“I would see to it that your way was made easy. Together, we could build a satisfying life. Ye are not even considering what I’ve set before ye as an option. We would be happy, Emma. I promise ye that. We belong together…in the next reality.” Torin eased closer, the reflection of the burning hearth flickering in the depths of his eyes.
“You can’t guarantee that.” Emma edged back a step. Did he think she was blind to his subtle shifting toward her? “I can’t leave Laynie. I’m all she’s got.”
Torin’s fingers curled into tensed fists then slowly opened as though relaxing with forced effort. “I know how much ye love your sister. I know ye believe that she canna live without ye. But look at her, Emma. Open your eyes and see her for what she truly is. She’s grown into a fine independent woman quite capable of caring for herself.”
“I can’t leave her.” The words choked her, catching in the emotions knotted in her throat. How could he expect her to leave Laynie behind—never see her baby sister again?
“What will ye do when Laynie leaves you? When she finds her own way into the world and embraces the pleasures of her own life?” Torin lifted his chin, entrapping her in his pain-filled gaze. “Do ye think she will allow ye to hang about her heels like a well-trained dog?”
Emma flinched. Torin’s words hit her like a physical blow. He had voiced her worst fear. The older and more independent Laynie became, the more Emma wished she could turn back time. A desolate coldness shuddered through her, settling around her like a mournful cloud. “There’ll always be room in Laynie’s life for me. She’ll never shut me out.”
“And ye will be perfectly satisfied to stand aside and watch your sister enjoy her life while ye have no life of your own? Isn’t that what ye’ve done for the past ten years, Emma? Has it been pleasant? Have ye enjoyed turning your back on life? Denying your own right to happiness?”
“Shut up!” Emma exploded with a throaty hiss. “Just. Shut. Up. You have no right—”
“Like hell I don’t.” Torin crossed the room in an effortless lunge and yanked her into his arms. Locking her body against his chest, he silenced her with a kiss.
Fury. Passion. A chaotic mix of raw emotions seared into her. The stubbled growth of his day-old beard rasped against her chin. He opened her mouth, forced in deeper, branded her as his own.
Scooping her up into his arms, Torin stomped across the hardwood floors toward the bedroom.
A muffled voice growled from the pile of blankets balled up on the couch. “It’s about time you two moved it into the bedroom. Now, maybe I can finally get some sleep.”
Chapter
Forty-Eight
Torin buried his face in her silken hair, filling his lungs with the delicious scent of her. He had never enjoyed such sweet fragrance before. A field of flowers couldn’t compare.
She stirred in his embrace, pressing back against him as though seeking reassurance he still lay beside her. Torin smiled into the darkness. He loved when she slept in his arms. Her steady heartbeat tickled against his chest as he snuggled closer against the velvety bareness of her back. With the gentlest of movements, he cupped a round firm breast in his palm, burying his fingers into the warm cleft between the delightfully plump orbs.
She must go with him to the next place. He wouldn’t consider otherwise. Emma belonged with him. Surely, she knew that now. He eased his lower body away a bit, cursing his lengthening shaft. Torin swallowed hard and tried to think of something else—anything else. They had battled with passion and love for hours and the new day neared. Emma needed some sleep.
Clenching his teeth and sucking in another lungful of air, Torin noticed a moving beam of light slipping beneath the bedroom door. Laynie must be up and about. A sense of reliefsettled over him. Apparently, the girl had lain awake beneath the blankets and heard much of what he and Emma had hissed at each other last night. Yet, she hadn’t reacted. She had only spoken when Torin silenced Emma with a kiss and headed toward the bedroom. Perhaps Laynie could be an ally—at least until she discovered the truth in its entirety.
The pale light struggling beneath the crack in the door shimmered again then blinked out and returned to darkness. A faint thud then the creaking hinge from the grating over the hearth told him Laynie had decided to stoke the fire before returning to her dreams.
Closing his eyes, he nestled his face against the comforting warmth of Emma’s shoulder. Tomorrow. The decision settled him. Tomorrow, he would seek Laynie’s help.
Chapter
Forty-Nine
The stinging hot water pelting against her flesh failed to wash away the worries. Emma plunged her face beneath the showerhead. Maybe if the steaming deluge scored a direct hit, the pounding droplets would cleanse her mind. A flushing sound alerted her seconds before the water shifted to a scalding level. Twisting the handle just in time, Emma jumped to the side, out of reach of the fiery stream. “Dammit, Laynie! Why do you always flush the toilet when I’m in the shower?”
The wooden lid of the toilet seat clunked, followed by Laynie’s evil giggle. “Because some things never grow old. What’s the matter, sis? Didn’t you miss that too?”
As the temperature of the water returned to a bearable level, Emma moved back beneath the over-sized spout. “I missed you. I did not miss your irritating antics.” Smoothing her hair back from her face, she closed her eyes as she slathered the nubby facial soap across her skin. The antiseptic smell stung her nostrils; the refreshing tingle of the citrus scent jolted her senses awake. “Did you sleep okay on the couch?” Emma held her breath, clamping her lips tight against inhaling any suds. She hoped Laynie hadn’t heard the entire conversation last night.She had really hoped for a decent visit before having to explain all the unbelievable findings of the past few months.
“Maybe.”
Maybe?What the heck did she mean by maybe? Emma rinsed away the suds and twisted the squeaking porcelain handles until water dripped in an erratic plop to the drain between her feet. “What do you mean by maybe?”
“Maybe I was too busy trying to figure out what you and Mr. Muscle were fussing about before your sex-a-lympics.” Laynie shoved a well-fluffed bath towel around the shower curtain. “Or was your argument just some weird role-playing for the opening ceremony to your bedroom games?”
Emma snatched the towel out of Laynie’s hands and buried her face in the lavender-scented folds. “You always did have a way with words, Laynie. I’m sorry if we disturbed you. Torin and I seem to be having a problem finding a middle ground on a slightly sticky point.”
“So, where is this place he’s wanting you to go with him?” Laynie ripped aside the shower curtain. “And what did he mean when he said he didn’t belong in this time?”
