Frank came, and all I could feel was that panic inside and the knowledge that I couldn’t take a chance on
losing one of you just because I want something so inconsequential as to sing again. Isn’t that insane?”
The speech came out all run together and ended in a laugh that verged on hysteria.
“Emmy. Songbird. Our Songbird.”
The words spilled past stiff lips and cracked with emotion. Taggert swallowed and stroked her hair,
hoping he could come up with the right thing to say.
“It doesn’t have to be now. It doesn’t have to be tomorrow. But one day, baby. One day you’ll feel safe.
You’ll sing. And we’ll be here to help you fly.”
Chapter Thirteen
Supper was quiet, and Emily could feel the stares of Greer and Taggert. A heavy sigh escaped her before
she could call it back.
She’d honestly thought she was through with the emotional breakdowns. Her visit to Sean’s grave had
been freeing. And then Frank’s visit had brought old fears back.
“Emmy, what are you thinking?”
She glanced up to see Taggert studying her intently.
“I’m okay. Promise. I’m sorry for freaking out on you. Again. It seems it’s all I can do lately.”
“Cut yourself some slack,” Greer said in a gruff voice. “You’ve been through a lot.”
She pushed her food around the plate, grateful that Taggert had dismissed Buck and the hands to eat in the
bunkhouse. The last thing she felt like doing was pretending her world wasn’t crumbling around her.
Be a little more dramatic, why don’t you?
She made a sound of disgust.
“My world is not ending,” she muttered.
Taggert’s lip lifted in a half smile. “I should hope not. Greer and I aren’t that bad.”
She laughed, relief soaring through her chest. It was so easy to love him. The idea that she could finally
be open with that love floored her.
Slowly she lowered her fork, her pulse speeding up as the two brothers watched her.
“Take me upstairs,” she said huskily. “Please. I need you. Love me.”
Taggert picked up her hand and brought it to his lips. “I do love you.”
Greer shoved his plate aside and rose abruptly. When he reached for her, his hands shook. She took his
hand and brought it to her mouth just as Taggert had done to her.
The work-roughened fingers brushed across her skin, and she closed her eyes, imagining them on her
body, caressing her, touching her intimately.
“Take us upstairs, Emmy. Show us what you need.”
Need? She needed them. Their love. She needed them to hold her and stand between her and the
nightmares.
Taking both their hands, she twined her fingers with theirs and tugged them toward the stairs.
She was nervous. Her food churned in her stomach. Maybe she’d never really quite get over the idea that
Taggert and Greer were here with her. Loving her.
They followed her into the bedroom, and they stood waiting as she slowly turned around to face them.
Her heart fluttered wildly, and she swallowed as she curled and uncurled her fingers at her sides. Then she
squared her shoulders and took that step.
In her wildest fantasies, she’d done this a million times, but the reality threatened to steal her breath away.
Her hands shook and her fingers were clumsy as she worked at the buttons on Greer’s shirt. She worked
down, her gaze never leaving his face, watching as his eyes flared and simmered like coals.
When she reached his belt, she left the shirt and yanked at the buckle. In a few seconds she had his fly
open and she pulled impatiently at his shirt until it was free of his jeans.
Drawn to the bare expanse of skin, she placed her palms on his tight belly and let them glide upward to
his chest and then to his shoulders. Inhaling, she pressed her lips to the hollow of his chest, closing her
eyes as his scent filled her.
He didn’t touch her or make the effort to undress her as she did him. He seemed content to let her lead
and for him to follow. Part of her wanted to tear off his and Taggert’s clothing and indulge in hot,
passionate lovemaking, ending it almost before it began. She was eager to feel their hands and mouths on
her body. But the other part of her wanted to savor the sweet, slow symphony, to indulge in hours and
hours of exploring their bodies while they pleasured her.
She wanted it hard and fast. She wanted it hot and edgy. She wanted it long and slow. Sensual and loving.
Her mind blazed with the possibilities.
“Do you want help, Emmy?”
Greer’s huskily voiced question brushed over her ears and elicited a trail of goose bumps down her back.
She’d been standing here, her mouth against his skin, unmoving while she imagined the many ways she