21 Shades of Night, page 243
“Elizabeth,” he said under his breath.
She smiled back, raising her brows fractionally. And then he kissed her mouth, reverently at first, his hand cupping a breast, his thumb caressing a nipple, his tongue teasing her lips apart. But when her mouth opened to him, he continued to nuzzle her lips with his, their whispered breaths mixing in heated passion, the tip of his tongue licking her lips as she had done, readying herself for his onslaught.
She moaned and slid her hands about his neck, her fingers grasping handfuls of his hair as she pressed her mouth against his, her tongue probing his, forcing him to deepen the kiss.
“Lass,” he groaned against her mouth, then plunged his tongue deeply inside, his eyes clouding with a fevered lust.
He took a deep breath of her feminine arousal and felt her body shift as she attempted to pull him between her legs. He’d awakened the minx all right.
He slid his hand down her belly, gliding over her silky skin, lower to the patch of red curls that tempted the devil in him. He parted her feminine lips, felt how wet and warm and ready she was for him, and began to stroke her.
This is how he remembered making love to her—the way she arched against his questing fingers, encouraging him to go deeper, the way she murmured softly like a kitten, then reached down to guide him, directing him to stroke harder, then faster. She stiffened right before the waves of climax hit her, her inner muscles contracting around his fingers.
“Ah, Ephraim,” she half groaned, half whispered as she sank into the mattress, pulling at him to join her.
He forced her knees wider apart, sliding into her wet sheath, not willing to wait a moment longer to pleasure her, to feel her tightness around his cock, to take them both soaring into the next galaxy.
But then he pulled out suddenly. Condoms. He’d forgotten before, but he couldn’t act so irresponsibly again. Was it his fervent desire to have another child with her that made him act so recklessly? Or was he so hungry to make love to her that he was becoming absent-minded?
No matter the reason, he had to use more caution. Having a child had to be her choice. He rested against her as he pulled a condom out of the drawer.
Berating herself for not using protection before, Alena realized at once the mistake they’d made. But for an instant, she wanted to wave away the need to have protected sex this time, knowing he desired to have a child with her, but loving him for protecting them against that eventuality for the moment because no matter what, getting pregnant with a vampire wasn’t a smart thing to do.
“If... when we resolve difficulties with the League...” She choked on the words. Would they ever manage to win in this war?
He kissed her cheek. “Aye, lass,” he said softly, encouraging her to speak her mind.
“I would love to have our child.”
His smile reached his darkened eyes, and she knew then she couldn’t have made him happier, unless perhaps she’d agreed to blood bond with him.
She took the condom from him, considered how thin it was and frowned. “It’s nearly transparent and so thin—will it offer enough protection?” Though as soon as she said it, she was reminded of the other time when he hadn’t worn anything.
“Aye, lass.” He was about to wrest it away from her and roll it on himself but she shook her head.
“It’s my job.” With a loving stroke, she slid it up his cock, forcing a groan of urgency to issue from deep within him. She smiled to think she could affect the Highland warrior with such a simple touch.
Slipping between her legs, he penetrated her, then covered her mouth with his, encouraging her to part her lips for him. With gusto, their tongues tangled, their breathing increased, and their hearts hammered hard. She grabbed fistfuls of his silken hair as he masterfully stroked her most erotic zone, the image replaying in her mind of an earlier time when he’d held her close, kissing her mouth, touching her between her legs while a slow moving stream washed around their naked bodies.
He thrust deeply into her and she raised her legs so that he could go even deeper. Oh God, making love with Ephraim felt so right. She reached her hands down and skimmed her fingers over his firm butt, the muscles tensing with his thrusts.
His head dipped for another kiss on her mouth, claiming her, his tongue pushing inside, simulating his cock pressing deeper between her legs. She loved him, loved the feel of him loving her, the feral craving, the musky smell of him, the loss of control and wondrous joining of their bodies. But it was more than that. It was a way of denying the differences in their kind— ignoring the League’s rules, proving a hunter and a vampire could love one another and the world wouldn’t end.
