And once it was quiet, that mouse could come out from under the stove.
I decided I no longer cared who was in that bed. It was late, I was cold, and I wanted under those covers. Resolutely I mounted the three steps, put a knee beside Bob on the mattress and my hands on the other side of him and started to lever myself over his body. As I brought the other foot off the steps, he turned his head and mumbled something. I froze, balanced precariously. My heart accelerated at the thought that Bob would wake and see me suspended over him, on display in Kay’s nightgown.
He gave a groan, moving one hand up to his chin. Deep, even breaths resumed. The leg I held aloft started to tremble so I eased it over his body and onto the bed. I shifted my weight to bring the other leg along and that’s when I got tangled with the nightgown and went sprawling.
Bob can really sleep. I had to put my hands on his chest and push to get my face off the quilt. He mumbled again, brought the hand from under his chin to my thigh, and rolled toward the center of the bed. It was enough to change my center of gravity and I rolled across him to the other side. He began to snore again as I worked my way free of the muffling folds of silk.
Chapter Twenty-Six
It must have been the birds that woke me. It was barely dawn, and every tree in the woods was filled with every kind of bird, singing every kind of birdsong. The noise was amazing, a wild cacophony. I didn’t know so many birds were left in the world.
I became aware next of the scent of lavender and the unfamiliar feel of the pillowcase under my cheek. The angle of the light seemed odd. It took a moment to remember that I was at Ambrose’s cabin. I was on my side facing away from Bob. He was spooned around me, pressed up close, one arm circled under my breasts. My breath caught in my throat, then went out in a long sigh. This actually felt pretty good. I relaxed into him. My heart accelerate when he kissed the back of my neck.
“I think I fell asleep,” he murmured. “I remember taking off my shoes but nothing after that.”
I twisted my neck to peek at him over my shoulder. “You definitely fell asleep,” I told him.
“If this is a dream, don’t wake me up.” He snuggled his whiskery chin against my neck.
“You must have been worn out. You slept like a stone.”
“Being kidnapped is a wearing business.”
“I've always said that.”
“But I think I've recovered. A good night’s sleep is a wonderful thing.”
“Very restorative,” I agreed, and felt myself blush. I turned my face away and moved toward the side of the bed to get up.
“Louisa, come back,” he said gently.
I hesitated, then turned onto my back and looked at him. I felt my hair standing up in tufts, and the silk nightgown bunched up under my hips. It wasn’t possible that I knew this person well enough to be where I was, yet here indeed I was. But as soon as I raised my eyes to look into his, my fears and hesitations all evaporated. The image of Roger that lived in my head could not be overlaid on this man; no points matched. My arms went around Bob as I continued turning into his embrace.
Some women can talk about what happens in the privacy of their bed. I've known a few, and listened with amazement at the things they would tell. I could no more be that way than I could fly like the birds still singing outside our window.
And yet…
When we were done, I felt I could fly up into the sky like one of the robins or wrens that had wakened me with their songs.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
“Coffee,” he moaned, lying back on his pillow and closing his eyes. Even though he was moaning a large smile hovered on his narrow face.
I grinned back at him. “Addictions are hard to hide. Maybe you could see a hypnotherapist about this.” He poked me in the ribs and I giggled. I actually giggled. I was glad Kay wasn’t here. She would never let me hear the end of it. Well, I was glad she wasn’t here for several reasons. Thank heavens for stubborn women who always get their own way.
“Have you no vices, woman?” he asked, sitting up and pulling part of the sheet around his shoulders. The air in the cabin was chilly with the fire out. His hair was standing on end and he had stubble on his chin, and he looked wonderful. And to be honest, that stubble had proved interestingly invigorating.
“No, none at all,” I replied airily. “Unless you consider orange juice a vice, and I'm in luck because I think I saw a can in the freezer when you were looking for cocoa last night. In fact, far from having vices, I'd say I have a number of virtues. I'm loyal, amusing, and turn around three times before lying down.”
“Oh, I would say you have more virtues than that.” He waggled his eyebrows at me in comic suggestiveness. “But orange juice—now that is certainly a vice. You just lucked out that it’s a vice that can be frozen. Ambrose is definitely the kind of guy who would know that coffee needs to be fresh. I bet he brings his own beans every time he comes out here.”
“Just shows how much you know about orange juice,” I countered. “Fresh squeezed and frozen are as different as instant coffee and some froufrou brew from an expensive beanery. But I know what is proper in a rural cabin, where one sheds one’s urban airs and affectations to embrace bucolic simplicity and drink whatever one finds on the premises.”
“Yeah, like eighty dollar bottles of wine.”
“Yeah, like that.”
We smiled at each other.
Emily Ann appeared at his side of the bed, pressing her muzzle onto the mattress and giving us a Princess-Di look through her short lashes. She wanted to go out. Jack came over beside her and put his front paws on the mattress, his body swaying with his wag.
“Okay, Emily Ann, you and Jack have been very patient,” Bob told her. “Give me just a minute.” He turned and gave me a lingering kiss before sliding out of bed. He gathered up his clothes from the floor and disappeared into the bathroom. A few minutes later he was back, clothed and reaching for the leashes. When they had gone outside, I leaned off the bed and rummaged around on the floor for that nightgown. It had been flung just out of reach. I stretched out and out and had almost snagged it when I began to slide off the bed head-first. I clutched at the sheets and teetered on the edge. With a wriggle I managed to roll back onto the mattress. I looked quickly toward the door to make sure I hadn’t been observed, pulled in a lungful of air, gave a little shrug, and leaped out of bed.
The floor was even colder than it had been last night, and the unheated air was brisk. I grabbed the nightie and slipped it over my head. I took a couple of steps toward the fireplace to see if there was any chance of an easy fire. The embers appeared to be out.
I was looking around for some kindling when I heard Bob’s voice outside. I assumed he was talking to the dogs—but then I realized another male voice was answering back. I scooted over to the window and looked out. Ambrose was sitting in his car talking to Bob through the open window. As I watched he climbed out and shook hands with Bob. He held a videocassette in the other hand.
I started to go to the door and wave to him, but realized in time that I was not dressed to receive callers. I dashed to the bathroom, dashed out to grab my clothes, and back in again.
I dithered. I wanted a shower before I got dressed, but should I do without and get dressed and go say hello to Ambrose? I'd had the kind of morning activity one needed to shower after. But it was Ambrose’s cabin, would it be too rude not to go out?
The shower won. I started running water in the tub. In the morning light, the glass wall looked out across a short strip of lawn and a line of trees. When the water was hot and streaming through the shower head, I flung off the gown and jumped into the tub, pulling the vinyl-lined curtains together. I sighed as hot water cascaded over my shoulders and back.