Barb L.
belauger@msn.com
Author’s Note: This is an Adam story, although the other
Cartwrights are also present. This is an NC-17 romance and contains some
explicit sex language and scenes similar to what you might find in one of
today’s romance novels, so be forewarned! This story as well as my two other “Destiny”
stories (one about Hoss and one about Joe) assume that the three Cartwright
brothers find love, that the female leads don’t die as they did in most of the
TV episodes, and they go on to lead happy lives. All of the characters are based on those
created by David Dortort for the Bonanza TV
series. Only Mary Lynn Nolan, Vance
Nolan, and the children are my own creations.
Enjoy!
BLIZZARD OF DESTINY
Part I
Freezing rain and
giant flakes of snow riding on a strong wind pelted the man riding through the
densely wooded area. He had known this
early spring storm was coming, but he had been anxious to reach home following
his successful three-day business trip, so he had pushed his horse forward,
betting against the odds. It was now
almost dark and he knew he was in trouble.
Lapses in good judgment were unusual for him, and he silently cursed
himself for getting into this mess. The
storm was rapidly worsening and very soon he would be lost in the dark, in
blinding blizzard conditions.
He needed to find
some shelter quickly, because it was becoming obvious that he’d have to hunker
down somewhere for the night. If he
pressed on, he would surely lose his way and could easily freeze to death out
in the storm. He had been riding for hours,
ever since the smallest snowflakes had begun to float to the ground, and long
before the wind picked up to the gusts that now slammed against him. He had
turned up the collar of his coat, pulled on heavy leather gloves and pulled the
brim of his black hat down low on his forehead.
That had helped some, but enough time had passed that he was now pretty
much wet through and through, and he was aware that ice was forming on his hat
and coat.
He was
contemplating the idea of stopping to build himself a shelter for the night,
using from pine boughs and branches, when he realized he was probably somewhere
in the vicinity of the Nolan Mountain line shack. “Whoa, boy,” he spoke softly to his horse,
patting his neck. The large brown horse
stopped, but kept snorting and throwing his head. The weather was agitating him, and he was wet
too. The man looked around to get his
bearings. The mountain was on the north
edge of his family’s ranch and the shack had to be only a couple of miles
directly ahead, close to the property border, as many of the line shacks
were. He spurred the horse on, knowing
that darkness and the thick, blowing snow were going to be his worst enemies in
locating the shelter.
As the snow
accumulated on the ground, travel was slow for the man and his horse. It was now completely dark and he knew he had
traveled far enough to be close to the line shack. Although he could no longer see it, he knew
he was in white-out conditions, which would make locating the shack almost
impossible. It consisted of a cabin and
a small stable, but they wouldn’t be occupied by any of the hands at this time
of year so there was no use in looking for any kind of light to guide him. He knew that his best hope was to get lucky
and ride smack into the building, and he also knew that hope was slim. He got down from his horse and began to lead
the animal, moving slowly, eyes darting in every direction, trying to get a
glimpse of a structure.
At least a foot of
snow stood on the ground now, and moving through it was difficult. It didn’t take long for the wet to penetrate
his thick leather boots, and his heavy corded pants were a lost cause; they had
been soaked hours ago. He could even
feel that his shirt was wet through his coat, and he was more than cold. Reminding himself
not to panic and to keep thinking clearly, he sent up a quick prayer for
help. In return he only heard the wind
roaring through the trees. He kept
moving, resorting to murmuring to the horse in a low, reassuring voice. He knew
perfectly well he was trying to reassure himself as much as the horse.
Then without
warning, he glimpsed a light a short distance ahead of him. Good Lord, it couldn’t be. There would be no light out here now. He must be so chilled he was beginning to see
things. However, the light remained
steady, and it was closer than he thought it was. When he came up face to face with the flat
wall of the shack he dropped his head to his chest. There was
such a thing as a guardian angel, and his had directed him here! Keeping his hand on the wall he moved toward
the stable, whose location he knew from the lighted window. Someone else had also taken refuge in the
line shack, and thank goodness that person or persons had already lit a fire.
As he pushed open
the stable door he realized he was breathing heavily. The hours out in the inclement weather had definitely
taken a toll on him and he was winded.
In the dark he knew another horse was present. Knowing his way around a stable from an early
age, he quickly unsaddled his horse, rubbed him down, found a blanket to throw
over him, and fed him some oats found in a nearby wooden trough. Leaving the stable, he secured the door
behind him and headed toward the lighted window which was dimming in the
onslaught of snow. After the relative
sanctuary of the stable, the wind-slashed snow felt like needles against his
face. The few steps to the shack felt
like miles. With shaking hands he found
the door, and threw it open, eyes moving directly to the fire in the hearth. He had made it. Fortune had smiled on him, and Adam
Cartwright would now likely survive this deadly blizzard.
