Eyre House

by Caitlin Greer

  Ginny smiled and clapped. “Well done, Mr. Richardson.”

  “Thank you, Miss Ginny. Care to join me on a test drive?”

  “Lord, yes. Oh, hey.” She smiled and pulled an envelope out of the stack in her hand, and waved it at me with a twitch of her lips. “Mail call, hon.”

  Cutting the engine and walking over to her, I stared at the heavy, cream envelope in her hand, not wanting to get grease on it. Postmarked Savannah, with a return address I didn’t know.

  “It’s not gonna open itself, sugar.”

  “I know.”

  She rolled her eyes and ripped open the letter, took out the contents, and handed them to me.

  I took a deep breath and read.

  Ginny gave me five seconds before leaning in to look. “What do they say?”

  “They want me to come visit.”

  “How very excitin’.”

  I kept scanning the letter. It didn’t really say much beyond the invitation to visit and discuss things further. Except that fourteen years in the system had taught me how to read between the lines. It was more than just visiting, no matter what the letter said. My foster-system-fueled paranoia said they wanted to know if I’d fit in.

  “More like this is a trial visit, no matter how politely and nicely they put it. See if I’m good enough.”

  “Evan, honey, you’re being paranoid. Let me see.” She grabbed the letter from me and read through. “This is fantastic! They want you to come for two weeks? Open invitation?”

  “Trial visit.”

  “Family, honey. This is good. So when will you go?”

  I groaned. “You don’t know that. They don’t know that. And I’m not going until this mess is over. Even if I—” I stopped short, before I said something that made her push me away again. “I doubt the cops would let me, at any rate.”

  Ginny leaned in and kissed the underside of my chin. “You’re so sweet.” She reached up and smacked me with the letter. “Write them back. Go visit.”

  I took the letter away. “Later.”

  She pouted a moment, looking so adorably hot that I could hardly stand it. But then she smiled and took a towel to the grease smear on my face. “Fine. You wanted to take your bike out—let’s go.”

  I shook my head and walked over to wash my hands off in the sink. My black shirt seemed clean, thankfully. “Sure. Where to this time?”

  “You’ll see.” She laughed and tossed me my jacket.

  Ginny’s hand tapped my chest, directing me to pull in and stop. She’d pointed me off the beaten path early in the trip, and we’d wound through back roads and then roads that were more like trails. The trees hung heavy around us, filtering the sunlight into early darkness.

  I dropped the stand and propped the bike up, cutting the engine. We climbed off the bike, leaving our helmets and jackets behind. The warm, muggy weather had returned, and neither of us had a desire to wear the leather any longer than we had to.

  Ginny grabbed my hand and led me down a hidden path in the trees. The small clearing and my bike disappeared in moments.

  “Is the Indian gonna be okay there?”

  She half turned and shot me her signature grin. “It’ll be fine, sugar. Hardly anyone knows about this place.”

  I stopped her and stared hard.

  “I just spent four days putting it back together.”

  She chewed on her lip but smiled. “Trust me.”

  I took a deep breath and decided to take her word for it.

  We wandered down her secret path for what seemed like an eternity. Ginny pointed out little things here and there—a plant, a bird, a creek I’d never have seen. Then we’d slip into silence again. She knew I wanted to talk; I knew she didn’t. Silence or sex were the only real compromises, it seemed.

  When she finally stumbled to a halt, it was sudden enough that I almost walked into her. She turned with a smile and a finger to her lips, and then pointed past her.

  The sun broke through the trees ahead of us, bathing the small marsh and its half-eaten ruins in golden light. A great blue heron stood on a stack of rocks, staring out past the trees to where I could just make out the black water of the river.

  I wrapped my arms around Ginny as she leaned back against me.

  “I used to come here all the time as a kid. The story goes that a major hurricane washed over the island—back in 1822 I think. Somethin’ like that. It was so strong it changed the shape of the island and swallowed one or two plantations whole. I always wondered what you’d find if the marsh stepped back again and left this dry.”

  “Hidden treasure, maybe.”

  “Maybe.”

