Light of Kaska (28 page)

"For being an asshole after the hearing." He made an impatient sound and shook his head. "For being an asshole since you got the band off me. I should have been on my knees thanking you. Nobody’s ever risked so much for me."

"You did the same for me," she said softly, her voice shivering a little at the look in his eyes. She didn’t know what he was thinking or feeling, but his intensely vivid gaze was making her quiver with need.

He made a derisive sound in the back of his throat. "I was already gone. I just didn’t want to take you down with me. You should’ve let me go. You put your whole life at risk—"

"And I would do it again. That band—it was the most horrible thing I’ve ever seen. It was like your soul had drained away." Tears stung her eyes and she bit her lower lip to stop them, taking a shuddering breath. "Chase, promise me when you leave you won’t get caught. Promise—"

He kissed her, hard and fast. "Stop shoving me out the damn door," he growled then kissed her again with a kind of slow, deliberate heat that told her he was done talking. She wanted to thank the Goddess once more, but she got distracted. Thoroughly.

When she came down from paradise again, she found herself draped over his prone body like a blanket, her cheek on his damp chest and his heart beating in her ear. The thunder of it slowed to a strong, measured beat that reassured and satisfied her at a very elemental level. Peaceful lethargy weighed her limbs and she found her eyelids drooping toward a doze. Reluctantly, she fought off sleepiness. "We should probably go up to the house before someone finds us like this."

He made a rumble deep in his chest like a big, lazy cat and Keza smiled, rubbing her cheek against him. He stroked a hand down her back and over her hip but didn’t move otherwise. "They can go to hell. We’re fine right here."

"That marble is hard. And cold."

"Stop complaining. You’re on top this time."

Keza sighed, eyelids drooping again, this time with erotic memories. On top was a very nice place to be. "I had no complaints, even when I was on the bottom. Just thought we should move to someplace a little less, ah…public."

"Nobody here but you, me, and the statue. She doesn’t look like she—" He stopped speaking abruptly, his body tensing under her.

With a spurt of alarm, Keza raised her head and looked at him. He was staring at the statue. "What?"

"How’d you do that?"

"Do what?"

He glanced at her swiftly before fixing his stare on the statue once more. "She doesn’t look like you anymore."

Keza felt a thrill that was deeper than physical, a jolt of energy that passed right through her soul and into eternity, like a goddess’s smile. "You really thought she looked like me?"

He shot her an impatient look then rolled them to a sitting position so he could look at the statue from another angle. He frowned. "Damned if I know how you people did it, but she had your face before. Now she doesn’t look like you at all."

When she didn’t respond, he glanced at her then did a double take, his face softening and mouth curving. Lifting his fingers, he traced the smile on her lips. Then he traced it with his tongue. "Sunshine," he said huskily.

"Chase," she sighed in response. "I have a very nice, soft, private bed in my room. Can we go use that now, please?"

Heat flared in his eyes, and she was rewarded with a slow, wickedly sexy smile that almost stopped her heart. "Keza mine, if we make it that far, it’ll be a miracle."

***********

Besides Rogue’s lascivious wink and wicked grin, the family was kind enough not to comment on what Keza and Chase had been doing for most of the day. Keza was amazed and gratified by their restraint, since it was more than obvious that the entire Marish clan had been informed. And if any of the clan hadn’t been told, the way Keza walked would have been a dead giveaway.

Her face blazed with a steady, permanent blush, but Chase had insisted on coming down for dinner. When Keza had pointed out her perfectly serviceable kitchenette, Chase had only lifted his eyebrows and reminded her that she couldn’t cook. When she’d suggested through clenched teeth that he might put forth some culinary effort, he claimed to be too weak from hunger.

So she’d hobbled out of her rooms and down to the courtyard with a red face, glaring at Chase the whole way. He had responded with a smirk and a solicitous arm around her waist. Of course, he looked perfectly fit and not the least bit sore or weary from their gymnastic sexual efforts.

"Creep," she muttered when they’d made their way to an empty bench and sat under a gently swinging lantern. She sat very gingerly.

