Chapter 3

CHAPTER 3

T omlin paced restlessly back and forth across the small bedroom - across Etta's bedroom.

What the fuck am I doing?

He should have left the moment she opened the door and he'd discovered that not only was Dr. Morgan a woman, but a tall, graceful woman with a cloud of dark auburn hair that glinted red in the sunlight and big brown eyes behind gold-rimmed glasses. And then their eyes met. He'd only felt that instantaneous attraction - that need - once before. He had been very young at the time and although his reaction then was a pale, distant shadow of what he felt now, it had been enough to destroy his life. For the second time.

But instead of leaving, he'd done something unforgivably stupid - he'd stayed. He told himself it was because he still needed to find out what she had discovered about the morchev, but he knew it was more than that.

And why did I offer to tell her the tales of my people?

It had been an uncharacteristically impulsive decision - one he had also tried to justify by telling himself that it was simply a way to gain her trust. But when he was telling her the tale of King Althorin, the same story that Grethel had told him so many times, he had recognized the urge to share that part of his past with her. A past he hadn't shared with anyone before.

He could have left - he should have left - after the story was completed. But then she'd offered to let him spend the night with her, a delightful tinge of pink highlighting those high cheekbones as she realized how provocative the question sounded. The fact that he immediately pictured her sprawled across his bed, her cheeks flushed with pleasure rather than embarrassment, should have set off alarm bells. He should have told her - truthfully - that he had no issue riding in the dark. Instead he'd accepted her offer.

He'd immediately tried to rectify the mistake by assuring her that he would camp outside with the horses.

"Nonsense," she said briskly, even though she was still flushed. "The nights are already growing colder."

"The temperature won't bother me."

"It won't if you're in the house," she agreed, then gave him a quick smile. "If you're trying to impress me by proving how tough you are, I assure you that it doesn't make any difference to me. Now, let me see what I can find for our dinner."

"Why don't you let me take care of that?" he asked, taking refuge in the familiar comfort of service. "I'm sure I interrupted whatever you were working on earlier…"

He let the question linger, hoping she might reveal some of her work, but she only nodded and cast a longing look towards her lab.

"I do have a few things to finish up. If you're sure you don't mind?"

"Not at all. I enjoy cooking."

"All right. Just give me an hour, please."

It had actually been two hours before he decided she needed to eat and knocked on the door to her lab. She gave him a startled look when she opened the door and he ruefully suspected she'd forgotten all about him.

"The meal is ready. Can you take a break?"

"I just…" She laughed. "I suppose I'd better or it will end up being breakfast instead of dinner."

She preceded him across the hall, then came to a dead stop in the living room.

"What did you do?"

"I tidied up a little. I hope I did not presume too much."

"A little?" She looked up at him, those big, brown eyes wide with astonishment behind her glasses. "I've never seen the place so clean."

He surveyed the now spotless kitchen, the table neatly laid for dinner, and the carefully arranged documents, all softened by the golden glow of the lamp. It wasn't any less spartan than when he had first arrived but to his satisfaction, it now seemed warmer and more inviting.

"I am glad you are pleased. Would you care to sit?"

He wanted to put his hand on her back, to escort her to the table, but he didn't dare. As much as he longed to touch her, he was also afraid of the consequences.

Her eyes darted a little nervously towards the intimate table setting, as if she'd suddenly remembered that he was a stranger in her home, but then she gave him another small smile.

"Yes, thank you."

Dinner had been… pleasant. He'd managed to deflect most of her questions about him although it had been surprisingly difficult, despite his long years of practice. She had also avoided discussing her work directly, but he'd been more successful in getting her to recount her time as a student and then a young teacher at the university.

"A job for which I was most definitely not suited," she added dryly.

"Why not?"

She shrugged.

"I have no patience with stupidity or laziness and I was a little too direct about making that clear. Fortunately, I was able to move into a research position almost immediately."

She tapped her finger against her lips thoughtfully, drawing his attention to that pretty mouth. It looked so soft, so inviting… What would it feel like beneath his mouth? To his horror he felt his body responding to the thought. He'd been convinced that he'd rendered himself incapable of such a response, but this female seemed to have broken through his defenses without even trying.

I should leave , he thought again.

"And you prefer research?" he asked instead.

"Very much. It's like putting together the pieces of a puzzle. I just have to keep digging until I find all the pieces."

