Szereto, Mellanie - Two from the Triangle [Bewitching Desires 7] (Siren Publishing Ménage Amour) (8 page)

Clinking of china couldn’t induce her to look at Flóra. The poor woman had to be mortified at her daughter’s unwitchlike behavior. An earthy scent tickled Heléna’s nose, making her mouth water as tea slooshed into the cup.

“Can you sit up, Heléna? You had me so worried. I would’ve expected something like this from Lujza, but my sweet youngest daughter? Why would you run away?”

Rebeka had always been the responsible one, Lu was the troublemaker, and the baby of the family had been...well, the baby. Always coddled, always overprotected, and always thwarted when she tried to gain some independence. Swallowing past the sudden lump in her throat, Heléna blinked away stinging tears. Finally, the room came into focus. “I’m sorry, Mother. I didn’t mean to frighten anyone.”

“I’m just glad you’re okay.” Flóra’s smile said all was forgiven, but Heléna wouldn’t soon forget. “Young men, could you please help her sit up to drink her tea?”

Before she could even attempt to sit, Heath and Owen gently lifted Heléna’s shoulders, propping her up with a pair of pillows. Heath grasped the delicate saucer her mom handed him.

“Such helpful boys. Thank you.” Touching her fingers to her lips, Flóra blew a kiss to her daughter. “You’ll take good care of her, won’t you, gentlemen?”

Embarrassment tore through Heléna at the obvious insinuation. Owen and Heath weren’t her mates any more than the shark that had almost eaten her. “Mother!” She immediately regretted raising her voice. “Ouch. Would everyone please leave me alone so I can drink my tea and go to sleep?”

Aunt Agnes frowned at Heath and Owen as they started to rise from the bed. “Where do you think you’re going? Heléna needs you right where you are. A concussion patient requires around-the-clock supervision for at least twenty-four hours.” She aimed for the door with Flóra following close behind. A sly smile warned Heléna of another incoming suggestive remark. “Margita will bring breakfast in the morning—but not too early. The three of you have much to learn about each other.”

Resisting the urge to groan, Heléna lifted the cup from the saucer and sipped her tea in hopes it would dispel her headache. The brew sent warmth fanning out through her body. Or was it from the men sitting beside her?

No. I won’t let these stupid hormones make a fool of me again.
Besides, she couldn’t possibly want sex when she’d been whacked senseless with a piece of flying driftwood.
I need sleep, not orgasms.

Her eyelids grew heavy as she slowly drained the teacup. It slipped from her fingers, but she was sure she hadn’t dropped it. Relaxation crept through her muscles, and her thoughts scattered. She floated downward until her head rested on the pillow and the blankets curled under her chin. The light flicked off. At least she thought so. Maybe she’d only closed her eyes.

Soft lips caressed her cheeks, making her heart smile. She forced out a whisper. “Stay with me. He can’t hurt you here. Great Grandmother’s magick is much stronger than mine. You’ll stay, won’t you?”

Owen and Heath stiffened beside her. She sensed she’d said something wrong, but what? Perhaps she’d remember in the morning when her brain wasn’t so addled.

Soft breath tickled her right ear. “Yes, Heléna, I’ll stay with you.”

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 would 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.”