"I’m a starving man, Sunshine. I barely had breakfast, and you’ve been working me hard all—"

She clapped a hand over his mouth with a furious squeak, glaring into the midnight sparkle of his eyes. Someone snickered further down the table, but she didn’t look to see who it was. "Not another word," she hissed, "or I swear you’ll regret it."

He took her hand away and leaned close to whisper in her ear, "I get hot when you’re angry."

She pulled back to give him a startled look then frowned. "Stop making fun of me."

He kissed her fingertips with the suggestion of a smile. "Don’t believe me?"

"Even if it was true," she said in a low voice, mindful of the crowd, "you couldn’t possible want to after all the times we’ve…"

He lifted his eyebrows, watching her with those dark, dark eyes, and slipped her hand under the table. Her jaw dropped with the hard proof in the palm of her hand. Then she leaned close and asked earnestly, "Are you even human?"

He laughed.

She watched him with a bemused smile, heart stuttering in her chest. She’d never seen him laugh before. It only added to his dark beauty, the white flash of his teeth and playful gleam of his ebony eyes tempering the dangerous edges of his face. It made her want to crawl onto his lap, wrap herself around him, and never let go. The deep rumble of his laughter rubbed over her like a caress and she realized with amazement that if they were alone, she would do more than just crawl on his lap and to hell with being sore.

She also realized that her hand was still in his lap. Smiling sweetly, she curled her fingers around him and gave him a gentle squeeze. His final chuckle turned into a choked sound and he was quick to bring her hand back up to table level. "Still hungry?" she asked with as innocent a look as she could manage.

"Starving," he growled and the look in his eyes promised delicious retribution for her teasing.

"Better grab a plate," she said, gesturing toward the cart rolling by behind them.

The predatory expression on his face simplified to a less complicated hunger and he was quick to snag two full plates from the cart, groaning out loud when the food passed under his nose on the way to the table.

Keza snickered, acquiring glasses of lemonade for them both from a second cart. By the time she set the glass in front of him, he’d already begun eating and was making deeply appreciative noises. Grinning widely, she picked up her own fork and applied herself with enthusiasm to the buttons of meat and tender baby vegetables in Nade’s famous sweet sauce.

When they had finished the main course, the salads, and the desert, Chase leaned his elbows on the table and said solemnly, "Your sister is a cultural treasure. She needs round-the-clock security, or somebody’s gonna steal her away."

"She has round-the-clock Harle," Keza said with a smirk.

Chase looked thoughtful. "Sounds like a disease."

"Hey!" Harle objected from behind them.

Keza jumped, glancing over her shoulder, but the smirk on Chase’s face said he’d known the big man was there.

"Smartass," Harle grumbled, lowering himself with a sigh next to Keza. "Sorry to break up your cozy duo, but damned if I can stand the twitterin’ no more."

Keza blinked. "Twittering?"

Harle gave her a disgusted look. "Your sisters and most of the rest of the bloomin’ females in this family. Romantical nonsense turned their brains to mush."

"Romantical nonsense?" Keza asked with care, not looking at Chase.

"That statue business," Harle said with a snort and a roll of his eyes.

Keza lifted her drink to her lips, taking a long gulp without looking at either man.

"What statue business?" Chase asked, his tone suspicious.

"Man, why the hell you gotta go and start ‘em off like that for?" Harle complained past Keza to Chase. "We ain’t gonna hear the end of it, not for a long damn time."

"Harle, you’re pissing me off," Chase said in a warning tone.

The big man looked impatient. "The statue, I’m talking about the statue. The one you said had Keza’s face. You musta heard that story from somewhere, right? Why’d you have to go and—"

"Harle, shut up," Chase said crisply. "Keza, turn what he’s saying into sense."

Keza snuck a glance at him out of the corner of her eye. He seemed irritable not angry, but there was an undertone of tension in his voice and body. He knew something unusual had happened in the garden and from the look of him, he wasn’t happy with it.

Clearing her throat, Keza set her glass on the table and began turning it in her fingers. She watched her hands rather than the men. "He’s talking about one of our oldest love stories. Some historians say it’s just another version of the mythology of our Goddess and Kessu, the fire god. Whatever its origins, the versions of the story that were handed down talk about the lovers Perrin and Estra."