She was so close to reaching the climax, holding on for dear life, never wanting it to end, never wanting any of this to end. It was just her and Ephraim while the world and its problems faded away.
“Ephraim,” she cried out, tightening her hold on him as her body reached the peak of ecstasy, shuddering with climax, while he continued to thrust inside of her.
But as soon as she reached that pinnacle, the earlier memories of their lost love swamped her. And she remembered—the lazy days of eating bread and cheese beside a stream, sitting on his plaid outstretched when the sun shone on a rare occasion, when they stole kisses in a chilly loch, or found an abandoned croft to make love in.
Before her family found out, there had been a time when he had slipped her into his own castle, and he made love to her in his bedchamber. But back then, she couldn’t concede to be his—not without her family’s permission. It would never have been granted. Not then or now.
She ran her fingers over his back, feeling the welts from earlier battle scars, his muscles tensing with her touch, and she never wanted to lose him again. A tear, then another cascaded down her cheek.
He attempted to pull back. “What’s wrong, Alena? Are you in too much pain?”
“No.” She held him tight. “Don’t ever let me go.”
“I don’t intend to, lass.” Ephraim kissed away the tears, mortally wounded to think he’d upset her further. “What’s wrong?”
“I wouldn’t ever want anyone but you.”
He smiled, glad she was no longer angry with him. But her words encouraged him, too. With a cautious rhythm, he rocked back and forth deep inside her, stretching her to the limit, reveling in the feel of her tight sheath that handled him like a warm, wet glove.
Indeed, she was Elizabeth. The woman who’d promised her love to him for all eternity, the woman he couldn’t live without.
Other than moans of passion, nothing else escaped their lips while their joined bodies writhed in sync. She was the same sweet Elizabeth who mimicked his actions, stroking his skin while he ran his fingers over hers, kissing his mouth and cheek and chin as he did hers.
The last time he’d made love to his Scottish Elizabeth... in the abandoned hut of their beloved Scotland on the still green hay of their hastily-made bed, the smell of her floral fragrance still tantalizing him, the feel of her body slick from perspiration beneath him... all came to him as vividly as if they had teleported back in time.
“Elizabeth,” he groaned as he came, the experience heightened even more by the memories of the past, and those of the present, mixing together in blissful wonderment.
He still throbbed deep inside her and reveled in the feel of her tight sheath, holding him firmly. But then he realized he’d called her Elizabeth again during his lovemaking. Had he offended her?
Yet he couldn’t help it. He’d known Elizabeth so much longer, and Alena was Elizabeth, truth be known. Even she seemed to see him as Ephraim more than not, only referring to him as Sutton for her cousin’s benefits.
He rested against her, enjoying the delicious spasms of her orgasm that touched him to his soul.
She wrapped her arms around him and held him tight. “You smell and taste and feel so good.”
He licked the hollow of her throat, tasting the sweetness and saltiness of her skin.
“Do you want more of my blood?”
He shook his head, trying to control his canines. “Nay.”
Rolling over onto his back, he pulled her against his chest. “Sleep, lass. Have no dreams but pleasant ones.”
“When I’m with you, you help to chase the nightmares away.”
“That is as it should be.”
Her breath was so soft against his chest, he was certain she’d fallen asleep almost immediately. Hoping he’d get a concession from her for blood bonding soon, he finally drifted off, vowing to do whatever he could to make it right with the love of his life.
* * *
ALENA REBUKED HERSELF for not blood bonding with the man who stirred her with an unquenchable thirst, more so than any other, more so than any hunter. Ephraim’s warm hard body had driven into hers with desire and zeal, but with tenderness, too.
