Wystan (13 page)

“She brought Mila to school and asked to speak with me alone. She said I'm fragile and easy to forget. I think she intended it as a threat.” As she repeated Zaïre's words, she realized how frightened she sounded. She'd shot a changesteed and yet, safely in town, she was complaining about a woman who was so beautiful she was probably used to being the center of attention. “Never mind. I'm sure she only said those things to put me in my place. I'm not worried about her.”

Wystan's eyes bored into hers. “Your body says otherwise. Accelerated heartbeat, clammy hands, gooseflesh, dilated pupils. I'd say you're scared witless.”

How did he know about her skin and clammy hands? She wiped her palms on her skirt though it didn't help much. “Not by Zaïre. You—you startled me when you woke up and I ran, remember?”

“Did that have something to do with this Mr. Butterman that Sylvie's always going on about?” Wystan's gaze intensified. “He doesn't seem like the sort of man you'd spend much time on.”

Rhia's breath caught in her throat. “She told you about Mr. Butterman?”

“She told Eban and he brought it up. She's a cute kid, but not too good at keeping secrets. In fact, she's cause enough to make me worry about what would happen if the pair of you ever left Berner. I don't worry easy, but she talks too much.”

Another wave of fear churned Rhia's stomach. “She wouldn't tell anyone about this place.” She couldn't guarantee that and Wystan knew it. “Please don't hurt her, Wys. I'll do anything to keep her safe. She's all I have left.”

Wystan leaned closer, looming over her like a grizzly about to devour its prey. Rhia shivered, but forced herself to maintain eye contact with him. She caught the subtle scents of his shaving lotion and sage. It surrounded her, making her thoughts murky. He put his hands on either side of her head against the wall and lowered his face.

“What are you doing?” she whispered.

“Damned if I know.”

Wystan's mouth captured hers and she couldn't breathe. The previous kisses flooded back and she gave in. One of his hands cupped the side of her face and his lips moved a fraction, allowing her to draw in a breath. The smell of sage surrounded her. His big body pressed against hers, but he was warm and hard in the right places. Nothing like the deplorable Mr. Butterman. Molten heat spread throughout her body. Wystan's tongue parted the seam of her lips and slipped inside, seeking hers. After a moment, he moved back a fraction, breathing hard.

Wystan's expression was regretful. “Rhia, I—”

She stretched up and pressed her mouth to his. He yielded, letting her kiss him. The hand by her face swept into her hair, sending shivers of pleasure down her spine. Under her palms, the muscles flexed and shifted. Heat settled in Rhia's lower abdomen, like a cup of hot chocolate on a cold day. Except she wasn't cold. The icy sweat that had covered her when she stopped running evaporated.

His lips were softer than she expected, his mouth hungry. The tip of his tongue pushed past her lips again, tangling with her own. Rhia's knees shook and she gripped his shirt to stay upright. Wystan's free hand tugged her blouse from her skirt and inched up a stay in her corset before sliding around to cup her breast. The motion startled her enough that she pulled her mouth away as her nipple tightened in anticipation of his touch.

All the strained lines vanished from his face, replaced by desire. And the strangest thing was, she felt it too. The odd connection to him, the deep ache in her middle that yearned for his hands and mouth on her body. He pushed her breast free of the confining cup of her corset and dragged his thumb across her nipple. Rhia almost came undone. A deep moan came from her lips and she grasped his arms to steady herself.

“No shimmy. How inappropriate.”

His wicked grin made her heart sputter. He teased a circle around her hardened bud and pulled her blouse up, baring her to the warm afternoon air. Rhia couldn't make her voice work to protest. Wystan lowered his mouth and took her nipple between his teeth, flipping his tongue across the sensitive skin. She was aware of her back against the brick wall behind her, but the rough scrape didn't bother her as Wystan lapped her flesh. The molten feeling poured throughout her body, tingling across her nerves.

He all but held her up as he kneaded her other breast, teasing the nipple with his thumb. Rhia bit her tongue, trying not to cry out and he seemed determined that she should. Her eyes snapped open and she pushed Wystan back. With a few quick motions, she righted herself and pulled her blouse down.

Refusing him hurt. The fire he'd ignited didn't die, but burned worse. And he stood there, staring at her as though she'd taken away all the air.

“It's the middle of the afternoon. Anyone could walk by.” She gestured limply at the street beyond them. “I'm not in the habit of letting men fondle me in public places, Sheriff. That was inexcusable.”

