Secrets in the Stone (14 page)

*

Adrian didn’t want to go to sleep, so she cleaned. She’d replayed the events of the afternoon all the way home and still couldn’t stop thinking about the article she’d read about the young woman who died in the accident. Had Grace Tyler been Rooke’s mother? Was Rooke the child who’d nearly died? Why had there been so little mention of other family members in the article or so little follow-up in the press? Usually in close, tight communities such as this any tragedy, but especially the death of someone so young in such a violent manner, warranted more than a brief obituary. Why had her grandmother been so dismissive of the Tylers, and so obviously wrong in her assessment of Rooke? All her life, Adrian had felt compelled to look beneath the surface for the truth, perhaps because she’d grown up in a world that seemed built on superficiality and subterfuge. Rooke was a mystery she wanted very much to solve.

Rooke wasn’t the only person who occupied her mind as she straightened the kitchen, put away dishes, swept, and vacuumed. The sudden and intense appearance of Melinda Singer in her life had her in a quandary. She couldn’t bring herself to dislike her, even though Melinda’s attentions made her alternately aggravated and aroused. As annoying and frustrating as that was, Melinda still fascinated her. She’d always been drawn to danger—the unknown captivated her. That’s why she spent weeks of her life in places no sane person would travel, chasing a rumor, digging for a story. Melinda and her quest for the unidentified artist intrigued her, and the closer Melinda’s hunt took her to Stillwater, and Rooke, the more Adrian was driven to discover what Melinda was really after. She had moments when she wondered if their chance meeting on the train was really chance at all. Rationally, she knew it had to be coincidence, but nothing about Melinda felt ordinary. Her life seemed to have veered off course the moment she’d met Melinda Singer.

Moving into the parlor, she swept up the stone debris that had blown in when the chimney had collapsed. As she emptied the dustpan full of gray black powder into a heavy garbage bag, she recalled the smudge of soot on Rooke’s cheek and smiled to herself. Rooke had looked awfully sexy stretched out on the floor, one knee up, her long torso arching upward as she’d reached for something inside the chimney. Her pose might have been one of a woman lifting to meet her lover.

“Don’t go there,” Adrian muttered. The last thing she needed was another episode of unrequited arousal. Her body was already a seething mass of contradiction. She’d meant it when she’d told Melinda she wasn’t going to sleep with her, but the woman was almost mind-blazingly beautiful and so seductive the mere sound of her voice made Adrian wet. The response was purely physical, and she knew it. She just couldn’t stop it. The simmering arousal Melinda had incited plus the anxiety of driving on the slick road along the river in the dark, all the while remembering the article about Grace Tyler plunging into the Hudson in a similar storm, had her about ready to crawl out of her skin. She’d needed to do something to burn off the adrenaline, and she hadn’t wanted an orgasm that Melinda had prompted. So she cleaned.

Finally finished with the room, she relaxed on the sofa and immediately remembered being there earlier and opening her eyes to see Rooke bending over her. She’d looked so fierce, so possessive. Adrian’s breath came a little quicker and a familiar heaviness surged into her center. Rooke excited her in an altogether different way than the almost disconnected sexual response Melinda evoked. A smile from Rooke, a simple touch, stirred her, ignited her, in ways nothing else ever had. Melinda made her want to throw her shields up. Rooke made her want to take them down. She wasn’t certain if she should be exhilarated or terrified by that.

At last, physical exhaustion won out. She took a hot shower and fell into bed, vowing to put Melinda and Rooke and mysterious images of guardians and gargoyles from her mind.

*

At 3:15 a.m. Melinda was awakened by soft tapping at her door.

She didn’t bother with a robe, but answered the door in the black silk peignoir she’d worn to bed. Becky stood in the hall, her fingers laced together in front of her, looking uncertain and a little afraid.

Smiling, Melinda caressed her cheek. “Hello, darling.”

“I…I…” Becky’s green eyes were glazed, her peaches-and-cream complexion flushed a dusky rose. Her breasts lifted and fell erratically beneath her pale yellow blouse. She stared at Melinda’s mouth. “Please. I need…”

“Shh. I know.” Melinda clasped the back of Becky’s neck, weaving her fingers through her red-gold hair, and pulled her into the room. She gently closed the door, leaving them in the dark. “I know.”