Through it faint images had appeared in her mind, not distracting her exactly, but heightening the experience as the fragrance of the sweet smell of freshly mown grass permeated the air, or the smell of fresh water lingered, the images so real she had opened her eyes to see that they still made love in his bed and not somewhere else. Yet an overwhelming fear nagged at her in the recesses of her memories, a fear that the end was coming nearer, for her and for Ephraim. Just like before.
The images of Ephraim and she making love were recollections of past events. She couldn’t deny it. She was Elizabeth, and she couldn’t deny that either. But the anguish she’d experienced lingered in her memories, too. And that’s what scared her.
She cuddled closer to Ephraim as he stroked her hair. His compassion warmed her as she recalled the same kind of actions on his part, protective, caring, always her soul mate.
If only blood bonding could be the solution. But she could only see it perpetuating the killing. The League would have no choice but to terminate her if they learned she blood bonded with him. Or that she’d made love to him.
She took a deep settling breath. For now, nothing mattered, except for resting her cheek against his sturdy chest, listening to his steady heartbeat, and loving the man she’d promised to care for forever.
* * *
FOR SOMETIME EPHRAIM and Alena slept curled in each others arms, but then she cried out, her voice strangled, deep in sleep, but terrified, waking him and putting him on instant alert.
“Elizabeth? Alena? You’re with me, safe and sound, lass.” He spoke to her soothingly, trying to draw her from her nightmare without waking her.
“James,” she whispered, and a tear dropped to his chest. She reached out her hand. “James.”
Who the hell was James? Had Elizabeth loved someone else? No. He’d been the first. But what about the time when she’d been locked away, hidden from him? Or was it Alena who formerly had a hunter lover? Someone she hadn’t told him about?
He took Alena’s hand in his and kissed it. “James who? Alena?”
She nestled her head against his chest and wrapped her arm around his waist, the nightmare seeming to have been flushed from her mind. But now he couldn’t sleep. He couldn’t squash the envy that turned his blood green.
Who the hell was James?
Chapter 17
EARLY THE NEXT morning, Ephraim served ham and cheese omelets to Alena in bed, hoping she’d had a good night’s sleep and a ravenous appetite, but he couldn’t stop thinking about her nightmare. He’d checked her bandages and already the puncture wounds had healed up with only a slight bruising that would fade away soon—thankfully to their faster healing genetics.
He marveled at the way in which she’d come to recognize him, though. The way his Elizabeth used to look at him with dreamy eyes full of expectation, and the same dewy expression she wore now gave him pause. He knew he was blessed to have her in his life again, and he would not give in to the dark feelings concerning their future, threatening to temper the moment.
She smiled at him, cheering his heart. “I’m rethinking my relationship with you.”
“Oh? You’re smiling, so it has to be good news.”
“How can any woman resist a man who makes love to her all night long, then serves her breakfast in bed?”
He cocked a brow and handed her a glass of orange juice. “All night long?”
“Maybe I dreamt it.”
“Nay, three times you didn’t dream it. We’ll nap later this afternoon to make up for it.” He sat on the bed with her, then pilfered a strip of her bacon. “By the way, who was James?” he asked as casually as he could. Despite trying to curb his annoyance, the unknown man of her nightmares still curdled his blood.
She stared at her tray for a moment, then poked her fork into a slice of cantaloupe. “I’m not sure. Who was he?”
“You seemed upset about him last night. You were having a nightmare.”
She nibbled at the fruit. “No nightmares that I recall. All I remember was making love to you.”
He leaned over and kissed her bare shoulder while she held the comforter to her naked breasts. “You said his name twice. Reached out to him even. A former lover?” He treaded on uneven ground and could easily fall on his face if she took his questioning badly, but he couldn’t help the insidious envy that threatened to undo him. Who the hell was James?
“You had been my only lover.” She gave him a disgruntled look and stabbed a sausage link with the fork.
“Then who was James?” he persisted. The notion had nagged at him nearly the rest of the night and was eating him up piece by piece.
