Morgan laughs, and I start laughing, and Lee's face lightens and he joins in. The old woman says 'Morgan', with a delightful French accent, and Morgan turns to us.
"Okay, I'm gonna help Vivienne with the soup. You guys stay here and make out or whatever it is gross couples do."
"Will do." Lee salutes. Morgan makes a face and runs off. It's then I notice my leg is bandaged - put up in some kind of splint. Lee sees me staring at it.
"Turns out the old lady lives here."
"How did you -"
"Morgan found this place when she was looking for you. And then, by some miracle, you found it when you went after her. You fractured your ankle, or so the old lady says. How the hell did you manage to make it here with a fractured ankle?"
"I - I crawled."
He exhales incredulously. "Crawled? Shit, Rose!"
"I'm okay now!" I protest, and pull the warm blanket up to my chin. I'm on a bed in a room - a fire roaring in the fireplace on the opposite wall. The wood cabin is cozy, with china figurines of swans on the rough-hewn shelves and beautiful crotched throw rugs and pillows.
Lee's dark eyes burn into me, hotter than the fire. He leans in and pulls me into his arms. I can smell his sweat and the shaving cream he uses, the scent mild and tantalizing in so many ways.
"I thought I lost you," He croaks, voice so hoarse it's a near whisper. "The old lady said it was fifty-fifty."
"I chose the good fifty, then." I smile, and run my hands through his hair. He grabs my hands with one of his own and presses it to his lips as he speaks.
"I broke it off with Kiera."
My heart starts pounding against my ribs almost instantly.
"I've been lying to you," he continues. "I didn't get engaged to her because I wanted to."
I tilt my head, and he shakes his.
"Promise me you won't hate me if I tell you the truth."
"I hate you for coming after me," I say. "You should be at the lodge, safe."
"I couldn't stay there, not with you in the blizzard."
"How did you find this place?"
"You're changing the subject," he sighs. "I've been angsting for months over this, so just let me say it."
I hesitantly nuzzle my face into his neck. "Okay. Go ahead."
He freezes up beneath me, and I relish the feeling of his tight cords of muscle pulled taut. I'm touching him again. And that's everything I wanted but couldn't have for months now.
"I agreed to marry Kiera because she offered money. For Farlon's loan sharks. For your college fund. And she offered to buy your Grandpa's house to help your parents' with their business problems."
My fingertips go still as I run them through his hair again. My nails dig into his scalp, and he flinches.
"You did what?" I ask softly.
"Don't, please," he murmurs. "I'm sorry. It was the only way I saw that I could help. I just wanted to help you, Rose. God, that's all I've ever wanted."
He leans in, his nose grazing my cheek as his lips hover over mine.
"I just wanted to make you happy."
I pull away. "But you didn't! You did the opposite! You -" I feel my eyes sting with tears. "You hurt me. I wasn't happy at all!"
"I know. Shit, I know that! But Kiera promised not to hurt you if I married her. You saw what she was planning with the GHB yesterday. That's the smallest bad thing she threatened to do to you, Rose."
"I could have handled myself!"
"I know, but Kiera on top of everything else? All your money problems? It seemed like the best solution! And you - at least you had your bakery. Your dream. You still have it. And your parents - you don't have to worry about them anymore. Marrying me so soon after meeting me, forcing you to make such a huge decision with a guy you barely knew, even if it was for money - that was unacceptable. It was hurting you. It wasn't fair to you."
"So you turning around and doing the same thing with another girl was fair?"
He winces. "No, but I'm more used to -"
"What, pretending to like someone? I never pretended, Lee. Never. But instead you went off and made the decision for me, without me! You never asked what my feelings were. And it's really fucked both of us up."
He swallows, his throat bobbing. "I know. I'm sorry."
I reach out and trace his collarbone peeking out of his shirt. "So you...for me, you agreed to marry her?"
He nods, and puts his hand around my waist, cupping the small of my back.
"You -" I swallow, my throat suddenly dry as sunbaked desert ground. "You still like me?"
