Weapon of Flesh (56 page)

BOOK: Weapon of Flesh

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“You should go to bed. We can finish up here.”

“I’m fine, Father.” She wiped her hands on her apron and sniffed, blinking away unshed tears. She’d been thinking while she mopped, and time had fled. “I’ll get the dinner dishes, and then go to bed.”

“The dishes are done, Honey. Josie did ’em, and those two rascal nephews of hers have the kitchen clean as a whistle.” Forbish leaned back and stuck his thumbs in the tie of his apron. “Never thought those two would take to work like fish to water.”

“It’s because you pay them too much, Father,” Wiggen said humorlessly, loosening her own apron strings and drawing it over her head. “I am a little tired. If you’re sure you don’t need me, I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Everything’s fine, Honey. You just get some sleep. You’ve been looking far too tired lately. You need your rest.”

She could hear the concern in his voice, and felt guilty for it. “I... don’t sleep much, Father. I know I should, but something keeps me awake.” She rubbed her eyes with her apron and shrugged, trying to smile. “I’ll be fine.”

“Well, you just don’t worry about anything, and try to think of happy things. That always works for me.” He wrapped a massive arm around her shoulder and guided her down the hall to her room. “We’ve got our health, business has picked up, and we’re not bothered by those blasted ruffians any more. There’s nothing to keep you awake but what’s in the past, Honey. Let it go and you’ll sleep.”

“I know, Father,” she said, nodding to his wisdom. “I know he’s gone, but sometimes it’s like he visits me in my dreams, but I’m not dreaming, not even sleeping.”

“It’ll ease in time, Wiggen. Just think of the life that’s ahead of you. That’s what’s important now.”

They stopped at her door, and she turned and embraced him heartily, though her hands still wouldn’t touch around his substantial girth.

“I will, Father.” She squeezed as hard as she could, and felt him sigh in contentment. It was all she could give him. “I love you, Father.”

“And I you, Wiggen. More than life itself.” His thick arms enfolded her, and she felt utterly safe and at home. “Now get some sleep.”

“I’ll try.” She opened her door and stepped through, smiling back at him as she turned up the lamp. “Goodnight, Father.”

“Goodnight, Wiggen.” The door clicked closed, and she wished not for the first time that there were a lock.

Before she could even turn, hands slipped around her waist, quiet as a breath of midnight shadow, soft as a feather in the wind, and warm. Oh, they were so warm.

“You’re becoming quite an actress, but that was a little too close to the truth, Love,” Lad breathed into her ear. “Something keeps you awake, does it?”

“Something
does
keep me awake,” she said, turning in his embrace until their faces were a hair’s breadth apart, his breath warm on her cheek. “It’s been keeping me awake almost every night for weeks, and I just don’t know what to do about it.” She let her hands explore under his silken shirt and suppressed a giggle. Their lips met and his warmth invaded her, leaving her breathless and hungry.

When their lips parted he said, “I’ve brought you a present.”

“A present?” She smiled at him and ran her fingers through her hair. “For me?”

“Yes.” He held up before her eyes a ring of braided obsidian and gold. “It’s very important, Wiggen. It’s a secret, and you must promise me never to put it on. If you do, it will never ever come off. You’ve got to keep it safe, just in case...”

“In case what?” She took it from him and looked at it. It wasn’t particularly pretty, and she felt no desire to slip it on her finger.

“In case I have to kill someone,” he said, shaking his head slowly.

“I’ll keep it safe, Lad. Don’t worry.” She dropped the ring into the pocket of her dress and forgot about it. She wouldn’t let such a trifle ruin their evening.

“I’m sorry about this, Wiggen. Having to sneak in here like this.” His face drew serious, his eyes longing. “Asking you to lie to Forbish. Keeping our love a secret. We should be able to be together all the time, day and night, forever.”

“We will be, Lad,” she said, drawing him to her once again. “One day, when they aren’t looking for you any longer.”

“But that could be years, Wiggen.”

“I don’t care,” she breathed into the hollow of his neck, relishing his scent. She walked him backward until his legs struck the edge of her bed and they tumbled onto the thick coverlet together. “Because, until dawn, you’re
mine
.”

About The Author

Chris Jackson was born and raised in southern Oregon. The son of a fisherman, he fell in love with the sea at an early age. His second love is Science Fiction and Fantasy, hooked by the works of Heinlein, Niven and Tolkien. He attended college at Oregon State University with the dream of becoming a marine biologist. He moved to Texas to attend graduate school, where he discovered three things: scientists don’t sail the seven seas, he didn’t want to spend his life drowning in academic red tape, and the girl of his dreams.

Together they moved to Florida, where they live on a sailboat with two psychotic felines. He has been writing for about 16 years.

Learn more about Chris A. Jackson, preview free chapters of all his novels, and download audio books at
www.jaxbooks.com
.