She took a settling breath and her expression changed from mildly annoyed, to one of sympathy. “Did Elizabeth have a brother?”
“Aye, the man who killed you. He was named Malcolm though. Several cousins, too, three called James. My father, too, but he’d died before I met you.”
“Well, I have no cousins, nor brothers named James in this life. And I don’t remember anything about a James in Elizabeth’s past.” She picked up the sausage with her fingers and pointed it at him. “So maybe you were dreaming about it rather than me.”
She ate the sausage, but before she could lick her fingers, he took them in his mouth one at a time and sucked the smoky, salty flavor from her skin. She smiled. “Didn’t you get enough breakfast?”
“I’ll have my fill after you eat yours.”
“Promises you’d better intend to keep.”
“Demanding wench.”
She chuckled and buttered a slice of toast, then coated it with blackberry jam. “So what else did I say about him?”
“You called his name out a couple of times that I recall. I was half asleep.”
“I’m sorry to have disturbed your sleep. Are you sure you weren’t imagining it?”
“Nay, I didn’t imagine it, but I promised to keep your nightmares away. I’m afraid I failed.” He kissed her forehead.
After taking a bite of her toast, she wrinkled her brow. “Did it rain last night?”
“Nay. The sky finally cleared. Even the moon appeared.”
“I heard rain.”
“In your dream?” He ran his hand over her arm, the silkiness of her skin stirring him all over again. Just being so close to her nakedness forced his body to react with impetuous desire. Already his boxers felt like they’d shrunk two sizes.
She leaned over and kissed his lips. The taste of sweet jam flavored them, and he sucked the sweetness from them. He slid his hand under the cover and touched her breast, then massaged the mound, the nipple peaking under his thumb. “You eat too slowly.”
Grinning at him, she lifted the orange juice glass to her lips. “You distract me way too easily.”
“I’m only a distraction?” He held his hand to his chest feigning hurt.
“Hmm-hm.” She smiled back at him, then poked her fork into the omelet. “If it didn’t rain last night, it must have stormed in my dream.”
“What else do you remember?”
“It was cold.”
He wrapped his arms around her and kissed the top of her head again. “We slept together, curled up against each other, as warm as could be.”
“I must have dreamt it then. A sturdy breeze seemed to blow through the walls.”
“A castle’s walls?”
She lifted a bite of the omelet, the cheese still stretching to the plate. “How would I know that? I’ve never been to a castle before.”
“What did it look like?”
She took a bite of her egg, then shook her head. “I don’t know. All I saw was a blur. I was in terrible pain.”
He touched her bare shoulder, the area where Cybil had bitten her had already healed, the bruising and bite marks gone. “What kind of pain, lass?”
“Stomach cramps, backache. I cried out when it got too bad. Women stared at me, their faces... well, I don’t know. Some seemed concerned. Maybe they thought I’d die. Others seemed angry. Maybe they wished I’d die. I don’t know. All I remember well was the pain.”
“Childbirth,” Ephraim said solemnly, watching Alena’s expression for confirmation. Had she remembered giving birth to their child in her nightmare?
Alena ran her finger over the edge of the porcelain plate trimmed in gold. “A son,” she whispered. “Ohmigod, Ephraim. Yes, a son, James. I... I named him James for your father. He had died... ten years after your birth? You’d had such fond memories of him.”
Ephraim barely breathed. “What happened to him? Our son?”
Alena frowned in concentration, her eyes misting as she looked down at the floor. “I… I don’t know.”
“What happened to him, Elizabeth?” Ephraim asked again, crouching before her, wanting to shake the truth from her, fearing she was hiding it from him. If her kin had murdered their son…
“I don’t know.” Her eyes were moist with tears, but she shook her head and added, “I… I don’t remember.”
Before he could try to jog her memory more, Mona telepathically relayed the message: “A paperboy is here with your newspaper.”
“I don’t take the paper. You know that.”