  “It certainly has the look.”

  She laughed. “You do know Blackbeard came here all the time, right?”

  I grinned, watching the sunlight play on the old stone. “No, I didn’t.”

  She laughed and pointed to the river. “He did. Sailed right up the blackwater. There are all kinds of stories.”

  I leaned in and nuzzled her neck, kissing behind her ear. “You don’t say.”

  She started to lean back into me, relaxing. “Mmm. There are.”

  “About?”

  “The usual. Kidnapping. Buried treasure. Pirate gold. Ghosts.”

  “Sounds fascinating.” I nibbled at her ear and then kissed the back of her jaw. “Tell me.”

  She sighed. “I can’t hardly remember anythin’ when you do that, Mr. Richardson.”

  “So I should stop then, Miss Ginny?”

  “Don’t you even dare.”

  “What about the story?”

  She grinned as I kissed a trail down her neck. “Mmm. I’m sure I can make one up. Let’s see…”

  “Maybe there was a pirate on the crew…” My teeth graze her skin, still skimming.

  “Yes… A pirate. On the crew. He fell in love with the daughter of one of the local plantation owners.”

  I dipped my tongue into the small hollow of her shoulder, glad she’d worn a tank top. She tasted sweet and salty, like honey and rain and sunshine. “Did she love him?”

  “Very much.” She sighed and rolled her head forward as my lips moved across the back of her neck.

  “I bet her father didn’t like that.”

  “No. Not hardly.”

  I kissed the base of her hairline and let my open mouth trail down her spine before sliding to her other shoulder. “What happened?”

  “Hmm?”

  I smiled, and nipped the crest of her shoulder. “To the girl. And the pirate.”

  “Oh.” She sighed breathlessly. “A storm.”

  “A storm?”

  “Mmhmm.”

  One hand slid under her top and trailed across her stomach. “So this storm.”

  “The storm. Right. Such a storm. It trapped Blackbeard’s ship in Saint Helena Sound.”

  My thumb stroked her belly button, and my lips caressed the back of her jaw. “The pirate?”

  Her hands were beginning to flex on my arms. “Mmm. Stuck on the ship. Unable to get to shore.”

  “The girl?”

  “Waiting. Confined to the house. Staring out the window, wishing.”

  “For a sign?”

  “For anything. For her pirate.”

  Her head craned back as I stroked her neck with my other hand. “But he couldn’t come.”

  “He did.”

  I smiled, and kissed her tender skin. “How?”

  “He… He stole the rowboat.”

  “In the middle of a hurricane.”

  “Yes.”

  My hand trailed down her neck to rest at the top of her tank top. “I see.”

  Ginny hummed and interlaced her fingers with both my hands. “He loved her. He’d do anything to be with her.”

  “Did he make it?”

  Her hands wrapped mine into fists as I continued to kiss her. “He didn’t. He was swallowed by the sea. Poor boy.”

  I sighed against her neck for the fate of the imaginary pirate. “The girl?”<
br />
  “She stole out in the night, looking for him.”

  “Let me guess.” I leaned in close to her ear, whispering, and felt her shiver. “Also lost to the storm.”

  She smiled. “Tragically.”

  “Hmm. Very tragic.”

  “Extremely tragic. The most tragic-est.”

  I laughed, startling a few birds. “I don’t think that’s a word.”

  Ginny turned and wrapped her arms around my neck. “Of course not, sugar. I just made it up.”

  “I knew it.” My hands lowered to her waist and tightened.

  “That’s because you’re smart.” She leaned in and brushed my lips with her own. “Very smart.”

  I traced the skin of her back with one hand, my fingers trailing up and down her spine. My lips brushed the corner of her jaw, up to her ear.

  “Ginny. If you know something—anything—about what’s going on, you need to tell me.”

  She stiffened against my body.

  I kissed her temple and held her tight to me. “I know you don’t ever want to talk about anything. And I don’t think you need rescuing, any more than the rest of us.”

  She sucked in a breath, still stiff. “Then why won’t you just leave it?”