Becky’s arms came around Melinda’s neck and she fell against Melinda’s body. Melinda kissed her and Becky trembled, her heartbeat as skittish as that of a frightened bird. Cradling her face, Melinda traced the contours with her thumbs as she kissed her way down the fluttering pulse in Becky’s neck. She nibbled the sweet, tender skin at the base of Becky’s throat and Becky whimpered. Opening Becky’s blouse with one hand, she made her way lower, running her tongue over the rise of her sweet young flesh as she cupped the firm breast in her palm. Becky gasped as her legs gave way and Melinda barely caught her in time to keep her from falling to the floor.

“Come.” Melinda guided her to the bed and removed her blouse and bra, continually caressing her until Becky gave a small cry and collapsed. Melinda quickly removed the rest of Becky’s clothes and leaned over her, taking a tight warm nipple in her mouth.

“Please,” Becky murmured, gripping Melinda’s shoulders. “Please, I need you.”

“Yes.” Melinda covered Becky’s body with hers, breast to breast, thighs entwined. Becky writhed, panting, fingers digging frantically into Melinda’s hips. The hunger, awakened earlier by her desire for Adrian and left unsatisfied, reared up in Melinda’s depths like a voracious beast, demanding its due at last. She’d tried earlier to soothe the hunger by her own hand, but nothing she could do had been enough. Now Becky was here, offering herself, and Melinda nearly screamed with the agonizing ache to be filled. She couldn’t deny the beast again, not and keep her sanity. Shuddering, she ground her hot, swollen center against Becky’s tight thigh.

“Becky,” Melinda crooned, holding herself back with the last remnant of her restraint, “let me pleasure you. Let me make you come. Say yes, darling. Say yes.”

“Oh God, yes, yes.”

Melinda slid a hand between them and entered her, first her fingers, then as Becky opened, more. Hot, smooth muscles instantly enclosed her and the power of Becky’s innocent passion flooded her. Melinda threw her head back, crying out. Her flesh became flame as the hunger lashed through her.

“Please, oh please make me come,” Becky keened, thrusting herself up and down on Melinda’s hand.

Melinda angled her wrist to massage Becky’s clitoris, desperate for Becky to orgasm. She needed Becky’s pleasure to free her from the need tearing at the fiber of her being. “Come for me, my beautiful one. Come.”

“I’m coming. More. Please. More.” Becky’s head thrashed and her eyes rolled back.

Yes.
Bringing her face close to Becky’s, Melinda inhaled her moans of ecstasy. She took Becky’s mouth, delving deep inside, devouring her arousal until her orgasm sliced through her like silver shards of glass. Even as she reveled in Becky’s energy filling her, empowering her, the body that undulated beneath hers became Adrian’s. Adrian surrendering to her, Adrian immolating her with pure and powerful desire. The woman in her arms convulsed with another orgasm and Melinda came again, wildly, violently. Adrian’s face blazed in her mind. Exquisite. Rapturous.
Adrian!

*

Adrian whimpered and twisted beneath the tangled sheets, damp with perspiration and desire. Moonlight bathed the room. The air was heavy and still. Slipping her hands over the sleekly muscled back to the hard, tense buttocks, she bowed up to meet the body bearing down into her. She wrapped her legs around the thrusting hips, kneading her turgid sex into the answering heat. Flames danced on the moonbeams, licking up her thighs, teasing over her clitoris like a silken tongue. Need writhed in her depths, too powerful to keep chained inside.

“Oh
yess,
” Adrian cried. Her hips bucked and she surged toward orgasm, her eyes flying open at the instant she climaxed. She clutched desperately for her invisible lover, finding only emptiness. Shuddering, gasping, she crushed her palm to her violently pulsing center.
Stop, please stop.

*

Rooke jerked upright, staring around the unfamiliar room. She lurched to her feet and only then recognized her living room. She’d fallen asleep on the sofa. Heart pounding, she listened intently, searching for some sign of what had awakened her. The silence was total. Even the usual ping of the radiators was absent. She rubbed a hand over the back of her neck, her skin tingling as if from an interrupted caress.