“He insists you owe him money.”
She smiled back, raising her brows fractionally. And then he kissed her mouth, reverently at first, his hand cupping a breast, his thumb caressing a nipple, his tongue teasing her lips apart. But when her mouth opened to him, he continued to nuzzle her lips with his, their whispered breaths mixing in heated passion, the tip of his tongue licking her lips as she had done, readying herself for his onslaught.
She moaned and slid her hands about his neck, her fingers grasping handfuls of his hair as she pressed her mouth against his, her tongue probing his, forcing him to deepen the kiss.
“Lass,” he groaned against her mouth, then plunged his tongue deeply inside, his eyes clouding with a fevered lust.
He took a deep breath of her feminine arousal and felt her body shift as she attempted to pull him between her legs. He’d awakened the minx all right.
He slid his hand down her belly, gliding over her silky skin, lower to the patch of red curls that tempted the devil in him. He parted her feminine lips, felt how wet and warm and ready she was for him, and began to stroke her.
This is how he remembered making love to her—the way she arched against his questing fingers, encouraging him to go deeper, the way she murmured softly like a kitten, then reached down to guide him, directing him to stroke harder, then faster. She stiffened right before the waves of climax hit her, her inner muscles contracting around his fingers.
“Ah, Ephraim,” she half groaned, half whispered as she sank into the mattress, pulling at him to join her.
He forced her knees wider apart, sliding into her wet sheath, not willing to wait a moment longer to pleasure her, to feel her tightness around his cock, to take them both soaring into the next galaxy.
But then he pulled out suddenly. Condoms. He’d forgotten before, but he couldn’t act so irresponsibly again. Was it his fervent desire to have another child with her that made him act so recklessly? Or was he so hungry to make love to her that he was becoming absent-minded?
No matter the reason, he had to use more caution. Having a child had to be her choice. He rested against her as he pulled a condom out of the drawer.
Berating herself for not using protection before, Alena realized at once the mistake they’d made. But for an instant, she wanted to wave away the need to have protected sex this time, knowing he desired to have a child with her, but loving him for protecting them against that eventuality for the moment because no matter what, getting pregnant with a vampire wasn’t a smart thing to do.
“If... when we resolve difficulties with the League...” She choked on the words. Would they ever manage to win in this war?
He kissed her cheek. “Aye, lass,” he said softly, encouraging her to speak her mind.
“I would love to have our child.”
His smile reached his darkened eyes, and she knew then she couldn’t have made him happier, unless perhaps she’d agreed to blood bond with him.
She took the condom from him, considered how thin it was and frowned. “It’s nearly transparent and so thin—will it offer enough protection?” Though as soon as she said it, she was reminded of the other time when he hadn’t worn anything.
“Aye, lass.” He was about to wrest it away from her and roll it on himself but she shook her head.
“It’s my job.” With a loving stroke, she slid it up his cock, forcing a groan of urgency to issue from deep within him. She smiled to think she could affect the Highland warrior with such a simple touch.
Slipping between her legs, he penetrated her, then covered her mouth with his, encouraging her to part her lips for him. With gusto, their tongues tangled, their breathing increased, and their hearts hammered hard. She grabbed fistfuls of his silken hair as he masterfully stroked her most erotic zone, the image replaying in her mind of an earlier time when he’d held her close, kissing her mouth, touching her between her legs while a slow moving stream washed around their naked bodies.
He thrust deeply into her and she raised her legs so that he could go even deeper. Oh God, making love with Ephraim felt so right. She reached her hands down and skimmed her fingers over his firm butt, the muscles tensing with his thrusts.
His head dipped for another kiss on her mouth, claiming her, his tongue pushing inside, simulating his cock pressing deeper between her legs. She loved him, loved the feel of him loving her, the feral craving, the musky smell of him, the loss of control and wondrous joining of their bodies. But it was more than that. It was a way of denying the differences in their kind— ignoring the League’s rules, proving a hunter and a vampire could love one another and the world wouldn’t end.