"No," he says. My heart takes a dip of despair, but then he leans in and kisses me with such ferocity I'm stunned. His tongue grazes over my lips, over my own tongue, across the ticklish roof of my mouth. I let out a little moan, and he smiles against my bottom lip as he murmurs.
"I love you."
He moves his lips down my chin, to my throat, and bites my neck softly. The moan I let out this time is loud enough to have him looking towards the door. He stands and goes over to close it, locking it and returning to the bed with a languid sort of grace. He lies besides me and returns to my neck.
"There. Much better."
I arc my back as he runs his hands up under my shirt, behind my back. I throw my arms around his neck as he unclasps it with ease, reaching beneath it and fondling the soft skin just below my breasts. He traces my ribs, one by one, lightly and teasingly. I work my shirt and bra off and throw them off the bed, and it makes him laugh. He runs a hand up my stomach and his rough palm cups on of my breasts. He looks up at me thoughtfully.
"They've grown."
"A little." I flush. He smirks and leans me back on the pillows before taking the nipple in his mouth. It's hot, and wet, and his tongue flicks it back and forth until my toes start curling. He bites it, softly, and then makes his way to the other one. I can barely breathe as he drags his tongue down further, to my navel. It's only when he reaches the hem of my underwear do I realize I'm not wearing pants, and that I have the most unflattering pair of underwear on ever - an ancient old gray pair with a worn-out bow. But it only makes him smirk wider as he slides them off down my legs, careful to avoid my ankle. He moves to the end of the bed, pulling his shirt off and exposing his beautiful amber skin. In the firelight it looks like gold cinnamon, his delicious line of slight, barely-there abs all but begging to be touched. But before I can think about doing that, he leans on the bed and wraps his arms beneath my stomach.
"W-What are you doing?" I stammer.
He taps the splint on my leg very softly. "The old lady gave you some painkillers. But I think I know a better way to make you forget about this."
He widens my legs very gently, and leans forward. I'm totally exposed, and the hot breath I feel completely confirms that. We've done quite a lot, but never this. My heart's beating a million miles a minute, and I know he can feel that in the pulse of my stomach his hands are spread out on.
"Lee, it's not going to -"
At the first lick, my eyes roll back in my head. At the second, I let out a strangled cry, and Lee's lips smile as he plunges deeper. Compared to my heat, his tongue is almost cool. My hips spasm with every soft insertion, but his wide, strong hands hold me down and keep me from losing total control. His tongue brushes every sensitive part, every bump and ridge, and I quickly start panting and moaning. One moan is so loud I clap my hand over my mouth, but Lee stops, looking up at me and frowning.
"No," he says, licking his lips. "I want to hear you."
"But -"
"Take your hand off your mouth." His voice is soft, but firm in ways that make me tingle. Once my hand is all the way down, he resumes his teasing, and I resume my vocal gymnastics. The sound of what he's doing down there alone is enough to make me louder, and by the feel of the damp blanket beneath me I know I've made a hefty soaked spot. My hips begin moving in time with his own ministrations, and that's when he presses deeper, his nose bumping my clit and making my thighs tremble. And right when I think it's going
to happen, he pulls away and moves up on the bed, a devilish look in his eyes as he licks his lips clean.
"I don't want to hurt your leg."
"Y-You weren't!" I pant. "I was - I was just about to -"
"It's a very nice leg," He continues playfully, unzipping his pants. "I wouldn't want to make it crooked by having it heal sideways."
"You!" I hit his chest, and he laughs and steps out of his jeans and boxers. In the firelight I can see him in all his glory, and it's glorious indeed.
"Are you on anything?" He asks.
"Yes," I pout. "I learned about birth control."
He smirks and leans in, kissing my neck. "I'm glad one of us did."
"We were careful!"
"Not that last time. I was too busy tying you up."
I flush harder. He leans over me, kissing down my neck and to my navel again. I squirm, and he smiles against my belly button.
"Since your leg is out of commission -" He lies as if spooning me, and I roll gently onto my side. He glances his hand between my legs, tracing the soft part where my butt meets my thighs, and then pulls my good leg up. His cock prods at my entrance, but I'm so wet it meets no resistance and slides in to the hilt instantly. He groans, lacing his hands around my waist and pulling me into his chest.