She couldn't raise her eyes to meet his. Eban and Sylvie were waiting for her and she'd acted like a tart with Wystan. Her face burned with shame.

“I'll talk to Zaïre. Nothing is going to happen to you while you're here.”

Wystan was all business, as though they hadn't just engaged in an arousing game. The evidence of his desire bulged at the front of his trousers. Rhia stared, wondering how close she'd come to letting him take her. Trust in a man was something she'd thought she'd never have again after her experiences with Mr. Butterman. Wystan made her forget all about him.

“Thank you. I have to go. I'm sorry I disturbed your rest.” Sorrier still that she'd let him affect her that way. How was she supposed to keep Sylvie safe if she was too busy concentrating on a man?

He didn't protest as she left, or offer to walk her to the school. It was better that way. If she had to fall in love with anyone, Eban was the safer choice. But she couldn't recall even a single instance when his touch had electrified her.

Chapter Fourteen

Rhia quietly closed the door to the schoolhouse and leaned against it. She felt as though her body was on fire, and she knew without looking down that her clothes were in disarray. If she went into the living quarters like this, Sylvie and Eban would ask questions. She stood in front of one of the glass windows, grateful it offered her reflection. A quick adjustment of her shirt and it was tucked in. Her hair refused to lie flat. Cheeks flushed, but she could always tell them it was because she'd hurried.

Eban was going to see right through her.

“Rhia, are you back?”

Sylvie's high-pitched voice made her flinch.

“What have I told you about yelling inside?”

Never mind that she was doing the same thing.

“Don't.”

Rhia shook her head. She might as well talk to the wall as try to get her sister to listen. Taking a deep breath, she skirted the desks and went through the connecting door to the room they occupied. Eban and Sylvie were seated at the table, but he rose when she entered. The perfect gentleman and exact opposite of his brother. Empty plates sat in front of them and she realized she'd missed the meal.

He frowned. “You look—”

“I hurried. I took far too long as it was.” Interrupting him would save her from questions—she hoped.

“Not at all. Have a seat.” A bright red flush came over his face. “This is your house. I mean…of course you can have a seat at your own table.”

“No, don't fuss about it. I'll sit down.”

“Eban brought cobbler.” Sylvie glanced at the basket, not so subtly hinting that her patience was gone.

Rhia looked at Sylvie's bare plate. “Did you eat the vegetables he brought? No dessert without vegetables.”

“Creamed corn. I ate every bite.” Sylvie waved her hand over the plate for emphasis.

While she spurned anything green or orange, Sylvie liked corn. Rhia was glad she didn't have to put up a fight to get Sylvie to eat. Of course, after a steady diet of beans, she probably wouldn't have protested peas and carrots.

“Are you very hungry, Rhia?” Eban's expression was far too innocent for her liking.

“I can wait. Do you need something?” She had a terrible feeling she knew where this was going.

“That walk we talked about? Maybe Sylvie can finish up while we enjoy the evening air.” He directed his words at her sister, who only had eyes for the dessert.

“I don't want to wait. Is that okay, Rhia?” Sylvie's brown eyes were pleading.

“Fine. But we're not making this a habit. It's rude to eat without others.”

“I know.”

Eban cut Sylvie a piece of cobbler that took up a quarter of the plate. Fat apple slices oozed cinnamon and sugary goodness beneath a golden crust. The fork in Sylvie's hand quivered.

Rhia stood again and waited for Eban. He smiled at her, blue eyes brighter than hot flames. She didn't say anything as they left the schoolhouse. The more she tried to move away from him, the closer he leaned.

“We can walk out behind the school. When I was a boy, there was a creek back there. It's dried up since the curse and when Astaroth started sending his minions, but it's worth a look.”

Or he intended to get her away from Sylvie so they could have an adult conversation. Rhia shoved her shaking hands into her pockets.

“Eban, I—”

“You hear that?” He tilted his head, listening to something.

The town was so quiet it was almost spooky, and the hair on her neck rose as she expected him to tell her to run back for the schoolhouse.

“What?”

He grinned. “It's a dove.”

“I don't understand.” She couldn't imagine what was unusual about a dove.

His eyes were bright. “See? There it is.”

A pair of them waddled on the ground. One cooed and the other answered.

“Is that good?”

“It's wonderful. There haven't been any birds in Berner since I was a child. Except crows and buzzards, of course, but nothing like a dove.” He shook his head, but the smile didn't fade. “I think things are changing. Getting better.”