She was so close to reaching the climax, holding on for dear life, never wanting it to end, never wanting any of this to end. It was just her and Ephraim while the world and its problems faded away.
“Ephraim,” she cried out, tightening her hold on him as her body reached the peak of ecstasy, shuddering with climax, while he continued to thrust inside of her.
But as soon as she reached that pinnacle, the earlier memories of their lost love swamped her. And she remembered—the lazy days of eating bread and cheese beside a stream, sitting on his plaid outstretched when the sun shone on a rare occasion, when they stole kisses in a chilly loch, or found an abandoned croft to make love in.
Before her family found out, there had been a time when he had slipped her into his own castle, and he made love to her in his bedchamber. But back then, she couldn’t concede to be his—not without her family’s permission. It would never have been granted. Not then or now.
She ran her fingers over his back, feeling the welts from earlier battle scars, his muscles tensing with her touch, and she never wanted to lose him again. A tear, then another cascaded down her cheek.
He attempted to pull back. “What’s wrong, Alena? Are you in too much pain?”
“No.” She held him tight. “Don’t ever let me go.”
“I don’t intend to, lass.” Ephraim kissed away the tears, mortally wounded to think he’d upset her further. “What’s wrong?”
“I wouldn’t ever want anyone but you.”
He smiled, glad she was no longer angry with him. But her words encouraged him, too. With a cautious rhythm, he rocked back and forth deep inside her, stretching her to the limit, reveling in the feel of her tight sheath that handled him like a warm, wet glove.
Indeed, she was Elizabeth. The woman who’d promised her love to him for all eternity, the woman he couldn’t live without.
Other than moans of passion, nothing else escaped their lips while their joined bodies writhed in sync. She was the same sweet Elizabeth who mimicked his actions, stroking his skin while he ran his fingers over hers, kissing his mouth and cheek and chin as he did hers.
The last time he’d made love to his Scottish Elizabeth... in the abandoned hut of their beloved Scotland on the still green hay of their hastily-made bed, the smell of her floral fragrance still tantalizing him, the feel of her body slick from perspiration beneath him... all came to him as vividly as if they had teleported back in time.
“Elizabeth,” he groaned as he came, the experience heightened even more by the memories of the past, and those of the present, mixing together in blissful wonderment.
He still throbbed deep inside her and reveled in the feel of her tight sheath, holding him firmly. But then he realized he’d called her Elizabeth again during his lovemaking. Had he offended her?
Yet he couldn’t help it. He’d known Elizabeth so much longer, and Alena was Elizabeth, truth be known. Even she seemed to see him as Ephraim more than not, only referring to him as Sutton for her cousin’s benefits.
He rested against her, enjoying the delicious spasms of her orgasm that touched him to his soul.
She wrapped her arms around him and held him tight. “You smell and taste and feel so good.”
He licked the hollow of her throat, tasting the sweetness and saltiness of her skin.
“Do you want more of my blood?”
He shook his head, trying to control his canines. “Nay.”
Rolling over onto his back, he pulled her against his chest. “Sleep, lass. Have no dreams but pleasant ones.”
“When I’m with you, you help to chase the nightmares away.”
“That is as it should be.”
Her breath was so soft against his chest, he was certain she’d fallen asleep almost immediately. Hoping he’d get a concession from her for blood bonding soon, he finally drifted off, vowing to do whatever he could to make it right with the love of his life.
* * *
ALENA REBUKED HERSELF for not blood bonding with the man who stirred her with an unquenchable thirst, more so than any other, more so than any hunter. Ephraim’s warm hard body had driven into hers with desire and zeal, but with tenderness, too.