The young woman
stoking the fire started violently when the cabin door flew open against the
wall. Her immediate thought was that the
storm had worsened and the wind had forced the door open, but that thought was
quickly replaced when she turned to see the man standing mutely in the
doorway. Normally she would have been
frightened by the sight of him, but it was probably the storm that made her
curious instead. Strange weather did
strange things to people. He just stood
in the doorway, not moving, leather saddlebags hanging over one shoulder. That he was in a bad way was clear. His clothing was plastered to his body, but
covered with ice and snow. His face was
reddened raw from the weather. His dark
eyes were narrowed as they stared at the fire, as if trying to figure it out, and his mouth hung slightly open. He was shaking fiercely. When he still didn’t move after a few more
seconds, she started again, feeling the bitter wind and drifting snow blow in
through the open door. She moved quickly
toward him, grabbing one arm to pull him into the small, one-room cabin while
shutting and latching the door at the same time. Not sure how much longer he would remain on
his feet, she grabbed a wooden chair from a rough wooden table in the middle of
the room and shoved it near the fireplace.
She took him by the arm again and pushed him into the chair. As he sat down, thin slices of ice broke off
his coat and pants, falling in shards around him. She took off his hat and started unbuttoning
his coat.
“Good heavens,
Mister, long how have you been out there?” she muttered as she worked quickly,
pulling off his coat and throwing it onto the table. When he didn’t respond, she stopped to look
at his face. Still staring at the fire,
he seemed to be in shock. His lips
looked slightly blue. He didn’t react
when she pulled off his boots and started on his shirt and pants, all cold and
wet, including a gun belt. Shortly she
had piles of wet clothing all over the floor and she was down to his long-johns,
which were also wet. She unbuttoned the
first two buttons at his neck and reached inside to lay the palm of her hand
against his chest. It was cold. Too cold for a human being
whose body core was supposed to be warm.
A shock of realism hit her when she suddenly understood that she may be
dealing with a life and death situation.
She had no idea how long he had been out in the storm, cold and wet, but
it was clear that his body temperature had dropped. She unbuttoned the sodden underwear to his
waist and stripped it off him. His skin was very pale against heavy black chest
hair. Quickly she yanked a blanket off
the bed in the corner of the room and wrapped it around his shoulders. It was the first warm, dry piece of cloth
that had touched his skin in more than six hours.
Thinking and
moving at a furious pace, she dragged the rumpled mattress off the bed and
pulled it as close to the fireplace as she dared. Hanging over the end of the rustic bed frame
were two heavy old buffalo robes which she lugged over to the mattress. One she spread over the mattress itself and
then she turned back to the man.
“Mister, can you stand up?” For
the first time, he turned his head and looked up at her with a blank
expression. But he stood up, teeth
chattering. Without thinking about what
she was doing, the young woman unbuttoned and removed the rest of his
long-johns, kicked them aside, and guided him over to the bed by the fire. He sank onto it, with a rush of air escaping
his lungs as he did so. He closed his
eyes as she covered him with the remaining buffalo robe. A few seconds later she tucked a pillow under
his head. His black hair was wet and
blown every which way, and she smoothed it back where it was plastered across
his forehead.
Hanging over the
fire was a pot of water she had been warming to make herself a cup of tea
before she went to bed. Ignoring the
tea, she filled a tin cup with some of the water, testing to make sure it
wasn’t too hot. She took it over to him,
finding that he had curled up and now lay on his side, still shaking. She was determined to get something warm down
him; anything to help raise his body temperature. She leaned over him and pulled gently on his
shoulder, trying to get him on his back.
She eased an arm under his neck and raised his head slightly. “Drink this, Mister. It’s warm and it’ll help you.” The first few drops dribbled down his chin,
but when he realized what it was, his hand came up to grasp the side of the cup
and he guzzled the water down completely.
So he was thirsty, too. She
realized he had been outside longer than she had originally thought. Well, at least something warm had gotten down
him. She helped make him comfortable
again and tucked the buffalo robe tightly around him.
Shaken, she sat
down on the wooden chair he had earlier occupied. She didn’t know much about anatomy or
medicine, but she was pretty sure he was suffering from a dangerously low body
temperature, and she knew that condition could be fatal. For the moment she had done everything she
could for him, but she was still worried.
Glancing over at him, he appeared to be sleeping, but it was hard to
tell because he still shook from the cold. She looked down at herself and smiled
grimly. She was a sight too, wearing her
coat over a long flannel nightgown and boots on her feet. She had been on her way home to the top of
Shuddering, she
rose and picked up the wet clothing, spreading it over chairs, table and bed
frame so that it could eventually dry in this drafty, chilly shelter. She walked over to the window. Trying to peer out she saw very little, but
the depth of snow on the outside window sill and the howl of the wind told her
the blizzard was not abating. She put
one more log on the fire to keep it going through most of the night and then
blew out the lantern on the table. It
was then she realized that there was no place for her to sleep except on the
mattress with her cold, exhausted patient.
The bed in the corner was useless without its mattress. She didn’t debate the issue for long,
however, because the line shack was very cold, as the bitter wind forced itself
through every crack and board. In fact,
combining body heat was probably the most sensible thing two people could do
under the circumstances. It was a matter
of survival, especially for this man.
