Gift of the Goddess (41 page)

Brin shot upright with a grunt and seized Trey’s wrist in a bone-crushing grip. He met the other man’s smiling eyes and instantly changed the grip to a pull, tugging him down onto his chest. Then he noticed the elderly healer, gazing studiously into the middle distance.

He released Trey. Coloring like a boy, he pushed the hair off his face. Anje was enchanted.

“Good morning, Sasreela,” he said finally. “What are you doing here? Trey’s fine.” He cocked a brow at the other man. “I make sure he does his exercises.” Grabbing his trews, he turned his back and jerked them on.

Anje and Trey watched with interest, but the old woman shot him a look calculated to remind a grown man of boyhood indiscretions. “Trey asked me.”

213 Denise Rossetti

“It’s nothing.” Trey shrugged. “I’d like Sasreela to look at Anje.”

“I’m fine,” she protested.

“You’re tired, aren’t you?”

She couldn’t help the blush. “I have two of you to keep up with.”

Sasreela took her wrist, her fingers cool and dry. She closed her eyes, concentrating on her healer’s art, while Anje watched the two men exchange a glance she couldn’t interpret. A little hurt at being so comprehensively left out, she turned to the old woman. “Is there something wrong with me?”

Sasreela’s lips were trembling, her face ashen. Anje’s guts roiled.

The old woman asked, “When did you last have your moon-flux, my Lady?”

“
What
?”

Brin reached out and clamped a hand on Trey’s shoulder. Then they froze, still as graven images at a temple door.

“I forget… I’ve been so busy… Some time ago…” The words trailed off. “
Mother!
It was before…before I met…”

“Sasreela, are you sure?” Brin was so pale, Anje was certain only the hand on Trey’s shoulder kept him upright.

Tears streamed down Sasreela’s weathered cheeks. “Yes, dear,” she said simply. Blotting her face with a fold of her garment, she tottered from the room, leaving a profound silence in her wake.

Brin took a shaky step and fell to his knees beside the bed. He threw his arms around Anje’s waist and hugged the life out of her, burying his face in her lap. As she stroked his hair, he began to shudder under her hands, like a spooked vran, and she realized he was crying, harsh, wrenching sobs that were muffled by her body.

“Love, love. Don’t.” She rocked him as though he was a child, looking helplessly at Trey. But at the expression on his face, she could do nothing but hold out her arms and gather him in as well.

Trey hiccupped, caught between laughter and tears. “Ah, Anje, love. It was a lucky day we found you.”

Outside the window, voices shouted and exclaimed as the news spread. A woman shrieked with joy and a man laughed, full-throated. Hoofbeats drummed out of the stable and off down the dusty track to the next ranch.

Anje patted and soothed, while tears of joy dripped off her chin.

The full impact didn’t hit her ‘til after the emotional storm had passed. Mother save her, she was a scout, what did she know of babies? But then, she’d known nothing of love and she’d muddled through. With the help of the Goddess.

And Lufra knew about children. Wasn’t she Mother of all the world?

Still… She drew a breath and need hit her. “I have to pee.”

Brin swung her up in his arms. “What you need is a pee and a bath—”

214 Gift of the Goddess

“In that order,” put in Trey, irrepressible as ever.

“Shut up, you,” growled Brin, “or I won’t let you anywhere above her ankles.”

“Bully.” Trey dropped the sarong and sauntered ahead of them to the ablution room, putting plenty of swish into that biteable ass.

As they settled into the steaming water, Anje remembered that first time, Brin holding her as he was now, rock solid, watching Trey fuck her, whispering wicked things in her ear, knowing he was next. She trembled with anticipation. Holy Mother, she hoped they weren’t going to go all careful on her! Any child of hers would be tough. And any child of…of…

Her thought stumbled. Trey was kneeling, the water lapping lovingly at the heavy sac of his testicles, a sponge in his hands. “Lufra’s tits!” he said. “Do you realize—”

“We don’t know whose it is,” Brin finished.

A deep joy suffused her, warmer and softer even than the perfumed water. “What does it matter?” She laid her palms over her still flat belly. “We’ll love her anyway. I don’t care if she’s got red hair or black. She’ll be ours.”

Their brows drew down in identical frowns. “
He!
” they growled in unison.

Anje giggled.

Then she flung her arms open wide.

215

About the Author

When Denise Rossetti was very young, she had an aunt who would tell her the most wonderful fairy stories—all completely original. Denise grew up, as little girls do, but the love of stories has never left her. It was only when she dared herself to write down the secret sagas in her head, that life become
really
interesting!

Denise remains an incurable romantic. She loves happy endings, heart-stopping adventure and the eventual triumph of good over evil. All hail the guys in the white hats, she says. Unless the ones wearing black are more...um...intriguing?

She lives in a comfortable, messy old house in the Australian suburbs with her darling husband of more-years-than-she-cares-to-remember. And yes, she knows how lucky she is. She has one of everything that matters—one husband, one son, one daughter, one dog, one cat and, thank heavens, one cleaning lady. Denise is small and noisy and dreadfully uncoordinated and tends to wave her hands around a lot, which can be unfortunate if the tale she's telling happens to have explosions in it!

Denise welcomes comments from readers. You can find her website and email address on her author bio page at www.ellorascave.com.

Discover for yourself why readers can’t get enough of the multiple award-winning publisher Ellora’s Cave. Whether you prefer e-books or paperbacks, be sure to visit EC on the web at www.ellorascave.com for an erotic reading experience that will leave you breathless.

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