Brian gathered Adele in his arms. "You've been mother, father and sister to her for too many years. If I can help it, I want to give you a chance to have something for yourself; something more than a few hairpins and some stolen kisses."
Adele began shivering. Her tears fell unrelentingly, wetting the sheepskin jacket.
"Are you cold?"
"A bit. Oh, Brian, the best thing that ever happened in my life was finding you. I wish we didn't have to go back inside."
"I know, but it wouldn't do to freeze to death in the barn."
With his arm about her waist, Brian walked Adele back to the house.
Susannah was quickly busy cleaning up, saying nothing about whether she was giving any gifts or not. She began to sing some Christmas carols in her reedy voice. Adele joined in with her more controlled alto, Brian in a steady baritone. There was much embarrassed laughter since none of them was a particularly good singer, nor did they remember all the words.
Finally, when there appeared to be nothing else to do or say, Susannah and Adele went into the bedroom and shut the new door. Illuminated only by the moonlight streaming in the window, they dressed for bed and climbed in.
In the main room, Brian also put on his nightshirt and dragged himself into bed. His senses were too alive to sleep, and he shifted in the bed trying vainly to find a comfortable position. He tried to use counting tricks to get to sleep, but all he could envision was Adele's face and sense the feel of her soft skin the one time they had made love that afternoon in the barn. He knew if it hadn't been so cold they might be in the barn right now making love. He wanted her and he knew from her words that she wanted him, too. He sighed in frustration and continued to toss and turn.
Back in the bedroom, Adele was having similar trouble. She hugged a pillow in her arms and turned left and right, stretching and shifting. As she lay on her back, she dredged up memories of Brian's lips on her and the thought made her breasts ache with longing. Not content to lie still, she continued to shift about, until she felt a small fist punch her on the arm.
"What was that for?" she asked Susannah angrily.
"I want to get some sleep," Susannah grumbled.
"I'm sorry. I'm doing my best."
"It's not enough. I'm not going to put up with it anymore."
"What do you propose we do instead?"
Without responding, Susannah rolled out of bed. She opened the bedroom door and walked into the main room and over to the bed. Adele followed her and stood in the doorway.
Grabbing Brian's shoulder, Susannah shook him and said, "Brian, are you awake?"
"Yes, Susannah, I'm awake."
"Then get out of my bed."
Brian was instantly alert.
"What do you mean, your bed?" he asked.
"This is my bed. I've been a good sport to let you sleep in it all these weeks, but I want my bed back. So get out."
Brian hauled himself out of the bed. Towering over Susannah, he snapped, "So, where am I supposed to sleep?"
Pointing to the doorway, Susannah replied, "Where you want to be sleeping, in there."
"Susannah!" gasped Adele.
"Well, Brian, don't you want to sleep with her?"
"Do you know what you're saying?" he responded in shock.
"Of course I do. I'm not a child, Brian. Sissy, don't you want to sleep with him?"
Adele stared at Brian. He returned her gaze, filled with a longing they could no longer deny.
"Yes! More than anything," Adele admitted quietly without taking her eyes from the face of the man she had come to love so completely.
"Brian?"
"Yes, more than anything," he concurred.
"Well then, go on. I'm finally going to get some sleep. Oh, by the way, I hope you like my gift. I didn't know how to wrap it," she finished with a giggle before pulling the quilt over her head.
Brian laughed, a deep, lush belly laugh and he bounded toward the bedroom, grabbing Adele and spinning her around in his arms; then shutting the door behind them. He picked Adele up and carried her the short distance to the bed, setting her on her feet.
With one move he pulled his nightshirt off and with the second pulled her nightgown over her head. "I'll never voluntarily wear one of these damned things again--and with any luck, neither will you."
He pushed her onto the bed with the momentum of his body and began to rain kisses on Adele's face and neck. He grabbed for her braid and unraveled it, brushing the softness of her hair over his face, breathing in her woman's scent, mixed with rose soap and pine smoke.
