Betrayal Foretold: Descended of Dragons, Book 3 (13 page)

* * *

T
here’s just
something about sleeping near the sea that soothes the soul. I woke when the sun rose to the high-pitched call of gulls. I had slept in Abia’s bed, the only one in the house, and she was already gone.
Probably diving
, I thought, and went in search of her.

The sand was still cool from the overnight temperature. It squished between my toes as I made my way to the beach.

The sense of
deja vu
was overwhelming as I caught sight of her leaned against the rocky outcropping of my vision.

“Morning,” she called, removing her diving fin from first one foot and then the other.

“Hi. You diving for breakfast or for fun?”

Abia grinned and held up a net full of prickly black balls. “There’s nothing like uni in the morning. Scrambled or fried?”

“Those aren’t edible,” I said. “Don’t tease me.”

“No, there’s roe inside—eggs. Do you know how to open a sea urchin?”

“No,” I admitted. “How?”

“Very carefully,” she said, revealing a crooked grin that threatened to spread into her distinctive cackle.

I rolled my eyes at her joke. “Thanks for talking through everything with me last night. I feel better.”

“My pleasure,” she said. “As you can imagine, I don’t get much company, and getting to know you has been the best thing to happen to me in many years.”

I ducked my head at her compliment, but it made me wonder. “After Talbot was killed, why didn’t you leave here? Surely the spell or wards or whatever were broken with his death.”

“You don’t know how many times I’ve wished that were true,” she said, her tone desolate. “I’ve studied and practiced wards and spell-making these centuries, trying to reverse his curse. I don’t know how he did it, but he created a ward so powerful that it has extended beyond his death. Which doesn’t make any sense, magically, since wards like these are implemented with blood. Upon his death my captivity here should’ve been lifted.” She let out a weary breath. “But it wasn’t.”

“Huh. Maybe he used someone else’s blood,” I mused.

Abia’s gaze snapped in my direction and her mouth fell open. She stared at me, not uttering a word but her eyes wild.

Her diving mask hit the sand with a thud. She threw her hands in the air and began pacing, all the while cursing Talbot Gresham, and cursing herself and her own narrow-mindedness.

“I take it all back,” she said and looked at me in wonder.

“What?”

“Saying you were a slow learner. I take it all back. You’re a damn genius.”

“Oh. Ah, thanks?”
Brilliant response, Stonewall. Definitely genius material.

I
found Bay as expected
: blissful and borderline giddy. She had found peace on Pearl Isle, and for that, I was eternally grateful. I suspected she’d also found love.

“Morning, dear,” she said and hugged me.
Hugged me.
Stiff, severe Bay Drakontos hugged me.

“Okay,” I said slowly. “One guess what’s got you in such a chipper mood.”

She wagged a finger at me, but couldn’t suppress her smile. “I have news.”

“Oh, do tell.”

“Forster and I are to be married,” she said. Her lilt was always stronger with emotion, and her ‘R’s’ sounded more like purred ‘D’s.’
‘ard to be maddeet.’

“But you’ve only known him for a few weeks,” I said, shock overpowering my manners.

“I’ve known Forster McCreight my entire life,” she scoffed. “Say you’re happy for me.” She tapped an impatient foot. “Say it.”

I hugged her this time, indicating my joy with a long, tight squeeze. “I’m so happy for you, Bay. So very happy.” My eyes stung and pressure built in my sinus as tears threatened. They threatened, and I was able to stave them off with a sniffle, until I selfishly thought of my own future happiness. Then I let the tears fall. I held on to Bay for a bit until I steered the waterworks back to tears of joy.

“What’s got ye so down, dear?” she asked. “Is it your mother?”

“My mother? No. I’ve resolved I may never understand her, and I’m okay with that. I really am happy for you.” I swiped my tears from my face, shook the clouds away, and gave her my brightest smile. “You’ll need a dress.”