  “Ginny, think about what’s happened. The fire, the messages. Jaime’s toy in my shower, my jacket. My bike, Ginny. And Bra-”

  “Don’t!” She pushed away, her voice shaking, and I let her go. “Don’t say his name.”

  I sighed and followed her over to one of the old oaks that littered the marsh. “I’m worried about your mother and Eyre House and all of us. That could’ve been any of us that day.”

  “But it wasn’t.” Her words were a whisper I almost didn’t hear.

  I wrapped my arms around her from behind and kissed the back of her neck. “Ginny, it could’ve been. It could’ve been either of us that night with my jacket.”

  “Evan, please, sugar.” She turned and placed her fingers against my lips. “I’m scared, all right? I don’t know what’s going on any more than you do, and I’d rather spend my time doing something that isn’t worrying about what I can’t help.”

  I kissed her fingers and pulled them down. “You don’t have to hide from me, Ginny.”

  She laid her head on my shoulder, and when she answered, I almost missed it.

  “Yes, I do.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Ginny and I drove back as the sun set, bathing the island in deep orange and yellow. But the nighttime darkness that fell around us seemed frighteningly prophetic. Brandon’s death had cast a pallor on Eyre House and everyone in it. The staff and guests were all quieter, slower to laugh or to smile. And the house itself alternated between seeming broken and defeated, and a dangerous anger I couldn’t place or understand.

  Ms. Catherine smiled at us from the dining room and waved us into dinner when we got back. I was glad to see it. The only times I’d seen her really smile in the last week was when she was watching me be protective of her daughter. It was a good feeling. But the secret smoker cigarette scent I’d noticed on her before was stronger than ever, and her makeup didn’t really hide the dark circles under her eyes.

  Still, despite everything that had happened, I felt like I could’ve belonged. Like I really, truly belonged, and the universe was finally working in my favor. That even if things didn’t work out in Savannah, it wouldn’t matter because I had family here. At least, if Ginny wanted me. It all hinged on her.

  On whether or not she was ever going to let me in.

  Ginny and I ate dinner with an unknown urgency and slipped upstairs, stealing kisses as we went. What had started out as a distraction for us both had somewhere—between the marsh and Eyre House—turned into a need that neither of us could shake. The electricity between us was as strong as the storm that had rolled in while we ate. We stumbled into Ginny’s room with our hands and mouths all over each other.

  “Ginny…”

  She’d already pulled my shirt off, and her mouth traced a hot trail down my chest. My hands were frozen at the edge of her shirt. I wanted nothing more than to rip it off her, but some last piece of my brain was trying to hold onto logic, even with Ginny unbuckling my belt.

  Her fingers dropped to my zipper, and my hands finally moved, wrapping around Ginny’s, and holding them frozen for a moment. “I can’t keep being your distraction, Ginny.”

  She licked her lips, pouting. “Stop fightin’ it, Evan, sugar. I want this. You want this.”

  “Ginny…”

  “Evan, please. I don’t want a distraction. I want you.”

  Her words went through me like a knife, like a blast of sound so strong that it almost knocked me over. Words that floated into me and across me and around me and left me breathless.

  I leaned in, drawing her chin to me. My kiss was the kind she’d given me the night of the ghost tour, faint and feathering and barely there. She tensed under my hand, leaned in for more. But I didn’t stop, just continued to brush my lips against hers, kisses more breath than touch. I smiled when her lips parted and slowly drew her upper lip into my mouth the tiniest bit. The smallest sound escaped her.

  I kissed her bottom lip, sucking on it a little, pulling away as she stood waiting, begging. My hand traced the line of her jaw until my fingers were buried in her hair, and I parted her mouth with my kiss, tasting the wet, sweet heat of her lips and tongue, breathing in her summer sunshine smell. My tongue flicked in and out, teasing, testing, and she let me have the lead.

  My other hand slid down her side to her waist as I deepened the kiss, running my tongue up and down hers, drinking at her mouth. Her hands gripped at my back, pulling me closer, wanting more. I smiled at her urgency, but kept my kiss strong and slow, savoring her taste, the way her lips moved against mine.