Having found a
quilt near the bed, she added this atop the buffalo robe. Then she took off her coat and boots and slid
under the covers next to this man she did not know. Now sleeping on his back, his breathing was
shallow. She moved aside the blanket she
had earlier wrapped around his shoulders to once again lay her hand on his
chest. Not warm enough. She moved it down to his stomach. Same there, and his
forehead was tepid although his red cheeks were hot. He wasn’t shaking as badly, but there were
tremors that ran through his body now and then and he shivered
occasionally. Resolutely, the young
woman bundled up her coat to use as a pillow and placed it close to the
man. Then she put her arm around him,
bringing herself as close to him as she could.
Finally she brought one leg up and slung it across his legs. That was it.
She couldn’t think of anything more she could do to warm him up. Feeling anything but relaxed, she closed her
eyes and tried to go to sleep.
Adam awoke to the
smell of brewing coffee. He didn’t move
immediately but just lay still, trying to gauge his surroundings. He remembered the nightmare of being lost in
the blizzard the day before, and he definitely knew now what it felt like to
freeze to death. At the present time,
however, he wasn’t freezing. He was, in fact, warm, even though he could still hear the
blasted sound of the raging storm outside.
He furrowed his brow, vaguely remembering that
he had found what he thought was the line shack he had been searching for. He remembered stabling his horse, Sport, but
couldn’t remember anything beyond that.
He shifted his body slightly under the covers and realized in an instant
that he wasn’t wearing a stitch of clothing.
Feeling the heat coming from the nearby hearth, he turned his head in
that direction and saw a woman kneeling there, preparing the coffee. He could only see her back, but she had long,
straight blond hair that fell down her back over the coat she was wearing.
“Water?” he said,
only it came out as a whisper and he had to clear his throat before that much
was even audible.
“Oh! You’re
awake!” the woman turned and jumped to her feet, with wide blue eyes and both
hands clapped over her mouth. She was
very young, maybe only 20. “Of course
you want water. Hold on here one second
while I get it.”
He could hear
water being poured and shortly she was kneeling at his side with a cup. He leaned up on one elbow and took the cup
with his other hand. Taking a sip of
nearly hot water, he made a face. He was
thirsty; he wanted cold water. But she
was shaking her head at him. “Drink that
down. I’m still afraid to give you
anything cold.” So he slowly did as she
instructed and handed the cup back. As
he did so, he realized the effort that simple act had cost him, and he lay back
down again, looking up at her steadily.
Without warning
she put both hands on either side of his face, pausing silently. Then she felt his forehead and moved her
hands down to feel his upper arms, and then his chest.
“Oh, thank
goodness you feel warmer! I wasn’t sure
if you were going to live or die. When
you appeared last night, you were nearly frozen, and it was all I could do just
to get you to stop shaking. Your lips
were blue and your teeth were chattering.
I made you this bed by the fireplace and I gave you some warm water, and
then I practically slept on top of you just to...” she
stopped abruptly and turned bright red, looking away from him.
“…keep me warm,”
he finished for her, a slight smile curving his lips.
“That’s
right! I had to! People can die if their bodies get too
cold. I can tell you, though,
I didn’t sleep much at all with all the worrying about you.” She paused to draw in a deep breath and then
resumed. “How are you feeling now? Can you move your fingers and toes? Is there any feeling in them? Are they
tingling? We should check to make sure
they aren’t turning black, because that’s a sign of frostbite, which is very
dangerous.”
He moved his hands
out from under the bedcovers and held them up, flexing his fingers. She grabbed each hand and inspected it. They were pink. She let out a breath.
“My feet tingle a
little, but I have feeling in my toes,” he reported.
She dove to the far
end of the mattress and pulled the covers up to look at his feet. His toes looked a bit purple to her, but they
weren’t black by any means, and he was moving them. “I think you’re OK,” she said with relief,
tucking the covers back where they belonged.
She sat back on
her heels and looked at him. He was
really a handsome man, she thought, with that black wavy hair, dark eyes and
beautifully curved lips. She remembered,
too, somewhere in the back of her mind, that when she undressed him last night
he was all sinew and muscle. He was, of
course, quite a bit older that she.
Embarrassed again, she remembered the coffee. She moved to the fireplace and poured two
cups, kneeling back down carefully next to him and waiting until he could
position himself to take the cup she held forth. It would be hot, and hot was good for him
right now.
“Who are you, and
how did you get into the condition you were in last night?” she queried, taking
a sip of hot, strong coffee.
“Cartwright. Adam Cartwright. I was trying to reach home before dark. It was a long shot, and I lost. If it weren’t for the fact that I stumbled on
this line shack, I’d probably be frozen dead somewhere out there now. If you didn’t have a lantern and a fire
burning, I would never have found it,” he was very matter-of-fact.
“Where’s
home?” She watched him over the rim of her cup.
“A
ranch outside of
“
“Yes,
almost. And thank you,” this last was spoken very
quietly.
“Thank you?” She
tilted her head, puzzled.
“Yes, for saving
my life. You did, you know. I wouldn’t have made it if you hadn’t done
everything you did for me last night…including taking away every last stitch of
clothing I had on,” one side of his mouth tilted up slightly as he eyed her
directly.
