The Heavenly Surrender (21 page)

Genieva drew in a nervous breath as Brevan, pulling her hair to one side, let his mouth hover teasingly over her neck just below her ear.

She flinched as his warm breath tickled her neck torturously, and he whispered, “Relax, Genieva. I’m not about to do anythin’ too…familiar out here in the broad, bright daylight.” Genieva’s insides began to quiver as his unshaven chin pushed the collar of her shirtwaist down—his lips planting a moist, lingering kiss at the back of her neck.

“Why didn’t ya tell me about your family before?” he asked, holding Genieva’s neck in one hand—letting his thumb caress her throat.

As Genieva’s eyes lifted to meet his, Brevan was momentarily distracted as he watched their very shading fade from green—gradually assuming a violet hue. He smiled, pleased in the knowledge that he alone had caused the tinted transformation.

“
I-I…” Genieva stammered, for she was completely preoccupied by his gorgeous face before her. “It wasn’t important,” she finished as every segment of her body wished only that he would grant her the ecstasy of his kiss.

Brevan’s index finger softly rested against Genieva’s lower lip for a moment before he proceeded to trace the soft outline of her delicate mouth with his thumb.

“Ah, but it was, lass. I might have been better prepared to meet them had I known they existed, ya see.”

As Genieva gazed into the tantalizing blue of the Irishman’s eyes, her breath quickened at the remembrance of the mouth-watering taste of his kiss. He was toying with her again. No matter what his motive this time—whether he meant to simply mock her or to truly remove all doubt from Maureen’s mind of their relationship—he was taunting her.

Abruptly, Genieva took Brevan’s delicious face between her hands, pulling his head toward hers as she issued a firm kiss. The blissful physical connection lasted longer than she had intended—for the feel of his mouth to hers was not something easily sacrificed. After a few moments, she did release him, stepping back. Upon seeing the satisfied grin spreading across Brevan’s face as he looked at her, however, she was embarrassed and wanted only to escape him.

She tugged at the waist of her blouse, straightened her posture, and said, “There now. She’s seen us. Maureen should have no doubt now who you belong…where she can’t…”

“Whose territory she’s tresspassin’ on, ya’re tryin’ to say,” he chuckled.

“Yes. Yes, exactly.” Straightening her collar, Genieva turned to leave, adding, “Now, if you’ll excuse me, Brevan. I’ve dinner to attend to.” She felt the fiery blush on her face and scolded herself for allowing it. But as she took her first step toward the house, Brevan caught her arm in one powerful hand, rather mercilessly yanking her around to face him.

“Now, lass,” he began, gathering Genieva into his arms again. “Do ya really believe she’ll be thinkin’ that’s proof of a passion between us?”

“Of course!” Genieva defended herself. “I’ve never in my life…she knows I would never…I mean…” she stammered.

“Give yarself up to me for one wee bit of a minute, Genieva,” Brevan whispered. Genieva found it difficult to breathe—breathless in his arms. “’Twill be a heavenly surrender, and I’ll give yar sister a show she won’t soon forget, I will.” As his head descended toward hers, he added, “Ya’ll not soon forget it either.”

“Please, Brevan. Don’t…” she breathed as his lips gently pressed hers.

Instantly, Genieva melted into Brevan’s arms—his lips hovered just above hers for a moment. “‘Please, Brevan’ will do, Genieva,” he whispered just before his mouth locked with hers in an uncompromising, sincere, and ardent exchange.

For those following few moments of nearly fatal, ecstatic delirium, Genieva was entirely unaware of anything else existing in the world. She heard nothing save the mad beating of her own heart—the quiet rhythm of Brevan’s breathing. The sweet and often powerful fragrance of the honeysuckle growing on the outer wall of the barn was replaced in her senses by the subtle yet masculine scent of Brevan’s shaving soap, still lingering on his face. She could feel only his arms as they held her next to his solid, capable body—his mouth moist, hot, and demanding on her own. Over and over, her heart and mind silently agreed—shouting to her inwardly—reminding her painfully again how deeply and completely she loved this man. Moments like these with Brevan made it difficult for Genieva to push that fact to the back of her mind. She winced as the knowledge of his not returning the cherished emotion upon her renewed itself in her heart and mind as well.

