“If there’s anything I can do,” Katie said, “just let me know, okay?”
“I will. And thank you for understanding.” With a shaky smile, Frances left to continue her work outside in the gardens.
Katie checked the clock on her phone and jolted. Wow. Half of the day had passed already. Frowning, she dropped her roller into the proper tin. The muscles in her arms ached from hours of painting.
How did Jorlan fare upstairs? Had he finished painting the bedroom?
At the dawn of each new day, he’d been more restless than the day before, and far more reserved. He no longer smiled or teased her. He almost seemed…sad.
Pang. Every day he told her he loved her, and every day he asked her if she loved him back. She had yet to reply. How could she love a man who might leave her the second she said those three little words? Who might be tricking her just to get what he wanted?
Although, part of her did believe he loved her. It was the other part of her; that part couldn’t shake her fears and suspicions.
Time was running out, though, and she knew she wouldn’t, couldn’t, shouldn’t allow him to return to stone. Never had she felt so torn in two. Like the rope in a game of tug-of-war.
What was she going to do?
All she knew right now? She needed to see him and assure herself that he was still here, that he was still the flesh-and-blood warrior who held her each night.
She marched up the stairs, her tennis shoes squeaking with every step. Mental note: wedge a few nails between the plank seams and end the infernal squeaking at last.
As soon as she entered the bedroom, she spotted Jorlan. Hello, gorgeous. Natural light flooded through the unadorned window and caressed his bare upper body. His sun-kissed golden skin seemed to glow.
Her nerve endings hummed to life as he stroked a paint roller up and down. He knew she was here, yet he refused to acknowledge her.
Steps clipped, she closed the remaining distance, jerked the tool from his grasp—and pressed it against his face. Ha! Ignore that, Jordie.
At first, he remained completely still.
He said nothing. Instead of punishing her, he wiped his eyes clean and picked up an unused paintbrush at their feet and got back to work. He dipped the bristles into the paint tin and smeared the pale yellow liquid onto the walls. Up. Down. Up. His muscles strained and flexed.
Even while ignoring her, the man struck her as passion incarnate. Since his physique came from years spent on the battlefield, she should have envisioned blood and gore every time she looked at him. Here, now, she only thought of silk sheets and sweaty bodies.
He’d trained her body to want him, and want him, it did. No matter how many protests her mind issued!
“I need more paint,” he said, without glancing her way.
“Why?” She worked her brows up and down, up and down. “Do you hope to paint me?”
The sides of his jaw tensed. “To finish painting the wall.”
Wait. What? She snapped out of her lustful haze. “I gave you enough to paint the world.”
“And yet my tin is empty.”
Not sure what to expect, Katie studied the walls before her. They looked perfectly fine, nothing amiss. Then she rotated to survey the wall behind her. Her gasp echoed. “You opened and used every can of paint in the house, the attic and my truck?”
“Aye. I thought we needed more color. Thought to complete everything in record time, so we could spend the day together. I used my magic and…you see the results,” he reluctantly admitted.
“But, but…” The wall looked horrible, though. Absolutely hideous. Different colors of paint dripped from the ceiling, trickling down the wall in thick clumps. As the shades mixed, they created a supershade: puke. She stifled a groan. “You have to follow my instructions,” she squeaked.
“Do not paint the floor, you said. Do not paint the side trim, you said. Do not use circular motions, you said. Well, I did none of those things.”
“You’re right.” He was right, and she couldn’t chastise him for her own mistake. How was she going to fix this? “You’re, uh, doing fine.”
“I will hear your thanks, then,” he said, his expression mutinous. And comical, thanks to the streaks of yellow paint that ran down his cheeks.
Uh, he would hear her thanks? Her thanks? A red cloud descended over Katie’s eyes. He had ignored her all day, had ruined her wall, and now he would hear her thanks? “Why should I thank you when you missed a spot?” With a sweet smile, she dragged the roller down his nose.
He paused for a brief moment—then he returned the favor.
She gasped as the cold liquid coated her skin. “Do not do that again,” she mock growled. Even as she said the words, she reached out to smear him with another fresh coat.
He grabbed her wrist, stopping her, looking like the playful, teasing lover she’d come to lo—like and know. “Think you can paint me at your leisure?”
She chuckled. “Yes, actually, I do.”
“Then let us see who wields the mightier brush.” In a heartbeat of time, he had her pinned to the floor, her hands shackled behind her back. Slowly, very slowly, he painted her hair, her collarbone and her legs, and she laughed too hard to rebuke him.
After he tossed his brush aside, he stared down at her with a serious glint in his pale blue eyes. His breathing quickened. Hers, too. Their amusement died.
The next thing she knew, he leaned down to kiss her. A languid kiss that went on and on, making her wet with arousal. Just as she began to squirm for more, he pulled away. Without a word, he swiped up his brush and went back to painting the wall.
Okay, she deserved this, she really did. But would she stand for it? No, thanks. She stood, grabbed the paint can and dumped the remaining liquid over his head.
He stood stunned as yellow rivulets soaked his hair and dripped onto his face. The look he gave her…probably the same look a hunter gave a deer just before pulling the trigger. “You will pay for that, katya.”
“You have to catch me first,” she taunted, darting away.
“Oh, I will catch you. Doubt it not.”
Smothering her laughter with her hand so she wouldn’t give away her location, Katie slipped into the next room. A plank cracked beneath her feet.
She froze, her heart racing. Had Jorlan heard?
Footsteps sounded. Crap! He most certainly had.
She swallowed a laugh and darted behind the door. Only, the foundation at her feet gave way and she fell past the floor. Wrong. There was no floor, not anymore; the floorboards had snapped.
She tumbled down, screaming as she anticipated impact.
When she hit, she hit hard. Searing agony overtook her. Blood filled her mouth, coating her tongue. She grasped for a breath she couldn’t catch.
From a distance, she heard Jorlan shout her name, the sound anguished and desperate.
Though she used every ounce of her remaining strength to shout for him, no sound emerged. Then darkness swallowed her whole.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
JORLAN RUSHED DOWN the steps, taking three at a time as the horrifying scene replayed in his mind on repeat. Only seconds ago he had watched Katie tumble through the floor. He could not get to her in time. Now he stood closer to where she’d been, peering through a hole in the upstairs floor. Her body had twisted on impact. She lay still and broken, trickles of blood flowing from her mouth, pieces of wood protruding from different parts of her body.