Uneasy, every sense warning her of some danger, she crossed to the window and stared outside. She saw nothing through the curtain of snow in the moonlit yard except her grandfather’s truck, nearly buried under a drift. The surface of the driveway was unbroken. Not even the deer had ventured out. She was alone.

With a sigh, she made her way downstairs to her shop. When she ran her hand over the woman emerging from the stone, her unrest eased. When all that remained in her consciousness was the spirit of the stone, she started to carve.

“I’m too early, aren’t I?” Rooke said when Adrian opened the door shortly after seven. She’d worked until the uneasy feeling that had awakened her returned and broke her concentration. Finally, she gave in to the pressure in her head that kept warning her that something wasn’t right. All she could think was that Adrian was somehow in danger. Now that she stood on the porch with the sun barely up, she felt foolish. Adrian would really think she was crazy now. “I’ll come back.”

“No!” Adrian grabbed Rooke’s arm as she started to turn away and then just as quickly let go when Rooke stared, her brows drawing down.

“What’s wrong?” Rooke asked.

Rooke’s face took on the fierce expression she’d had when Adrian had nearly fainted from the unexpected surge of energy after touching Rooke the day before, and Adrian took irrational comfort in it. Never in her life, even when her life had been in danger, had she turned to anyone for protection, and she wasn’t going to now. Just the same, the nausea that had plagued her since the shattering and completely unwelcome orgasm relented for the first time in hours. “Nothing. I was just about to make breakfast. Are you hungry?”

“Oh man,” Rooke said.

“What?”

“I’m supposed to make breakfast this morning.”

Adrian smiled, confused. “You lost me.”

“It’s my turn to make breakfast. My grandfather expects sausage and eggs.”

“Oh,” Adrian said, trying to hide her disappointment. “Well then, you’d better get to it.”

Rooke surveyed the dark circles under Adrian’s eyes. They were deeper than yesterday, almost bruised, and despite her bright smile, she looked upset. Something was wrong, but Rooke didn’t know how to ask. She had no idea what to say, so she followed her instincts. “Come with me.”

“What?” Adrian laughed, completely taken aback.

“Come with me. I think we have tea.”

“Tea.”

Rooke nodded.

Adrian quickly turned away, appalled to feel tears flood her eyes. She was going to cry just because Rooke remembered she drank tea? What was wrong with her? She heard Rooke move, felt a hand on her shoulder. She wanted to lean into Rooke’s touch with every fiber of her being, to feel that strength and warmth surround her. And because she wanted it and didn’t understand why, she pulled away.

“I’ll go,” Rooke said quietly from behind her.

“Wait.” Adrian spun back, unable to bear for Rooke to think she didn’t want her comfort. She could let herself have that much couldn’t she? “I would love to come to breakfast.”

“You would?”

Rooke’s face lit up and Adrian’s heart gave a little stutter. God, she was beautiful.

“I would.” Adrian held up a finger. “Come inside and give me five minutes to change my clothes.”

“Why?” Rooke stepped into the foyer and closed the door behind her. “You look great.”

Adrian eyed her shapeless green sweater and faded jeans. She would have taken the statement as meaningless flattery coming from someone other than Rooke, but she’d never met anyone who seemed less capable of artificiality than Rooke. The simple compliment threatened to bring tears again, and she backed away. She needed to pull herself together, and she wasn’t going to be able to do that until Rooke stopped looking at her with that consuming intensity in her gorgeous dark eyes. “Five minutes. Don’t go.”

“I won’t,” Rooke said.

As foolish as it might be, Adrian believed her.

*

“I’ll get that tree taken care of tomorrow,” Rooke said as she and Adrian made their way around the fallen oak to Rooke’s truck. “I see you got the Jeep out.”

“I was lucky. All this wind turned out to be helpful in one way, at least. The snow drifted away from the front of the barn and I managed to get down the driveway and around the tree in four-wheel drive.”

“If you need anything—groceries or supplies—you can call me. It would save you from driving on these roads.”