Jaded (28 page)

He set his book down and looked at her. “Really. Well, I’m not surprised. Like I said, I thought you’d eventually draw it out of him.” He paused. “He cares about you a lot.”

“As . . . I care about him.”
You too.
But she didn’t feel comfortable saying that out loud right now.

He returned to his book. “He’s gone for the day. Gone to the university.”

She nodded and sipped her coffee in silence for several moments. Setting her cup down, she asked, “Are you upset with me for some reason?” When he looked up at her, she knew she had a glitter of anger in her eyes. “What is it you want from me, Byron? You brought me here to supposedly do the impossible task of getting Alek back in touch with his magick. Yet when I say he’s beginning to show signs of doing just that you act like you’re unhappy with me.” Riled by her own words, she stood. “Perhaps it’s time I left. I’ve done what you wanted. There’s no reason for me to stay.”

Whirling she went for the door. She could pack and be on a transport back to the city by late morning. It was better this way. She wasn’t certain she could take another week under these circumstances.

Byron grabbed her arm before she reached the door. She figured he would, but his touch didn’t make her melt or soften her resolve. Not today. It was time to stop this craziness and get back to her life—no matter how drastically changed that life would be after these men.

Apparently she’d received the same treatment from them that she’d given her clients for so many years. She thought again about the drawer full of rings. A part of her had always enjoyed rejecting men. It was hard to admit that to herself, but it was true. Since the attack, way deep inside, a part of her had hated men.

But not Byron, not Alek. Not even now.

She stood, her body leaning toward the door, his hand firmly on her upper arm. Her jaw set, she refused to look at him or give him an inch. She wanted him to let go of her so she could flee.

“Lilya, please stop.”

“Release my arm.”

“Lilya—”

“Let me go.”

He released her and she went straight for the door.

“I care about you too.”

She stopped, her hand on the doorjamb. She hated herself for pausing there. All she wanted was to push her way over this threshold, up the stairs and to her bags, but Byron had such a strong hold over her. It was magick the way a few loving words from him seemed to enslave her. In this moment, she hated the power he held.

“It’s better if I go.” Her voice sounded shaky to her own ears. “Better for all of us.”
Especially me.

“I don’t want you to leave.”

Her body sagged as if she’d been waging a physical fight and had lost. She leaned her forehead against the back of her hand that was braced on the door frame. “What do you want from me, Byron?”

When he spoke again he was so close she could feel his body heat. “I want to spend the day with you. I want to walk outside with you. Talk with you. I want to have lunch with you. I want enjoy your presence in my life.” His chest pressed against her back and his arms came around her.

She leaned back against him and closed her eyes.

“You have done nothing wrong, Lilya. I’m not upset with you. Upset with myself, but never you.”

“Why?”

He took a long moment to answer. “Because I want impossible things.”

“What impossible thing do you want?”

He turned her to face him. She studied him in the shadowed light of the doorway, trying to read his expression and failing. For a moment it seemed like he was going to say something, but instead he leaned in and kissed her.

She frowned, pulling away from him and studying his face. “Byron?”

“Come,” he said, turning and taking her hand. “We have a whole kitchen full of ingredients. Will you teach me how to make a decent breakfast?”

She watched him for a moment, wanting to press him. In the end she followed him behind the counter and tried to relax, torn between wanting to bolt and find somewhere quiet to wallow in her pain and wanting to stay and enjoy as much of Byron and Alek as she could.

Surveying the fresh eggs, tomatoes, cheese, and spices and she drew a steadying breath and gave him a shaky smile that she didn’t quite feel. “All right, let’s get busy, then.”

Together they made one of the best omelets she’d ever tasted.

As they finished up their plates of hot, perfectly seasoned eggs, Lilya wondered why she didn’t have the sense to run from him. Now she was trapped here for another day with a man she could never have.

Damned expectations.

Lilya looked outside at the piles of snow and the cold, gusting wind. “Doesn’t look like a very good day for a walk.”

“You’re right.” He leaned back in his chair, plate scraped clean. “How about skating instead?”

She laughed. “Skating? You mean on ice?”

He lifted a brow and grinned. “Do you know another kind?”

Shaking her head, she looked down at the remnants of her eggs. “I’ve never ice skated in my life. I have no skates and even if I did—”

“I have skates that I’m sure will fit you and you should try it at least once in your life. We have a pond on the property. I’m told it’s been cleared of snow and its frozen clean through. What do you think?”

She gazed out the window. A day spent with Byron sounded good, no matter what they did. She looked at him and smiled. “Let’s go.”

 

 

Byron slipped the skates onto Lilya’s feet while she sat on a bench near the frozen pond. He’d had it cleared of snow in the winter so the children nearby could skate and play games on it.

“You call this a pond?” Lilya asked, gazing out at the huge expanse of ice.

He stopped lacing her skates, to follow her gaze, his breath showing white in the cold air. “It’s a really big pond.”

“It’s an ocean.”

She shivered and he looked up at her. “Do you need a heavier coat?”

Letting out a burst of laughter, she cupped his cheek with one gloved hand. The action made his heart ache. “You’ve got me so bundled up that if I fall out there on the ice, I won’t feel a thing. I’m fine. I was just shivering at the thought of using these tiny knives to move on the ice.” She picked up one booted foot and examined the skate blade. “Who thought inventing these was a good idea?”

His breath huffed out of him as he finished lacing her skate. “According to Alek, the inventor of the ice skate was a people who lived in the far nor—”

She held up a hand. “I get it. All right, I’m ready. Can you help me up?”

