Darknight(39)

We were both silent for a minute, breathing heavily. Then he smiled and pulled away from me before lowering me ever so gently to the shower floor. His chest moved up and down, glinting as the hot water still fell upon it, but he seemed to recover himself and shot me a wicked grin.

“Conditioner?” he asked, reaching for the bottle.



* * *



A few hours later we were back in the FJ, heading out of the downtown section of Flagstaff and up toward the hills, going in the same direction we had that morning, although we passed the turn-off that had led up into the woods and continued to follow the road as it wound through the rolling landscape on its way out of town. By then there were more people on the highway — possibly heading to their own holiday parties. However, I sort of doubted most of them were going to the kind of get-together that lay at the end of our route.

I don’t know if I was fidgeting or what, but Connor lifted one hand briefly from the steering wheel to give my fingers a reassuring squeeze before redirecting his attention to the icy road. “It’ll be fine,” he said. A quick glance over at me, and he added, “You’re beautiful.”

Despite my nerves, which felt as if they had all been twisted into a knot and then dumped somewhere in my stomach, I had to smile. After we’d emerged from the shower, laughing and tingling, I’d gotten serious as soon as I contemplated having to face a horde of Wilcoxes. Guessing my mood, Connor had left me to primp, a process that took much longer than it normally would. I didn’t have much to work with, my wardrobe here consisting of five camisoles, three pairs of jeans, and three sweaters. I had to recycle one of the sweaters I’d worn over the weekend, but I had to hope it would be enough. Then of course I berated myself for caring what the Wilcox clan might think of me. It seemed I couldn’t win either way.

“I’m still trying to wrap my head around this potluck thing,” I told him, trying to keep my tone light even as I stared out the window at the snowy woods passing by and wondered how far out of Flagstaff proper Damon lived. The houses were set far apart here, and getting bigger. It looked as if the Wilcox primus lived in what Sydney liked to refer to as “Richie-Rich Land.”

“It got started back during World War Two, from what I’ve heard,” Connor said. “The Wilcoxes actually marry civilians a good bit, and I guess one of the wives got this idea that everyone should do more together as a family. There was some rationing during the war, so they decided to pool their resources and make it easier on everyone that way. And the tradition just sort of kept up after that.”

That all sounded perfectly pleasant and innocuous…or would if you didn’t know anything about the Wilcoxes and their history. However, what Connor had just related to me did jibe with what Margot Emory had revealed during our talk, that the Wilcox clan, having a smaller pool of family members to work with in the beginning, often married civilians to keep themselves from getting too inbred. I wondered how they selected these people. Did they truly care for them, or simply choose those who were attractive, intelligent, resourceful…whatever qualities might do best to improve their “breed”?

It was a question I decided I really didn’t want to ask Connor. Not when I was about to meet a bunch of people who were the result of such matches, anyway.

We turned off the “highway” and onto a smaller lane that curved around past some eye-popping mansions, then pulled into a wooded drive already choked with cars. Apparently even here the clan was following protocol, though, since there was still room to maneuver, and a choice spot left open right in front of the multi-bayed garage. The house itself was massive and sprawling, its peaked roofs heavy with snow.

I stared at it, wide-eyed. “Okay, and no one thinks it’s odd that a college professor lives in a place like this? I mean, I know they make a little more than minimum wage, but this looks like something from one of those shows on HGTV where they give you tours of celebrity houses. My friend Sydney loves those.”

A shrug as he turned off the engine. “We just say it was our father’s investments. He owned property all over town, so no one thinks it’s that strange.”

“It still seems like a lot of house for just one person,” I replied, then unfastened my seatbelt.

He shot me an unreadable look. “Well, he hadn’t really planned to be living here alone.”

No, I suppose he hadn’t. I realized then that this was where Damon Wilcox would have brought me, if he’d succeeded in his mad plan and actually forced a consort bond upon me.

For a long moment, I said nothing, only stared at the house. Connor reached out and took my hand in his. “You don’t — don’t regret anything, do you?”