“And why would that be a problem?” I replied, continuing to keep my voice silky and persuasive, despite it not garnishing the desired result I wanted.
His brows furrowed, crunching the skin between them in several lines. “I seem to recall a rather decided young woman telling me only a few nights ago she was not ready”—he paused, motioning between us for emphasis—“for all this.”
What! I said what?! was my gut response—I’d wanted William several nights ago just as much as I wanted him now.
The second response reminded me of my mission in life, other than loving him: I had to keep him safe. I would not allow him to give up everything to be with me, nor would I ever endanger his life again from the weakness of my pleasure driven instincts. We would go through the proper process of the Immortal way before we fully pledged our bodies to one another.
Now that we were in William’s own Alliance and under the power of his Council, we could make our appeal for a Betrothal together. Hopefully they’d grant us a quick one, I thought with chagrin, as I felt a familiar frenzied shooting sensation concentrate wherever his body ran against mine.
“Oh, yeah,” I conceded to him with great effort, giving it everything I had to sound convincing. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have let that get so out of hand.” I smiled my apology as well and removed the silk from my voice.
He chuckled and caressed one hand down my cheekbone. “I didn’t mind one bit.” He laughed exuberantly and hopped up, pulling me with him into an upright position. Probably for the best since our horizontal position was only chancing a fate we’d only be able to ward off for so long.
“I don’t call you my temptress for no reason, you know?” he whispered in my ear, igniting millions of goose-bumps.
My face, still contorted with the wistfulness and frustration of not being able to experience what I so desperately wanted, stopped William’s laugh.
“Have you changed your mind?” he asked, sounding grave. I did not miss his eyes jolting between me and the laid out blanket below us. His eyes were smoldering with anticipation when they finally came to rest on me.
Yes! I wanted to shout, knowing he’d waste no time finding our way back to the beckoning blanket, and when his hands explored me with the fullness mine did him, would anything else really matter? I knew from previous experiences with him the answer was a firm, resounding no. So my only defense against “saving” us from impending perfection, was to answer him in the negative.
“No, I’ve not changed my mind.” I could feel the heat from the redness forming over my cheeks. “Not yet, anyways.”
He reached for my scarlet cheek cautiously, probably not wanting to reignite the flames we’d managed to somewhat stifle. His fingers stroked over the heated skin and the eagerness that had torn against my embattlements, melted with the temptation removed.
“Please remember what I told you—don’t ever feel any pressure from me. I would be happy being with you in the most conventional of ways, but”—he raised his eyebrows devilishly and smiled with about as much innocence—“if you do change your mind . . .” He trailed off, not needing to finish his sentence.
“Don’t worry. I think I might have a hunch who would be interested in me changing my mind on this certain topic.” I winked at him, and felt my cheeks flush a shade deeper. Wanting to lean forward to kiss him, I stopped myself short, remembering the repercussions of the previous gentle kiss that had started this whole thing, and settled for grabbing hold of his hand. He squeezed mine, and grabbed up the quilt.
“So what do you think of Montana?” He motioned to the expansive, endless mystery of the countryside before us.
“It’s beautiful. How lucky are you, getting to spend your time between the Oregon coast and here?” I thrust my hand out at the quiet landscape to emphasize my point. “What else could anyone ask for?”
He chuckled to himself as one would when privy to some private joke.
I looked at him with embellished annoyance. “Anything you’re keeping to yourself over there you’d like to share with me?”
His smile was full of mischief. “No, I don’t think so. Not yet anyways.” His eyes glimmered with some private secret.
I rolled my eyes in exasperation, but didn’t push the secret topic any further, hoping—like a child suddenly ignored—he would freely admit to whatever he was hiding from me.
I changed the subject. “Will I get to meet your father?” I asked, taking a deep swallow in an attempt to thwart the nervousness gripping around my throat.
He nodded his head. “Yes, my father is here, as is everyone else.”
“Everyone?”
“Yes, everyone—Patrick, Nathanial, Abigail, Joseph, Cora.” His mouth formed lovingly around the names of his family.
“They’ll be thrilled to see you awake and recovered. Cora especially . . . she’s really taken a liking to you.”
“I suppose I’ve got a lot to thank Patrick for as well, don’t I?” I shook my head, feeling a mix of emotions that another Hayward had risked his life for me.
“You don’t need to feel too indebted to him. He’s been bragging about the whole thing non-stop.” He eyed me with knowing. “He also got to drive that vehicle you failed to mention to me that John Townsend imparted to you.”
I looked away from his stare, concentrating on the ground we walked over.
“If I’d known about that earlier, I would have gotten you out of there at the first mention of the Ball,” he continued, sounding amused instead of angry as I’d feared when he learned of the secret I’d kept from him . . . and then I remembered the little one he’d kept from me.