She paused, raising the glass to her dry lips and sneaking a look at Chase. His eyes had narrowed and his expression sharpened. She wondered if she should really tell him. It would only make a strange situation even stranger for him.

"You heard it, right?" Harle asked. Chase shook his head without looking away from Keza. Harle made a rough sound in his throat. "Serious?"

"What’s the story?" Chase’s gaze burned into her.

She shifted on the bench, wishing she was sitting on something a little softer. Clearing her throat, she stared into her glass and said with a shrug, "There are lots of versions. Some are more fanciful than others—"

"Keza."

She grimaced and got on with it. "Most of the versions have the lovers meeting on a beach, night after night. The why of it varies from story to story, but basically the two are having a clandestine affair. Then one night Perrin wakes up and Estra isn’t with him. Some stories have her swept out on the tide, some say she was kidnapped, others say guilt drove her away. Whatever the version, she doesn’t come back. Perrin is heartbroken. He searches for her night and day, far and wide, until he ends up in a temple. He appeals to the Goddess, asking forgiveness for whatever sin he committed that caused him to lose his one true love. Some versions swear that what he saw was the Goddess’s response and some argue that he just went nuts, but all of them say that he, ah…he saw Estra’s face on the Goddess statue."

Chase made a harsh sound in his throat and Keza took another prudent sip of her drink without looking at him.

"The endings vary. Perrin continues his search for Estra, seeing her on every Goddess statue he finds. One ending has him flinging himself into the sea to be with her in death. A few have the Goddess leading him to Estra so he can rescue her from whatever dastardly fate took her away. One of the more popular endings has the last statue he sees becoming flesh and turning into his lost love. But whether they’re tawdry, tragic, or romantic, all the versions talk about Perrin seeing Estra’s face instead of the Goddess’s. So it’s become part of our courtship rituals for a man to tell the woman he wants that he sees her on every Goddess statue."

Having delivered the bad news, Keza shut her mouth and listened to the thunderous silence while staring intently at her empty glass. She felt Chase like a dark radiance, waves of black emotion buffeting her. He sat so still, she was afraid he’d stopped breathing.

"Huh," Harle finally broke the silence. "You really see Keza on the statue?" His voice held a thread of something that caught Keza’s attention. She glanced at him to see bright interest and humor crinkling the corners of his silver-blue eyes.

"Go away, Harle," Chase said in a tight voice.

With a muffled snicker, Harle went away.

"What does it mean?" Chase asked in that same taut tone.

Keza shrugged awkwardly. "It doesn’t have to mean anything. It’s just a story."

"Maybe if I wasn’t dead sure that statue was you first time I saw it. But it was you, and then it wasn’t. It’s your culture, your goddess. What does it mean?"

She gave him a sideways look through her lashes. "That you needed more sleep and less alcohol?"

He caught her chin and lifted her gaze to his. "I slept fine last night and I was sober this morning. Try again."

She searched his intense dark eyes, hesitated, and then said, "Maybe…maybe she was trying to tell you something."

He lifted his eyebrows, his expression ruthless. "Like what?"

Keza swallowed her hope hard and kept it out of her voice. "I can’t help you with that. She was trying to tell you, not me."

He made a rough sound and let her go, turning to stare around the courtyard with a brooding expression. "You got anybody around here who’d drop a halli in my food or drink?"

Keza’s hope shriveled a little. "Do you believe you were hallucinating?"

He shot her a look that said clearly she was being his silly farm girl again.

Her mother’s approach rescued her before things went from bad to worse. "Keza, could you stop off at the med station when you’re through here?" Myelle’s voice was mild, but Keza still felt a tingle run down her spine.

"Sure, Mom," she replied, trying to look casual.

"Why?" Chase asked, his dark eyes assessing Myelle like an adversary.

Myelle returned his look coolly. "For the usual reason. A medical exam." Then she turned and walked away and Keza let out the breath she’d been holding.

"Why does she want you examined?" Chase asked in a sharp tone. "Is something wrong?"

"Not a thing," she said, a helpless smile taking control of her face.

She watched him figure it out in a flash of dark comprehension, a suspended look in his eyes. "Oh. You can tell that quick?"