Angelika Frankenstein Makes Her Match(84)

It had everything she could want: a comb to fix her hair, a little soap and water for her hands and legs, a clean shirt from Will’s doll-sized closet, and a tiny nip of his homemade blackthorn gin. It ran down into her stomach like medicine and cured her of the pain in her wrenched shoulders. The bed in here was a mere fraction of the mattress acreage she normally enjoyed, but it meant that they had to cuddle close together, knee bones clinking. One shared pillow would always be enough for her.

But it wasn’t the aftermath of her fright in the orchard that they were dealing with right now.

“My love, that ordeal was too much for you.” Angelika ran her hand through Will’s hair. “You’re scaring me a little.” He felt as heavy as a corpse in his bed—and she would know.

“I did tell you,” he replied on a long sigh. “I only have so much energy in my body.” He moved his fingers in slow, lazy circles on her arm. “I hope Adam considers taking the cottage. I can have it fixed up in no time.”

Angelika pursed her lips. “He wouldn’t even venture in past the threshold. And let’s face facts: it’s far too small for him. I think he secretly liked it, all the same. He had a little smile as he disappeared into the dark.” Angelika had already made a mental list of things she could do to make Adam’s home comfortable, and the little luxuries she could procure for Clara and Edwin. “We could make it so nice for him. And Clara. And Sarah, and Jacob. My own little village, right up here. Conqueror Lane.”

“Now that you have glimpsed the good you can do in this world, I believe you will be unstoppable.”

A grumble of thunder was heard.

She put her forehead against his. “Were you awake when you heard me scream?”

Will nodded. “I was already at the window. I had the strangest feeling. We are connected, remember?” He considered this statement. “Maybe Adam feels that same connection to you, too.”

Hearing his voice in the dark, saying things like We are connected, gave her another image. She became even more aware of her bare legs and no underwear. “There’s something wrong with this picture.”

“What?”

“I generally sleep naked.”

“What just happened was a terrifying ordeal for you. The last thing you would want is that.” His arms found enough strength to cuddle her closer.

“Mary was the one who truly saved me,” she said into his chest. “She has trained me for this my whole life.”

Tension ran through Will. “What do you mean?”

“She said I would one day be in a moment with a man I didn’t know, where I would have to act instantly. She said I should trust my instincts, no matter if it turned out to be a misunderstanding. His feelings would not count. She always made me repeat after her: no hesitation, no politeness, run.”

“And you did.” He kissed her temple, and exhaled a quiet “Thank God.”

“I never asked Mary why she had that advice for me. What has she lived through?” Frightening images began to plague her mind. Angelika put her hand up the back of Will’s shirt, and his smooth skin grounded her in the present moment.

She was safe, with the person who loved her the most.

He said, “When I see Mary again, I am going to thank her most sincerely. She helped raise a woman who trusts herself. I am so proud of you.”

“Mary’s advice also applies when I find myself with the right man. The one I choose, and would have into my body, if he wanted me that way.” She tipped her face up and saw his eyes watching her. “No hesitation, no politeness. Trust my instincts. Run to him.”

“It was my name you screamed, not Christopher’s, and I’m sure you noticed how deeply that cut him. You still choose me tonight, despite the doubts that hang in the balance? Are you positive?”

“Yes.” She rubbed her hand on his side. “And your feelings count very much, and I know you have found out something about yourself today that will change everything. I understand this may be our only night together like this.”

What would daylight bring? Might he wake, and remember his past, and leave forever?

He lay thinking in the darkness, his fingertips swirling on her arm in endless loops. “But I am not that person. Not yet, anyway.” The touch was giving her goose bumps. “You know that Father Porter will come for me. This is only the beginning, and it may be something you cannot talk or pay us out of.”

“But I talk and pay so well.” Her reply was cute, but she knew he was right. A dead man could not just walk up to his own grave with no repercussions. “We’re going to have to tell Victor.”

“That’s what worries me most,” Will said to the ceiling. “I know you’ll love me no matter what”—he squeezed her—“but Victor’s reaction is unpredictable. If he finds out he has been sheltering a clergyman, he may toss me out on principle.”

“He loves you as a brother.” She paused. “But he hates contradicting himself and making exceptions. But you are correct. I will always love you, exactly as you are. What do you want tonight?”

Her new life philosophy was to try to notice the lovely moments she was living in, knowing how quickly it all could end. His body was aroused, his hands were on her, and the hem on her borrowed shirt was riding up.

“I want to use my hands on you.” He began to unbutton the shirt she wore. He struggled with the task, but she lay patiently. “I am losing sensation in my fingertips, and I think soon I won’t feel anything at all. And to think I might never—” The sound he made in his throat was choked and emotional. He folded away the fabric, and passed his palm down her spine. “I want to feel you, while I still can.”