Nightsong (10 page)

The room looked much as she remembered, although the hush of waiting was as thick in the air as the pervasive dust. Still, it had a comfortable appearance and held a reminiscent appeal, a distant echo of family and friends.

The sadness came unexpectedly like the sound of rain on a tin roof, and she was glad she wasn’t alone. Phillip was behind her, and Elleny longed to seek the comfort of his embrace.

But he stepped past her into the room, seemingly unaware of everything except the shadowed interior of the cabin. “Is there a light switch somewhere around here?” His hand groped the wall next to the door as he spoke.

“There’s a generator in the back.”

“I think we can get the same effect by opening the draperies.” He moved toward the side wall and soon spotlighted a rectangle of floating dust. He moved to the other windows and repeated the procedure until sunlight crisscrossed the room. “There. Bright as day. Now what do we...?” His voice became muffled as he turned to scan the contents and faded entirely as he saw something of interest.

Elleny stood in the doorway, reluctant to enter, unable to see what had captured Phillip’s attention. But when he walked toward the south wall, she realized he was moving toward the stairs that led to the loft, Jesse’s studio. “Be careful,” she called, more to keep him near than because of any suspected danger. “I’m sure everything’s sturdy and safe, but no one has been here for quite some time, and you never know.”

He turned with his foot on the bottom step. “When was Mark last here?”

“I don’t remember.” Her brow furrowed into a puzzled line at his crisp, businesslike tones.

“Was it during the month before he died?”

Elleny tried to recall, but her thoughts were clouded by Phillip’s keenly felt curiosity. She slipped her hands into the side pockets of her jacket and shook her head. “I honestly don’t recall. Why?”

He smiled then and shrugged. “It was just a thought, I guess. Doesn’t matter. I’m going upstairs.” He indicated the loft above him with a jerk of his thumb. “That is, or was, Jesse’s studio, right?”

At her nod he took two steps up before Elleny stopped him. “Don’t you think we should bring in those canvases first?” she asked. “It might turn cold again or start to rain.”

It was a feeble ploy, and the wry curve of his lips chastened her concerns, whether real or not. “I’ll get them in a little while. I want to see the canvases that are here before we bring in the rest. You don’t mind, do you?”

He was already at the landing and opening the studio door before she made a soft, barely audible protest. She did mind. She didn’t want to be alone. And she didn’t want to look at paintings she had seen a dozen times before. A slim shiver curled across the back of her neck, as she stepped fully inside the room and closed the door behind her. Instantly the interior was darker, although still light enough for exploration. But she didn’t need to explore. She knew the ins and outs of the cabin. Wandering aimlessly would encourage memories and that odd sadness she’d experienced on first opening the door.

She braced herself to sneeze, was powerless to prevent it, and then felt it come again. Dust. Disuse. Dying dreams. All played a part in the constricting tightness in her throat. Taking her hands from her pockets, Elleny walked toward the stairs, not really wanting to follow Phillip, but realizing she needed to be with him.

Was that the problem? Was her feeling of being out of place rooted in the fact that she was here with Phillip and not with Mark? Of course, she decided as her palm curved around the narrow banister rail. That must be the reason. What else could be bothering her? Her boots made a clicking sound on the first step, and she self-consciously shifted her weight to her toes. What was it about a house in which no one lived that made her want to whisper and creep about on tiptoe? She smiled with the thought, reached the landing, and paused in the studio doorway.

Phillip crouched before a canvas that rested against the wall. It was the first of several in a stack that was duplicated many times around the circumference of the room. The light from the skylight and rows of high windows illuminated the loft with coveted sunshine, but Elleny felt cold. There wasn’t a draft, her jacket was warm, so the feeling had to be internal, intuitive. And when Phillip leaned back, cocking his head to one side, concentrating his complete attention on what seemed to her a nondescript example of Mark’s early work, the reason for her sudden chill surfaced in her mind.

There was something unusual about Phillip’s absorption, something in the way he studied the paintings, as if he was seeking more than inspiration. But what? She was at a loss to explain what he might be hoping to find. Still, she had to acknowledge the doubt that pressed persistently into her thoughts.

