Tempered (A Daughters of the People Novel) (Daughters of the People Series) (25 page)

“Ah.” He glanced
up at Levi again, then at Hawthorne, and shrugged. “Sure.”

Hawthorne halted
the little girl’s headlong rush. “Lali, wait. Who is the pretty lady?”

“You know.” Lali’s
huge gray eyes widened. “The pretty lady. She comes to visit me sometimes
through the window when my tummy aches here.” She patted her heart. “She sings
to me and tells me stories about stuff I’m supposed to do, like finding my
puppy and my Petey. She tolded me I had to hide when the mean cushion came and
hurted my sitter and my puppy.”

A tight fist of
fear encircled Hawthorne’s heart, squeezing until her breath faltered. “A woman
has been sneaking into this house?”

Lali laughed, a
light tinkle that jarred Hawthorne’s nerves. “Silly Nana. I lets her in.”

“Lali.”
Hawthorne inhaled sharply through her nose. “What have I told you about
allowing strangers into the house?”

“But she’s not a
stranger, Nana. She’s the pretty lady and she watches over me. She told me so.”

Aaron knelt beside
Lali and smoothed a stray wisp of hair from her forehead. “Can you tell me what
the pretty lady looks like, sweetheart?”

Lali’s eyes lit
up. “I gots a picture. Hold on.”

She tugged on
Petey’s hand and dragged the dazed little boy behind her toward the stairs.

“Aaron, would
you bring Lali’s picture of the pretty lady to me in my office when she
retrieves it? Levi, come with me.”

Hawthorne pivoted
on her heel, ignoring Levi’s soft murmurs as he introduced his mortal woman to
Aaron and the few other family members who had lingered through the afternoon.
A moment later, a small hailstorm of feet pattered after Lali, no doubt
belonging to everyone who had witnessed the odd exchange between the little
girl and the boy she had claimed on sight.

Hawthorne stalked
into her office and sat behind her desk, tamping down the worry over Lali, the
suspicion gnawing at her as to the pretty lady’s identity, and icy fury at
Levi’s temerity in bringing a mortal suitor here. One of his floozies, no
doubt, a gold digger who had not the strength or presence of mind to grasp the
worth of the man who had so foolishly intermingled his life with hers.

Damn him. Levi
was her best and favorite, intended to strengthen the family’s position among
the People or, at the very least, to secure ties with a powerful mortal family
through his intermarriage with a suitable candidate. The soft woman with her
silver eyes and timid manner was no match for a Son of Levi’s quality and
status.

The door snicked
shut behind Levi. A moment later, he planted himself in front of her desk, gaze
firm as he stared down at her.

“Have a seat.”

His beautiful
mouth curled into a sneer. “Think I’ll stand.”

Hawthorne
blinked at him. Her great-grandson had always been an individual, pursuing his
own path as often as not, but he had never been openly defiant. Until now. “Why
did you not tell me you had formed a relationship with a mortal woman?”

He laughed.
“Seriously? You have to ask that question? Every time you even think I’m
considering a woman, you interfere. Who I date is my business, not yours.”

A shaft of hurt
pierced her. How could he say that, when she had only his best interests at
heart, that and the interests of their family? “That woman is unacceptable.”

“
That woman
is my future wife.”

“I forbid it.”

Levi snorted.
“Like you have any say.”

Hawthorne
clamped her jaw shut. “She is mortal and not of the People.”

“Hypocrite.” He
uttered the word calmly, his voice mild and even, though his whiskey-colored eyes
burned fiercely down upon her. “How dare you throw her mortality at me when
you’re living with a mortal man?”

She placed her
palms flat on the desk in front of her, willing the cool surface to bleed the
heat from her temper. “Our situation is different.”

“Not a bit. Do
you think you’re the only person in this world entitled to love?”

“No, of course
not.” Of course, she didn’t. How could he think that? Did every Daughter not
struggle each day toward that elusive emotion, and laud any who found it? “You
could at least have found a Daughter, mortal or not.”

