Where A Witch Goeth

Chapter Forty-Eight: Promises and Questions

I moved around the cabin work table to Evander, only to find myself easily lifted to the tabletop and ensconced in his arms. Dark eyes searched my face. Thoughtful and perfect lips gave me a sad, quizzical smile.

"Why the stockpile of goods? You don't have to worry about the coming hard times. I've had nary more than a pot to piss many times in my life, and I've always provided for my own," he assured me. "Even if the gold is worth little and the cash should run out, I'm a farmer at heart, and this is good land. We can restore the whole valley to farmland and feed the whole town if necessary. The Sept can hunt, too. Your future is ensured. You'll not go hungry, lass—not as long as I'm your man. Er...vampire.."

I rubbed my hands over his rough work shirt. "Oh, I'm not worried about you keeping your family fed. Or the town, for that matter."

"Are you, no?" He picked up packets of seeds from one of the crates. "Then what's all this preparation?"

I sighed and leaned my head on his shoulder. "It's not preparation for the future."

Beneath me, I felt him stiffen as he looked around the room with new eyes. All the old-fashioned farm gear was so natural to him, he hadn't seen my new acquisitions for what they really were—the training tools of another time. His arms tightened further around me.

"I've told you already, you're not going back farther into the past. "This our time, now. I won't let you go," he growled.

I smiled into his neck and planted a soft kiss where his borrowed blood blued his throat like veins in fine marble. "Keep me if you can."

Now, he pulled me entirely off the table, hauling me upwards and scandalously wrapping my legs around his waist. He squinted up at me. "What the hell does that mean? I thought things were settled between us."

I put both hands on his face, stroking lightly to smooth his worry. Oh, how I wanted my hands to memorize every curve of his bones that would never suffer the indignity of sinking beneath softening flesh. I wanted to explore every firm hollow of brow and cheek and even his current frown, tucking into lines that would never deepen.

"They are settled," I soothed. Of course, they are. I want nothing more than to stay here with you...now...forever.  Things between us always staying loving and sweet and sure and..." I nuzzled my face against his cool jaw and sucked lightly at the spot just behind the hinge and below the ear. "And hot. Scorchingly, sweat-raising hot."

He chuckled, knowing full well that his flesh was cool, contrasting my favorite word for our chemistry. But he also knew that I could make him sweat blood, and he could reduce me to a slick, moaning mess in a matter of minutes. His hands curved around my ass, massaging, teasing, tugging at the fabric of my skirt as if he was flirting with the idea of tearing it off me.

As his fingers alternately tested the fabric and gently kneaded down my thighs, he said, almost conversationally, "You know, there is a simple solution to ensuring that I perpetually satisfy your cravings for sweet surety and hot sexual congress.:"

"What's that?"

"Be done with Kid Kincaid and the notion of helping him time travel."

I tightened my hold on him in opposition to the words that I knew must follow. "I can't be done with that. I promised him help."

He removed one hand from my derriere, and stroked down my spine, as if he were gentling me. "Your promise need not be your own to give. You are bound to me, if you consider yourself so. If you wish to renege your promise of help, I will tell Kid Kincaid that our marriage vows span all limits of time. I will tell him, out of a concern for your safety, I forbid you from any notion of trying to work some kind of time spell for him. And you can tell him that you consider yourself my wife and you choose to do your duty, no matter how much you might wish to help him."