She was falling in love with Phillip, and she had believed he reciprocated her feelings. But now she wasn’t sure. What did she know about him, really? He had walked into her life, introduced himself, and her heart had accepted him as someone special.

She trusted her intuition. Over the years it had seldom failed her. Yet now, at this crucial moment when her emotions already were involved, she was afraid.

Elleny took a step into the room, anxious to dispel the doubt, not knowing how to begin. “Nice studio, isn’t it? Lots of light. Plenty of space.”

There wasn’t a breath of answer, only the rustle of movement as he flipped one canvas forward to study the next. He wasn’t even aware of her presence, or maybe at the moment he simply didn’t care.

Either way, Elleny knew she had to escape the conflicting thoughts that tumbled one over another in her mind. She turned and walked hastily from the room, down the steps, across the living area of the cabin to the door, and then outside. Drawing a deep breath of cool, clean air, she decided she was overreacting. But to what? The cabin? A place that held a tiny corner of her remembrance?

She had been here before and had felt nothing like this. It was not the past that was weighing heavy on her heart, but the future. And Phillip.

Her feet, voluntarily, led her toward the path that circled away from the cabin. She followed it aimlessly and forced herself to analyze the possibility that she had imagined Phillip’s interest in her. Or amplified it to match her own.

But could she have simply
imagined
the desire that sparked between them at odd and unplanned moments? There was a certain way he looked at her, a certain way he smiled, a huskiness in his voice when she was near. Even an hour before, in the car, the seductive intimacy had been electrically, tangibly present. He was as aware of that attraction as she, and Elleny knew she hadn’t misinterpreted the magic in the one kiss they’d shared. It had been special for him as well as for her. Wasn’t the fact that he since had avoided being in any situation where a kiss might happen proof of that? But on the other side of that question was another: why was Phillip so hesitant to let the attraction develop?

Thrusting her hands deep into her coat pockets, she stopped walking and viewed the isolation around her. Trees stretched empty branches to a cloudless sky. Bushes and grass were brown, lifeless, waiting for the new season, the next cycle of growth to begin.

Elleny scuffed one booted toe in the dirt. Was love like that? Did it come in cycles, waiting for a new season in life, growing only when the time was right? Or could it happen despite the circumstances, despite the shadow of past experiences, whether good or bad?

And if it happened for her with Phillip, would she be able to make the sacrifices that loving him would demand? Could she give up her store, move away from her friends, and make a new life? More important, could A.J. make the transition? It was something to consider, although at the moment it seemed a moot point.

She turned away from the aimless speculation and the philosophical questions that provided no insight into her nagging uncertainty. She couldn’t even pinpoint the cause of her restlessness, the feeling that something wasn’t quite the way it ought to be. Maybe she had been fooling herself all along. She knew from experience that art was a demanding mistress, so why did Phillip’s absorption in the paintings bother her?

Because he wasn’t absorbed in his work, but in Mark’s.

The thought appeared from nowhere and crystallized. Quickly she reviewed all their conversations, all the times she’d wondered at his intense interest in Mark’s work. The pieces began to fit, but still she had no idea of how that related to her. Unless....

Elleny picked her way past a scrawny evergreen as she faced a new consideration. Was Phillip’s interest in her simply an extension of his admiration for Mark? She discarded the idea the moment it was fully formed.

Phillip wasn’t like that.

She would stake her heart on it.

A wistful smile caught her unaware. Wasn’t that the whole point anyway? To risk her heart, to take a chance on loving when it would be easier, safer, not to?

The sound of footsteps brought her swinging around to face Phillip. He was walking toward her, confidence riding in the set of his shoulders, the disarming tilt of his mouth.

Her stomach jumped and fluttered with the wings of a thousand butterflies. It was one thing to analyze emotions, another to
feel
them vying for recognition within her. She clasped her hands to conceal their uncertainty and waited for him to reach her.

“It’s a good thing you wore that bright yellow jacket, Elleny. I might not have seen you out here otherwise. I thought you were in the studio with me, and the next thing I knew you weren’t even in the cabin.”

