It absolutely frightened her to death.

She’d already had a powerful desire to be with Anatol and now she felt the same connection to Gregorio. It was an emotional dependence she didn’t want but was powerless to stop from evolving. Every time that strange tendril of feeling curled itself around her and became stronger, it made her want to run away.

Anatol had known this would happen and he was convinced it was a good thing, what she needed. But she wasn’t so sure Anatol could see the truth in everything. The closer she got to Gregorio and Anatol, the more unease and fear filled her.

That couldn’t be what she needed, could it? That couldn’t be that elusive thing called love?

Yet the unease and fear mixed with all sorts of pleasurable feelings, too. Caring. Stability. Happiness. Excitement. Anticipation. It was another example of the confusing sea of emotion she was now drowning in. Perhaps love was all these feelings combined, perhaps not. She had no way to measure.

Sitting on the couch with her legs curled under her, she took a bite of the fruit she was eating and watched him carefully. Gregorio had barely glanced at her since entering the room. He looked at the papers in his hand.

“Why so serious, Gregorio?” she asked with a smile, trying to pretend she wasn’t so disturbed by his presence in the room or by how much she wanted to walk over and kiss him.

He sat down in a chair and looked up at her. “I’ve found your family, Evangeline.”

“What?” she breathed.

He pulled out a chair beside him. She dropped the rest of her fruit onto a plate, walked over, and sank into it. “When you first came to live here, I went to the records kept at Belai and I found the names of your mother and father. I discovered their last known address and then hired someone to track them down.”

“Oh, my sweet Joshui.” She put a hand to her mouth. “They’re still living?”

“They own a farm in Cherkhasii. The same one you were born on. They haven’t budged an inch.”

“They’re still . . . pig farmers?”

“Dairy, actually.” He wrinkled his brow. “To my knowledge they never farmed pigs. They own the biggest dairy farm in the province. Who told you they were pig farmers?”

“The housemother at Belai.”

“Hmmm. Well, she was misinformed. You have a younger sister named Arabella. She’s getting married in the spring.”

Evangeline blinked, trying to comprehend it all. She went silent for several moments, studying a little mark on the table in front of her. “I think I remember my mother a little. Maybe.”

“You showed your talent from birth, Evangeline. Your parents tried to keep it a secret. They didn’t want you taken from them. Someone in their village discovered your magickal proclivities and turned in the information of your whereabouts for money. Your parents fought the guards when they came to remove you. Your father sustained an injury that, according to my information, gives him a limp to this day.” Gregorio reached out and tipped her chin up, forcing her to look at him. “They love you.”

“Loved me, maybe.” She moved her head and looked down again. “It’s been so long.”

“They love you still. How could they not? I propose a trip to Cherkhasii. The three of us. Anatol has found his family and now it’s your turn.”

She looked up at that. “You? All the way to Cherkhasii? How can you take time away from your work here for that? It’s a long trip.”

“I have business there. In the coming year I have to visit with almost every province in Rylisk to help bring their new governments into alignment with the central government here in Milzyr. Cherkhasii is on that list. We can leave as early as two days from now. I have a very comfortable carriage for the long ride into the country. What do you think?”

She rubbed at the mark on the table with her thumb. “I don’t know.” Things had turned out well for Anatol, and all indications seemed to point toward a happy ending for her, too. Yet something was telling her not to go.

“I strongly urge you to do this. You’ll have no regrets if you do. Later in your life, when your parents are gone, you won’t wish that you’d traveled out to see them. You won’t always wonder what would have happened if you had.”

She sighed. “If you and Anatol come with me, then yes. Let’s go.”

“Of course. We’ll be right at your side the whole time.” He pulled her across the distance that separated them, putting her in his lap. She turned and placed her hands on his shoulders and ducked her head, giving him a light kiss on the mouth.

He made a hungry sound in the back of his throat. “You taste like strawberries.” He threaded his hand in the hair at her nape and crushed her mouth to his, skating his tongue between her lips to mate it with her tongue. Her body quickened for him almost immediately, her sex growing warm and wanting.

“Where is Anatol?” he murmured against her mouth.

“Due back soon.”

“You’re all mine then for a little while.”

She moved so that she was straddling his lap. His thick, hard cock pressed up against her. “Do you want me to be all yours, Gregorio?” She worked at unbuttoning his shirt and pushed it off his shoulders.

He nipped her lower lip. “Not all the time. I like to watch you with him. I like to watch how your body moves when you make love to him. I like to watch the pleasure that he gives you show on your face.”

She smiled. “I think you just like to watch.”

His finger worked the buttons on the bodice of her dress, opening it enough to bare her breasts. His gaze ate in the sight of them. “Both Anatol and I enjoy it. That’s one reason why the three of us is working.” His hand eased under skirt, found her silk panties, and yanked. “Off.”

She smiled. “You’re the more demanding one of the two.”

“Do you mind it much?”

She slipped her panties off and straddled him again. Her fingers found the button and zipper of his pants and undid them, freeing his cock. “You know I don’t.”

He pulled her dress over her head and she sank down on his shaft, feeling him slide deep within her. Her teeth sank into her bottom lip and she tipped her head back on a groan. Gregorio closed his eyes and groaned, too.