“I looked,
hard,” he said flatly. “And you know what I found? Not a single one I wanted.”

“You’re young
still, barely a man.”

He laughed, hard
and bitter. “I’ve been a man since I was sixteen, and treated like one for a
lot longer, and you question the direction my heart takes?”

“It is not a
question of the direction so much as your state of mind, your vulnerability.”
Not to mention the potential alliances lost, though she knew he would not want
to hear such, not with his emotions clouded by lust. “How do you know this
mortal has not latched on to you in order to siphon your wealth into her own
coffers?”

“Because Sera’s
not like that.” He dropped his arms and stared down at her. “I should’ve known
better than to bring her here, should’ve known you couldn’t just be glad I’d
found somebody. As long as you’ve searched for your heart, I thought you’d be
happy I found mine.”

“Levi…”

The door opened
on Aaron, Sera, Lali, and Peter, the younger pair walking hand in hand behind
their elders.

“Lookit.” Aaron
waved a sheaf of papers held tight in his fingers. “Lali’s got a stack of
drawings she’s been hoarding up in her room.”

He moved around
to stand behind Hawthorne, placing his hand on her shoulder as he dropped the
drawings onto her desk, pulling her gently against the firm strength of his
body. She fanned the pages out even as she noted from the corner of her eye the
way Levi drew Sera to him in much the same manner, with his hand on the indent
of her waist and his eyes focused so intently on her, there was no doubt in
Hawthorne’s mind as to their true relationship.

Levi had taken
the mortal as his lover and allowed his heart to soften far past love into
devotion and need.

Hawthorne
stifled a sigh. There would be no dealing with him, then. He had made his
choice. Whether wisely or not remained to be seen. On the morrow, she would
discuss the matter with his mother. If this mortal, Sera Noland, refused to
treat Levi with the proper respect due a Son of his stature, Hawthorne would
intervene and do what she must to protect her great-grandson.

She turned her
attention to the papers spread before her. Her gaze caught on a crude drawing
of what she took to be a woman with coal black dots for eyes, but no nose or
mouth. “Lali, sweet, did the pretty lady tell you her name?”

“Nope,” Lali
said cheerfully. “She just told me I has to be good, and I is. Ain’t that
right, Petey?”

Peter glanced
hopefully toward Levi, then back to Lali. “Um, yes?”

Hawthorne met
Levi’s gaze. Here, he had done well. The woman might be suspect, but her son was
certainly a treasure in the rough. Perhaps the one might be tolerated in order
to bring the other into the fold of the People’s protection. A mortal male was
always of value, even if he was of no blood relation to the People.

“Forget it,
Nana. He’s eight.” Levi’s gaze hardened under Hawthorne’s watchful stare.
“You’re not gonna get your hooks into him the way you did with me.”

Sera placed her
hand flat on Levi’s abdomen with entirely too much familiarity for Hawthorne’s
peace of mind. “What are you talking about?”

“Nothing of
consequence.” Though Hawthorne would do what she must regardless, as Levi well
knew. “Why does the pretty lady have no mouth in this drawing, Lali?”

“’Cause she wore
a piece of wood over her face.” Lali scrunched her face into a thoughtful
frown. “Like at Halloween, ‘cept it wasn’t Halloween.”

Aaron touched a
finger to another picture of an amorphous blob surrounded by straight, black
lines that could have been a woman’s face. “But she took it off for you?”

“Yup. And she
told me to tell you, the prosephy…”

“The Prophecy?”
Hawthorne guessed.

“Yeah, the
prosephy. It needs you to finish, that you’re s’posed to do your duty, but you
don’t has to behead the mean cushion.” Lali’s expression turned mutinous. “I
didn’t like that part.”

Aaron coughed
into his fist. “If anyone deserves a beheading,” he muttered.

Sera’s fingers
curled into Levi’s shirt. “Would someone please tell me what’s going on here?”

