Quintspinner (30 page)

She cut her
own
fingers off?
Tess contemplated this in shocked confusion.
She maimed herself? Then it
was
an accident!

“I suppose you know the rest of my adventure.” Edward’s voice intruded into Tess’s dazed thoughts. “Now it’s your turn. How did she come to
give you
the ring?” His emphasis on the word ‘give’ revealed his disbelief and suggested to her that he, like her father, assumed that she had stolen it.

“It’s true!” Tess persisted. “She gave it–or rather, told me to find it and keep it. She insisted.”

Tess hesitated as she saw skepticism cloud his eyes. She paused briefly then continued, delivering each of her next words with deliberate clarity.

“She called me … a Quintspinner.”

The uncertainty in Edward’s eyes turned into incredulity.

“Wh-why … why would she have done that?” He stumbled over his words, his calm façade of control shattering with this new revelation. His eyes widened even as his gaze upon her intensified.

“Because of this!” Tess retorted and angrily flipped back the heavy plait of hair from the side of her neck. At the same time, she pulled the high collar of her blouse down to her collarbone in one smooth movement.

Edward gaped at the exposed flesh of her neck. Ever so slowly, he reached out and touched her birthmark, softly rubbing his fingertips over it as if to assure himself that the mark was really there, that it was authentic and had not been painted on in some manner.

“A Quintspinner!” he marveled in a soft whisper.

At once his demeanor changed, and his hand lingered upon her skin, his warm fingertips skimming lightly up along the curve of her jaw, then fluttering over the tip of her ear before delicately, slowly, descending back down over her cheekbone and finally tracing the curved outline of her lips.

In spite of her lingering distaste for the man Tess shivered under his touch. It was as if his fingertips had left a shower of delicious sparks trailing along her skin.
How could simple touch, even from him, feel so intense? The
Crone’s words drifted back to her and she remembered something about the rings and the wearer’s senses. Her breath quickened as he stood and stepped beside her, his fingers lacing through her hair, gripping it, and pulling her face against his.

“You
are the
one, Quintspinner,” he murmured into her ear, his lips as soft and warm against her skin as his fingers had been. He slid his other hand across the back of her waist, and then down, cradling her curves with his hand. Goosebumps blossomed along Tess’s arms and neck, and she shivered again in spite of the trapped heat of the room.

Edward’s breathing, too, was raw. He pulled Tess tightly to him, and her arms reflexively braced against his shoulders.

The forgotten knife she had been holding clattered loudly onto the floorboards, bouncing dully upon the wooden surface. Instantly Edward sprang back in alarm, his instincts suddenly on guard, the moment of passion broken.

“What’s this?” Bending to the floor, he scooped the small weapon up and looked questioningly into Tess’s face. Tess was staring back at him with a mixture of defiance and fear. He hesitated only a moment before handing the knife back to Tess. Tess’s arms remained still, hanging stiffly at her sides, her eyes locked on Edward’s face.

For several heartbeats neither of them moved. Finally, Edward inhaled deeply and let out a sigh of resignation.

“You nearly killed me at the Crone’s with your blow to my skull, and once again in sick bay when you hesitated so long in making your choice to heal me. I suppose that I could possibly survive a third attempt, should you be so inclined …” and he motioned again for her to take the knife.

Tess took her own deep breath and slowly shook her head, her eyes never straying from his face.

“Well then, I’ll leave it here, shall I? In case you should change your mind,” he added with a wry smile as he laid the thin blade and handle on the edge of the table.

“Now where were we?” His eyes smoldered as he wrapped her once again in his arms.

Somewhere, dimly in her mind that was once again distracted by his velvety touch, three temporarily forgotten questions nudged to break free from her subconscious.

What do you know of this Spinner legend, Edward Graham? How did you come by your ring and having one, do you, an educated man, truly believe in the possibility of their powers?
And her third silent inquiry:
how would being in William’s arms compare to this?

The words forming these questions were suffocated, snuffed out before they could be uttered, as Edward lowered his lips upon her own, his tongue delicately tracing the edge of her mouth. His own mouth moved against hers with some urgency and she felt herself responding as she kissed him back. His hands moved slowly over her shoulders, engaging gooseflesh once again with his light touch. Bracing her against his body with one hand, he cupped her breast with the other, and felt her nipple harden in response to his touch through the layers of the soft cloth of her bodice. Surprised and caught off guard at the boldness of his touch, Tess stiffened and gasped as he continued to explore her flesh. Her body began to shake–

The urgent pounding on the cabin’s door made them both jump.

“Yes?” Edward called out, his word more of a harsh bark, not bothering to conceal his annoyance at the untimely interruption.

“Beggin’ your pardon, Sir! So sorry for the intrusion!” The voice carried quite clearly through the door and Tess recognized it as that of William’s. In spite of his words, he did not sound the least bit sorry.