He grasped her hands and helped her to stand. Taking baby steps, she walked to the ice and ventured a careful step onto it. Then she put her other foot on and immediately lost her balance. Shrieking, she fought for control, arms whirling, then went down on her rear.

“Lilya! Are you all right?”

She stared straight ahead for a moment, as if in shock, then started to laugh.

“Lilya?” He skated over in front of her. She was still just sitting there and laughing. “Are you all right?” he asked again. He laughed too. That’s what happened when one heard Lilya laugh. Surprisingly for a woman who’d had such hardship in her life, she did it wholeheartedly and with her entire beautiful body.

She wiped tears from her eyes from the laughter. “Yes, I’m fine.” Then she reached for him to help her up.

“Try to keep your weight directly above your skates. Don’t lean back or forward too far.”

Coming to a standing position, she looked up into his eyes. “I think I’ve got it now.”

He smiled down at her, his chest filling with that familiar warm feeling he had whenever she was close. He leaned down and kissed her. “All right. Skate forward.”

Slowly she skated out into the pond and turned in a slow circle. “Hey! I think I’ve—
whoa!
” She went down and was laughing again.

It went on that way, Lilya making a little progress, falling, laughing, then getting up and trying again. Even when he thought they’d had enough and should go in, she wanted to stay and try to master the ice skates.

Finally she was able to stay on her feet and keep her balance. She skated around the pond with him with a huge smile on her face, her cheeks pink from the cold and her dark hair coming free around her face.

She was more beautiful than he’d ever seen her.

His heart swelled with emotion, joy mixed with the knowledge that he’d soon lose her. He wanted to savor this day, tuck it away in his pocket forever. They spent the afternoon on the ice and only went in when he insisted they needed to get warm.

They entered the house exhausted and happy, their cheeks burning from the cold. A fire had been lit in the library. Byron made coffee and carried it into the room on a tray. He sat down in the big chair in front of the hearth and when Lilya went to sit in the opposite chair, he grabbed her around the waist and pulled her into his lap.

She came to him with a yelp of surprise and a sigh of contentment, settling onto his lap and tucking herself against his chest with her head on his shoulder. He took the rest of the pins out of her hair, setting them on the table beside him one by one, and ran his fingers through the long, dark skeins wordlessly. Eventually Lilya’s breathing grew deep and even and he knew she’d dropped off to sleep.

Deep satisfaction settling into his bones, he wrapped his arms around her and watched the fire while she napped. Today had been by far one of the best days of his life. Lilya was an easy person for him to be with, not only was she his lover, but a friend as well. Right now he knew without a doubt he wanted to spend his life with her, but if he asked her marry him, would he end up another abandoned ring box in her drawer of wealthy, besotted men? Odds were the answer was yes.

S
he’s leaving in two days.”

Hiding the way those words made him feel, Alek turned toward Byron. “I am aware.” He returned to staring out the library window at the cold, starless night.

“So why are we down here and she’s upstairs?”

Alek threw back the rest of his drink. He suspected he knew why, but it wouldn’t do any good to tell Byron what he thought; he wouldn’t believe him. “I don’t think it’s because she wants to be left alone. I suspect Lilya is sad to be leaving.”

“I’m going up.” Byron stood. “We only have a short time left with her.”

“It doesn’t have to be that way.”

Byron let out a long, slow breath. “Yes, it does.”

Alek ground his teeth together. Byron didn’t know it yet, but there was no way he was letting Lilya go without telling her how he felt about her. Byron might have a problem doing that—but
he
didn’t.

He glanced guiltily at his friend. He just didn’t want to lose Byron over it. Byron was as close as a brother to him and that made this situation tricky.

“I want to see her. I’m heading upstairs.” Byron walked toward the door.

Jealousy flashed through him. He knew he really had no right to feel that way. He had no claim on Lilya. No man did. And if there was any man who
did
have a claim on her, it was Byron. Still, he set his glass down. “Not alone, you aren’t.”

Byron stilled, anger flashed just briefly through his eyes and then settled into acceptance. “All right.”

Together they mounted the stairs and knocked on her door.

“Come in.”

They entered the room and found her sitting near a fire in her nightgown, a heavy blanket draped over her legs and a book in her lap. She turned and smiled at them. “I’m glad you came up. I was just about to go downstairs and find you.”

“We’re not disturbing you, then?” Byron asked. “You seemed a little melancholy this afternoon. I just wanted to make sure you were all right.” There were two more chairs near her and he and Alek took them.

She shook her head, then bowed it. Her smile faded. “I am a little sad. I’ve enjoyed my stay here.”

Byron glanced at Alek. Alek held his gaze for a moment, acknowledging that Alek had been right about Lilya’s depression. Now if only Byron would believe he was right about how Lilya felt about him—and about himself, he hoped.

Lilya rose, pushing the blanket off her legs and standing in front of the fire. The material of her nightgown was sheer and they could see the slim silhouette of her body through the fabric. Alek’s body tightened at the sight. He imagined his fingers curling to lift the garment over her head and then immersing himself in the experience of her silken skin and lush body.

 

 

Lilya watched them as she stood in front of the fire, her body tightening from their mere presence in her room. Two days and she would be gone. Two days and she wouldn’t know the hungry look in their eyes as they watched her anymore. Two days and she would be alone again.

She knew what they wanted. They were men and she knew men very well. They may have come up to her room because they were concerned about her state of mind, but they wanted her body.