Page 41 of The Autumn Wife
Now here he was, with a belly full of moose steak, sitting in Captain Girard’s barn on the shores of the Saint Lawrence River, his mind not on the triphome, but on thinking up ways to stretch the final hours so the memories of Cecile would last a lifetime.
The door to the barn swung open, letting in the howl of the wind as well as the icy bite of a storm. A figure appeared out of the darkness. He blinked once, twice, to clear his vision. Firelight illuminated a small, slim silhouette. Mentally, he shook himself. More than once, he’d dreamed of her coming to him in the night.
Despite all his blinking, the image remained, resolving into the shape of the woman he couldn’t stop dreaming of.
Why are you here?
He wanted to ask the question, anticipating an answer such as,Can you fix the hinge on the cabin door?Or,The fire has gone out in the parlor, and I don’t want to bother Marie or the captain to re-light it,even while aching to hear different words such as,I want you, Theo.
I love you.
Shooting to his feet, he reached for his deerskin coat hanging on a peg pounded into the wall. Swinging it around his shoulders, he said, “The captain needs me?”
“No.” Cecile’s breathy voice was stolen by the wind as she pushed the door closed behind her. “Everyone is sleeping. Even the baby—swaddled and lulled by the wind.”
The tendons in her throat pulled so tight they formed a V. Something was wrong. It took all his willnot to step toward her, draw her close, and whisper,Everything will be all right.
I promise.
She ventured a step into the circle of firelight. “The captain told me you’re leaving tomorrow.”
He swayed back a fraction. Had she come to say goodbye? He wouldn’t be able to do that without kissing her one more time—now that they were alone. And if he kissed her, he wouldn’t be able to stop.
“This storm is the start of winter.” He tossed his coat back onto the peg. “Better to leave tomorrow, or I’ll be here for the whole season.”
He should have departed a week ago. He’d come to the Girards to talk about building a stone church, but every time he’d broached the subject, Lucas had been understandably distracted. There was no reason for Theo to stay. But his sentence was winding down, and damn it, he didn’twantto leave. So, he’d stolen more time, earning his keep by chopping wood, mending fences, and helping to paint a new coat of pitch on two of the Girards’ canoes.
Because that’s what a lovesick fool did.
“I wish I was leaving here, too.” She tugged at the edges of her oversized shawl. “Marie is healthy and out of childbed. She and Lucas know what they’re doing. I’m…I’m just in the way.”
She was lying. Theo knew the Girards needed her. He’d seen how much Cecile helped. He’d once come around the edge of the house, carrying wood, and found Cecile sitting on the porch. She’d hummedas she rocked the swaddled bundle in her arms. He couldn’t pull his eyes away from her, and didn’t have to, for she was oblivious to anything but the babe, her face a rictus of tearful joy and agony.
He'd yearned to approach her, wipe the streak of flour from her cheek, pull a tress of hair from across her brow, and slip the pad of his thumb into the hollow of her throat. There were other urges, too—to haul her into his arms and kiss her senseless and give her a babe of her own. Stronger than even that was the ache to pull her head against his chest, to murmur in her ear that she deserved better than what life had served her, to tug the pins from her hair and let it tumble down her back just so he could run his fingers through it.
Instead, he’d stayed where he stood, feeling like one of the sailors in a Greek book he’d once read, who had tied themselves to the masts of their ship to resist the pull of the sirens.
He felt that way now, standing across from her in the silence of the barn. “The Girards still need you here, Cecile. Don’t go back to the convent.”
“The convent?” She laughed softly, but not with humor. “I can’t go back there. Not anymore.”
His senses came alert.
“Oh…I should have told you.” A gust slipped through the boards to set loose a strand of blond hair from her plait. “Despite all my pleas, Sister Martha has refused to take me in as a novice.”
Her deep gaze, with its swirling currents, fixed on him—and stayed and stayed, draining his strength. He’d been convinced she would never become a nun. Yet he’d respected her insistence and allowed it to be a shield thrown up against him. Now she stood before him as vulnerable as he’d ever seen her, saying she would never join a convent.
“Cecile.” The wind howled around the boards of the barn as another wall between them tumbled down. “Go back to the cabin.”
“I don’t want to.” She sucked in a quick breath. “We have so little time.”
She loosened her grip on the shawl and let it drop. Underneath, she wore the most gossamer of shifts. The firelight penetrated the fabric, revealing the outlines of her legs and hips and the shadowy juncture between. In his mind he took a step back from temptation, but his feet did not comply.
“I’ll never see you again, after tomorrow.” She stepped out of the pool of the discarded shawl and approached within arms’ reach. “I’ll never get another chance to kiss you again, Theo.”
He laid his fingertips over her mouth, but his name had already passed through her lips. Wet and warm, those lips, swelling against his fingertips. The walls of the room bowed around him. All his efforts to interpret her words as something other than what he longed for failed.
Just a kiss, he told himself.