* * *

T
he two saw
no need to wait, and the wedding was planned for the next afternoon, a Saturday.

I helped Bay find a dress at a shop in town, and did her hair, twisting together the streaks of auburn and silver in a loose up-do. She insisted she was too old for flowers in her hair, but I convinced her otherwise.

Forster stood beneath the gazebo at the dock behind his house. He wore a muted brown suit, but his bald head gleamed in the afternoon sun. I preceded Bay toward him in the procession, and he spared me a single glance before his light eyes locked on her radiant face. Bay was stunning in a simple cream dress modest enough for her taste, but showed off her lovely back. She was so happy she nearly raced to join him.

Gaspare officiated, and I caught him searching my face several times during the ceremony. It’s true I had been somewhat emotional lately, but he watched me like I’d fall apart at any time. The third time I shrugged in a universal ‘
what
?’ gesture. He shook his head roughly and looked away.

When Bay and Forster said their vows, I watched Gaspare. His face was regretful, almost sad, as he looked toward Emelie.

The few in attendance cheered like they’d won a soccer match when Forster grabbed Bay by the shoulders and kissed her. And kissed her. And kissed her some more.

The McCreights hosted a reception at their home after the wedding. Laughter spread from room to room and I caught myself having the beginning stirrings of happiness again.

“There you are.” Gaspare’s sandy hair was meticulously combed for the special occasion. He always looked put-together, but this was perfection. He and Emelie were so different. She had the whole
au naturale
free spirit scientist thing going on, and he was as tight-laced as they came. “I’ve been looking for you.”

“Next time just look for the booze,” I said lightly. “Wherever there is a bar so thirsty people can drink, I’ll be there.”

“Steinbeck?”

“Sort of.”

Gaspare stared at his feet and kicked the floor. He looked up at the same time he put his hands in his pockets and his tongue in his cheek. He wanted to say something, but was having a tough time of it.

“What’s up?”

“Stella, I… Gods, this is difficult. Emelie and Abia insist I’ve handled this wrong. I don’t normally heed outside counsel, but this—you—are a special case.”

“Okay,” I replied slowly.

“I maintain my decision is what’s best, what’s right, what’s safest for all of us.”

He lost me. I really didn’t want to re-hash the whole Ewan thing, and certainly not on such a good day. Bay and Forster’s wedding was a happy occasion, and I was doing my best to stay positive.

Gaspare was still talking, and I tuned back in at the words. “…convinced me I’ll either lose you because of this or ruin your happiness. Either way, I’ve failed you, and I never wanted to do that. I must be out of my mind, but I’m suspending my good sense and allowing you to see Ewan.”

My shocked
yip
of joy drew the attention of everyone in the room, but I didn’t care. I jumped and hugged Gaspare’s neck. He stood stiffly at first, but then patted me on the shoulder. When I didn’t release him, he finally hugged me back and allowed himself the briefest moment to enjoy it before clearing his throat and getting back to business.

“I’ll have to bring him here. That’s the only way. You can’t return to Thayer, of course. Abia suggested Topaz, where you’ll remain unseen. I can’t promise anything for the future, but at least he’ll know you’re alive. For all the good it’ll do him. I still think you should both move on.”

“Thank you,” I breathed, undeterred by his last statement. “Thank you so much.”

G
aspare
and I agreed he would trace Ewan to a pool of fresh water on the opposite side of the island from Abia. Topaz wasn’t a big landform, but with only three people on it, privacy was fairly easy to come by.

I had prepared a picnic, complete with blankets and wine, and laid out my spread beneath an ancient tree just feet from the waterfall and pool. The soil was soft and warm as I knelt on the blanket to arrange the wine and food just right.

My hands shook as I smoothed my skirt. Again.
What’s taking them so long?

The stemless glasses and wine required further adjusting, and then I unwrapped a wedge of cheese. I lay the baguette between the wine and cheese, but moved it again.