"It's t-tighter than I remember. Are you alright?"
I roll my hips and squeeze, and the movement pulls a moan from him.
"Does that answer your question?"
"Fuck, Rose."
"Yes, that's exactly what you're doing."
He laughs, and starts moving. I move against him, our bodies an endless wave. I pull my leg to my chest and he kisses my neck and breathes against it, eagerly going twice as fast. I've missed the feel of him in me, and having it like this, so hot and full and hard, makes me lose my mind quicker than he does. The pleasure roils through me, dwindling and coming back three times as strong, his every thrust sending a riptide of bliss up and down my body. My spasms make sure he follows shortly, his cock twitching inside me as it erupts. He murmurs my name like a mantra in my ear, over and over, getting more hoarse the more pleasure he feels.
I tilt my head to kiss him when we're both calmed down, my teeth scraping his lip as I kiss the corner of his mouth. He shudders, and slowly I can feel him growing rigid inside me.
"Again?" He pants.
"How long until soup's ready?" I laugh.
"Soup can wait."
"It'll get cold."
"So will you," He whispers. "And I think you are much more fun to warm up."
***
Soup and sleep are the only ways to pass the time as the blizzard bombards Vivienne's cabin. Well, that and sex. It's fervent, and passionate, and at times almost frenzied as we reacquaint ourselves with each others' bodies. Vivienne is, of course, perfectly understanding, and does her best to keep Morgan from listening at our door, which, mercifully, locks well. Between those times, I bake with Vivienne, who teaches me the most amazing tricks to handle yeast, and how to properly whip up a meringue. I learn more from her than I have at Pierre's shop in the entire year I've been there, and that's really saying something. The food, of course, is to die for. Vivienne cooks the best and most authentic French countryside fare - cheddar stew, grilled onions and carrots in braised turnip butter, and hearty, unsmoked slabs of bacon that melt on our tongues. On the third day of delicious food and constant snow, Lee and Morgan are in the other room. They surprisingly get along well, in a competitive older brother-younger sister way, and he's working with some crayons in a coloring book with her. Vivienne and I are baking croissants. Well, she's baking them, and I'm mostly watching her skillful hands manipulate the puff pastry dough in masterful ways. She speaks to me in French, and I've only learned a few words; 'come', 'stop', and 'good'. Those are the ones she speaks to me as she's teaching me her baking ways. But the beauty of a kitchen is you don't need to speak the same language necessarily - you can tell by looking around the kitchen exactly what needs to be done or what will be done soon.
Vivienne watches me putting on an apron. Her large eyes never fail to catch the slightest detail, baking or otherwise, and right now is no exception. I tie it tightly and help her lay out the next sheet of puff pastry when I feel it - a slight, but unmistakably independent twisting in my stomach.
"Ah!" I gasp, and put my hand to my belly. "What the hell was that?"
Vivienne stops what she's doing to stare at my stomach. She says something in French and points to it, but I shrug.
"I don't know what you're saying."
She disappears from the kitchen and reappears with a tiny baby shoe, holding it up with a big smile for me to see. She repeats her French phrase, points to the shoe, and then my belly. Panic grips my throat instantly.
"What? No way! I - I've been on birth control for a while now."
She says something else in French, and motions to a bright red washcloth.
"I told you! I haven't had them because I've been on birth control, not because I'm pr-"
I can't form my mouth around the word. I know what it is, and how to shape my lips around it, but pushing it out is impossible. All that comes out is a defeated little breath of air. Vivienne mimes vomiting. She's heard me vomit in the mornings.
"That's elevation sickness!"
She puffs out her cheeks and makes her belly big.
"I have not put on that much weight! It's just....it's just stress weight!"
She sighs, defeated, and goes back to the counter. She leaves me to fall apart right there in the kitchen - I can't be pregnant. I can't be!
'Oh yes you can,' my inner voice says. 'That night at the Christmas party was a major slip up.'