She knew she was
red again, and she hated herself for it.
“Well I had to! You were soaked through and there was even ice on your
coat! You didn’t think I would try to
warm you up while you were all wet, did you?”
“Not
at all. You behaved appropriately, and I am deeply
grateful. Now may I ask what your name
is, my dear heroine?”
She paused
momentarily to see if he was making fun of her.
His face, with its heavy black whisker stubble, was solemn. “I’m Mary Lynn Nolan. I live with my grandfather on the top of the
mountain.”
Adam frowned. “Vance Nolan?
My father knows him. We don’t see
him very often; I didn’t know he had a family.”
“My father was his
son. My parents died two years ago, so I
came to live with Grandpa.”
“I’m sorry about
your parents. Why haven’t I heard about
you before if you’ve been here for two years?”
“I don’t
know. I could ask you the same
question.”
“Well, we must not
travel in the same circles,” he said mildly.
“What circles?”
she practically snorted. “Grandpa hardly
ever comes down from the mountain, and I only have one friend here, and it’s
her house I was returning from when the storm caught me yesterday. I didn’t even know about this cabin, but I
decided to stay here when I saw it because I know that traveling up the
mountain on horseback in the snow can be treacherous.”
“You made a good
decision in more ways than one,” and then he chuckled. “And you’re probably right about our
‘circles.’ Vance Nolan is known in these
parts as a bit of a recluse, and a grump at that.”
“He is,” she
agreed, “but he’s been good to me. In
fact, he’s probably worried sick about me right now. Isn’t your family worried about you, too?”
“Probably
not too worried. They know I would turn back or find shelter
somewhere. I’ve lived in this area for
many years. I know the terrain…and
fortunately where we built all the line shacks.”
“Well, then, you
have a very understanding wife…and you mean this cabin belongs to your
family? I’m sorry I just took it over,
then. I didn’t know,” she was
embarrassed again.
“You did the right
thing to stop here. It probably saved
your life too. And there’s no wife; just
a father and two brothers and our ranch.”
There was an
ensuing silence during which Adam drained his coffee cup and then started to
sit up. “I’ve got to check on my
horse. I may not have taken the best
care of him last night.”
Mary Lynn hopped
to her feet immediately. “I’ve already
done that, Mr. Cartwright, and at least for today you’re not leaving that
bed. After your misadventure last night,
a day’s rest can’t hurt you one bit.
Besides, it’s so cold in here your clothes haven’t dried yet. Lie back down,” she pushed against his
shoulder.
“Look, Miss
Nolan,” he started.
“Mary Lynn.”
“Mary Lynn, I
really think…”
“…that
you need something to eat. Stay put.
You don’t have anything to wear anyway, Mr. Cartwright. I’m going to see what I can find for us to
eat.”
“Adam,” he said,
knowing he was losing this argument.
Tiredness overtook him again and he dozed off almost before his eyes
closed.
Adam slept on and
off for most of that day. Mary Lynn made
cornbread along with salted ham and dried applies, which they ate for breakfast
and again for supper. She found that
Adam was inordinately thirsty from his ordeal and she finally let him drink
unheated water. He never developed a
fever, which she had been halfway expecting, and she was grateful she didn’t
have to nurse him through the unknowns that could bring to this situation. His clothes were drying slowly, mostly
because the cabin wasn’t very warm at all, except close to the fire. Those things closest to the hearth dried
faster and the rest seemed to stay damp for a very long time. His coat, the heaviest and wettest of what he
had worn, looked as though it may never be dry again, so it was eventually
moved close to the fireplace, hung over a chair back. As daylight was beginning to fade, Mary Lynn
prepared to go out to the stable again to check on the animals, even though
snow was drifting and blowing everywhere the eye could see.
“You strung a rope
between the cabin and the stable, didn’t you?” Adam asked as he watched her
button up her coat.
“No,
why?”
Alarmed, he felt a
sudden rush of anger. “The minute you
take two steps out that door, you can’t see a thing! You could start walking in the wrong
direction, and walk until you freeze to death!
Blizzards are famous for killing people that way. You have to string a rope so you can hold
onto it, knowing that it will lead you straight to the stable and back. I’ll see to the horses myself,” he was
sitting up now and grabbed his now dry shirt, beginning to button it down the
front.
Mary Lynn felt
stupid as she realized the logic of what he said, but she felt a rising anger
as well. “Well what’s to keep you from
wandering off away from the stable? If
no rope is a problem for me, it’s a problem for you, too!”
“Turn around,” he
commanded as he stood up suddenly and wrapped the blanket he’d used earlier
around his waist. He stepped off the
mattress and took two steps toward his pants when the room began to spin and he
walked straight into the table.
Muttering an oath, he put one hand on the table to steady himself, and the other hand over his eyes, letting the
blanket fall to the floor. Mary Lynn
spun around when she heard him hit the table and gasped to see him leaning
heavily over it. She was also seeing a
man naked from the waist down for the first time in her life as she hurried
toward him, admitting to herself that it was an impressive sight. She grabbed the blanket and quickly put it
back around his waist while she grabbed one of the wooden chair rungs with her
foot and dragged the chair over. Soon he
was sitting, elbows on his knees, head in his hands.