He was like a starving man suddenly thrust into a banquet, trying to touch with his hands what his lips could not reach, sometimes stopping and just gazing at her as if afraid to continue to gorge himself for fear that he would be guided back out the door and into the famine. His movements were almost frenzied, his rapidly growing hardness testament to the force of his desire. There would be no gentle teasing, no sweet words, this time. Any measure of control had been stripped from him from the frustration and hunger of the last few days. She was for him to devour, feasting on the sheer femaleness she offered. Had he twenty fingers instead of only nine he could not have touched her enough this night.
Her hunger matched his. Her searching hands feathered over his body, ruffling the thick black pelt on his chest, sliding over the soft-hard skin of his back to cup his buttocks. She left a trail of little bites on his lips, his ears, neck, shoulders and chest as if to make a meal of him. She felt his hand at her apex; she was already wet with arousal. His slightest touch on her skin had done it.
When he pushed her back against the mattress and parted her thighs, she opened more than willingly, demanding, "Take me, take me, please." His response was a groan as he thrust himself into her as a dagger into its sheath. Again and again he thrust home as she cried, "Yes...Yes...More...More." Her nails dug into his back, leaving crescent-shaped indentations. Her words melted into screams as her senses rose like a skyrocket and sent her soaring. When she climaxed, it was as if her belly and breasts exploded over and over again. His own release followed closely, again and again until he collapsed, drained and breathless, a dead weight on her chest.
She barely felt his weight, only his warmth. It was as if they had melted into each other and had in that moment ceased to be two people, but had instead become one entity. She wrapped her arms around his ribcage and within minutes they were both asleep, still joined within her.
THE PALE GRAY January dawn poked its fingers of filtered light in through the bedroom window as a light snow began to fall, blanketing the ground with a pristine, ultimate whiteness. The first shafts of light caused Adele to stir languidly. Her nose felt ticklish and she absently brushed at it, her eyes still closed. Her first impression was that Little Gent had curled up beside her, but she soon became aware of a strong arm wrapped around her, the feel of bare flesh warming hers.
Unconsciously, during the night, Brian had rolled off and out of her and lay next to her, gathering her to his side, protected within the circle of his arm and body, his fingers woven through her hair. The quilt covered them both, adding to the warmth and closeness.
Adele cuddled closer to him, moving her leg across his, feeling the roughness of the hair that covered them. She raised her hand and began to teasingly stroke her hands through the hair on his chest, seeking out his flat, copper paps, which she caressed in circular patterns, surprised to see that his nipples hardened with stimulation as hers did. As she played, she felt a promising change in the muscle beneath her, as he began to harden. She moved slightly to replace her hands with her mouth and began to tease the flat nipples with her teeth, suckling on him as he had done to her in the barn.
Brian slowly woke to her ministrations, and his free hand drifted up to stroke her jaw, his callused palm gentle, as teasing as a feather. As his hand drifted near her mouth, she kissed it lightly.
"Good morning," said Brian.
"Yes, it is; a very good morning," was the cheerful repl
y.
"You know, if you keep playing with me like this, I'm going to end up making love to you when we should both be getting out of bed."
She drifted her hand down and wrapped it gently around his stiffening shaft. "Is that a promise?"
With a groan, Brian pressed Adele onto her back and joined her lips with his. His untrimmed mustache tickled the sensitive skin of her face. She responded with gentle nips at his lower lip and teasing touches with her tongue. His own tongue savored the sweetness of her mouth, then trailed a path down to one bare breast where with mouth, teeth and tongue, he suckled and teased her nipple into proud arousal.
A growing warmth spread from the point of contact through Adele's body. She drifted her hands up his back and neck, lacing her fingers in his coal black hair, feeling its silky softness. Brian's hair had not been cut in the seven weeks since he'd come to them, and curled around her fingers. She mused on the contrast between the soft curliness and her own reed-straight, heavy hair, but not for long.
