Dancing With the Devil (14 page)

With a great sigh, Rhea let her own boring brown hair fall down her back. Boring old braid it would have to be.

“Leave it down,” Deacon said quietly from the doorway.

“Oh!” She dropped the brush, and it skidded across the floor. “You scared me.”

He crossed the room in two long, slow strides and slid his fingers through the beginnings of her braid, loosening it all over again. With slow, gentle hands, he fanned her hair out over her shoulders, rubbing the ends between his fingers.

“Definitely leave it down.”

Rhea swallowed hard and forced her head to nod. Surely if Mrs. Foster saw her this way, she’d take it upon herself to remind Rhea of what was proper and what wasn’t. But one last look at Deacon’s face in the mirror, and all thoughts of Mrs. Foster vanished.

“Are we ready?” she asked, a little shaky.

Deacon didn’t speak, just nodded and let her by. Outside, two sleek black horses were hitched to a shiny white oak phaeton. With Deacon’s help, Rhea climbed inside and settled back against the soft leather seat.

How had he paid for the buggy? He’d told her that first day that he hadn’t a penny to his name.

“Does Mr. Travis know we have his best buggy?” she asked.

“Of course. What did you think I’d done—stolen it?” He climbed up beside her and took the reins in his hands.

Rhea chose not to answer that question or further the conversation in any way. Best to leave well enough alone for now.

She shifted slightly in her seat, watching the horses’ tails swish calmly and their ears twitch against a couple of pesky mosquitoes.

“Why are they acting that way?”

With a flick of the reins, Deacon set the horses off at a slow walk.

“What do you mean?” he asked. “They’re being perfectly calm.”

“I can see that,” she agreed. “But if memory serves, animals don’t usually appreciate your presence.”

He grinned. “I told you, things have changed. Without my powers, I’m just like any other human to these animals.”

“A human who’s never driven horses before.”

“They don’t know that, do they?”

Rhea swallowed the retort that jumped to her tongue. They were going to have a nice day. Nothing else mattered.

The streets were almost empty, save for a few people lingering around the livery and two dirty yellow dogs sniffing the corner of the saloon.

“It’s so beautiful this morning.” She inhaled a long, slow breath and smiled. “I love the smell of spring.”

“So you’ve said,” he teased. “Still smells like dust and horse sweat to me.”

The morning sun followed them west across miles of open land.

“Where are you taking me?”

“I have no idea.” He shrugged over his grin. “The farther away from town, the better.”

She pointed off into the distance. “There’s a lake about five miles that way if you’re interested. Trees for shade, a bit of grass for the horses.”

“Any people?”

“Not usually this early.”

“Perfect.” He turned the horses southwest and settled back against the bench. As one minute stretched into ten, then twenty and more, the knot in Rhea’s stomach grew in proportion.

“You’re awfully quiet,” he noted. “Is something wrong?”

“No,” she hurried to answer. “Nothing. I think, perhaps, that’s the problem.”

Deacon laughed. “It’s bad that we’re having a peaceful morning together without arguing?”

“Yes. I mean no, it’s not bad—just unexpected.”

“Why? It’s not as though we’ve never done it before.”

“True,” she conceded. “But as you’ve pointed out more than once, things have changed.”

He pinched the reins tighter but didn’t say anything. A minute later, the horses picked up their pace a little as the lake came into view. Deacon reined them in beneath a tall pecan tree and set the break.

“I’ll help you down.” He made his way around the buggy, lifted her down, then threw the reins around a low hanging branch.

“We need to unhitch them,” Rhea said. “Unless we’re leaving shortly.”

“So long as no one else comes out here, we’re not going anywhere for a while,” he said, then grinned sheepishly. “But I’ve never had to unhitch an animal before.”

It was times like these when Rhea could almost forget where he came from. He seemed almost…innocent.

She pushed her hair back over her shoulders and set to work on the harness. Deacon watched what she did and mimicked her actions on the other side. Soon enough, the horses were free and hobbled in the shade.

Taking her by the hand, Deacon frowned as he led her toward the water. “You have a bit of dirt just…there.”

Rhea glanced down at her blouse to find a gray smudge across her chest. If she hadn’t been distracted by Deacon holding her hand, she might have taken more time to worry over the stain. As it was, she brushed off as much as she could with her free hand and ignored the rest.