My mouth twisted up. “Kind of like that floating palace you told me was John’s?”
I raised my eyebrows as he just had with me “Patrick’s got a big mouth,” I said in explanation.
“That’s an understatement,” he replied, looking sheepish.
“I’ve got the perfect way to extend my thanks to your talkative little brother,” I said, pulling my hand from his to wrap it around his waist. I hitched my thumb on the belt loop of his jeans.
“What would that be?”
“I was going to have a bon fire party with it . . . but it would be an awful waste.” Despite my plans for watching my dream car go up in flames due to the person who’d given it to me tainting it, I felt physical pain when I thought of it burning.
“I think you’d have a new best friend if you did that, and you know how Patrick annoys you.”
“With that car, he wouldn’t be around to annoy me.”
“Excellent point, you’re thinking like a Hayward now.” He chuckled, and my heart thumped harder when I thought of becoming a Hayward.
“It’s settled,” I stated, eager to tell Patrick the car was his, and to watch his response. He gave me such a hard time for fainting the other night . . . I wonder if I could get him close with the car?
We crested over the top of a hill, and below us, tucked in a far reaching emerald valley, was a sprawling home made of honey-colored logs, topped with steep angled green metal roofing. A cooper weather vane of a rearing horse spun lazily at the center of the roofline. To the side of the home stood an equally large, faded-red barn, which opened into a fenced pasture where several horses grazed within.
“The Hayward household.” William swept his hand over the picturesque establishment in the valley below. “At least one of them.”
A curling trail of smoke crept through the chimney and I saw a couple figures as they glided by the windows of the first floor.
“Wow,” I admitted, dumbfounded.
John’s Manor, in all its over-the-top magnitude and extravagance, didn’t hold a tenth of the appeal this pleasant, ranch-like homestead did for me. Despite the fact this was William’s home, and an important part of him, I knew if a thousand homes were laid before me, and I was asked to choose one, I would have easily selected this one I stared at now. The unpretentious, natural beauty of the home complemented, and didn’t try to outdo, the landscape surrounding it.
William pulled on me, his eyes flickering with excitement. “Come on,” he encouraged, our legs already forming into a sprint down the hill. “I’ve got a present I want to give you before dinner.”
With the reminder of presents, my free hand flitted to my neck, where it fingered the sapphire promise still attached. I flooded with relief when I found it there, worried that somewhere in the midst of the chaos of the past two days, it may have fallen from the spot I vowed it would remain forever.
We came to a shrieking stop just outside a set of the barn’s doors, a cloud of dust stirred over the trail behind from our furious speed.
“Wait here, and close your eyes,” he commanded.
I exhaled in protest, but did as requested.
A couple minutes later, after enjoying the warmth of the afternoon sun on my back, I heard William coming towards me—my hearing attuned enough to recognize something else walking spryly beside him. I wanted to tear my eyelids open from the suspense, but just in time, his feet came to a stop in front of me. “Okay. Open your eyes.”
My hands flew to my mouth when I saw the cause of the additional footfalls besides William’s . . . or should I say hoof-falls? The buckskin colored foal standing beside William on a lead, was the only thing that could have distracted my attention from the beaming face of the one whose gifts to me were more thoughtful and all-knowing than I would have known to ask for.
The foal was still tiny, barely weeks old I’d guess. Its black spiky mane, contrasted with the cremello color of its body, and those large, flighty brown eyes met mine with a look that commented, Who the heck are you, and what are you looking at? I immediately fell in love with the unsure, capricious animal before me.
“Do you like her?” he asked eagerly.
I ran to him and threw my arms around his neck—despite my frenzied response, the filly remained calm at our side. “I love her. Thank you so much.” I tilted his head down and began stifling it with quick kisses, trying to cover every square inch of the face I worshipped.
He laughed at my response and wrapped his free arm around my waist. My thanks were completed when my lips finished their journey upon his, and then I turned to the silent filly who was looking at me with as much interest as I was her.
“Her mother died shortly after she was born a few weeks ago. My father’s been hand nursing this little one, and when I had a chance to see her yesterday, I took an immediate liking to her,” he explained.
I reached out to stroke the velvety softness of her muzzle, and her nostrils flared in and out, taking in my scent.
“She’s a little stand-offish at first, quiet, shy—but once she grew to trust me, she became one of the sweetest little fillies I’ve been around, especially given the fact she’s not had her mother to show her the ropes.” He smiled proudly at the filly that was still sniffing me with obvious interest. She didn’t flinch when I moved my hand to pet her muscular neck. “She’s a strong one. She’ll make a wonderful companion. She’s a little stubborn too.” He chuckled and ran his fingers through her mane.