Brian began to kiss and lave a path down her ribcage, pausing at her navel, where he thrust his tongue home. Adele's stomach shuddered instinctively and she giggled at the sensations.
Brian stopped and looked up. "Are you laughing?"
"Yes, I am. It tickles."
"Are you having fun?"
"Yes, I'm having fun, you silly."
"You've just begun to have fun, my love. Close your eyes and just feel."
Adele complied. Brian kissed her taut belly, drifting down, nuzzling and tickling until he nuzzled his nose in the tangle of sable curls which guarded her pleasure center.
Adele gasped. "Brian!" she gasped as she realized what he was doing. "That can't be proper."
"Close your eyes," he ordered. "Stop thinking about being so damned respectable for once."
His fingers separated the dark curls and began to stroke her sensitive bud. Her desire washed onto his fingers as lightning shot up through her torso, causing her to curl her toes, grit her teeth and grasp the bed sheet with tense fingers. Replacing his fingers, she felt his tongue address the bud, stroking and kissing. The most intense sensations rose from her core, neither pleasure nor pain but both concurrently into a pleasure beyond description, spilling out onto him. Her hips instinctively thrust upward to meet his ministrations and he cupped his hands on her buttocks to raise her hips closer to his mouth.
She exploded in sensation, waves rippling through her as when a stone hits the water. She shuddered, not from cold, but from pleasure so intense that tears sprang to her closed eyes and she cried from the overwhelming emotion of it.
Brian lowered her hips to the bed and re-instituted himself along her body, kissing her deeply.
"Can you taste us?" he asked.
"Um-Hmm," she hummed. "We taste good together."
"Sweeter than wine."
"I wouldn't know. I've never had wine."
"Are you ready, sweeting?"
"Oh, yes, my darling."
He drove his shaft home into her warm damp tightness. He began to move gently, but quickened as his climax neared. She wrapped her long legs around his as if to use them to deepen his thrust within her. He came, depositing his essence deep inside her and then relaxed beside her in the bed.
For long minutes he merely held her, fighting the languor that threatened to put him back to sleep. Adele cuddled against him as if they had been lovers for years.
Reluctantly, Brian began to stir. "As much as I would love to stay here all day with you, I know we have chores to do."
"It never ends," sighed Adele, sitting upright.
Brian kissed her lightly. "I doubt I ever slept so well."
"I know it for a fact." She kissed him back. "I could do this every night."
"I might just be willing to accommodate you."
No winter morning had ever seemed so bright before.
AFTER MORNING chores were completed, Brian and Adele set out on the long-postponed trip to the place where she had found him.
"I doubt we'll find anything after seven weeks," she commented.
"I know, but I'll never be satisfied until I've looked."
They both dressed as warmly as they were able, Adele wearing her quilted petticoat under her skirts and her woolen cloak over her dress, Brian in the shearling. Adele checked and loaded the rifle, showing Brian how to do it. Like everything else she'd showed him, he learned it the first time.
In the barn, Brian saddled Esmeralda with Tom Stoddard's western saddle and Adele tied on the rifle scabbard.
"I guess we'll find out whether Esmeralda can carry us riding double," she said.
He mounted, then handed Adele up so that she sat across his lap behind the saddle horn, her cloak gathered around her.
She felt him start to get hard. "Exercise a little self-control!" she grunted at him.
"Sorry," he replied with a chuckle, "after last night and this morning I guess it has a mind of its own. Your little sister gives a hell of a Christmas present."
Adele giggled slightly and kissed Brian lightly on the cheek. "That's a down payment for later."
They set off towards the range. They were out about an hour when Adele identified the site.
"Are you sure?" Brian asked.
"Not really," she responded, looking around, "but everything around looks to be about the right place."
They dismounted and began to search in widening circles, looking for something that might be familiar to Brian, something that might jog his memory or serve to identify him. Periodically, one or the other of them would brush snow away, hoping to find a paper or any other item.
Jack and Rafe had done their job well. They had ridden away with everything, including Brian's real identity.