Through it faint images had appeared in her mind, not distracting her exactly, but heightening the experience as the fragrance of the sweet smell of freshly mown grass permeated the air, or the smell of fresh water lingered, the images so real she had opened her eyes to see that they still made love in his bed and not somewhere else. Yet an overwhelming fear nagged at her in the recesses of her memories, a fear that the end was coming nearer, for her and for Ephraim. Just like before.
The images of Ephraim and she making love were recollections of past events. She couldn’t deny it. She was Elizabeth, and she couldn’t deny that either. But the anguish she’d experienced lingered in her memories, too. And that’s what scared her.
She cuddled closer to Ephraim as he stroked her hair. His compassion warmed her as she recalled the same kind of actions on his part, protective, caring, always her soul mate.
If only blood bonding could be the solution. But she could only see it perpetuating the killing. The League would have no choice but to terminate her if they learned she blood bonded with him. Or that she’d made love to him.
She took a deep settling breath. For now, nothing mattered, except for resting her cheek against his sturdy chest, listening to his steady heartbeat, and loving the man she’d promised to care for forever.
* * *
FOR SOMETIME EPHRAIM and Alena slept curled in each others arms, but then she cried out, her voice strangled, deep in sleep, but terrified, waking him and putting him on instant alert.
“Elizabeth? Alena? You’re with me, safe and sound, lass.” He spoke to her soothingly, trying to draw her from her nightmare without waking her.
“James,” she whispered, and a tear dropped to his chest. She reached out her hand. “James.”
Who the hell was James? Had Elizabeth loved someone else? No. He’d been the first. But what about the time when she’d been locked away, hidden from him? Or was it Alena who formerly had a hunter lover? Someone she hadn’t told him about?
He took Alena’s hand in his and kissed it. “James who? Alena?”
She nestled her head against his chest and wrapped her arm around his waist, the nightmare seeming to have been flushed from her mind. But now he couldn’t sleep. He couldn’t squash the envy that turned his blood green.
Who the hell was James?
Chapter 17
EARLY THE NEXT morning, Ephraim served ham and cheese omelets to Alena in bed, hoping she’d had a good night’s sleep and a ravenous appetite, but he couldn’t stop thinking about her nightmare. He’d checked her bandages and already the puncture wounds had healed up with only a slight bruising that would fade away soon—thankfully to their faster healing genetics.
He marveled at the way in which she’d come to recognize him, though. The way his Elizabeth used to look at him with dreamy eyes full of expectation, and the same dewy expression she wore now gave him pause. He knew he was blessed to have her in his life again, and he would not give in to the dark feelings concerning their future, threatening to temper the moment.
She smiled at him, cheering his heart. “I’m rethinking my relationship with you.”
“Oh? You’re smiling, so it has to be good news.”
“How can any woman resist a man who makes love to her all night long, then serves her breakfast in bed?”
He cocked a brow and handed her a glass of orange juice. “All night long?”
“Maybe I dreamt it.”
“Nay, three times you didn’t dream it. We’ll nap later this afternoon to make up for it.” He sat on the bed with her, then pilfered a strip of her bacon. “By the way, who was James?” he asked as casually as he could. Despite trying to curb his annoyance, the unknown man of her nightmares still curdled his blood.
She stared at her tray for a moment, then poked her fork into a slice of cantaloupe. “I’m not sure. Who was he?”
“You seemed upset about him last night. You were having a nightmare.”
She nibbled at the fruit. “No nightmares that I recall. All I remember was making love to you.”
He leaned over and kissed her bare shoulder while she held the comforter to her naked breasts. “You said his name twice. Reached out to him even. A former lover?” He treaded on uneven ground and could easily fall on his face if she took his questioning badly, but he couldn’t help the insidious envy that threatened to undo him. Who the hell was James?
“You had been my only lover.” She gave him a disgruntled look and stabbed a sausage link with the fork.
“Then who was James?” he persisted. The notion had nagged at him nearly the rest of the night and was eating him up piece by piece.
