What were they doing? Was Sammy okay?
Goodness, how could she be here, partaking in earthly delights, while he could have had one of his seizures again? When he could be hungry and ignored?
Luc’s bed smelled like him, which warmed her almost as much as the blankets she crawled under, but even that wasn’t enough to keep her mind from wandering back there, over and over.
And what about you, Mama? Are you worried? Did you search for me? Do you wish you’d done something to stop the branding this time?
Abby shivered, wishing for more blankets. Where was the one she’d given him?
And then back to Mama: Did she wish, like Abby, that they’d never come here to begin with?
Although Abby couldn’t regret it, could she? Not with the things she’d experienced.
Not with tonight. Hesitant, she reached a hand down to that place between her legs. His had a name, but what, she wondered, did they call it for a woman? A hen, perhaps? That made her smile. Sliding a hand inside the big pants he’d loaned her, she marveled at how much pleasure it could give her.
Slowly, she let her fingers explore in a way she’d never done before, all the Church’s complicated garments making skin-to-skin touching nearly impossible. Oh, she’d pressed there, through cotton, and felt things, but not like this. Not explicitly, with the memory of a man holding himself in his hand for pleasure.Thinking of me.
Did all women know about that little spot? She pressed it with a shuddery breath.
In Luc’s warm bed, surrounded by his scent, she explored herself: her breasts, heavier than God would have wanted. They’d bounced as she’d moved atop Luc earlier, and she’d caught the way his eyes watched—so intently. He’d looked at her hungrily, and she understood that hunger, could feel it surging through her body, from that warm, heavy, pulsing core to her tingling fingertips.
Sinner.The voice whispered in her head, the notion of sensuality so linked to being bad that she wasn’t sure she’d ever be able to separate them entirely.
But what she’d done hadn’t felt sinful tonight, had it? It had been as joyous as the hymns they sang at Church.
A thought burst through her mind, a flash in a sea of uncertainty: What if sinning was just another part of life? What if it was okay to sin?
That would be… Lord, it would be beautiful, wouldn’t it? If you took the person, the whole person, as they were—if you strove for goodness, kindness, empathy, but the things you did with your body were your own? Eating and drinking and…fucking. He’d said it earlier and she’d heard it before. Oh, that word alone felt sinfully perfect, sliding along her nerve endings and reminding her of the man who’d blown all this wide open for her. Luc. Bringer of Light.
With a deep sigh, she flipped from her side onto her belly and sank her face into the pillow, to suck in his smell the way she’d soaked up his caresses. The way she’d taken in his body.
And on a lazy haze that felt almost happy, she recognized how much she’d like to do it again.
* * *
The stupid generator wouldn’t start. Which meant Luc had to light the fire in the barn fireplace and keep it stoked, which just barely kept the place from freezing. If the sun came out in the morning, he’d be fine. Everything would be fine. He’d just have to spend the night here.
He got the fire up and running and returned to the cabin to tell Abby before heading back to settle in front of the barn fire on Abby’s quilt.
The sun emerged at daybreak, thank God, bright and brassy and piercing.
Exhausted and grumpy, Luc tried to start up the generator again—without any luck—before making his way back down to the cabin, Le Dog at his heels. He’d have to set up a proper bed in the barn for tonight if this continued.
As he got closer to the cabin, he was surprised to see no smoke coming from the chimney. Well, it wasn’t that surprising, actually. Abby was probably snuggled in his blankets. God, he wanted to join her. Maybe he would. The thought brought a smile and a burst of excitement to his chest.
On the porch, he knocked the snow off his boots as quietly as possible—he’d let her sleep, get the fire started, maybe brew some coffee, and slide into bed beside her for an hour.
That sounded perfect. Surely the barn would be fine with this sun.
Though warmer than the outdoors, the cabin was still cold as hell, and he quickly relit the fire. In the kitchen, he fed the dog, made coffee, and started breakfast for his guest.Pain perdu, he decided, since French toast was the perfect way to use up stale bread.
He would bring it to her in bed.
Halfway up the stairs, something frantic skittered down his spine, but it disappeared when he found her snoring lightly on her side.
He should let her sleep. She was clearly exhausted. But maybe he’d just check her forehead.
“Abby?” he whispered as he drew nearer. She looked normal, as far as he could tell.
