilots with a violent storm. No, not my pilots. “I’m fine.”
“Then I guess now’s as good a time as any to tell you Heath and I agreed to share you.”
Her heart stuttered, and her brain tried to make the jump from his asking about her medical condition to suggesting a threesome. Too shocked to speak, she probably looked like a gaping fool.
“You still want both of us, don’t you?” His fingers brushed a stray lock of hair from her forehead.
“I...um...well...” She glanced at Heath, finding him awake and watching her. Running away wasn’t an option. Be brave for once in your life, Heléna! “Y–y–yes.”
Lifting his hand from her breast, Heath ran his thumb along her jaw. The seriousness in the line of his mouth made her stomach roil. If he’d changed his mind, she’d never survive the rejection. “Are you sure? Don’t say yes because you think that’s what we want to hear. I’d rather have the truth.”
Confusion warred with relief. He thought she’d lie to him? Or maybe he thought she didn’t truly want him. “I’m sure. I want both of you. I need both of you.” Reaching for his hand, she tugged it back into place over her puckered nipple. Even through her clothes, his touch made her uterus contract. “Undress me. And undress.”
Szereto, Mellanie - Two from the Triangle [Bewitching Desires 7] (Siren Publishing Ménage Amour) Page 6