“I hope so.” She wondered what it would be like to see the town full of happy faces instead of scowling ones. For citizens to conduct normal activities like growing crops and running businesses.

“I think it's because of you.” Eban stopped walking. He drew in a deep breath. “I know it's rushed, but Rhia, I have feelings for you. Since I saw you that day on the street, chasing Ponce and Hernando, I've felt like there's connection between us. That we could build a life together. It doesn't have to be here. We could go anywhere you want. You wouldn't have to teach, and I could finish my degree. We could give Sylvie a stable home. We don't know each other that well, but I know enough. You're smart and determined. Good-hearted and sweet. I could fall in love with you very easily.”

Rhia was glad she hadn't eaten. Although she'd expected him to say something similar, it didn't make it any easier to turn him down. “Eban, I'm flattered that you feel that way and that we're friends.”

His smile was already starting to fade.

Rhia hurried on, “I appreciate everything you've done for me and Sylvie. For Beryl too. You've been kind to us even though we were strangers. Wystan was furious at you for taking us in, I know that, but—”

“You don't feel the way I do.” His voice was low and wounded. All the joy had vanished from his face. “Is there anything I can do to change your mind? Because, Rhia, there's no one else here.”

There was Wystan, damn him. He was crude and callous and had tried to get rid of her at every turn. But when he'd pressed his lips to hers, something had changed.

“You're in love with someone else.” Eban's eyes widened and he took a step back as though he'd just noticed a symptom he'd missed before.

“I'm not. That's ridiculous.” Love had nothing to do with what had happened in the alley. Insanity was a better description. “I'm sorry, Eban.”

“You know, I left Berner once.” He stared out at the dry creek bed. “I thought I could have a life out there. I went to school and I planned to be a doctor. I went to the theater and restaurants. Courted a nurse at the hospital where I volunteered too.”

Rhia looked away. “Wystan told me he was wounded and you came back for him.”

“That's when I knew I could never leave this place. Not unless he was dead, because he can't let go of an old battle. I wasn't going to be the one to let him die. The longer we stay here and the more bodies that pile up, it makes me realize he wants to die here. Just like our father. He'll deny it, but he's the same.” Eban sighed. “I don't want to be part of that battle. I want a real life, and every day that dream gets farther and farther out of reach.”

She glanced at his hands, which were meant for healing, not destruction. It must pain him each time he had to spill demon blood. He wanted some normalcy in his life and she couldn't blame him. Maybe one day she'd look outside the boundaries of Berner and realize what a waste this place was. He probably saw her as an escape more than a future. She didn't want to be anyone's excuse.

“You could go to Santa Fe or Albuquerque. Neither one is so far.”

“Which is what Wystan wants. He'll get himself killed if we aren't here to watch him.”

“I'm sorry things are difficult for you.” She put her hand on his arm. “I'll always be your friend, Eban.”

His smile was halfhearted. “Thanks for that. I'll leave the rest of the cobbler for Sylvie.”

“You don't have to.”

“Remind her to let you have some. Thanks for listening too, Rhia. It's hard to talk to Tell and Wys sometimes.”

He wouldn't thank her if he knew what she'd been doing with Wystan a while ago. She nodded and swallowed the guilt threatening to choke her. The last thing she wanted was to come between them. Dalliances with Wystan couldn't happen again.

“Word is Eban's gone courting.”

Tell had the annoying habit of appearing from nowhere. Wystan's hand was on his knife, but unless he wanted to explain why his youngest brother needed stitches, he decided to let his sudden appearance slide this time.

“Courting who?”

“The schoolteacher. I saw him walk over there with a basket of food.” Tell leaned against the jail wall, hands behind his back and hat shading his eyes. “Strangely enough, she left not minutes after he got there. Where, oh where, would a schoolteacher go right after a beau arrived?”

Wystan's heart seized. Tell was nobody's fool. “How would I know the answer to that?”

“Stranger yet, I saw her exit the jailhouse at a dead run shortly after.” Tell crossed his feet at the ankles. His gaze didn't waver from Wystan's face.

“I'm not her keeper.” He didn't know Eban had designs on Rhia. Eban hadn't mentioned it. “You're sure Eban's trying to court her?”

“Yep.”