Her hand was still tucked in Deacon’s as they found themselves a spot of thick green grass to sit on.

“I’m sorry about your blouse.” It wasn’t like Deacon to apologize for anything—especially when the offense was not his.

“It’s just dirt. It’ll wash out.”

“I know that, but you…” He averted his eyes and shrugged. “It’s new.”

His thumb moved in slow circles over her knuckles, causing the blood in her veins to swirl in the same motion.

“Y-yes,” she stammered.
Think of Salma. Think of Salma.

“Thank you.”

“What for? I’ve hardly done anything in the past few days that you should be thanking me for.”

He finally looked at her, and what she saw made her want to dive into those eyes and never come back.

Salma Salma Salma Salma.

This was the same man who’d left her shattered last summer, the same man who was going to leave her shattered again if she didn’t keep Salma’s face in mind.

“You took the trouble to dress up for me,” he said. “I didn’t expect that.”

“I-I—”

“And you’re letting me be nice to you.” He tried to smile, but failed.

Drat. How could she possibly keep up the illusion of aloofness if he was going to look at her like that?

“It’s been a trial, too,” she teased. “For goodness sake, breakfast brought to my room and a ride to the lake on the most beautiful day of the year.” She squeezed his hand gently. “I don’t know how much more of this I can take.”

Deacon pulled her hand up to his chest. Finally, at long last, his cocky grin was back. “Are you mocking me?” he asked.

She batted her lashes and smiled. “Never.”

“Let’s walk.” He pulled her to her feet, then stood staring at her hair. “Shouldn’t you have a bonnet or something?”

“Probably,” she replied, “but I’ve never been one who much liked hats.”

“Surely you like mine, though.”

Rhea stared at her boots for a minute before looking up at him and smiling self-consciously. “Hate it.”

“But—” He pulled the horrid thing from his head, considered it a moment, then shrugged and tossed it to the ground.

That was better; now she could see his hair, she could imagine what it felt like to run her fingers through it…

Wait a minute. The Deacon she knew would never go anywhere without his hat, and he certainly wouldn’t throw it on the ground because someone didn’t like it!

“You could’ve told me you didn’t like it,” he said, tucking her hand under his elbow. “I’d tell you if you were wearing something I didn’t like.”

Perfectly good new clothes wasted. “You don’t like this skirt?”

“I didn’t say that, did I?” There wasn’t even a hint of teasing in his voice now. “You get prettier every day.”

“Aside from the giant smudge across my…blouse, the fact my hair is a complete disaster, and—”

Deacon stopped short, jolting her along with him. He cupped her face in his hands and looked straight into her eyes.

“Beautiful,” he said. “Completely, thoroughly and altogether beautiful.” Each word brought his face closer to hers until they were but a breath apart.

He was so close. He smelled like sunshine. And his hands…so warm, so gentle against her skin.

“Deacon,” she whispered. “Why did you come back?”

“I missed you.” His thumbs caressed her cheeks in slow tortuous circles. “I wanted to make things right.”

Something prickled the back of her brain; she was supposed to remember something, but what? And did it really matter at this point?

“I missed you, too.”

She pushed up on her toes, touching her lips to his, hesitantly at first, then slowly becoming bolder. Deacon didn’t move, didn’t try to control it, but instead let Rhea take her time. It was a heady feeling knowing she could do what ever she wanted, for as long as she wanted.

For that moment, Rhea didn’t care one whit about what was proper, what wasn’t or why any of it mattered.
The cloudless sky, the crystal clear lake and the man she lo…enjoyed; it was a moment to cherish.

She leaned into him, her hands pressed flat against his chest as it thumped out its wildly erratic beat. Her breathing, labored and shallow, matched his gasp for gasp.

A low growl started in his throat, but still he didn’t move.

“Deacon?” She’d barely murmured his name before he took control. His mouth slanted over hers, possessing her and loving her, while his hands still cupped her cheeks, his thumbs caressing her skin.

“I missed you,” he whispered again, his voice aching and cracked. “I missed this.”

Each breath she took was more painful than the last. God help her, but she wanted to believe him.

“Kiss me again.”

“Rhea.” Her name was a heartbreaking sigh from his lips.