Brevan ended it then, placing one last lingering kiss on Genieva’s forehead. As Genieva abruptly pushed herself back from him, she fancied she was swaying unsteadily for a moment and could not bring herself to look up at him.

“There. The lass should know for sure and for certain where her place be now,” Brevan said—his voice low and unusual sounding.

“Yes. Yes,” Genieva agreed, nodding as she turned to leave.

“Ya may be wantin’ to change me bed sheets, Genieva,” Brevan added. “Unless ya’re not mindin’ sleepin’ in them after I’ve been in them by meself near to a week.”

Genieva stopped—turned to look at him. “What?” she asked.

“Still…now that I’m thinkin’ about it again…I’d be offended if ya did, I would.” As Genieva’s mouth dropped open in sudden realization, Brevan chuckled. “Ya’ve got the look of havin’ seen the screamin’ banshee, Genieva. I’ve no intention of sleepin’ in the barn like the stock. And bein’ the perfect gentleman that I am…I don’t expect you
to.”

“
But I…” Genieva began.

“And bein’ that yar entire family needs lodgin’ for the night, that leaves one choice, it does.”

“But I…” she stammered.

“Ya’re right, lass. After yar kissin’ me like you just did…I’m a wee bit worried that ya’ll try to take advantage of the situation this evenin’.”

“Me?”

“Yet, I think ya be disciplined enough to keep yar hands to yarself, aren’t ya, lass?”

Genieva could only stand staring at his attractive face—his mischievous grin. He was right. They would have to share his room.
His bed
, she thought, swallowing hard.

“Go on with ya now, Genieva. It’s gettin’ late, and I’m hungry, I am.”

Chapter Ten

“You mean, your father and I must share one bed?” Abigail inquired of her daughter. Genieva had shown her father and mother into her room following a late supper.

“
We only have three bedrooms, Mother,” Genieva explained. “Maureen needs one, and I…” She stumbled over the words. “Brevan and I need ours.”

“There’s only one bed in their room, too, Mother. I looked,” Maureen whispered to her mother. Genieva sighed with exasperation as her mother instantly began blushing crimson.

“Well…when in heathen country…do as the heathens do, I suppose,” her mother sighed.

Genieva grinned and shook her head. “Come on, Maury. I’ll tuck you in as well,” she said, leading her sister to the spare bedroom.

“Doesn’t he simply
smother you at night, Nieva?” Maureen asked, dropping her voice in a tone of conspiracy.

“Whatever are you going on about now, Maury?” Genieva sighed. She was tired and a bit weary of dealing with her sister’s trivial and endless questioning.

She was tired as she entered Brevan’s room and startled when he unexpectedly spoke from behind her. He stood in the doorway, smiling at her—a rather amused expression across his handsome face.

“Have ya got the meddlin’ in-laws all tucked in for the night then, lass?” he asked, grinning with understanding. He had unbuttoned his shirt and was awkwardly attempting to change the bandage on his knife wound. Genieva was suddenly worried over not having attended to it sooner.

“Yes,” she answered, moving to assist him. “I don’t remember them being so…so…irritating.”

“They’re in a strange environment, Genieva,” he explained as she secured the fresh bandage over the wound. “And tryin’ to accept a strange situation, they are.” Brevan covered his mouth as he yawned, stretched, and stripped off his shirt.

“I’ll um…I’ll just rest on the sofa awhile,” Genieva nervously stammered.

Yet as she started to move past him, he caught hold of her arm.

Lowering his voice, he said, “And undo the vision I’ve been slavin’ meself all day to create? Never.” He pointed to his bed. “You’ll be sleepin’ there, ya will. I’ll stretch out on the floor next to ya.”

“Oh, no. I couldn’t possibly…you need your rest and…” she began.

“Get to bed, lass. I’m worn to the core today,” Brevan interrupted as he sat on the side of the bed. He removed his boots, letting them drop to the floor.

Unexpectedly, he took hold of Genieva’s arm and, laying back on the bed, pulled her down beside him.

“Brevan!” Genieva exclaimed in a whisper. He rolled toward her, gathering her in a tight embrace. She immediately understood his actions as she heard Maureen’s voice from the open doorway.