  Ginny whimpered against my mouth and shoved the waist of my jeans down. They hit the floor with an echoing thud. Hers followed. Her hands reached up, running through my hair, and I finally relented. My hands slid down her hips, walking her backwards while I moved my mouth to her jaw and neck. She clung to me as we moved, hands clutching at my back.

  My teeth grazed the skin, lifting only to pry off her tank top, and then Ginny claimed my mouth with hers again. Her arms wrapped around my head while her whole body begged me for more.

  I lifted her up onto the bed, and settled my weight over her. I shifted, kissing the skin above the lace of her bra. My hands traced over her soft skin, memorizing her lines and curves. She pushed me over, climbing on top of me, rocking into me. I moaned. My hands ran up and down her back as she kissed me, her mouth devouring mine.

  I moaned as she licked her way down my chest. The touch of her lips and tongue were like fire. Whatever I was going to say was lost as they moved back up, until they were on mine again, hungry and Lord, so hot. My hands slipped around to undo her bra, and the moment I’d stripped it from her I rolled her beneath me again. My mouth slid down, pressing kisses into her neck and collarbone before drifting further and further. I smiled against her skin as she moaned, my fingers drawing her panties slowly down her legs.

  She grabbed at me, pulling me back up, her hands pulling at my boxers, and then she was on me, hands everywhere, begging and demanding at the same time. Her hands had protection on me before I could move, and the touch of her was too much. I flipped her over and drove into her in a single thrust. Ginny arched her back, her nails digging into me. I pulled out, and stroked back into her slow and deep.

  She pushed and pulled and bit and pleaded, and, good Lord, she was a goddess. She knew exactly what she wanted from me, and her insistence was the hottest thing I’d ever known. But I was determined and refused to let her rush me. My hand moved to her hip, lifting her up as I pushed deeper.

  “Evan, I… Evan…”

  Red and blue and white lights strobed through the window, flashing and erratic. I wanted to scream at the interruption.

  “Ginny…just…oh Lord…”

  “No, Evan, oh…” She
moaned. “Wait. Stop.” She whimpered. “Oh Lord. Stop, stop. What is that?”

  I didn’t want to stop, dammit. Stopping hurt. It physically hurt. But I did. I snarled and rolled away, my fists and teeth clenched, eyes squeezed shut against the pain and frustration. I’d been so fucking close. She’d been so fucking close, I was sure of it, and even though she’d been the one to stop me, Ginny’s groan turned to a whimper, too.

  But neither of us could ignore the growling barks and snarls outside her window, the lights growing brighter, or the shouting that followed.

  I groaned. “Motherfucking hell.”

  Ginny jumped out of her bed, reaching for her clothing and glancing out the window. I stumbled out after her, fighting the pain of the massive blueballs I was nursing.

  Her voice was the barest whisper. “Oh God. Please no.”

  “What?” I was at Ginny’s side in a second, still holding my shirt. “What in the hell is going on down there?”

  “No, no, no.”

  One small word repeated, and Ginny was gone, still shrugging into her shirt as she ran out the door.

  “Ginny! Dammit all, Ginny!” I shoved my foot in my boot and ran limping after her, past guest doors opening and lights turning on. I waved them back to bed and promised them everything was fine.

  Downstairs, the commotion was even louder. Too many dogs. Flashlights. People that when I looked closer, I recognized as police.

  What in the fuck are the police doing here?

  I hit the back terrace and nearly ran over Ginny, who’d stopped dead to watch the insane progression. A single guy ran through the darkness, his short blonde hair mostly what made him visible. Flashlight beams crisscrossed the blackness behind him, flying every which way as the cops gave chase. Between him and the police were three or four police dogs—German Shepherds. And one big black dog I’d seen before.

  “Ginny, I thought you said Pilot—”

  “Oh God, Ben… Evan, we have to help him.”

  She took off again, running down the terrace steps, but I caught up with her this time, grabbing her arm. “Ginny, what the hell? Are you telling me that’s your cousin Ben?”

  She yanked her arm away, and I let it go. “Help me, Evan. Please!”