“Adam, you scared
me. Tell me what’s wrong.”
He shook his
head. “I’m fine. I just stood up too fast after being in bed
all day.” He sat back in the chair and
raised his head, looking around him as if to make sure the room had stopped
moving.
“Look, that settles it.
You can’t go out to the stable today.
I have to do it,” Mary Lynn pointed out.
“You still need
the rope,” he said wearily, rubbing his eyes.
“Without it you’ll face the same odds I faced last night, and I’m only
here now by the grace of God.”
“Fine, we’ll
string a rope, but we’ll have to work together and you’re staying inside,
agreed?”
Adam nodded and
gestured for his pants. She handed them to
him along with his boots and socks, both of which were still damp. Then she obediently turned around while he
dressed, mostly sitting as he did so. A
suitable rope was found in a wooden chest against the wall. Adam tied one end securely around Mary Lynn’s
waist, and they walked together to the cabin door, moving slowly to make sure
his dizziness didn’t return. Mary Lynn
had dragged the chair with her and made him sit on it by the door. He tied the other end of the rope to the
outside door latch, hunching over against the wicked wind that whipped in the
moment the door was cracked open. When
he was finished he looked up at her.
“Okay, head out to
your left. The stable isn’t more than 50
paces from here. When you get there,
untie the rope from your waist, pull it mostly tight and tie it to the outside
latch of the stable door. If you go more
than 50 paces and haven’t reached the barn, you may be off course. If that happens, just pull on the rope and
follow it back here. Either way you’ll
be safe. When you get to the barn, call
out to me. I may be able to hear you
over the wind. I’ll stay right here,” he
couldn’t think of anything else to tell her.
The rope would guide her back one way or another.
She nodded and
stepped outside. In a second or two he
could no longer see her, but he felt the slack rope moving through his
hands. She had tucked her flannel
nightgown into a split riding skirt, buttoned up her coat and tied a scarf over
her head. She had on some knitted gloves
that he considered only slightly better than nothing. He was counting off paces to himself, but he
had no idea how deep the snow had become or how long it would take her to move
through it. Time passed in an agony of
slowness until the rope stopped moving.
He sat up straight and strained to listen.
“Adam!” It was a shout.
“Mary Lynn!” Shout
returned.
“Found the barn!”
At that
announcement, Adam let out the breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding, and
shouted back, “Good girl!” He stayed at
the cabin door, keeping it cracked open until he could feel her pulling on the
rope, making her way back. When the
cabin door pushed open, she stood in front of him covered with snow from head
to foot. He pulled her inside the same
way she had done for him the night before, and started removing her scarf and
coat. She was gasping from the cold and
the strength of the wind.
“The drifts
reached my hips. My boots are full of
snow and there’s snow all the way up my skirt!
The snow feels like pin pricks. I
don’t know how long this can last, but you were right about the rope. And to think I went to feed the animals alone
this morning!” She was sucking in air in
between every few words.
Adam stood and
latched the cabin door. He wasn’t dizzy,
so he let her sit while she removed her boots and dumped snow out of them. When she started slaking snow from the inside
of her riding skirt, he discreetly moved toward the hearth. He put more wood on the fire and this time he
fixed her a cup of tea.
“Do you have a
change of clothes?” he asked her, seeing that the bottom of her nightgown was
damp from the snow that had wet her skirt.
She nodded and
twirled her finger at him, which he correctly interpreted as an instruction to
turn his back to her. He did so as she
took a small satchel from the corner. He
could hear her rustling inside it and waited patiently. Listening to the sounds of the fire, he was
beginning to relax and so was startled to hear something slam loudly against
the cabin’s only window. Mary Lynn
yelped in surprise, and he spun around, heading directly toward the
window. She had frozen momentarily at
the noise and as he passed her his gaze caught her in the act of pulling a
fresh nightgown over her head. He also
caught a close-up view of her full, pink-tipped breasts, barely disguised under
a gauzy camisole, and he was surprised at the jolt that sight gave him. Without pausing he moved quickly to the
window. There was nothing to be seen
since full darkness had now settled in.
The window, at least, was fully intact.
He moved to the door and opened it in a futile attempt to see much of
anything at all except snowflakes swirling immediately in front of his face.
When he turned
back, Mary Lynn was fully covered again and looking at him questioningly. He shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t know what that was, but we’re
extremely fortunate that the window didn’t break. If it had, we would have had to move into
the fireplace to keep warm, it would be so cold in here. That noise could have been a bird or a limb
torn loose by the wind, even a large pine cone, but I couldn’t see anything at
all out there.”
“Do you think
someone is out there?” she seemed tentative and concerned.
“If there is
someone out there, we’ll know soon enough, but I don’t see how anyone could
have survived in this storm for this amount of time.” Nevertheless, Adam had taken his holster and
set it near the bed. He held her tea out
to her and they both settled into the bed, not only for the evening, but mostly
for the warmth. This time Mary Lynn was
shivering from her excursion to the stable.