His fingers moved through her hair, sliding over the length of it. He kissed her eyes, her cheeks and the sensitive spot just below her ear. Rhea couldn’t have moved if she wanted to. Not a single ounce of strength remained in her muscles; not a single clear thought remained in her brain.

Seeking out his mouth, she opened to him, accepting his tongue as it teased her lips open and danced against her teeth. One of his hands splayed across her back, holding her tight against his chest; the other caressed the underside of her jaw, the side of her neck.

She needed to touch him, to feel the heat of his skin beneath her hands. She fumbled against the buttons on his shirt, but before she could release the first one, Deacon broke their kiss and stepped back.

Rhea staggered slightly, righted herself and looked up at him. What on earth?

Guilt splashed across his face even before he exhaled a long breath and indicated behind her with a raised brow.

Rhea turned slowly, still dizzy from his kisses and the way he’d ended it so abruptly. She didn’t want to see what ever it was that caused Deacon to look at her with such regret and frustration.

Blinking through the haze in her brain, she found herself looking straight into Kit’s exquisite face. Dressed in her denim trousers and chambray shirt, Kit looked completely at ease standing there in the midmorning sun. How had she snuck up on them so quietly?

Every beautiful thing about the day exploded around Rhea in a storm of regret. Kit was Deacon’s sister. She had the power to appear and disappear whenever she liked.

“Sorry to interrupt.” Kit’s smile and raspy voice were a direct contradiction to her words.

Stumbling slightly, Rhea forced her legs to hold her upright as every ounce of happiness slowly drained to her toes.

If it wasn’t embarrassing enough to be caught in a compromising position, it was beyond anything else to be caught in that position by Deacon’s own sister.

Kit cocked her head to the side and grinned brightly. “Hello, Rhea.”

“Kit.” Bile churned in her stomach, sloshing back and forth with enough force to make her dizzy.

Kit’s grin faded to a frown. “Oh no, he told you about me, didn’t he?”

“Yes.” Deacon’s answer hung on the air as he moved in beside Rhea and slid his arm around her waist. Normally, it would have been a welcome support; but now,
with Kit standing there smirking at them, Rhea couldn’t shake him off fast enough.

“Deacon, Deacon, Deacon.” Kit ran her fingers through her chaos of red hair, shaking it loose around her shoulders. “When are you going to learn? Humans don’t need to know about us. It just complicates things.”

“On the contrary,” Rhea replied. “It makes things much easier knowing you’re a…” She couldn’t bring herself to say it out loud. “You’re like him.”

“Oh, please. I’m much better than he’ll ever be.”

“Better? Or worse?” Rhea shot back. “It seems you and I have different definitions of those words.”

As if she wasn’t confused enough about what she felt for Deacon, having Kit there only made it worse. She was a constant reminder that Deacon’s time with Rhea was limited. But just how limited?

“Listen to me, Rhea.” Deacon took a tentative step toward her. “You don’t know what Kit’s capable of, and without any powers, I can’t protect you from her.”

“Why would you need to protect me? I’ve given her no reason to do anything to me.”

“That’s true,” Kit admitted, brushing grass from her trousers as she rose to her feet. “She hasn’t. In fact, she was more than courteous when I was in the store the other day.”

Deacon ignored her. “She doesn’t need a reason to hurt you, Rhea. She’d do it simply because she can.”

“Deacon!” The pained look on Kit’s face didn’t fool anyone. “What kind of a thing is that to say about your youngest sister?”

“Youn gest?” Rhea repeated, her head twisting to stare from one to the other. “There’s more of you?”

Kit’s green eyes lit up like a mischievous child’s. “You mean you haven’t told her about Lucille? And here I thought you were being all truthful and good.”

“Lucille?” Rhea pressed her hand over her chest.

“This just keeps getting better.” Kit began to walk, taking slow deliberate steps around them.

“Be quiet, Kit.” Deacon’s voice was dangerously low.

“You have another sister?” Rhea could hardly look at him. “I can’t believe you didn’t tell me.”

“I can’t believe you shot him.” Kit snorted. “That’s my favorite part of this whole story.”

“Yes, well, I apologized for that.” Shame fired her skin until she was certain her cheeks must be completely scarlet. Thank goodness Kit didn’t seem to take notice. Instead, she shot Rhea a quick wink and laughed.