Thud.
Something—or things—heavy hit the ground near the base of the waterfall.

Ungh!
A punch landed.

“Dammit,” Gaspare’s commanding voice aimed for serious, but was laced with humor. “Stop fighting. I’m doing you a favor. Try to show a little appreciation.”

“I’ll kill you…you bastard.” Ewan’s voice was strained, guttural.
Oomph
. “And I don’t care…if I die…in the process.”

Gaspare scoffed. “I hadn’t planned to kill you, pup, though I’m considering it now.”
Ungh.
Ewan landed another punch in Gaspare’s gut. “For gods’ sake, stop punching me.”

“You shouldn’t have…killed her.…she was…everything…to me…need her.” Ewan’s voice broke on the last words and he abandoned punching Gaspare to hold himself upright instead.

Gaspare caught my gaze and rolled his eyes, but the humor was lost on me.

Ewan was filthy. He looked worse in person than I’d seen in Gaspare’s head, and I gasped at the evidence of his misery.

Ewan’s head snapped in the direction of my gasp. His eyes bulged in shock before squinting to slits. “Stella?” he croaked.

I couldn’t speak, but nodded my head, hiccupping a sob as he fell to his knees. I ran to him and went to my knees, too. I knelt before him, afraid to touch him but the desire too strong to sit still. I raised and returned my hands a dozen times while he worked to determine if I was real.

Over Ewan’s shoulder, Gaspare pointed to his watch. A stipulation of his offer was that Ewan return that night. We had agreed on 10. I blinked in silent agreement and Gaspare gave a sharp nod. Then he was gone.

After an eternity, Ewan squeezed my upper arms, still staring questioningly into my face. When he pulled me into his chest, he held me so tightly I could scarcely breathe, but I didn’t care. I thought I’d never be in his arms again. He could squeeze the last breath from my body and I’d die happy.

Ewan pushed me back, holding me at arms’ length, his eyes scanning every square inch of me.

“You’re alive,” he said thickly. “What hap—No. I don’t care what happened. You’re here now. Oh, gods, Stella. I love you so much.”

I had been happy in my lifetime. I know I had. But what I felt when Ewan Bristol told me he loved me cannot be compared with any joy previously experienced. My heart’s swelling caused such pressure within my chest I worried it might burst. I didn’t release him or run from it, but held him tighter. Held on for life. For love.

A familiar noise caused me to look up. Ewan sniffed the air around us conspicuously. “Is that me? Do I smell that bad?”

I laughed. “Mmm, pretty bad.” His bark of laughter sent a shot of joy through my veins.

“I suppose I hadn’t cared to notice. I’m sorry.”

I shook my head. It wasn’t a concern. Nothing could ruin that moment. I put the force of my happiness into my eyes and tried to read what he was thinking.

The silence extended too long. Neither of us knew what to say next, or how to proceed.

The roar of the plummeting waterfall gave me an idea. “I can take care of that,” I said, and then softer “I can take care of you. Wait here.”

Ewan’s cry of protest when I stood, stepped away from him, and traced away pulled at my already-strained heartstrings, but I was gone only a moment to grab shampoo and towels from the guest house.

I laid them near my feet, and slowly unzipped my skirt. When it fell to the ground Ewan’s ever-expressive eyes shot wildly from the gray skirt to my face and back again. My button-front shirt was next. I released each button slowly, starting just above my chest. He held my gaze even as I dropped my arms to the side, revealing the soft pink bra underneath. When I shrugged from the shirt he stood motionless, entranced, and when my bra and panties were finally removed his eyes raked my body. The desire they held was as clear as the crystal pool beside us.

I was not embarrassed standing before Ewan Bristol naked. I was revealed. I was empowered. I was me. And I wanted him.

Ewan still hadn’t moved, and I glided confidently toward him—not in a seduction, but in offering. I lifted his black shirt above his head, losing contact with his eyes for only a moment before he found me again. I put the force of my love, the depth of my feelings into my eyes as I loosened his jeans and let them fall to the ground.