As soon as the tea was gone, Adam pulled the quilt and the buffalo robe
securely over them, and then he pulled Mary Lynn close to him, her head on his
shoulder. He could feel her snow damp
hair through his shirt.
“We’re going to
have to get used to sleeping this way to get through this storm with any degree
of comfort,” he was addressing the ceiling.
“It’s a little awkward, but it conserves heat.”
“I agree, so we’ll
just both have to do the best we can.” There
was a long silence. “Adam, how old are you?”
“Thirty. Old enough to be your big brother, I bet.”
“I’m
twenty-one.” More silence. One last time she reached up her hand to feel
his face and forehead. “Normal,” she
sighed, except of course, for the black stubble of his
beard.
He took her hand
and placed it on his chest. “Good?” he
asked in the dark. She could feel the
warmth through the fabric of his shirt.
“Good,” she answered. Time passed
and sooner or later they both slept while the wind whirled outside.
With dark blue
light appearing through the window, Mary Lynn opened her eyes. It was early morning, and she had slept
soundly, to her surprise. She was
comfortably warm, and realized that her back was right up against Adam’s front,
spoon style. From his breathing, she
could tell that he was asleep. It was
true; shared body heat did help a person stay warm. She didn’t need to rise yet, so she simply
lay still, enjoying the comfort. She
could still hear the wind, but it didn’t seem as strong as it had been the
previous day. Shifting slightly, she
became aware that Adam’s arm was around her, holding her to him, and his hand
was almost underneath her, fully cupping one breast. She didn’t know what to make of the
situation. He wasn’t holding her
tightly; he was relaxed in his sleep.
Was this just a simple accident?
She relived briefly in her mind all the unconventional things that had
occurred in the past 36 hours or so.
Never had she experienced a blizzard like this, being stranded the way
she was, or a man like Adam Cartwright.
Truth be told, she had minimal experience with men at all. She had certainly had her share of boyfriends
growing up, and she had been thoroughly kissed, but nothing had ever been truly
serious. Since arriving in
Becoming
uncomfortable with the situation, she turned carefully onto her back. This caused Adam to shift as well, and he
moved onto his back, the hand in question now resting on his stomach as he
slept. Mary Lynn felt relieved, but she
could very much still feel where his hand had been. She also felt a curious excitement. Why?
She barely knew this man, and all their interactions so far had been
incidental to staying alive. Pondering
the situation, she closed her eyes and drifted back to sleep.
She woke again a
couple of hours later, to the feeling that she was being watched. Opening her eyes she discovered that her
senses were indeed accurate. Adam was
awake, reclining on one elbow, his head resting in his hand, and he was
watching her intently. He had actually
been watching her for some time now, really looking at her perhaps for the
first time. As urbane as he considered
himself to be (and in fact was) he found her quite lovely. Her long straight hair was a sunny shade of
blonde which she seemed to like to braid in the front on each side and then tie
the two braids behind her head. She had
a straight nose and high cheekbones and a chin that looked as though it could
be defiant if she so chose. Her skin,
pink from sleep, was freckled across her nose and cheeks. He vaguely remembered that her eyes were
blue, and now that she had opened them, he saw that he had been correct. They were in fact a slightly startling shade
of periwinkle blue. Her eyelashes were
light to match her hair, but they were long and nicely curved. He seemed to recall that she was on the lean
side, but then he remembered her full breasts and felt a quick heat start in
his body. Adam Cartwright was the scion
of the great Ponderosa ranch. He was
worldly, educated, and had had a few serious love relationships in his past, all
of which had ended, to his disappointment and disillusionment. At his age, he wondered why this 21-year-old
girl had so captured his interest this morning.
Perhaps it was because she had saved his life. That could certainly be a valid reason. But something more pulled at him, and he
couldn’t identify it. He wanted to keep
looking at her. Her mouth was hard to
figure. Her lips looked full, but he
couldn’t really remember if he had ever seen her smile yet. Then again, there hadn’t been much
opportunity for smiling since he had burst into her life like a frozen wild
man.
“Good morning,
Miss Nolan. And may I inquire as to
whether you slept well?” he used his very most correct manners.
“Good morning, Mr.
Cartwright. You may so inquire, and in
fact I did indeed sleep well,” she returned in kind, remembering his early
morning embrace. Then she giggled, given
the absurdity of their situation in their shared makeshift bed on the floor by
the fireplace.
Ah. There was her smile, quick and bright,
revealing straight white teeth. She
reached out to touch his growing beard stubble.
It was jet black like his hair and anyone seeing him for the first time
would no doubt assume he was an outlaw of the worst kind.
He fingered his
chin, still feeling her hand on his face even though she had removed it seconds
before. “Feels like I could use a
shave. I have a razor in my
saddlebags. I’ll take care of it today
as soon as I work up the courage to leave this warm bed,” he said ruefully and
gave her a lopsided grin.