He believed her - which meant she was likely to keep digging into the mysteries of the morchev. That was… unfortunate, but as long as she remained unaware of its use as a weapon, it shouldn't be dangerous.

"Have you uncovered all the pieces of the morchev puzzle?"

He did his best to make it sound like a casual question but he didn't think she was fooled. She hesitated, then shook her head.

"Hardly. Every answer only seems to lead to more questions. As does the story you told me today…"

"It is folklore, nothing more."

"Perhaps so, but many legends contain some element of truth. You said you knew other tales?"

"Yes."

"Tell me another one, please."

A warning bell sounded in his head, but he had opened this door and it was too late to close it now - and the urge to share the stories with her had not subsided. He considered, then quickly discarded the tale of the two lovers and settled on the tale of the twins instead.

"Many years ago there was a woman who longed for a child, but that happiness was denied her. She had almost given up hope when she discovered she was with child. She was overjoyed, even more so when she gave birth to twins - a girl and a boy. But when they were less than a year old, she had a… vision of the future. A great calamity would befall their people and the children would be separated. Filled with sorrow, she separated a morchev stone into two pieces and bestowed one piece upon each child."

She listened eagerly, her face glowing in the lamplight, as he told her about how the disaster did come to pass and the children were in fact separated for many years. Several times they were close to being reunited but the twists and turns of fate always intervened. Yet the tie between them, strengthened by the stone, remained and they were finally reunited as adults.

"There's a theme of connection in both stories," she said thoughtfully when he finished. "Of a bond created, or perhaps simply enhanced by the stones."

He couldn't deny it, but neither did he want her traveling too far down that path. Instead he gave a noncommittal nod and rose, carrying their dishes over to the small kitchen.

"Dinner was delicious, by the way. Thank you." She gave him a rueful smile. "I don't usually bother to make much in the way of meals."

"I could tell."

The vast majority of her supplies consisted of either protein substitutes or simple components that could be assembled quickly. He needed to arrange for some fresh food, as well as additional supplies to supplement her limited selection. Perhaps he should return to Wainwright overnight after all and return with -

No. He quickly brought that train of thought to a halt. Her eating habits were not his concern and despite what his other half was trying to tell him, she was not his to care for.

He finished washing the dishes and cleaning the kitchen, aware that she was watching him, before turning back to her.

"Are you sure you would not prefer me to make camp outside?"

"I'm sure. You can take the bedroom and I'll sleep in the lab."

"I have absolutely no intention of taking your bed," he said immediately, but she waved a dismissive hand.

"Don't be silly. I have a bed in the lab as well and I probably sleep there more often than I do in my bedroom." She gave an obviously false yawn and rose to her feet. "In fact, I think it's time for me to retire. Goodnight, Tomlin."

"Goodnight, Dr. Morgan."

She shook her head at him.

"I told you to call me Etta."

He preferred to use titles, not only as a sign of respect, but also as a way of maintaining a distance between himself and others. And yet…

"Goodnight, Etta."

He could hear the softness in his voice and their eyes met again, hers warm and dark in the soft lamplight. He took a half step towards her before he regained control and bowed stiffly instead.

Now he was in her room, her delectable scent surrounding him. He'd automatically tidied the room but that hadn't taken long, despite the amount of clutter filling the small space, and he'd ended up pacing.

This is ridiculous. It was just a bedroom - no matter how much her presence filled the room. He forced himself to sit down on the bed, still fully clothed, then cautiously laid back against the pillows. As soon as he did her scent deepened, and the vision of her he'd had earlier, sprawled across the bed and smiling up at him, filled his head and his already half-hard cock immediately became fully erect.

Fuck. This was totally unacceptable. He was a normal male with - mostly - normal bodily responses. He often woke up with an erection but he ignored it and it quickly went away. He had trained himself to ignore all sexual stimuli while he was conscious, but just the thought of her sharing this bed with him overrode his normally rock solid control.

He sprang back to his feet, curling his hands into fists to overcome the desire to go in search of her. He tried to tell himself that it was simply because of his earlier weakness in the city, but he couldn't quite convince himself. No matter. If he couldn't overcome his weakness through mental discipline, he would simply have to take a more physical approach. He stripped down to a pair of training shorts, doing his best to ignore his aching cock, then slipped quietly out of the house.

He took a deep breath, trying to take in enough of the cool air sweeping down from the mountains to replace her scent, and then he ran, moving rapidly through the night in what he already suspected was a vain attempt to outrun his attraction to the woman he was leaving behind.