She unbuttoned his shirt, exposing his chest and running her palms over his smooth, warm skin. Then she lifted up and sank back down on him, drawing ragged sighs from both of them. She moved slow, wanting to feel every vein and bump of his magnificent cock deep inside her and also wanting to tease him like he teased her so often.

He reached up and cupped her cheek. “I saw you with Anatol like this once, on the porch when I came home from lunch.”

“You did?” She remembered back. “Ah, yes. That explains why you were so flustered that day.”

He cupped her breasts as she rode him, gently pinching her nipples with his index finger and thumb until she gasped in pleasure. “You are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, Evangeline.” His voice shook with emotion.

Love. Overwhelmingly, it hit her, breaking through all her shields.

She leaned forward and kissed him as she moved up and down, taking him as deep into her body as she could. “You are also beautiful to my eyes,” she murmured against his mouth. “And to my heart.”

He slid his hand between them, finding her clit. She moved a little faster and soon all their words were gone, washed away in the ecstasy of joining their bodies. He pressed and rotated his thumb on her clit, driving her closer to orgasm. Soon she was reduced to just pants and moans, leveraging herself on his body and driving his cock deep inside with every downward thrust.

Her climax hit her suddenly. She threw her head back on a long moan, the muscles of her sex pulsing and releasing around his shaft. Gregorio held her to him, kissing her breasts, as he expended himself with a long groan.

She slumped over him when the waves of her orgasm finally ebbed away. He pulled her into a strong embrace and kissed her throat and face. Finally, when they could both move, he lifted her off his lap, wrapped her in a blanket, and they settled down in front of the fire.

Leaning her head on his shoulder, she sighed. Being with him was something she could get used to. He had his arms around her and she snuggled into his chest.

“I’ll have the carriage readied for the journey.”

She nodded, though a thin, curling thread of fear wove its way through her stomach. “All right.” She couldn’t help the quaver in her voice.

He held her tighter, dropping a kiss on the top of her head. “It will be fine.”

Gregorio led them forward, the footman following with their bags. Evangeline and Anatol followed, watching Gregorio hand over three long slips of paper to a uniformed transport employee.

She nodded at the employee, whose eyes were wide as he accepted the tickets. Clearly he recognized Gregorio. Therefore, he must also know who she and Anatol were. He’d probably never seen a Jeweled in his life. At least he didn’t look as if he wanted to murder them. That was a nice change of pace.

She walked up the few steps and into a long, narrow room lined with seats—some occupied and some not. The passengers seemed to be mostly middle and upper class.

She glanced back at Gregorio. “I don’t see very many poor people riding the transport. How effective was the revolution at bringing true equality, I wonder?”

“Well, Evangeline,” he answered with an arch of one brow. “The poor people may not be riding the transport yet, but they’re no longer starving, either. First step in achieving equality, don’t kill off over half your own people.”

As usual Gregorio had an answer for everything.

He guided her forward. “We have a private car.”

She gave him an arch look.

“Everyone knows who we are. We wouldn’t have any peace if we rode in the general compartment,” he explained. “In addition, you and Anatol might be put in danger. Not everyone likes the fact the magicked are walking around free.”

The compartment was about the size of eight seats, with four places to sit and a narrow bed. Evangeline knew they’d be traveling all day into the night before they reached the far-off province of Cherkhasii, so she was grateful for the space. She went to stand by the window that faced away from the transport station and stared out at the field on the other side, a knot in her stomach. Soon she would be reunited with her family.

What if they didn’t want to see her? What if they didn’t want ... her?

Anatol cupped her shoulders, his heat warming her back. “It will be all right, Evangeline. No matter what happens, Gregorio and I will be there for you. Always.”

She closed her eyes. Who in her life had ever been there for her always? No one. So how could she believe that he and Gregorio would always be there? Still, it was a nice lie; one she needed to believe right now. She covered his hand with hers. “Thank you.”

Eventually she went to sit on one of the chairs, Anatol on one side and Gregorio on the other. Having them with her was a comfort with which she didn’t want to become too at ease.

In so many ways she felt like a small child crossing a ravine on a tightrope. How could she know where to step? How could she know what emotions to trust? What emotions would betray her? She’d never in her life had anyone to trust and now these two men swore she could trust them.

It seemed too good to be true, and she had no experience with good at all.

The streets of the small city of Malbask were utterly silent this late at night, all the shutters of the houses and shops shut tight against the dark. It was as if the revolution had never touched this place, but as they rolled past the former province ambassador’s mansion, she saw the evidence that it had. The great house sat desolate on the top of the hill, its windows and porches smashed, rotten food smearing its once regal brick walls. At least the house was still standing; she was certain its former occupants were not.

The hotel was a narrow building, fitted between a cookshop and a dressmaker. It wasn’t up to the standards of Belai, of course, but it was several steps above the hovel she’d stayed in with Anatol.

A tall, gaunt man with almost no hair helped Gregorio and Anatol get their bags upstairs. The three of them were sharing a room. The hotel owner didn’t even raise an eyebrow, though such three-way relationships were not as common in the rural parts of the provinces as they were in the cities.