“You’re better
today, aren’t you?” She was appraising
him carefully. “You’re going to be all
right. Lord, but you gave me a
scare. I didn’t know what I would do
with a dead man on my hands!”
“And I’m glad you
didn’t have to find out,” he shook his head.
“I really misjudged that storm, and I’ve been watching them for years
now. I can read the signs and I know
better than to try to outride one. I
just really wanted to get home.”
“Home must be
pretty special to you.”
“It is. The Ponderosa is a beautiful ranch. It’s big and we all work it together, along with
a lot of hired help. I designed the
ranch house myself and when the weather’s nasty, it’s just a good feeling to be
in the great room, sitting by the fireplace with my family. I had been gone three days on a business trip
before this storm kicked up, and I was ready to be back there again.”
“I think I’ve
heard Grandpa mention the Ponderosa. It
sounds wonderful.”
“It really
is. It’s got mountains and lakes and
meadows and pastures and trees for as far as the eye can see. You can ride for days and still be on
Cartwright land.”
“As I guess I am
right now since I appropriated your line shack.”
He looked up from
where he was running a finger across the buffalo robe. “You are, but like I said, I’m glad you were
smart enough to stop here. My family would
want anyone in need to take refuge here.
We usually keep the line shacks stocked for the hands when they use them
during round-ups and cattle drives and foaling season. We’re lucky to have enough wood and food on
hand now to help weather this storm. It
sounds to me as though the wind has died down some,” he pushed himself up and
picked up his boots as he walked to the window.
“Well, there’s a lot of snow, but it’s not blowing anywhere near what it
was doing yesterday. We’ve probably seen
the worst of it. Now we just need to
wait for the snow to go down some. The
horses will never be able to get down the mountain through this snow. It’s going to be a while.”
“Down
the mountain? But I need to go up the mountain to get home,” Mary Lynn’s voice was plaintive.
He turned to look
at her, tucking his black shirt into his pants.
“Well, I hate to be the one to tell you this, Mary Lynn, but it’ll take
longer to get up the mountain than to get down it. Going up is rougher riding, and with heavy
snow on the ground, a horse can’t get proper footing and it’s almost sure to
falter. It could be very dangerous for
both you and your mount. I’ll tell you
what we should do. As soon as the snow
clears enough to get out of here, we’ll both ride down to the Ponderosa where
you can stay until we can get you get you safely up the mountain to your
grandfather.”
Mary Lynn didn’t
look happy. “Adam, I’d be imposing on
your family, and we don’t even know for how long. And besides, Grandpa is going to be beside
himself wondering what’s happened to me.”
He walked back to
her and put a finger under her chin, lifting her face until she was looking at
him. “Mary Lynn, you would be more than
welcome at the Ponderosa for as long as you need to stay. We almost never get a woman staying in the
house and it’s a treat when it happens.
My brothers go all googly-eyed, and Hop Sing,
our cook, uses the best china and linen.
My Pa even serves his best wine every night. I realize that your grandfather is going to
be worried, but there’s nothing to be done for it right now. I promise you that as soon as travel is safe,
we’ll take you home immediately. Deal?” He felt bad
about her obvious disappointment.
She sighed
deeply. “It doesn’t sound as though
there’s much of a choice, does it? Okay,
you’ve got a deal. How long do you think it’ll be before we can leave here?”
He couldn’t
sugar-coat matters for her. “I don’t
know for sure, but from what I just saw, it could be a week, maybe more.”
Her eyes widened
in surprise, but she didn’t say anything.
She simply got up, shrugged into her coat and moved over to the hearth
to start breakfast. Adam
was pulling on his boots and reaching for his coat, which was by now reasonably
dry. She knew he was heading to
the stable to tend to the horses.
The food had been
ready for some time before Adam returned and Mary Lynn had been starting to
worry. He explained that as long as he
was outside, he set some snares to see if he could catch any rabbits or
squirrels for dinner. He wasn’t sure he
would in snow this deep. He had also
piled more firewood near the door and now started stacking it inside.
Visibility was much better now, but the sky was still overcast and the
temperature was bitter. Although his
coat had remained dry, his pants and boots were wet again. The snow had reached his mid-thigh in some
areas.
Mary Lynn handed
him his long-johns. “These are mostly
dry now. You better put them on and let
your pants dry. Didn’t you bring a
change of clothes on a business trip?” She raised an eyebrow at him.
“I did, but I lost
my pack riding in the storm. You were
luckier than I was,” he sounded a bit sheepish.
She set out coffee
and a repeat of yesterday’s food while he changed. They took their plates and cups and sat on the
mattress where it was warmest while they ate.
“I told you about
me; you tell me about you,” Adam was ravenous, but he was making an effort to
eat slowly.
“What do you want
to know?” Mary Lynn was chewing slowly,
pushing pieces of ham around on her plate, suddenly self-conscious with him.
“Well, for
starters, where did you live before you came to
“I grew up in
“You didn’t have
any other family? No siblings? No aunts or uncles?”
