Chapter 30 Arran
ARRAN
Ikept my promise and did most of the work that evening.
The scent of sex permeated Ery’s bedroom as we laid tangled together in a heap of damp, hot skin.
Her head rested on my shoulder, for once her mass of curls not tickling my face as she still wore the thick twin braids she’d deftly plaited this morning.
Ery’s fingers traced a gentle pattern across my pecs while I caressed her upper arm.
Our breathing had finally normalized after our energetic activities of five minutes ago.
Staring at the ceiling, I couldn’t help but think of all she’d confessed to me in this room less than a week ago.
The truth was, I hadn’t been able to think of much else.
I wished that wasn’t her history. I couldn’t imagine losing a sibling, let alone my bloody twin.
The closest to that would be losing Brodan, and that would destroy me.
It would kill me to lose any of my brothers or Arro.
I glanced down at the top of Ery’s head, marveling, not for the first time, at her strength. She’d lost so much. First her mum, then her grandmother, and then her sister. All of her family.
Something occurred to me, and I hesitated to say it, but curiosity, the need to know everything about her, compelled me to. “I know you said there were no leads on your dad, but have you ever considered asking Lachlan to have someone look into it? He knows a private investigator.”
Ery was quiet for a moment, and I wondered if it was the wrong thing to ask. However, when she released a sigh, her warm breath fluttered across my nipple. “I’ve thought about it, but it was never safe to do that. I didn’t want to bring unwanted attention to myself that way.”
“Right. Of course.” Fucking Ezra Jefferson. I’d asked Lachlan if there was anything we could do to bring that bastard down, and Lachlan said Ery had specifically asked him not to, fearful it would alert him to Ery’s whereabouts. I understood that. But I hated it.
“Ultimately, no. I don’t want to know my father.
” She sat up to look at me, a small frown between her delicate brows.
“I know that sounds weird. I didn’t always think that way.
I went through a phase of bugging Granny about him, asking her if she was sure she didn’t know just one tiny detail about him, and she was always patient and gracious.
Kia hated me asking about him because she’d decided he was not worth her energy, her curiosity, her longing. But me …”
She exhaled, and I smoothed my hand down her arm in comfort.
“After Kia died, I thought about finding him again but decided I couldn’t …
and then sometime in the last eight years, I stopped wanting to know.
He could’ve abandoned my mom, for all I knew.
Maybe he never knew we existed, or … there are so many possible reasons this man has never been a part of my life. And I don’t need to know anymore.
“Maybe it’s being surrounded by you all and how you’ve made a family without parents. I just … the truth is, it hurt for a long time not knowing my father. I think my heart decided it was hurting enough over the people I’d lost and that I didn’t need to waste that pain on someone I never knew.”
I drew her down to press my lips to hers. Soft, comforting. “You amaze me, Eredine Willows.”
I felt her smile against my mouth, and I swear to God, it made my heart swell to three times its size. When she again settled beside me, my gaze moved across the room to where she’d tied the ribbons of her ballet shoes on the handle of the closet.
They were no longer hidden.
A few days ago, I’d walked into her bedroom and spotted them there. Just like I’d worried about her birth father, I was concerned Ery was missing something she needed to be totally happy. “How long has it been since you danced?”
She stiffened against me. “Uh, why do you ask?”
“Just curious.”
“It’s been awhile. It’s … I tried a few years ago. I put on my pointe shoes and let myself into my studio on the estate after hours. But every time I was about to move, I felt afraid. And alone.”
Everything rebelled inside me at the thought of Eredine ever feeling lonely or scared. An idea formed, and I blurted it before I could think, “Take me with you.”
“What?” She lifted her head again, expression confused.
“Let’s go. Now. To the studio. You can dance again, and I’ll be there, so you’re not afraid or alone.”
Her beautiful eyes grew wet. “You’d do that?”
“Of course.” I’d do anything for you.
Ery looked over at the shoes. “What if … what if my body has forgotten how?”
“It probably has forgotten a little, gorgeous, but muscle memory is a powerful thing. It’ll come back to you. And I’ll be there.”
She was silent so long, I was about to reassure her there was no pressure—and then she whispered, “Okay. Let’s try.”
That was when I knew she missed dancing. Such quick capitulation to the idea.
I hated that she’d given up something that had obviously been so vital to her, and I wondered if anyone other than Lachlan and Mac even knew Eredine was once a ballerina?
“C’mon.” I kissed her nose and then slid out of bed to get ready to accompany her to the estate.
The guards at the gate knew me and Ery well enough that they didn’t question it when she said she’d left something she needed at the studio.
We drove through the dark woodlands and out onto the estate.
The sprawling, manicured lawns were also a golf course.
Solar lanterns provided a dim light, leading us toward the castle.
Lights along the castle’s exterior cast an eerie, warm glow up the sandstone brick walls.
When I visited the home I’d grown up in, it sometimes felt like our childhood had been part of another life entirely. We’d never thought it strange that we grew up in a damp old castle until we got a little older and people seemed fascinated by that fact.
Ery parked, drawing my focus back to her, and we got out to make the ten-minute walk to her studio. It could only be reached via a path that led toward Loch Ardnoch where the studio and staff residential cabins were situated.
More solar lanterns illuminated the way around the loch. Lights were on in the staff cabins beyond, and we tried to keep our footsteps as quiet as possible on the gravel surrounding Ery’s studio. She let us in and switched on the lights.
It was basically a rectangular box with a few skylights.
The wall overlooking the loch was entirely glass, the perfect space for yoga and Pilates and mindfulness.