Levi caught her
hand with his, pressing hers close to his stomach. “Later. Trust me, ok?”

Sera’s mouth
slid into a sly grin. “I’ll think about it.”

Hawthorne eyed
that grin with dismay. Yes, it was too late to stop Levi’s slide into love, far
too late if the woman loved him in return.

Peter nudged
Lali with his elbow. “Show her the triangle.”

“Oh, yeah.” She
dropped her new friend’s hand long enough to dig into the pocket of her jeans
and pull out a small piece of paper. “The pretty lady gave me this.”

Peter took it
from her and laid it on Hawthorne’s desk on top of Lali’s drawings. Hawthorne
lifted the rough paper gingerly and stared impassively at the triangle set on
point with a half circle dropping down from its top line, even as her breath
froze in her lungs. The Woman with No Face. Surely there could be no other who
would dare use such a symbol.

Three words were
written in even lettering around the triangle, one to each side. Duty, love,  honor.
At the bottom was the simple phrase,
Submit to your heart
. Hawthorne’s
heart leapt and raced in her chest. The words seemed personal, a message from a
feared and mysterious woman.

“Can we go play
dolls now?” Lali shifted from foot to foot as Peter stepped back and took her
hand in his slightly larger one. “We been good.”

“You want me to
come with you?” Aaron said.

“Naw. We’ll be
ok. Won’t we, Petey?”

Peter threw his
shoulders back and gave them all level stares. “I’ll take care of her.”

“Petey,” Sera
said.

Hawthorne
interrupted. “They will be fine as long as they stay within the confines of the
house. Lali, do not go outside without telling me or Aaron first.”

Lali nodded, and
then the children ran hand in hand out of the room, Lali leading the way. Sera
stared after her son, her forehead furrowed over worried eyes. “I’ve never seen
him like that.”

Levi ran a hand
up and down her back and dropped a kiss onto the top of her head. “He’s
learning what it means to be a man, to protect the people who need him. Don’t
take that away from him.”

“But he’s so
young.” Sera sighed the words out. “And she seems so certain.”

“It is our way.”
Hawthorne stood and pinned the other woman with a dispassionate stare. “You
will learn soon enough.”

Levi’s gaze met
hers over his lover’s head. Hawthorne leaned into her own lover’s embrace. Was
her great-grandson correct in his assessment of her, that she was a hypocrite for
taking love when it came her way and dissuading him from doing the same? Was
she perhaps a tad too zealous in her familial duties by pressuring him to marry
within the People, when he had found his heart in a woman who seemed to love
him in return?

Her eyes dropped
to the drawings scattered across her desk and to the tiny fragment carrying the
mark of the Woman, the ancient assassin who had haunted the People for longer
than their collective minds remembered, a dangerous woman who would as soon
kill as appease. She had passed a message through a young girl, reminding
Hawthorne of her responsibility.

Duty.

The word fell
like dust in her mouth, dry and unpleasant, yet upon her shoulders, certain
duties fell. Protecting her family, ensuring the survival of the People, and
her duty to herself, to find a way to break the curse holding her in its
thrall.

Aaron shifted
behind her, tightening his hold on her waist. “It’ll wait until tomorrow.”

“Yes, my love.
It will.” Hawthorne met Levi’s gaze again, refusing to soften, though she would
welcome Sera Noland readily enough, as a good hostess would. “Come. It is near
supper time and the children’s stomachs will soon rumble with hunger.”

She gathered the
drawings together with the Woman’s symbol and stashed them on one side of her
desk, ignoring the way Levi drew his woman under his protective arm. Aaron’s
place in Hawthorne’s life
was
different than Levi’s relationship with
his mortal.

Wasn’t it?

The week after
Thanksgiving delivered mixed blessings into Aaron’s life. After turkey day,
Hawthorne seemed more relaxed, open even. Smiles tilted her beautiful mouth
more frequently and she even unbent enough to laugh once or twice a day, when
humor moved her.