After the man set a fire in the hearth and Gregorio tipped him, he left the room with a merry good night, even though it was closer to morning.

Evangeline stifled a yawn and began to take off her clothes. Sleep on the transport had been difficult for several reasons—not the least of which was her growing anxiousness about tomorrow morning. She wondered how many other Jeweled were going through this same thing—finding their long-lost families and hoping against all hope that they weren’t rejected by them.

She turned and looked at the bed. Gregorio had collapsed in a chair by the fire and Anatol stood at the window, looking out at the black. A light rain had begun to fall against the glass. She walked toward him. “I don’t know if I’ll be able to sleep tonight. My stomach is in a knot.”

Gregorio stood and walked to her. “We can leave if you want, Evangeline. If you don’t think you’re ready to do this. We’ll just call it a jaunt to the countryside on the steam transport as a vacation and have done with it. Go home.”

“But don’t you want to meet them, Evangeline?” asked Anatol. “You’ve come this far and it’s been so long.”

“I’m afraid.” She pressed her lips together. “What if they don’t want me?”

Gregorio tipped her chin up. “Who in their right mind wouldn’t want you?”

Her lower lip trembled and she steeled herself. “With the return of my emotions comes the possibility I could be hurt so badly I would never recover. It makes me want to draw in on myself, make a little hard shell all around me.”

“That’s the nature of emotion,” said Anatol. “Sometimes it’s sweet. Sometimes it hurts. It’s always a gamble. As we grow up, it’s a thing we all learn to deal with. You’re just learning how to deal with it a little later than others.” Anatol paused. “I think you should stay, Evangeline, and face whatever may come tomorrow. We’ll be there for you.”

Yes, so he kept saying. She knew he meant it, but the world worked in a different way. Much harsher than that.

Not telling him what she really thought, she smiled at him and looked out the window. The rain was coming down heavier now, making thick rivulets down the pane of glass. It was a good thing they’d arrived at the hotel when they did. “I’ll stay,” she said finally. “I need the answers to many questions; questions I never knew I wanted to ask before the revolution. I want to know what happened when I was a child and whether or not they truly cared for me.”

“And no matter what happens tomorrow,” said Gregorio, who had come to stand beside her, “we do care about you.”

“With all our hearts,” said Anatol.

Anatol pulled her against his chest and she snuggled into his strength and heat, watching the rain come down while the fire crackled and snapped in the hearth behind them.

He couldn’t sleep at all, worrying about tomorrow on Evangeline’s behalf. She seemed so fragile. Any rejection she received now would be devastating to her. Everything that Gregorio had read about her family pointed to a situation like Anatol’s, but they wouldn’t know for certain until tomorrow. He was nervous because she was nervous.

Anatol tightened his grip around Evangeline’s waist and nuzzled his nose into her hair. Evangeline and Anatol had a bond that he would never share. The experience of being taken from their families at such a young age and being raised at Belai had given them a special link. Gregorio had grown up in a warm household, raised with love and caring.

His family was very proud of him. He’d grown up in a hardscrabble part of Milzyr, in the shadow of Belai. His family had been poor, yet noble-blooded, giving them a highborn surname. What his family had lacked in wealth they’d made up for with strong, solid minds. His father had always encouraged Gregorio and his sister to get a good education, and any extra money they’d been able to raise had gone toward this purpose.

His sister had received a good education just as he had, something poorer families normally didn’t provide for their female children. Their father and mother had always encouraged them to think for themselves, to challenge authority, and to always believe that their lives could be better through hard work.

Most importantly, their parents had taught him and his sister to dream.

Thanks to his father, Gregorio had been able to go on to the university. He’d gone on to teach, at least until the royals had caught wind of his democratic leanings and fired him. After that he’d written books, handed out leaflets.

Started a revolution.

He passed a hand over his face. His father was so proud of him—executions and all.

His mother was gone now, from a sickness that had taken her a few winters back. She’d never lived to see the revolution he’d helped to incite, but she would have been proud, too. His sister, Sophia, was married to a scholar who enjoyed her outspoken and educated nature.

In many ways, Evangeline reminded him of his sister. Evangeline was very intelligent—if not educated, though she seemed keen to learn—and very outspoken. He’d known only a few women in his life who would tell him exactly where he stood instead of mincing words and prancing around the truth in order to try and please him. That was one of the reasons he was so attracted to her and had been from the first.

Evangeline woke a little and poked her head up, eyes drowsy and hair lusciously tousled from their hands. “Gregorio, come back to bed.”

He went to her, snuggling in against her other side. Her body was warm, soft, and sleepy. She molded to him so sweetly.

“I wanted to tell you,” she whispered, “I’m reading your books.”

“You are?” He kissed her temple. “I thought you said you never would.”

She smiled. “Things change.”

“And what do you think of them?”

Her smile widened in a teasing way. “I’ll get back to you on that.”

“I’m sure we’ll have plenty to discuss when you’re through,” he replied wryly.

“Oh, you can be sure.”

Then she settled against his chest, her ear near his heart, and closed her eyes. He curled his body protectively around hers and drifted off to sleep.