Chapter Four
Two weeks after Andre first brought her to his home, their meat supply began to run low. Andre told Mary he was going hunting, and she assured him that she could take care of everything just fine for a day. He disappeared into the forest with his Bear and didn't look back once, trusting her to stay.
Secretly, Mary was glad that he would be out for longer than normal–she needed to string a clothesline across the main room so that she could finally wash up the blankets and pillows. She was still sleeping in the bed though she had given up several of the blankets to try to make him a little more comfortable on the floor beside the fire. Once she almost suggested they share, but was too uncertain of herself.
"First things first," she told herself as she brought in lots of extra wood to keep the cabin nice and hot. "Blankets and sheets, then scrub the floors and wash down the cupboards."
Though she had smelled no rodents when she searched the cabin with her Wolf, when making breakfast that morning, she found evidence that mice had been in the cupboards at one time. While she didn't mind mice, she didn't enjoy the thought of their filth getting into her food, and was determined to sanitize everything.
It took several hours to wash the bedding and clean the floors and cupboards. By the time she was done, Mary's hands were dry and chapped, but she felt a surge of pride surveying what she had accomplished. Back home whenever she finished a lot of work she just felt tired and cranky, but here, though she was physically exhausted, there was excitement bubbling in her that made her want to continue working and have something to be proud of.
Maybe this is how it feels to get a job done in your own home, she mused. My home.
Yes, she could definitely think of this place as home. Mary smiled to herself. Once she was away, she'd have to find a little farm of her own.
Once she was away. Her smile faded. She glanced around at the little room, the clock on the mantle, the sink that was just a little too high for her, the cupboards she had to stand on a chair to reach, the blankets draped across the ropes she had strung crisscrossed across the room.
I don't want to leave. She liked it here, and she liked Andre. As gruff as he was, he was always polite, always complimented and thanked her for her work, and at nights, if she shyly asked him what a word meant in a book she was reading, he answered without any derision.
"Well, I have to. I can't stay here. Not with a Bear. He doesn't want me to stay anyway."
Tears pricked her eyes, and she scrubbed them away angrily, hurrying to the bedroom for some books. There was one in particular that her father had absolutely forbidden her to read when she first saw it in the library, and now she wanted to know why.
Around five, it began to darken outside. As Andre hadn't yet returned, Mary put supper in the oven and went out to feed the animals.
Inside the barn was warmer than outside it, but it was still chilly. Mary shivered, glad that Andre had old jackets hanging on the barn door. She pulled on one that was too tight across her shoulders and marveled – how had a man the size of a Bear ever fit this? It helped her stay warm, though, and that was the important thing.
She had already fed the sheep and goat, the only animals in the barn, spread out new straw for their bedding when she realized something was wrong. Only three sheep were eating.
The pregnant ewe was laying on her side away from the other animals. Her sides heaved, and spasms shook her intermittently. Mary climbed over the side of the stall, rushing to the ewe's side. The other sheep and goat huddled together at the far end, whether for warmth or because they were afraid of her, she didn't know.
Her breath wasn't puffing out visibly, but Mary was struck by the thought that it was far too cold for a lamb in this old barn. She patted the ewe's head and shrugged off her jacket, laying it over the animal. She had never helped with an animal birth, but she'd witnessed all her siblings be born, helped the midwife occasionally, and it couldn't be that much different.
Could it?
***
The hunt was unsuccessful, and Andre prowled around the forest longer than he intended, walking off the growl in his chest before he returned home to Mary. It was always frustrating when he couldn't find anything to hunt, and he needed meat! The beans Mary had begun to cut their meals with were tasty but unsatisfying.
His heart lifted when he emerged in the clearing where his little log cabin stood. The sight of home, and knowing it wasn't empty, cheered him up immensely. He hadn't felt happy to come home since he lost his wife and daughter all those years ago.
As he strode to the barn to dress before heading to the cabin itself, he could smell something delicious cooking, and his stomach rumbled. He liked having Mary around, and not just because she cooked. He liked the way she laughed, the way she listened to him when he talked, and her never-ending questions when she read his books.
She had such a thirst for knowledge, and he cursed her father for preventing his eldest daughter from getting all the education she desired. Locke had a lot of sins to his name, but to treat his own child as a slave? It was unthinkable.
But he knew why he could never ask her to stay. She deserved more freedom than he could offer.
When he entered the cabin, a waft of smoke blew into his eyes, making them water. Andre coughed, reeling back. The black fumes billowed from the oven, filling the room. He rushed forward, getting caught in ropes that were spider-webbed through the room.
"I thought I turned it off!" Mary cried, slipped under his arm. She shot towards the oven, yanking the door open. Black smoke belched into her face. As she dragged a roaster pan from inside it, Andre heard something bleating.
His head swiveled, and his eyes locked on a sheep lying next to the fireplace. Its little lamb stood next to its head, still slick from being born, and it 'baaed' as its mother licked it. Towels were nested around the mother and lamb, stained from birthing fluids. A pile of books was scattered over the table.
"I'm sorry," Mary said.
He turned back to her and saw tears running down her face. Her lip wobbled as she held the roaster pan. Some black mass was inside it.
Mary set the pan down, and a sob shook her shoulders. "I'm sorry."
Andre found himself laughing. It was all so surreal. Mary's perfect homemaking skills failing so dramatically reminded him that life was messy and complicated, but somehow everything that was in this room, from the bedclothes getting saturated with smoke to the sheep that would have been just fine in the barn, to Mary staring at him as though he had lost his mind, everything was far more perfect than he could imagine.
"Andre?" She cautiously touched his shoulder.
He didn't know why he did it, but he suddenly wanted to kiss her, and so he did. She was warm in his arms, her voluminous body pressed against his, so soft, so real. His hands tangled into her beautiful black hair, and her arms wound around his chest. Heat rose in him, a spark forming between their lips as she closed her eyes and melted against him.
***
Every inch of skin that touched him exploded with fireworks. Mary pressed herself deeper into Andre's embrace. She had given up her dream that anybody would ever hold like this, arms around her so tightly as though he would never let her go. And yet here she was, in the arms of a man who was more beautiful than she ever hoped in her wildest dreams. Her whole body seemed to glow as his mouth pressed her lips open. Tongues danced. She clung to him, feeling her Wolf howling in delight, her chest so full she thought she might burst.
Abruptly he pulled away.
Mary blinked, reeling, as Andre backed away from her. She panted, not understanding what had happened. For a moment she thought she had imagined it all; the kiss, the passion.
Andre shook his head. "You can sleep by the fire tonight. I need a better sleep so I can hunt properly tomorrow."
He yanked the nearest blanket off the clothesline and stalked into the bedroom, closing it with a solid thump. Mary stood in the smoky room, the chill of winter slowly replacing the warmth of the fire. She hurried to the door and closed it before she sagged against the wall. A trembling hand pressed to her lips, her head light and dizzy.
What happened?