The revelation
that a woman had been visiting Lali had worried Hawthorne deeply, though she
refused to discuss it. He hadn’t pushed, hadn’t been in any shape to between
the intermittent headaches caused by the concussion, Lali’s care, and work.

On the Monday
after the holiday, Dr. Phillips cleared Aaron for normal exercise, which Aaron
decided extended to sex as well. Since the morning after Isolde’s foray,
Hawthorne had refused to share a bed with him. He missed holding her, missed
waking in the dark with her curled around him, her head on his chest and her
arm draped over his waist. Missed the silky heat of her body and the way her
gray eyes softened as she moved them both to release.

That would
change tonight.

He’d taken every
opportunity he could to study the texts in her vault, to hound after her with
questions, to learn about her world. The more he knew, the farther away a real
life with her seemed. He could feel her slipping through his fingers, dripping
away like water through a pinprick in the bottom of a bucket. Every moment he
had left was a treasure, another memory waiting to be stored as a precaution
against the time when he would grow old and she would not.

That day loomed
over him, a thin line of black clouds along the horizon, gathering momentum for
the coming storm.

Maria picked him
up at Dr. Phillips’ office with Lali in tow. “Hawthorne is in a meeting,” she
said, and that’s all Aaron could get out of her. Probably, she had no idea who
Hawthorne met with. People came and went through the house so frequently, it
was hard to keep up with everybody. Aaron shrugged it off, shelving his worry.
He managed to keep it there right up to the moment when they pulled up to
Hawthorne’s house and he glimpsed Rebecca Upton stepping gracefully down the
front stairs, dressed in a tailored business suit and heels with her light
blonde hair swept up into a chignon.

Aaron lifted a
hand in a casual wave as Maria drove past and pulled into Hawthorne’s driveway,
around the house, and into the garage. He unbuckled Lali’s car seat and swung
her out of Hawthorne’s SUV. She promptly broke into a run straight into the
house, the soles of her tennis shoes pattering on the concrete floor.

He snagged
grocery bags from the back of the SUV and followed Maria inside at a slower
pace, mulling over Rebecca’s presence at Hawthorne’s house in the middle of a
work day. Couldn’t be a social call. Was she there about Isolde or had
something happened that she needed Hawthorne’s help with?

He dropped the
bags in the kitchen for Maria to unpack and followed Lali’s laughter through
the house to Hawthorne’s office. The two were snuggled together on the couch,
Hawthorne listening attentively as Lali recited the smallest detail of her
outing.

He leaned
against the door’s frame, content to watch. They were a pair, his two girls,
with the same warm gray eyes and hearts as big as the sky, though only someone
who knew Hawthorne well would understand exactly how big her heart was. Too
many people relied upon her cold demeanor and hard-won reputation to judge her,
and never looked below the surface to the woman she was.

He had tried.
God knows, he’d tried hard. A twist of regret corkscrewed through him. Maybe he
hadn’t tried hard enough. Without trust, she would never truly love him, and
without love, they had no future.

Every bit of
that was his fault.

Each day, he
scoured the knowledge stored in her vault, searching for a way to earn her
trust, and each day, a little voice told him he was wasting his time. The only
way Hawthorne would trust him was for him to believe in her, and he did. The
past didn’t matter. It just wasn’t that important to him, to them. Still, he
was beginning to believe that everything she’d told him was true, absolutely
and without exception. All he had to do was convince her of his belief and earn
her trust.

He sighed and rubbed
his nape. That was a lot easier than it sounded. How could he earn the trust of
a woman who relied on no one for anything, a woman who refused to discuss the
important parts of her life with him, like why Rebecca Upton had visited in the
middle of the work day?

That one, at
least, he could remedy.

 He pushed
himself away from the doorframe and walked toward the couch. “Sounds like the
two of you are up to no good.”