Wystan tipped his chair back on its hind legs. Either Rhia didn't know Eban's intentions, or she'd flat out refused them. She hadn't acted like a woman who was being courted by another man, that was certain, but he hadn't given her much of a chance to protest.

“Good luck to him.” He forced himself to stay in the chair. What he really wanted to do was find Eban and punch him.

“Said like a man who seems to think Rhia might be staying. Unless you plan on her taking Eban when she goes.” Tell looked uneasy. “You tried sending us away years ago and it didn't turn out well.”

“I'm not sending anyone away. The pair of you are too damn dumb to leave and stay gone.” Neither one could understand that he wanted something better for them. They'd have to leave on their own if the time ever came.

Tell looked away, but Wystan didn't miss the relief that came over his little brother's features. “Then answer me something else.”

Wystan rolled his eyes. “What?”

“Do you have feelings for Rhia?”

There were times when Tell seemed so grown up that Wystan felt older than Methuselah. “There's nothing between me and Rhia.”

Except the taste of her flesh on his tongue, the sound of her sweet moans in his ears. Her fingers scorching against his chest and the throbbing ache in his groin. Wystan clenched his teeth. Damn, but he wasn't likely to forget their actions in the alley in the near future.

“Wys…”

He looked Tell in the eye, giving his brother one of the hard looks demons had come to fear when they saw him coming.

“There's nothing between me and Rhia.”

Tell's face was unreadable. “If you say so. I'm just trying to make sure Eban doesn't get hurt.”

“Eban can take care of himself.”

Even if Rhia spurned Eban, Wystan didn't see Eban moping about it long. He'd warned Eban not to get attached to the humans. He'd see the error of his ways if Rhia didn't want to be courted by a half demon.

“He's coming this way.” Tell's uncanny sense of knowing something right before it happened was often irritating, but always accurate.

Eban rounded the block, a basket hanging from one hand and a forlorn expression on his face. Clearly he hadn't gotten anywhere with Rhia. A splash of guilt churned in Wystan's gut. He'd been seducing her while his brother waited for her to return.

“Evening, Eban.” He kept his voice neutral.

Eban sat on the boardwalk without answering. Tell narrowed his eyes at Wystan.

Why was it his job as the oldest to fix broken hearts and bolster his brothers' spirits? “Something wrong?”

“No. Nothing.” Eban stared out at the empty street.

“Miss Brookshier doing all right? She said anything else about where she came from?”

Eban shook his head. “Not a word. She doesn't say much.”

Which was troubling. Wystan wished one of them could figure out what was going on in the woman's head. “She'd be pretty if she was fed up a little more, maybe had a dress that fit right. Make someone a good wife if we knew what she was. If she was as gentle as she seems.” Wystan glanced up at Tell, whose eyes almost bulged from their sockets.

Eban sat up a little straighter. “Maybe. Get Tell to figure out who and what she is.”

“I tried my best. You both know I've never had that sort of trouble with a demon,” Tell said.

“She's not a demon. Can't be.” Eban tapped his knuckles against his leg. “You thinking about taking up with her, Wys?”

Wystan's chair tipped backward and his arms pinwheeled to keep him upright. The front legs clattered against the boards and he leaned forward. “Not with Beryl Brookshier.”

Tell's eyebrows almost touched his forehead. “Then who?”

“No one!” Wystan glared. “Just because there are human women in town for the first time in twenty years doesn't mean I'm taking up with one of them. Or whatever else Miss Brookshier might be.”

“I, for one, am satisfied with the entertainment of the succubi at the saloon. They know what a man wants and they're not afraid to give it. Human women are trouble.” Tell framed his hips with his hands. “Want to come to Miss Hattie's, Eban? We'll have a few drinks, reacquaint ourselves with a couple of the succubi.”

“Not tonight. I should get back to the clinic. It's almost time to treat Beryl's cough again.” Eban slid off the boardwalk. “A couple more weeks and I think we'll see some real improvement.”

Wystan rose from his chair. “Tell, don't stay out all night. I've spent the last week patrolling and I could use some relief around midnight.”

“Aw, Wys, I just got back to town a few days ago. Don't I deserve a rest?”

“The succubi aren't going anywhere. They'll be right where you left them. Go on, before all the pretty ones are taken and you end up with that old decrepit one. What's her name?”

“Agatha. I swear she has more scales than Zaïre.” Tell gave an exaggerated shudder. “I'll be back at midnight. God knows you need your beauty rest. Gotta keep a fresh face in case any other humans stumble into town.”