His brother’s Luna, his mate

Like an Elephant

*Josie*

In long, sure strides, he heads to the bed and places me on it as gently as though I am hand-blown glass. With a swiftness to his actions that I have not seen since he left for his trip, he shoves pillows behind my back.

“Are you comfortable?” He asks.

“Yes, but a chair would have sufficed.”

She just gives a small shake of his head, “Where’s your button hook?”

“Top left drawer of the dressing table, but if I remove my shoes I won’t be able to get them back on for dinner.” I point out.

“You can go barefoot. No.” He gives his head another shake and begins walking away. “You’re not going to dinner. I will have a tray brought to you here.”

“I can’t ignore our guests.” I point out.

Coming to an abrupt halt at the foot of the bed, he glowers at me. “They are not guests, they are family. They will understand or they will damned well answer to me.”

I can’t stop myself from staring at this man, my husband, unable to recall a single time when he has been so forceful. I can’t quite fathom why I find his behavior so appealing at this moment. I have always been attracted to him, but this is something more. He always defers to Ashebury, for instance, has never stood up to him. Not that he’s had a reason to, but still.

Sighing, he plows his hand through his hair before taking a step nearer and wrapping his long, thick fingers around the bedpost. “We don’t want to risk you losing the baby.”

Regretfully, I nod. “I am rather weary. It’s been an exhausting few days. Still, I shall feel like such a terrible hostess.”

“I imagine they will enjoy having a bit of time to visit without my morose presence.”

His words startle me. “You’re not going to join them?”

“I’m not going to leave you here to dine alone after the trying day you have had, not when you are experiencing discomfort that came about because of my brother’s actions.” He says.

“I will be fine.” I tell him.

He shakes his head, “Fine isn’t good enough.”

For a moment, I think he is blushing before he turns away.

“Let’s get those shoes off,” he says.

I watch as he strides to my dressing table, shrugging out of his jacket as he goes and tossing it onto a nearby chair. With his jacket gone, I can see clearly that during his few months away, his shoulders have broadened and his skin has become bronzed by the harsh sun. I am taken aback that at a time such as this, I should feel such a magnetic pull toward him. How selfish I have been earlier to want his attentions when he is giving me far more now than I have expected. I want things between us to be as though he had never left, but I realize that the usual ease we experience with each other might be slow in coming. However, I have to believe it will return.

He sits on the edge of the mattress and skillfully uses the hook to loosen the buttons on one shoe and then the other. Setting the hook aside, he gently tugs off my left shoe. I grimace with the discomfort, then sigh with relief as my toes are free to wiggle about.

“My Goddess,” he says.

“I know. They are hideously swollen. I fear my ankles look more as though they belong to an elephant.” I mumble.

“You should have said something sooner,” he chastises, slowly easing my other foot out of the shoe.

I pout slightly, “Don’t be cross.”

“I’m not cross,” he says, refusing to take his gaze from the trunks that are my ankles. “I’m worried about you, Josie.”

“The swelling is to be expected. I don’t think I’m in any danger of losing the baby.” I explain.

He nods toward the side. “Pass me one of the pillows you’re not using.”

With extreme tenderness, he places it beneath my feet. “Need to get a bit of blood flowing, I think,” he says.

He places both hands around my ankle, sliding them up beneath my skirt and over my knee until he reaches the tie of my stocking. My breath catches and holds as I wait. Having his fingers so near the apex of my womanhood is sweet torture. He slowly loosens the ribbons, then even more slowly rolls the silk down past my toes and sets it aside. His hands journey up my other leg, and I nearly melt on the spot. It’s ridiculous how desperately I want his hands on me. When the other stocking is cast aside, he returns his attention to my first leg and begins kneading my calf. His hand glides up to the back of my knee, his fingers massaging there for a moment before beginning the journey back toward my ankle.

“Tell me if I hurt you,” he says.

“It feels lovely.” The skin on his palms and fingers feels coarser, not as smooth as it was before his journey. I imagine he has gone a good deal of the time without gloves. If he had worn them, his hands wouldn’t be so tanned now. “I may find myself grateful for the swelling. You have never rubbed my feet before.”

He stills a fraction of a heartbeat before continuing the fluid, soothing motions, offering me an apologetic smile. “What a cad I am.”

I laugh lightly at his teasing. I have missed it. Missed this. Simply being with him, no expectations, no burdens. “You also never used profanity in my presence.”

“It seems Ethan’s bad habits became mine during our travels.” He mumbles.

“You must have seen some amazing sights.” I say.

Moving his hands to my other ankle, he nods. “We did.”

“I wish I could have journeyed with you.” I tell him.

“You wouldn’t have much liked it when Ethan broke an egg into your shoe and insisted you walk about with the muck in there.” He says.

I narrow my eyes, “Are you joking?”

He lifts his eyes to mine, and for the first time, I see no sadness, and I am filled with hope that perhaps the mourning will not last the remainder of his life. “Prevents blisters.”

“How did he know that?” I ask.

He shrugs. “Read it somewhere. He was always reading, trying to ensure our journeys were as comfortable as possible.”

“You had a good time when you were with him.” I say softly.

“I did. It was the best… until it wasn’t.” He sighs.

I want to give him a bit of cheer during this dark time. “I thought we might name our son after him.”

His gaze goes to my belly, then he looks away. “No. We will not name the Greyfur heir after such a selfish bastard. He is to be named after his father, as he should be.”

I don’t know what to say to his harsh words regarding Ethan. He has never shown any anger toward his brother. Not when Ethan stumbled into our residence three sheets in the wind. Not when he held out a hand for more money because he had frittered away his allowance. Not when large men knocked at our door because he had amassed large gambling debts. Nathan indulged his brother, and seemed to think his irresponsible lifestyle was harmless enough. He has never had a bad word for Ethan. Until now. It’s so unlike him.

I can sense him withdrawing into himself. I don’t want to lose him, not again. As he continues massaging, his hands periodically disappearing beneath my skirt, a little bit of naughtiness takes hold of me. “You are my mate. It is perfectly acceptable for you to lift my skirt over my knees.”

“I don’t need the temptation.” He says.

As inappropriate as it is during this time of mourning, I can’t help but feel a little thrill. “Are you tempted?”

“A man is always tempted when a she-wolf reveals her ankles.” He mumbles.

“Then I’m nothing special.” I say.

His hands stop, his eyes capture mine. “I did not mean that. Other she-wolves no longer tempt me.”

I smile softly. “I know. I was merely teasing, striving to make you laugh, relieve your burden for a bit.”

“Eventually, we will laugh again. Just not today.” He pats my ankles and stands. “I should let the others know we won’t be joining them for dinner.”

“My feet aren’t as swollen. If I sit with them resting on a little stool…”

He shakes his head, “No, it will be better if we dine alone. I won’t be long.”

He snatches up his jacket before leaving my room. With a sigh, I sit back farther into the pillows and wiggle my toes. If we dine alone. His wording does not escape me. Now that Ethan is laid to rest, perhaps my husband will finally return to me.