Page 48 of The Winter Husband
He commanded, “Look at me.”
She slid her gaze up the strong column of his throat, the cut of his jaw, and the temptation of his lips. She met the storm clouds in his eyes right before he lowered his head and kissed her.
The walls dissolved around them. The floor beneath the soles of her bare feet grew warm. No draft teased the hem of her shift, or sifted up to cover her skin with goosebumps. She was buoyed up high, like a child lifted into golden sunlight. Summer burst in her mind. Bees buzzed amid the fragrance of apple blossoms and time slowed to a trickle. She was safe in this place.
She felt…cared for.
Loved.
He pulled away and cupped her cheeks.
“That man is your past. He will never hurt you again.” He tilted her face up so she couldn’t avoid looking into his eyes. “And neither will I.”
CHAPTER TWENTY
Hauling a burlap sack of cornmeal on his shoulder, Lucas trudged to the front of the cabin, pausing when he noticed thatch marks on the snow. The hatched pattern trailed off to the riverbank, where he glimpsed Marie stepping around the drifts, practicing in her new snowshoes.
His steps faltered, as did his heart these past weeks every time he came upon her. He carried ten kilos of weight on his shoulder, yet his feet seemed to rise from the ground. What the hell was happening to him? Since that day she’d shared both her body and pain, his world had shifted. Even the sky looked different, bluer than the tips of the spruce trees. He had a hundred tasks to finish before the coming of spring, but Marie was a distraction he couldn’t resist. He slung the bag of meal off his shoulder and onto the porch, surrendering to the internal compass that urged him on a path toward his winter wife.
She gifted him a smile from beneath a fur hat. His pulse shot up. He jerked his chin to her new snowshoes. “You’re walking like you’re born to them.”
“Confess.” She narrowed her eyes against the brightness of the sun. “You tightened the rawhide weave on the left one while I was sleeping, didn’t you?”
He shrugged and felt the stretch of his own grin. He’d snuck out of bed after she’d fallen asleep to finish the task. He’d also rewoven the other snowshoe so she wouldn’t have to labor any longer. She’d been trying so hard, but she didn’t have the strength to pull the rawhide strips tight enough.
“That’s against our bargain.” She tilted her head in playful scolding. “You’re supposed to be teaching me wilderness skills, not doing them for me.”
“It’s a minor offense.”
“I can hardly reprimand you.” She rocked from one furry boot to another. “I have wings on my feet now. And they’re so clever.”
“You’ll get around the place easier.”
“I’m just glad I can venture beyond the porch.”
He peered into the woods, wary. “Don’t go too far, Anentaks.”
“Worried about bears?” She shrugged. “I’ll take the flintlock with me.”
He let that sink in, remembering Marie in ribbons standing proper and pretty in Madame Bourdon’s salon. Now she wore fur boots and breeches she’d sewn from moose hide. They clung to her lovely backside as she chattered about wielding a flintlock. He hadn’t thought she could conform to wilderness life, but she was, in small degrees. Seeing her execute a second twirl in the snow, a small fraction of worry lifted from his shoulders.
“Did you just come to watch me frolic?” Her voice dropped a husky octave. “Or is there something else you need?”
I need you.
The thought shot deep. Last night had been the first calm night after a long stretch of snowstorms, and they’d honored it by cutting into the ham he’d been smoking for weeks inside the chimney. She’d entertained him by reading a lustier chapter from the tales of Pantagruel. They celebrated another way, later. After they’d satisfied each other, he’d lain awake with her curled against him, warm in her sleep, while he sought answers amid the darkness. The darkest part of winter had already flown by. With every passing day, the light lasted longer. He figured they had at least six weeks left, at best. It didn’t seem long enough to get his fill of her.
He wished the situation was different.
He wished he could ask her to stay.
“I saw a stag this morning,” he said, shaking off the thought. “I’m going for a hunt.”
“Oh?”
“Come with me.” He didn’t want to waste a moment. “It’ll give you a chance to use those shoes.”
She wrinkled her nose. “Won’t I slow you down?”
