Her fingers locked together in her lap, her entire lower half covered by the plush blanket.
When I stood awkwardly in front of her, she motioned toward her bed. The covers hadn’t been turned down and it didn’t look slept in. The crisp yellow of her linen looked like a lemon meringue pie and just as delicious.
“Sit, please.”
I sat. Not because of her order, but because my wobbly legs refused to stand any longer. Who was this woman, and why did she look at me as if she knew everything about me?
I blushed.
Everything?
God, I hoped not. How could I face Jethro’s sister if she knew how much I wanted him? How could I look her in the eye knowing I’d had her brother inside me, and despite my conflicted emotions, wanted him every second of every damn day?
“Do you talk or did you make a vow of silence before entering my room?” The woman cocked her head, her hair cascading perfectly in glossy heaviness.
Shaking my head, I swallowed. “No. No, vow.”
We stared at each other. Her assessing me and me assessing her. Two women of similar age, with a man in the centre polluting our right to be strangers. We’d only just met, but whatever we said would be weighed and found wanting, knowing we weren’t on equal footing.
The thought depressed me.
She held a permanent place in Jethro’s life. He openly adored her—I could tell just by looking at her.
I was jealous.
I was sad and happy at the same time.
I hadn’t come here looking to make a friend, but I hadn’t come here expecting to find her, either.
“Should we start simple or would you rather get to the heart of the matter?”
I shifted higher on her bed. “I think starting with the truth would be more beneficial. Don’t you?”
A ghost of a smile tilted her lips. “Ah, now I get it.”
“Get what?”
She narrowed her eyes. “Why my brother is struggling.”
My heart flip-flopped. “Jethro?”
She nodded.
“How is he struggling?” I didn’t dare hope for an answer. Could it truly be that easy?
The woman laughed quietly. “You truly do go for the heart.”
What does that mean?
Was it a simple turn of phrase playing on her last words or had Jethro said I’d captured his heart? I’d tried to ensnare him with my games of seduction and beguile. But perhaps by giving him my love…I’d stolen his in return?
Could that be true?
Forcing myself to stay present, I asked, “Who are you?”
The woman leaned forward, extending her hand. “I’m Jasmine.”
Mirroring her, I looped my fingers around hers, and we shook slowly, still sizing each other up like an untrusted opponent.
“You’re his sister,” I whispered, breaking our touch and placing my hands in my lap.
“I’m many men’s sister.”
“You know who I mean.”
She leaned back, sighing a little. “Yes, lucky for you, I do know who you mean. Let’s get the introductions out of the way, shall we?” Running French-tipped fingernails through her hair, she recited, “I’m second born to Bryan and Rose Hawk. I chased my older brother into the world as soon as possible, and that fact alone makes us closer than my other two siblings. I love him more than I love myself, and I know what he lives with every day with being the firstborn of a family so steeped in tradition and persecution that it’s become an unhealthy combination. I know what you’ve done to him, and as much as I want to hate you for smashing apart his world and making him struggle more than I’ve ever seen, I can’t.”
I couldn’t breathe properly. Like a dying person only interested in air, I was only interested in what Jasmine had to say about her brother. “What does he struggle with? And how did my arrival have anything to do with what’s happened to him?”
Her forehead furrowed as her hands fisted in her lap. “Don’t play coy in my domain, Nila Weaver. Don’t come in here and fish for information on my beloved brother in the hope to twist it into a weapon. I don’t hate you, but it doesn’t mean I won’t if you continue to torture him.”
Wow, what?
I held up my hands in surrender. “I don’t want to hurt him.”
Liar.
I wanted to hurt him by manipulating him to go against his family—to choose me above all others. Even his sister.
Did that make me a hateful person? To want to be the one person he loved more than anyone?
“I…I—” I have feelings for him.
The truth danced on my tongue, but I couldn’t admit it. I’d barely admitted it to myself, let alone a woman who looked at me with curiosity and disdain.
Jasmine waved away my fumble. “Regardless, you’ve already hurt him. And as much as I would like to stop you, it’s your burden now, as much as mine.”
“Burden?”
My mind raced, wishing I knew just what we were discussing.
“You’re the one who’s forced him to face an alternative to the way he’s been living. Thanks to you, the other method of coping is no longer working. It’s up to you to give him another.”
Anger took over my confusion. How dare she layer me with responsibility when I was nothing more than a captive in her home? “I think you’re forgetting one important fact. I’m a prisoner of your father’s. I’m a toy for your brother. I have no future thanks to your insane family and have no wish to help one of you.”
Lying again, Nila.
I just hoped she swallowed my fibs better than her brother did.
Jasmine leaned forward. It was only subtle, a gentle inclining bringing us closer together, yet I felt her encroachment in every cell. This woman rippled with indignation and righteousness when it came to Jethro. Her unwavering devotion was both humbling and terrifying. “Too late. You’re the one who coaxed him into your bed. He fought you. But, from woman to woman, he wasn’t strong enough for you. And that excites and upsets me.”