“Excuse me, Nieva,” her sister called—feigning innocence. “Do you have an extra blanket somewhere near? Oh my, pardon me, will you?” Maureen said—her eyes nearly bugging out of her head as she stared at Genieva and Brevan.

“Here,” Brevan said, sitting up and tossing the girl the quilt lying across the foot of his bed. “Ya can have this one. We’ll not be needin’ it.” Then he stood and strode to the door. Closing it before Maureen’s astonished face, he added, “Good night, lassie.”

When Brevan returned to his bed and took his pillow from it, Genieva asked, “Why do you work so hard at continuing this farce?”

Brevan threw another quilt to the floor, tossed the pillow on top of it, and lay down. He stretched his long body the length of the makeshift bed.

“It boils me blood that they’re so puffed up and snobbish, it does.”

Genieva looked away, muttering, “I’m sorry.”

“It’s no fault of yars. I’ve no doubt it took a fair amount of courage to leave like ya did. And it makes me angry that they drove ya to it.”

“I’m weak, I suppose. It was my duty after all,” Genieva sighed.

“It was not, lass. Everyone should have the right to choose their own path as an adult.” Obviously wanting an end to their conversation, he added, “Good night then, Genieva.”

“Good night, Brevan.”

The hours passed slowly—for Genieva found sleep elusive. Her mind and senses were alive with the memory of Brevan’s kiss earlier in the day. The marvelous sensation of being held in his arms still permeated her body—she ached to be held by him again.

Yet in the darkness, her fearful memories of her meeting with Cruz on the path home from Lita’s house began to haunt her as well. She would have to tell Brevan about it. But when? Not with her family under his roof to witness every fearful and threatening word. Her thoughts wandered to her family, and she smiled—amused at the way her mother had nearly swooned each time Brevan entered the room muttering something insinuative. She covered her mouth, stifling a giggle as she recalled the incident at dinner.

Abigail had asked for someone to pass the butter.

“Let me do that for ya, Mother Bankmans,” Brevan had offered. Then, taking a knife in his right hand, he reached around her mother, letting his arm rest around her rather plump form, and sliced a bit of the butter from the mold. He continued to hold her mother at his side as he buttered her bread for her, saying, “I can spread it on thicker than any man.” Her mother had nearly fainted dead away, and Maury was again crimson with delight at her mother’s blushing. Her father had not been amused, and that in itself was amusing to Genieva.

Turning to her side, she leaned over the side of the bed and stared at the man sleeping on the floor next to her. He was resting on his back, his arms raised and hands tucked firmly beneath his head. His feet were crossed and his hair tousled and mussed looking. He certainly was a beautiful sight to behold. In that quiet moment as she studied him, Genieva suddenly owned more patience with her sister’s endless questions about Brevan.

Suddenly, the need to touch him was just too much to deny. Carefully, Genieva let her hand move from the bed and to his hair, stroking it softly and relishing the feel of it between her fingers. Her great fatigue left her reflexes too relaxed, and when Brevan suddenly caught hold of her hand, she was unable to retrieve it at once.

He did not open his eyes, simply pressed the palm of her hand firmly against his chest, holding it in place with his own. He seemed to be asleep. Even when Genieva whispered his name several times, he did not stir. Slowly, she pulled her hand from beneath his. He did not wake, only turned to his side, his back toward her now.

He’s so strong
, she thought. Not once had he mentioned his fresh wound—not once throughout the entire day. In those only quiet moments she’d had all day, Genieva was again reminded of the danger her Brevan was in. Cruz had inflicted a brutal wound to him the night before—and Brevan had retaliated. Cruz would be hungering for vengeance. A vision of Cruz standing before her on the pathway home that morning leapt to Genieva’s mind. His threats had been lewd to say the least. What would she have done if Joaquin had not been near? She would’ve been ruined—ruined as Amy Wilburn had been.

The need to be near Brevan was heightening, and she again reached down, lightly caressing his shoulder. Just touching him comforted her. She wondered what it would be like to touch him whenever she needed to—to kiss him whenever she wanted to. Would it be too wonderful to hear him whisper in her ear that he loved her? So wonderful that it would cause her to be deafened to any other word spoken?

“Do ya want me in the bed with ya, Genieva?” Brevan grumbled. “For I’m certainly gettin’ no sleep down here with ya pawin’ at me every livin’ minute.”