Hawthorne turned
toward him, a slight smile lighting her face. “Lali tells me Dr. Phillips has
approved your return to exercise.”

“Among other
things.” Aaron dropped onto the couch beside her, slung an arm around her
shoulders. He buried his face in her hair and sniffed. Roses. Would he ever
smell that flower again without thinking of her? “Do you have a minute?”

“For you, of
course.” She pressed a kiss to Lali’s forehead and scooted the little girl off
her lap. “Lali, darling, if you will give us a few minutes, then later, we
shall all walk to the park.”

“Okey dokey.”
Lali skipped out of the room, saying in her sing-songy voice, “We’re going to
the pa-ark, we’re going to the pa-ark.”

Aaron closed the
door behind her, then resumed his seat next to Hawthorne.

She turned
toward him on the couch, her expression soft. “You have the appearance of a
determined man.”

Oh, he was
determined, all right, determined to push those boundaries Hawthorne refused to
budge on. “What did Rebecca Upton want?”

Hawthorne’s gaze
slid from his. “Council business. Trivialities, really.”

“Trivialities
like Isolde?”

“In part.”

“And your place
on the Council?”

She peered at
him from beneath lowered lashes, part seductress, part warrior.

“I’ve been doing
a lot of reading this past week.” He took her narrow hand in his own, threading
their fingers together. “She wants you to take Isolde’s place.”

“I am
considering it.”

“Do I get a
say?”

“Why should
you?”

He breathed past
the hurt etching its way into his heart. “Because I’m your lover.”

“And?” She
lifted her shoulder in a casual shrug. “This is my decision.”

“It affects me.
Lali, too.”

“Aaron, love…”

“Love,” he
gritted out. “If you love me, why won’t you talk this over with me?”

“Why are you so
insistent?” She shook her head, her expression caught between confusion and
wariness. “You have never questioned my decisions before.”

“I have. Yes, I
have,” he said when she shook her head again. “You bottle this part of your
life up, keep it a secret from me. Every time I ask, you push me away. How can
I earn your trust if you refuse to share something so basic?”

“Aaron. Sweet.”
She brushed her fingertips over his cheek and captured his mouth in a brief
kiss. “Is that what this is about?”

“Some. Maybe I
think it’s time we both started including each other in these decisions.” He
thumbed the bridge of his nose and took a deep, fortifying breath. “I’ve
finished the thumbnail sketches for the graphic novel. The rest of it, I’ll do
on my own.”

Her expression
went carefully blank as she lowered her eyes, hiding herself from him. “I am
aware.”

He squeezed her
fingers. “I can go back to San Francisco any time now.”

“Will you?”

“Do you want me
to?”

“I would have
you remain, though I know I cannot keep you.” She slid off of the couch and
stood, studying him dispassionately. “This I have learned well.”

“Don’t hold that
against me, Hawthorne. I had to see Ma.”

“You know I
speak of something other than filial devotion.”

He scrubbed a
hand over his face. “Are you ever gonna forgive me for DragonCon?”

“Perhaps I
cannot.”

His heart sank
like a stone. That’s what he was afraid of. “If you can’t, you’ll never learn
to trust me.”

The corners of
her mouth lifted into a secretive smile, bringing a soft glow to her gray eyes.
“The two are not mutually exclusive.”

“Eh?” He sat up,
the weight of her distrust lifting from him. “How so?”

“I shan’t tell,
Aaron Kesselman.”

“Yeah?”

He tugged on her
hand, reeling her in. Her legs bumped the edge of the couch between his.

“I bet I can
make you,” he said.

Her smile
widened as she tilted her head. “Do you, then?”

“Oh, yeah.”

He pushed her
sweater up, taking her camisole with it, baring her stomach, and pressed his
lips to her smooth skin. Her fingers tangled in his hair on a sigh. He wrapped
an arm around her waist, holding her in place as he explored.

“Aaron, love,”
she said. “The doctor…”

“Said I was
fine. Shush, now. I’m busy.”