The cold was starting to cut through their clothing when Adele gasped, "Oh, my!"
"What is it?" Brian rushed to where she was.
"You don't want to see."
"If it's mine, I do."
Brian reached Adele to see her squatting near the ground. He looked over to where her gaze directed him.
On the ground, black with rot and rough with gnaw marks, a little bit of bone visible, was something that looked for all the world like it could have once been a human finger.
Adele looked at Brian. His eyes were closed; his right hand balled into a fist.
She touched his stricken face. "I'm so sorry, my darling."
Brian laughed bitterly.
"What do you want to do, Brian? Should we pick it up and take it back to bury?"
"No, leave it. It's not a part of me anymore. Brian Strange was born with nine fingers and burying this one isn't going to change things."
"Let's go back home, my love."
Brian sighed. "It is home, isn't it? For you and me both. The only home I have."
He mounted Esmeralda. She mounted in front of him. For a long time they rode in silence.
Finally, Adele spoke. "Who would do such a vicious thing?"
"The kind of man who would strip a man and leave him to freeze to death. I wonder if the ring I was wearing was worth it."
"Do you think he'll get away with it?"
"I certainly can't identify him. I don't even remember being attacked. If he took anything readily identifiable as mine, maybe a relative--if I have any--will press charges if he tries to hock it."
"It doesn't seem fair."
"Look on the bright side. If I don't get ambushed, I don't get rescued by you, and then where would I be?"
"In the bosom of your family, I suppose."
Brian snaked his arms around Adele, holding her close. "This is the only family bosom I want to be in, my love."
Chapter 7
IN THE CITY by the Bay the morning dawned decidedly foggy and gray. For the rest of San Francisco, the overcast was likely to burn off by late morning, but for Stephen Carroll the closeness of the fog matched his gray mood as well as the sky itself echoed his tired eyes. It was barely eleven and he had been in the office since seven, trying to h
andle both the business and legal affairs of Carroll Enterprises.
Right now he was standing at the open window of his office, in the Carroll Enterprises headquarters on the Embarcadero, gazing out across the bay toward Sausalito, although its outline was barely visible through the fog. His hand was wrapped around a half-empty cup of coffee. Stephen would have sold his soul if he and Blair could be boys tromping the wilderness, speaking of everything and nothing, of classes and teachers and girls and whether there was going to be a war and about the time the Rafferty boys substituted starch for soap on the Chinese laundryman and ended up wearing stiff under drawers for two weeks.
With a brief knock at the door and permission granted, Lester Conlin of the Pinkerton Detective Agency entered. Stephen moved away from the window and sat in a slatted wooden swivel chair behind his desk, directing Conlin to sit in a client chair opposite him.
Conlin wore a khaki duster over a brown business suit. There was nothing particularly notable about the man. His hair was a nondescript brown, his eyes an undistinguished blue, his features regular. Had Stephen ever been asked to describe the man sitting opposite him, he would have had to use the word ordinary. For a detective, looking ordinary was probably the difference between life and death.
Stephen turned to Detective Conlin. "Have you anything new to report?"
Mr. Conlin regarded the man opposite him before opening his notebook. Stephen Carroll was dressed in a conservative style that bespoke elegance and business in the same glance. It was clear to the detective that Mr. Carroll did not buy his suits ready-made. He opened his notebook and glanced down at the writing. "We have made contacts in every state and territory between here and Milwaukee. Your brother's ring turned up in a pawn shop in Cheyenne, Wyoming Territory, on November 25th of last year; his watch and chain in a mercantile in Fort Collins, Colorado Territory, on December 13th. I know those items have been retrieved and returned to you. Both of those cities are over 200 miles east of Rock Springs, where your brother was last definitely identified. Even focusing on Wyoming and northern Colorado we haven't found any other identifiable effects or anyone who saw him after he disappeared off the train on November 10th. Your brother himself did not sell either the watch or the ring. This would mean that either he lost them or was robbed. Was Mr. Carroll a gambler?"
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