He was wearing nothing underneath. It was suddenly difficult to swallow.

When I laced my fingers with his, he squeezed my hand, the question in his eyes clear.

“Yes,” I nodded and led him into the water, snagging the shampoo on the way.

I rubbed the light shampoo into a lather, and smoothed it onto his chest. He groaned as I massaged the line of his bicep and down his arms until we stood chest to chest, arms extended together, hands gripped tightly, like we risked losing each another again. And we did. We were at risk, but it was clear neither of us would let go without a fight.

Still holding my hands, Ewan lowered his body, then his head underwater. He stayed low when he emerged, and I stroked the shampoo into his thick hair, his dark curls smoothed to his head.

Bliss overtook him, and he closed his eyes when I scratched my nails lightly across his scalp, scrubbing and massaging. Cleaning him, cleansing us.

While I rinsed the shampoo from his hair, I traced the new line between his eyebrows. The worry was for me, I knew, and I tried to smooth it away with my thumb before I kissed him there.

Ewan’s eyes snapped open when he sensed me so close, and he rose to kiss my mouth. He’d been satisfied to let me bathe him, to follow my lead. But when it came to kissing, Ewan Bristol had always been the one in charge. He stood and bent his head, pulling me roughly toward him, only water between us. He kissed me with such fire I wouldn’t have been surprised to find the water around the two of us boiling.

I pushed away from him, gasping for breath, and then laughed at his aggrieved face. “I wasn’t finished,” I said playfully and looked pointedly into the water.

Understanding lit his face and he rose from the water, spreading his arms wide. “By all means,” he said, giving me full view. Full access.

I adored the feel of his hips, the slight sharpness of bone underneath velvet smooth skin.

But as I traced his hipbones with my thumbs, my mind tragically flew to thoughts of them poised above Emrynne as he made love to her.

I squeezed my eyes shut, admonishing my stupidity, my self-destructive tendencies.
Stay in the now, Stella
.
This is important. This is real. You can work past the rest.

Ewan sensed the change in me and mistook my frustration for apprehension.

“You’re having second thoughts,” he said and dropped his arms. “I can see it in your face. We can stop.” He moved to release me, but more distance between us was the last thing I wanted.

“No, Ewan,” I said. “It’s just…” I didn’t want to bring her into our moment. I wouldn’t give her that.

“Do you want someone else? Do you…” he swallowed hard. “Do you love someone else?”

I jerked at the fault in his logic. “God. No, Ewan. There’s no one else. Just you. Just you and me.”

He was unconvinced. His fingers pressed into my shoulder blades when he grasped me by the tops of my arms. “I may not have a dragon’s fire, but I burn for you, Stella.” He shook me ever so slightly. “I
burn
.”

I was lost after that. We both were. We were a tempest of hands, of mouths, of hearts.

As we kissed, Ewan backed me to a high bank and lifted me onto its edge, my legs dangling in the warm water. My head fell back when he pressed his mouth to me, and I clung to the bank’s soft edge as I fell apart.

Ewan rose and held me close, chuckling under his breath when I shuddered with tiny aftershocks.

When we moved to the blankets at the base of the tree, we made sweet, tender love as the sun set over the endless sea.

This is my favorite thing about love-making
.
The radiating warmth of my partner. The tiny but perfect pleasures like the hair of his thighs on my smooth skin. The flex of muscles under fingertips.
Impulsive kisses to a temple, a shoulder, an eyelid. The powerful, decadent scent of man.

Ewan ducked his head and pressed his forehead to mine. He stared into my eyes, holding my gaze as he worked his body into and out of me. I loved the way he bit his lip and closed his eyes when something was especially good.

“So intimate,”
I thought, so very happy. So very satisfied.

“Yes,”
he whispered through my mind, though I hadn’t intended for him to hear.
“Perfect.”