He hitched her
sweater higher, made sure his hold around her waist was firm, and blew a
raspberry on her stomach. She shrieked out a laugh and wiggled, pushing against
his shoulders when he blew another one.

“What are you
doing, Aaron?” she asked, her voice mingled with laughter.

He wrestled her
down onto the couch and covered her, bracing himself above her. “Getting you to
tell me how you’re starting to trust me.”

Her fingers
found the collar of his shirt as a smile tugged at her mouth. “I told you. I
shan’t tell.”

“Look, I’m not
afraid to do that again.”

Her eyes widened.
“You would not dare.”

“Sweetheart, you
oughta know me better than that.” He buried his face in her neck, couldn’t
resist tasting the skin under her jaw. Silky, sweet. “Mmm. If only you hadn’t
promised Lali a trip to the park, we could be upstairs right now, building
trust.”

“Later,” she
promised. “As often as you want.”

He scraped his
teeth along her jaw, flicked his tongue against the edge of her earlobe, and
felt her low, appreciative hum all the way to his toes. “Yeah? That sounds
promising.”

Lali burst
through the door. Aaron rolled quickly off of Hawthorne and yanked her sweater
down a moment before the little girl rounded the corner, her eyes wide in a
frightened face, her wooden sword held high in both hands.

“Is the mean
cushion back?” Lali panted. “I gots my sword this time. She can’t take you,
Nana, not you or my puppy neither one.”

“Oh, Lali. We
are safe from Isolde.” Hawthorne sat up and held out her arms. Lali scrambled
into her grandmother’s lap, and Hawthorne’s eyes met Aaron’s over the little
girl’s head. “Aaron and I were playing. We did not mean to frighten you.”

“I wasn’t
scared, Nana.” Lali’s voice was muffled where her face rested in the crook of
Hawthorne’s neck. “I was gonna get her this time.”

Aaron scooted
closer and rested a comforting hand on Lali’s back. “Atta girl, Lali.”

She peeked at
him, her eyes so like Hawthorne’s, it took his breath. “I was brave, wasn’t I?”

“The bravest,”
he agreed.

Later, after
Lali calmed down and they’d come back from a trip to the park and settled in to
work, Aaron replayed his conversation with Hawthorne over in his mind, smiling
at the memory of their play. She’d taken his teasing well, for a centuries old
warrior. If they’d been somewhere else, he would’ve taken her then, eased her
pants down and pressed into her, building trust in the only way she left open
for him.

His eyes widened
on a sudden realization. He’d yanked Hawthorne onto the couch and pinned her
down, and not once had she looked upset or frightened. No, not upset a whit. She’d
been loose and relaxed the entire time, right up until Lali had burst in on
them.

His heart
thumped and flopped and turned over so hard, it staggered him. His gaze met
hers across the expanse of her office where she sat behind her desk, engrossed
in paperwork. Maybe she was beginning to trust him, at least enough to believe
that he would never intentionally hurt her, not ever again.

* * *

That night,
Aaron made love to Hawthorne with a fierce tenderness that stole her breath,
wiggling its way beneath what was left of the armor she had erected around her
heart. Afterward, he held her tightly, his hands caressing her softly as he
whispered sweet words of love to her. How he would never leave her, never hurt
her again, never, ever let another day go by without showing her how much he
loved her.

It was then, in
the still of the night with her lover wrapped around her, that Hawthorne made a
decision she had never before considered. Aaron wished for her trust, pleaded
for it with an earnestness she was beginning to believe was genuine. The
Council would meet two days hence to decide Isolde’s fate. Aaron would be
there. His presence would count among the People, as both a victim of Isolde’s
hand and as Hawthorne’s lover. No man had ever accompanied her into the heart
of her People in that manner. If he held up under the harsh scrutiny of the
Seven, now six, thanks to Isolde’s betrayal, then he would have proven himself
worthy of the trust he wished to engender.