William continued, “I am sent to say that Dr. Willoughby orders the presence of his daughter in their own stateroom immediately, Sir!”

My father? So he is keeping track of me.
She couldn’t help but feel that it was more likely to protect his own reputation, rather than out of concern for her, that he monitored her whereabouts.

Edward held Tess tightly against him for a miserable moment, then replied hoarsely, “She’ll attend to her father’s wishes momentarily then.” He lowered his face to Tess’s once more, grazing her ear with his lips and whispered, “Don’t be long. I have much more to share with you.”

To share? Do you mean information about the rings? Or … something else?
Tess wondered, blushing at the intensity of her own unleashed desire. She stepped towards the cabin’s door, brushing past Edward’s chest as she passed. Edward’s arms shot out, encircling her shoulders and waist from behind, pulling her firmly back against his own chest. He nuzzled her neck briefly then whispered, his next words making her gasp.

“These rings–the tourmalines and the emeralds, and their powers–are only the beginning. There are others, you know.”

Sunlight shone through the murkiness of her parents’ cabin window, setting off a faint sparkle in the rings upon her fingers. Tess stared at them. At times she forgot they were there; at others, like now, they drew her attention to them with their weight and shine.

What if the legend is true?

Had the emeralds really provided her with the ability to heal? And what about the thoughts she heard, and the daydreams she had? Were they nothing more than odd concurrences? Edward had survived a mortal wound. Coincidences were happening around her daily. Or was it that she just wanted it to be so? Her doubts and hopes ricocheted back and forth as she gazed at her mother propped up in the bed.

Her father’s new insistence that she and Cassie begin daily walks with her mother around the ship’s deck was irritating to her, especially since her mother was weakened not only by her ongoing physical ailments, but also from the nearly six weeks of self-imposed bed rest. Added to this was the fact that her mother was not the least bit inclined to accompany them on a foray outside her own cabin, and appeared ready to resist their attempts to dress her in suitable clothing.

“Mother! Both captains say that we shall be arriving at our destination within a few days,” Tess explained in exasperation. “You have, at best, a week to recover enough strength to exit this ship and travel to our new home.”

“How about wearing this one?” Cassie asked, holding up a crimson dress. “It always looks wonderful on you.”

Elizabeth looked at them, both standing expectantly at her bedside. “Yes, perhaps tomorrow.” She smiled apologetically. “I’m afraid that I’m a bit too tired today to fuss much with my appearance.”

Motivation. I’m sure that she could do more if she felt strongly enough about something.
Tess began to wonder if her mother felt as discontent as she did, having to uproot and move to a strange place to begin life all over again. Mired in her own misery, she had not considered that her mother might have been unhappy about such circumstances.

“Father says you must. And he says we are not to take ‘no’ for an answer from you,” Tess replied. She threw back the sheets from her mother’s bed as Cassie simultaneously lifted the woman into a full sitting position. Tess was still shocked at her mother’s thinness. She looked to have barely enough flesh left on her limbs to stand up, let alone walk.

“Come on, Mum,” she encouraged, with more sympathy this time. “We’ll be with you the whole way.” Watching Cassie expertly slip the nightgown from her mother’s frail body while lowering the blood-red dress at the same time over her mother’s arms and head, Tess touched the emerald spinner on her own hand. Her finger was maddeningly itchy by now.

What makes it feel so?
Tess wondered.
It’s almost as though it wants my attention. Well better my finger than my ear. At least I can rub the itch away.
And then another thought hit her–too crazy for her to seriously consider but too desperate not to take note of.
What if I could heal her? Like I healed Edward?
She thought her mother’s cough would surely improve but what about the melancholy? As Cassie finished doing up the long procession of buttons on the back of the dress, Tess spun the emerald spinner, setting both rings in motion, and placed her hand over her mother’s heart. Her mother looked up questioningly.

“I’m just checking your heart, Mother,” Tess smiled and reassured her. “Father always says one’s heart is a good indicator of the body’s state.” She thought she felt her mother’s heartbeat quicken a little.

“Well, then, let’s go!” Cassie had finished dressing her mother and now carefully assisted her to a standing position. “Hold her under her arm, not at the front of her chest,” she admonished Tess. “You can’t lift her or steady her to walk otherwise.”

Tess reluctantly changed her contact with her mother’s frame and helped her mother take a few feeble steps towards the doorway, supporting her under her arm. Cassie was right. She could not hold her mother this way and maintain contact over her mother’s heart at the same time. She would have to perform the healing touch pattern that Edward had instructed her in, at another time.
There will be plenty of time for that over the next week,
she reassured herself, and immediately a new itch, fiercer in intensity than the one under her blue spinner, began under the emerald band.

What is happening? The
itch was almost unbearable. She had to find something to treat it with, some way to rid herself of it.
But how and with what? She
was anxious to return to Edward. Somehow, she felt, he would know what she should do about it. She was certain that he would have answers to questions that she had not yet even thought of.