Read Online Hell on the Heart by Nancy Brophy - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Nancy Brophy
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What was that all about?
Chapter Nine
Swallowtail Hollow
A deep rumble, sounding distinctly like a growl caught Cezi’s attention. Rolf, her cousin, wasn’t above growling. He, like his five brothers, communicated in grunts, groans, and snarls that passed for verbal repartee. Fortunately they had, for the most part, given up accenting their opinions with farting and belching followed by crazed hyena laughter.
“What?” Cezi asked, banging the metal measuring cup against the kitchen counter. The dark rye dough was oiled, placed in a bowl in the refrigerator to rise overnight. Baking usually calmed her. Tonight her mind had been elsewhere and flour covered the floor with a fine light gray dust. She jerked the broom out of the closet.
Her cousin glowered at her, his eyebrows knit together in annoyance. She wasn’t wrong. His look confirmed he had definitely growled. Nobody was happy today. She might as well relax. She wouldn’t see Stillwater until tomorrow morning. Drinks and storytelling would follow dinner, or if he pissed them off, he’d be escorted off the property. Serve him right, but…
“How long has the dark-haired man appeared in your cards?” Rolf interrupted her thoughts. His imperious tone proclaimed not only was he male, but he was older and by his own estimation wiser.
Before she could peel off a sharp retort to remind him she did not dance to his tune, his words registered in her brain. She crossed the short distance that separated them. “What do the cards say?”
Her favorite tarot deck, illustrated with elaborate ancient mythical figures, lay spread out across her kitchen table. In that annoyingly patient manner he’d perfected, he pointed toward the cards. “How long?”
“Forever. I’m gypsy. All I know are dark-haired men. Nordic gods do not seek me out.” Pleased with her answer, she clasped her fists against her hips and schooled her face to a superior, if somewhat childish, sneer. Why was it that all her male cousins with their overprotective attitudes always made her behave like a nine-year-old?
“Both the guy in the park and the Indian are dark-haired, but look at this.” He pointed with a long elegant finger that Cezi couldn’t help comparing to Stillwater’s thick, calloused hand.
She griped the edge of the table to force herself to concentrate. “It looks like the cards are saying the men are two sides of the same coin.”
“How can that be?” Cezi studied the cards. The men were connected? “What does this mean?” Could she be wrong?
Rolf raised his eyebrows in the exact same way his father did when he was about to say something she wouldn’t like. “You’re discounting your mother’s dying words.”
“I’m not. Rumblings do not make a prophesy.”
He scoffed. “The Elders are taking it seriously. Rumor is they are going to invite the Indian to stay at the Hollow.”
Now it was official. Her family had gone mad.
“That’s impossible. I don’t want to talk about this anymore. You’re supposed to be working.” She stormed toward the kitchen, grabbing her discarded broom on the way. “Isn’t some lovelorn lass requesting your words of wisdom?”
She expected his smug look to reappear. Instead he answered her without looking up, his voice more distant and concentrated than she would have liked.
“I am working. I borrowed your cards to do a reading on said lovelorn lass, because I needed inspiration, but your cards are so infused with your essence I’m sure this reading is about you.” All she could see was the top of his head, but she could hear the frown in his voice. “Trouble’s coming your way.”
This couldn’t be happening. She flung the broom against the counter and stomped back across the room to the table where he sat. Inhaling deeply, she closed her eyes and spread her fingers across the cards. Nothing. The cards emitted no emotion.
“This isn’t about me. The cards are confused because you were asking questions
Chapter Nine
Swallowtail Hollow
A deep rumble, sounding distinctly like a growl caught Cezi’s attention. Rolf, her cousin, wasn’t above growling. He, like his five brothers, communicated in grunts, groans, and snarls that passed for verbal repartee. Fortunately they had, for the most part, given up accenting their opinions with farting and belching followed by crazed hyena laughter.
“What?” Cezi asked, banging the metal measuring cup against the kitchen counter. The dark rye dough was oiled, placed in a bowl in the refrigerator to rise overnight. Baking usually calmed her. Tonight her mind had been elsewhere and flour covered the floor with a fine light gray dust. She jerked the broom out of the closet.
Her cousin glowered at her, his eyebrows knit together in annoyance. She wasn’t wrong. His look confirmed he had definitely growled. Nobody was happy today. She might as well relax. She wouldn’t see Stillwater until tomorrow morning. Drinks and storytelling would follow dinner, or if he pissed them off, he’d be escorted off the property. Serve him right, but…
“How long has the dark-haired man appeared in your cards?” Rolf interrupted her thoughts. His imperious tone proclaimed not only was he male, but he was older and by his own estimation wiser.
Before she could peel off a sharp retort to remind him she did not dance to his tune, his words registered in her brain. She crossed the short distance that separated them. “What do the cards say?”
Her favorite tarot deck, illustrated with elaborate ancient mythical figures, lay spread out across her kitchen table. In that annoyingly patient manner he’d perfected, he pointed toward the cards. “How long?”
“Forever. I’m gypsy. All I know are dark-haired men. Nordic gods do not seek me out.” Pleased with her answer, she clasped her fists against her hips and schooled her face to a superior, if somewhat childish, sneer. Why was it that all her male cousins with their overprotective attitudes always made her behave like a nine-year-old?
“Both the guy in the park and the Indian are dark-haired, but look at this.” He pointed with a long elegant finger that Cezi couldn’t help comparing to Stillwater’s thick, calloused hand.
She griped the edge of the table to force herself to concentrate. “It looks like the cards are saying the men are two sides of the same coin.”
“How can that be?” Cezi studied the cards. The men were connected? “What does this mean?” Could she be wrong?
Rolf raised his eyebrows in the exact same way his father did when he was about to say something she wouldn’t like. “You’re discounting your mother’s dying words.”
“I’m not. Rumblings do not make a prophesy.”
He scoffed. “The Elders are taking it seriously. Rumor is they are going to invite the Indian to stay at the Hollow.”
Now it was official. Her family had gone mad.
“That’s impossible. I don’t want to talk about this anymore. You’re supposed to be working.” She stormed toward the kitchen, grabbing her discarded broom on the way. “Isn’t some lovelorn lass requesting your words of wisdom?”
She expected his smug look to reappear. Instead he answered her without looking up, his voice more distant and concentrated than she would have liked.
“I am working. I borrowed your cards to do a reading on said lovelorn lass, because I needed inspiration, but your cards are so infused with your essence I’m sure this reading is about you.” All she could see was the top of his head, but she could hear the frown in his voice. “Trouble’s coming your way.”
This couldn’t be happening. She flung the broom against the counter and stomped back across the room to the table where he sat. Inhaling deeply, she closed her eyes and spread her fingers across the cards. Nothing. The cards emitted no emotion.
“This isn’t about me. The cards are confused because you were asking questions
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