“It’s so dusty inside,” she answered mechanically, her voice sounding small and unsteady. “I kept sneezing, so I decided to go for a walk. I ... didn’t think you’d notice.”

Phillip stopped short and took a close look at her. He was on dangerous ground. He could almost hear the warning rumble beneath his feet. He’d thought he was being so careful with Elleny. But he could tell by the look in her eyes that she had seen beneath his evasive efforts to the feelings he’d tried to hide from her and from himself. And now—of all times—she was looking for reassurance or outright denial. He knew it, sensed her hesitation to ask aloud, and felt his arms ache to hold her.

“It got so quiet, how could I help but notice?” He’d meant to alter the mood, make her smile, but if anything, the tension only increased. He was going to have to walk away or go to her. There wasn’t any other choice.

Walking away took more self-discipline than he possessed at the moment, and going to her was not the wise thing to do.

But then he hadn’t acted wisely from the very beginning when it came to matters involving Elleny. Why should this time be any different? He took a step toward her and another, wanting to protect her for just a little while longer. The desire to hold her close, to offer comfort now while he could, was too strong to resist.

“Phillip?” Her whisper was like the soothing texture of silk, and all the reasons for turning away faded into obscurity. He brought his hands to cup her face, looked deeply into the warm brown of her eyes, and knew the meaning of desire. Her palms came to rest lightly on his upper arms, and beneath the thickness of his coat, his skin tingled in response. Incredible to think he had been so cold earlier that morning, because now he felt heated with the sun overhead and Elleny ...
Elleny
... so near.

His head bent. Her chin lifted. A soft, wispy breath misted his lips in the split second before he captured hers. Tenderness flooded his senses and coupled with a fierce need to possess her.

His hands left her face to follow the contours of her throat, to slide beneath the down jacket she wore and cup her shoulders. Elleny moved closer, and her mouth parted in more explicit invitation. He accepted eagerly and pulled her nearer, liking the way her body curved into his, delighting in the way her tongue curled sensuously around his own. Avoiding this, he realized, had been an exercise in futility.

Now that he was holding her, kissing her, he knew that he never had been in control of the situation. Any more than he was at this moment. Suddenly, control seemed a harsh word for this awakening. He left the pleasing curves of her mouth to taste the pleasant sensation of her cheek beneath his sipping kisses. But Elleny protested by placing her hands at the back of his neck and urging him to take her lips again. And he returned because he couldn’t do otherwise.

As her hips undulated in unconscious but revealing movement against him, Phillip knew he was lost, bewitched by her, unable to think of anything beyond the feel of her in his arms. His hand moved downward beneath the slick nylon lining of her jacket to the gentle swell of her breast. He heard her swift intake of breath, felt her response beneath his massaging fingers, and knew an agony of want along each sensitive nerve ending.

At his touch Elleny drifted from magic into reality and back again to an enchanted world of sensation. This, then, was her answer – this tenuous beginning of passion that he could not deny and she would not question. She belonged in his arms, sharing the wild communion of body and soul. She threaded loving fingertips into the rich tawny texture of his hair and pulled him deeper into her kiss. Her breasts swelled beneath his palms, and a sensual ache crisscrossed her stomach.

She wanted to make love to Phillip. She wanted him to make love to her. She wanted that elusive
more
that promised ecstasy and delight. It was theirs for the taking, here or in a quieter, warmer setting. She didn’t care, was lost to all intrusion of the elements, and was dimly aware of the nearby cries of a blue jay.

Phillip was the source and the fulfillment of her discontent, a restless yearning she hadn’t realized existed until he was there to quench it, until he filled the empty corners of her heart that nothing else had been able to fill.

The years of her life had brought many emotions, but none to compare with the swirling rapture within her now. She had loved before, but not like this. Never like this.

He had to stop.

Phillip reviewed all the reasons he should put an immediate end to the building passion of the embrace and knew he had to stop touching her. Elleny was like velvet, luring him to stroke and caress again and again. This was hardly the place for lovemaking, even of the most innocuous sort, and he wasn’t fool enough to think the past few moments were anything less than heart-stealingly serious.