I can practically feel the blood draining out of my face as the realization hits me. I've been eating more. I've been throwing up in the morning. I've put on weight. But the Christmas charity ball was three months ago! That means I've been pregnant for three entire months without knowing. God, what am I, an idiot?
"Rose?" Lee comes into the kitchen, a bouncing Morgan at his side. "Everything okay? You look a little pale."
Seeing his face, so trusting and open, I feel even sicker. How can I tell him? What will he do? It's not like we've ever talked about something like this - hell, we haven't even talked about how a long-term relationship between us would go. We were only together two weeks back then. A baby is a huge responsibility! Before he can say anything more, I dash into the bathroom behind him and vomit again. Lee comes in to comfort me, and Morgan talks with Vivienne in rapid French.
"What did she say?" Lee asks Morgan when she walks over to us. "What's wrong?"
"Um, Rose should tell you, not me. But I wanna have dibs on naming its middle name, okay?"
"Naming? What are you -"
"It's fine!" I regain my senses enough to speak and rinse my mouth out with water. "It's okay. I'll tell you later. Let's just...go help Vivienne now, okay?"
He has a bewildered look on his face for hours, but the busy work of preparing a massive dinner distracts him and gives me the time I need to think. What if he doesn't want it? What if I don't want it? I'm not done with school. I haven't even started putting together the frame of my bakery business, yet. With a child that will become ten times more difficult.
But it's my baby in there. Lee and I. It would be terrifying, but I don't doubt it'd be rewarding. If it was a boy, it'd look as handsome as Lee, I'm sure. If it was a girl, it might even look a little like Grace. 'It'. It's so weird calling it that. But for now, that's all it is, and all it can be. If I get attached and Lee doesn't want it, I don't know what I'll do. Maybe I already am attached.
An entire day passes, and Lee respectfully doesn't bother me about telling him what was wrong. We sit at the fire and read. Morgan has the best reading voice, and she's only halfway through Pride and Prejudice when the blizzard finally decides to lift, six days after it began.
Vivienne wraps my ankle one last time the next morning. The sun shines through the cabin windows, show
ing us just how much it snowed in the last few days. Everything looks so bright and new and crisp outside, and Morgan is dying to get out and roll around in the freshly fallen snow. I've relied on Lee to lean on as I walk around the cabin, and as we leave it's no exception. He holds my arm and I hobble down the stairs, a little indignant he's been helping me around the house, but mostly grateful. I'll be glad to walk on my own two feet again, that's for sure.
Vivienne has a tiny red car, and we all pile in and drive down to the village. It's been a bad blizzard, with no phone service at all, so the people back at the lodge have no idea if we're dead or alive. Morgan's parents are the first ones we call using La Cigogne's phone. Morgan tears up and her mother is so loud on the other end we can hear it echo in the bakery through the phone. When she's done, she hands it to me, and Grace is on the other line, sounding breathless.
"Hello? Rose? Is that you?"
"Hi Grace. Sorry to make you worry."
"Oh my god!" She shrieks. "Oh my god, you bitch! Do you have any idea - do you have any idea what's been going through my head this week? You! You -"
"I know," I say soothingly. "I'm sorry. Lee's here, too."
"Oh thank god," Grace sobs. "The rescue team said - the rescue team said there was no chance -"
Lee leans over and takes the phone from me.
"It's okay, Grace. We're fine. Well, Rose fractured her ankle, but we splinted it and it'll be alright." Pause. "I know, but I wasn't gonna leave Rose out there -" Pause. "Did she go home?" Pause. "We'll be right there. Hold on."
He hangs up, and looks to me.
"Kiera."
Chapter Eight
In Which Rose Jensen Tells A Secret
Vivienne lets Lee borrow the car, and he drives like a maniac back to the lodge. I know he doesn't like Kiera in the slightest, but as her ex, I think he still feels guilty about various things he had no control over during their relationship. It makes him feel responsible, and if anything it's a sign of what a good person he is. He might not like her, but somewhere deep down he liked who she used to be. He won't tell me what's wrong, but when we pull into the parking lot and get out, Morgan running into the lodge to hug her parents, I know exactly what's going on.