Floor-to-ceiling mirrors that had been replaced after they were destroyed during Fergus and Lucy’s harassment took up the wall opposite the entrance.
A door in the corner led to Ery’s private changing and shower room.
Stuffing my hands in my jeans pockets, I waited, my pulse racing as I watched her nervously take off her jacket and then sit to pull her ballet shoes out of her handbag. Ery wore calf-length black leggings and a T-shirt knotted at the waist.
“You all right?” I asked, my words loud in the empty studio.
Ery looked up at me as she unwound the ribbons. She gave me a nervous nod and then gestured to the back wall. “You can sit there, if you like.”
Nodding, I sat with my back against the wall, my knees drawn up, my hawklike gaze on Ery. At the first sign she was too upset to do this, I would get her out of here.
I waited, fascinated by her every move, as she did warm-up exercises. Her flexibility didn’t surprise me in the least after the things we’d gotten up to in the bedroom. Plus, flexibility was kind of in her job description as a yoga and Pilates instructor.
After a while, she seemed to take a deep breath before she pulled the first worn shoe on with its flat toe. I held my breath as she paused a second. Then she wound the ribbons around her slim ankle and calf with nimble precision, as though she’d done it a million times before.
And she had. In another life.
Once both shoes were on, she pulled her phone out of her bag and tapped the screen twice; a classical piece soared from the speaker.
Then she got up, and everything about her posture seemed to change as she walked toward the room’s middle, the shoes loud against the hardwood floor.
Her whole spine seemed to elongate as she took up position.
Ery drew in another deep breath and did a few gentle squats, except they were too graceful for mere squats. Her arms floated in a routine pattern. Every inch of her, down to her fingers, formed pure elegance. “These are pliés and much easier to do with a ballet barre,” she informed me quietly.
“Right,” I managed through the sudden lump in my throat.
Abruptly, she pushed out her right leg, up on pointe, and spun, her calf muscles flexing as she balanced on her dominant leg. Ery stumbled out of the spin, wincing. Frustration crossed her pretty face, and I forced myself to stay quiet.
Over and over, she repeated this until she was spinning on one foot, spin after spin around the studio. My pulse raced even harder as I witnessed her transform into a dancer before my eyes.
I didn’t know how long I sat there, mesmerized, as Ery grew more and more confident. Then I knew the moment she slipped into a routine, some performance buried in her memories. Emotion glimmered in her eyes, joy and relief emanating from her very soul.
Fuck, she was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen in my life.
That lump in my throat grew bigger. My skin felt too tight and too hot as tears slipped down Eredine’s cheeks. She danced as if she were an extension of the music.
Finally, she slowed to a stop, chest heaving, sweat gleaming on her skin. Her T-shirt was stuck to her. She looked at me and whispered, “Thank you.”
And I knew in that moment that I loved her.
I was in love with Eredine Willows.
Pushing to my feet, I bridged the distance between us and pulled her into my arms. She held on so tight, sobbing against me. I’d have been worried if I didn’t understand her so completely. These were good tears. Cathartic.
Her feet were red and blistering when she took off the dance shoes, but she told me that was normal, that her feet would bleed and shred before they were strong enough again for dancing on pointe.
I didn’t like the thought of that, but it wasn’t my place.
If dancing made Ery happy, then it was worth the pain.
I held her hand as we walked in silence back to the car a little while later. It wasn’t until we were out of the gates and heading through the village when I said, “You’re a beautiful dancer. Thank you for letting me be with you for that.”
She reached over and squeezed my knee. “Thank you.” Then she gave a huff of dry laughter. “And my technique is all over the place. I don’t know if I’ll ever get that back.”
I frowned. “You looked good to me.”
“It can look pretty to someone who doesn’t know ballet so well, but trust me, no dance company would ever take me on in this condition. I’m too old now, anyway.”
“At thirty-two?” I scoffed.
“Yeah. Thirty-two is old in the dance world. I don’t want to join a company. I just … I wanted to see if it still felt like it used to.”
“How did it used to feel?”
She considered this and then replied, “I imagine how it feels to be an actor or even a storyteller. Pure escapism into another person, into another story. It sparks my imagination like a beautiful piece of music does, or my favorite book. I’ve missed that feeling.”
“So then dance for yourself. You don’t need to dance for anyone else.”
Ery was quiet a moment. “Do you think Lachlan would let me install a barre? I’d pay for it.”
I reached over to take her hand and squeezed it. “Of course. But you know he won’t let you pay for it, and I know you won’t let him pay for it. It’ll be fun to see who wins, though my money is on you.”
She laughed, and the sound only emphasized the magnitude of my feelings. When we got home, Ery practically jumped me. She kissed me and pulled at my clothes as we stumbled into her bedroom.
I didn’t want frantic, though.
I wanted to memorize every inch of her.
I wanted to make love to her.
So I did.
We held each other’s eyes, tension and intensity heightening our desire as I moved slowly, gently, inside her. It took time to build the pressure, so agonizingly good that I knew the payoff would be fucking fantastic.
And it was.
Ery came around me so hard, I felt every voluptuous throb of her inner muscles around my cock. My orgasm hit with such force, I bellowed her name as I came.
Holding myself over her, my face pressed to her throat, trying not to crush her with the full weight of my body, I felt those three words bubbling up inside me.
Christ, I wanted to tell her so badly.
But this was all still new between us. Although we’d known each other for a year, Ery had only just shared her past with me a week ago.
I was afraid if I told her I loved her now, it would chase her off.
So instead, I kissed her. I kissed her as if my lips comprised those three words, and when I finally pulled back to look into her eyes, I saw tears of amazement in them.
It was as if she’d felt every syllable of my silent declaration.