She took a settling breath and her expression changed from mildly annoyed, to one of sympathy. “Did Elizabeth have a brother?”
“Aye, the man who killed you. He was named Malcolm though. Several cousins, too, three called James. My father, too, but he’d died before I met you.”
“Well, I have no cousins, nor brothers named James in this life. And I don’t remember anything about a James in Elizabeth’s past.” She picked up the sausage with her fingers and pointed it at him. “So maybe you were dreaming about it rather than me.”
She ate the sausage, but before she could lick her fingers, he took them in his mouth one at a time and sucked the smoky, salty flavor from her skin. She smiled. “Didn’t you get enough breakfast?”
“I’ll have my fill after you eat yours.”
“Promises you’d better intend to keep.”
“Demanding wench.”
She chuckled and buttered a slice of toast, then coated it with blackberry jam. “So what else did I say about him?”
“You called his name out a couple of times that I recall. I was half asleep.”
“I’m sorry to have disturbed your sleep. Are you sure you weren’t imagining it?”
“Nay, I didn’t imagine it, but I promised to keep your nightmares away. I’m afraid I failed.” He kissed her forehead.
After taking a bite of her toast, she wrinkled her brow. “Did it rain last night?”
“Nay. The sky finally cleared. Even the moon appeared.”
“I heard rain.”
“In your dream?” He ran his hand over her arm, the silkiness of her skin stirring him all over again. Just being so close to her nakedness forced his body to react with impetuous desire. Already his boxers felt like they’d shrunk two sizes.
She leaned over and kissed his lips. The taste of sweet jam flavored them, and he sucked the sweetness from them. He slid his hand under the cover and touched her breast, then massaged the mound, the nipple peaking under his thumb. “You eat too slowly.”
Grinning at him, she lifted the orange juice glass to her lips. “You distract me way too easily.”
“I’m only a distraction?” He held his hand to his chest feigning hurt.
“Hmm-hm.” She smiled back at him, then poked her fork into the omelet. “If it didn’t rain last night, it must have stormed in my dream.”
“What else do you remember?”
“It was cold.”
He wrapped his arms around her and kissed the top of her head again. “We slept together, curled up against each other, as warm as could be.”
“I must have dreamt it then. A sturdy breeze seemed to blow through the walls.”
“A castle’s walls?”
She lifted a bite of the omelet, the cheese still stretching to the plate. “How would I know that? I’ve never been to a castle before.”
“What did it look like?”
She took a bite of her egg, then shook her head. “I don’t know. All I saw was a blur. I was in terrible pain.”
He touched her bare shoulder, the area where Cybil had bitten her had already healed, the bruising and bite marks gone. “What kind of pain, lass?”
“Stomach cramps, backache. I cried out when it got too bad. Women stared at me, their faces... well, I don’t know. Some seemed concerned. Maybe they thought I’d die. Others seemed angry. Maybe they wished I’d die. I don’t know. All I remember well was the pain.”
“Childbirth,” Ephraim said solemnly, watching Alena’s expression for confirmation. Had she remembered giving birth to their child in her nightmare?
Alena ran her finger over the edge of the porcelain plate trimmed in gold. “A son,” she whispered. “Ohmigod, Ephraim. Yes, a son, James. I... I named him James for your father. He had died... ten years after your birth? You’d had such fond memories of him.”
Ephraim barely breathed. “What happened to him? Our son?”
Alena frowned in concentration, her eyes misting as she looked down at the floor. “I… I don’t know.”
“What happened to him, Elizabeth?” Ephraim asked again, crouching before her, wanting to shake the truth from her, fearing she was hiding it from him. If her kin had murdered their son…
“I don’t know.” Her eyes were moist with tears, but she shook her head and added, “I… I don’t remember.”
Before he could try to jog her memory more, Mona telepathically relayed the message: “A paperboy is here with your newspaper.”
“I don’t take the paper. You know that.”
“He insists you owe him money.”
