maples and poplars. It was a quiet, peaceful setting and the grass was lush and green.
Lea let go of his arm and sat down, bending her knees to one side, smoothing her
dress over them. He hunkered down beside her and picked up a long blade of grass,
running it through his fingers.
“Tell me,” she encouraged.
He wanted to. He just didn’t know where to start. She seemed to understand he
was marshalling his thoughts for she was quiet, waiting for him to speak, giving him all
the time he needed.
“They found me under a pile of trash in a vacant lot,” he said quietly. “I was only a
few hours old. Whoever the woman was who’d given birth to me sure as hell didn’t
want me and didn’t expect anyone to find me, I guess.”
“Who was it that found you?”
“Two priests from the Brotherhood,” he said. “It was by chance they were passing
by and heard me crying.” He tossed away the blade of grass and sat down beside her,
drawing his knees up into the circle of his arms. “They took me to the monastery to be
raised as a brother.”
“You were a priest?” she asked, surprised.
He nodded. “I took my final vows when I was twenty-eight and was given my first
assignment just after my thirtieth birthday.”
“How old are you now?” she asked.
“A lot older than you,” he said. He was staring at the creek but his eyes were seeing
something other than the light shining on the rippling waters.
Lea sensed he didn’t want to tell her just how old he was. “So did you forsake the
priesthood to become a Reaper?” she asked.
He laughed bitterly. “You must die to become a Reaper, sweeting,” he told her,
“and I don’t want to talk about this anymore.”
“I would like a fireplace in the kitchen,” she said, and when he turned his head to
her, she nodded. “A big fireplace made of fieldstone and I want the kitchen to be large
enough for a sitting room for when it snows outside.”
“Does it snow inside here in Orson?” he asked, lips pursed.
“It has been known to,” she said with a twinkle in her eye at his teasing.
“A big kitchen with a fireplace sounds nice,” he agreed.
“And a big window so we can look out and watch it snow.”
“A big window with mullions,” he added.
“And shutters.”
“Naturally.”
“And nice plush carpeting,” she said wistfully. “Dark green.”
60
Her Reaper’s Arms
He turned his back to her and lay down, putting his head in her lap, staring up
through the tall tree branches at the blue sky. “And a copper tub big enough for the
both of us.”
She ran her fingers through his dark hair. “A big porch that wraps all the way
around the house.”
“With a swing in the back for sitting on cool summer evenings,” he amended.
“A tin roof for when it rains.”
“Aye,” he said, and sighed. He crossed his legs at the ankle and threaded his fingers
together over his flat belly. “Everything that will make it a home.”
“Our home,” she said as she gazed across at the land where their house would be
built.
“Our home,” he repeated.
He was quiet for so long after that, Lea did not need to look down to know her
Reaper was asleep. When she lowered her gaze, she smiled, her heart filling to the brim
with her love for the man. His dark lashes were like smutty little crescents over his
tanned cheek and his full lips were slightly parted to reveal the stark whiteness of his
even teeth. To her, he was perfection, the most handsome man she’d ever had the
pleasure of knowing.
Her attention went to the tribal tattoo on his left temple and cheek, and she
wondered how he came by it. If he had not known who his father was, how was it he
had a particular clan’s marking? And at what age had it been applied? Once more she
wondered how old he was, but something told her he would never reveal such
information to her.
Sighing, she stilled her hand on his hair, not wanting to wake him for he looked so
peaceful, so…well…young as he lay there.
It was nearly sunset by the time Bevyn awoke and he was surprised to find himself
on the ground, his head in Lea’s lap. He looked up at her to find her gazing down at
him with a small smile on her lips.
“Hey there, sleepyhead,” she said, tugging gently on his dark curls.
“How long have I been asleep?” he asked.
“At least three hours,” she said. Her legs had gone to sleep along with him.
“Oh man,” he said. “I’ve never done that before.”
“What? Falling asleep in the middle of the day?”
“Aye,” he replied. “Reapers don’t sleep all that well. Sleeping so soundly when I’m
with you truly surprises me.”
She smoothed his hair back from his forehead. “Did you know you snore?”
“I do not,” he said indignantly.
61
Charlotte Boyett-Compo
“Shh… Listen!” she said, her eyes sweeping back and forth as though danger were
close by.
Bevyn held his breath, tuned his hearing to their surroundings, but heard nothing.
“I don’t hear anything,” he said.
“That’s because your snoring scared all the birds away,” she said in a stern tone.
He snorted and sat up, running his fingers through his hair. “Funny,” he countered.
Getting to his feet, he put his hands to the small of his back and stretched, his backbone
cracking beneath the strain.
“I bet you’re hungry,” she said as she looked up at him.
“I am starved,” he told her, “but steer me away from any more sugar for the day,
will you?” He held his hand out to help her up.
“That would be best,” she said with a giggle.
Walking back to Cornelia’s house with their fingers entwined, Bevyn stopped and
looked around them, a frown on his face.
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
It wasn’t that something was wrong per se, he thought, but that everything wasn’t
right either. He felt as though he were being watched and the feeling had settled
between his shoulder blades like a wet, slimy rag. He shifted his shoulders and the
feeling faded away.
“Nothing,” he said, but unease lingered in the depths of his golden eyes.
Supper was