“My mother had
some family, but they were killed six years ago traveling west in a wagon
train. I’m an only child. It’s a pretty dismal story, really. I have school friends back in
“I’m sorry you’ve
had so much tragedy in your life. My
mother died when I was born, and my pa’s two other wives also died. Each one had a son—my brothers. It was hard seeing three mothers die and
watching my pa live through it,” his voice was low and
somber.
She put her hand
on his arm. “Oh, Adam, I’m so sorry
about that. It seems we both know more
than we want to about death.”
“And blizzards,”
he looked at her over his coffee cup and this time there was a sparkle in his
eyes that made him look distinctly roguish.
“And blizzards,”
she agreed, getting up to pour more coffee and give him the last of the dried
apples.
Later Adam sat
with his coffee staring into the fire.
His knees were pulled up and his arms rested on top of them. Mary Lynn had cleaned up after the meal and
turned back toward him when she was through.
She was thoroughly surprised to see how much of him was clearly outlined
through his form fitting long-johns. He
seemed unaware of this and she averted her eyes as she moved back to the bed
where it was clear they would be spending most of their time unless the
temperature outside rose suddenly and considerably. Her cheeks began to burn as she realized she
would have preferred to stand and stare at him much longer than would have been
appropriate by any standards.
Later on he got up
to shave. There was a small mirror hanging
on the wall which he used along with a towel and some heated water. He had a cake of soap in his saddlebags and
painstakingly worked up shaving lather with it.
As he rummaged through his saddle bags, he pulled out a thin book and
tossed it to Mary Lynn.
“Here, this’ll
give you something to do while you lounge around all day.”
“Hmphh!” was her indignant retort, but she picked up the
slim volume. “Shakespeare’s
sonnets. How wonderful, I love
Shakespeare,” she began turning the pages.
“Read one to
me. I could shave in my sleep.”
She began to read
aloud the artistry of words as only the bard himself could write them. When she finished one, she read a second.
“Is Shakespeare
your favorite?” She asked him as he wiped spots of lather from his face and
neck.
He hung the towel
around his neck and turned to her, “Shakespeare, Milton, Homer, Tennyson,
Byron, I like them all.”
She looked up from
the book. Good Lord he was a beautiful
man, she thought. Without the growth of
beard she could clearly see his features, every one of which was just about
perfect. His shoulders were also wide
and his hips were narrow. He had long
legs and long, tapered fingers that belied the hard work a rancher undoubtedly
did on a daily basis. He strode back to
the bed and slid back under the covers, shivering briefly from his exposure in
the cold room. He took the book from her
and flipped onto his stomach, reading aloud to her. His voice was deep and melodious and the
words he read were clearly familiar to him.
Eventually he closed the book and put it aside. He turned onto his back and put his hands
behind his head, continuing to recite the sonnets from memory. Mary Lynn was captivated. Miss Henderson’s School for Girls in
They napped
briefly in the afternoon, and then Adam went back outside to tend the animals
and check his traps. While he was gone,
Mary Lynn washed up as best she could.
The cabin was very cold and drafty despite the continuous fire, so she
hurried with her bathing and added another log before scurrying back to the
bed.
Adam returned
victorious, with a squirrel and a rabbit in hand. He had skinned the rabbit in the stable, and
with Mary Lynn’s help they made a stew using onions, potatoes and salt that
were found in a vegetable bin and on a supply shelf near the hearth. By the time dark fell, there was a meal they both
felt was like manna from heaven. There
was even leftover stew for the following day.
They both drank tea brewed from Mary Lynn’s private supply, choosing to
ration the coffee for the mornings. Then
they did the only remaining thing they could: they turned off the lantern and
tucked themselves under the warm covers for the night.
They were both
silent for a long time, facing each other, but just listening to the fire snap
in the hearth. Adam was looking directly
into her eyes, and she watched him back, for once not bothered by his direct
scrutiny. Time passed. Outside there was only the stillness of the
snow which blanketed everything.
“What are you
thinking about?” Mary Lynn asked.
He didn’t
answer. He was thinking that she was one
of the most beautiful women he had ever seen. Why had he not noticed that before now? She was fresh and honest and beautiful. He
reached out a hand and placed it on the back of her neck, pulling her toward
him. He slowly leaned toward her and
gently placed his lips on hers, kissing her softly. He leaned back slightly to gauge her
reaction, but her eyes were only searching his.
He leaned in again and kissed her once, twice, three times, very
gently. She made a soft sound in her
throat. He parted his lips and kissed
her again, this time longer, much longer, drawing her lower lip into his mouth
and sucking on it lightly. Her hands
grabbed his arms tightly, but she was kissing him back. He teased her with his tongue and she fell
back, breathing heavily. They still held
each other’s gaze, and he moved over her to wrap his arms tightly around
her. She grabbed his head and pulled it
down to hers, initiating her own series of kisses. They continued this way for a long time until
he pulled away.
“We have to
stop. I can’t… You’re not… I shouldn’t
have…” his forehead was touching hers as he struggled to catch his breath. She had never been with a man before, but she
could feel what their actions had done to him.
Her own heart was pounding and her body felt strangely hot. Her stomach was doing flip-flops that were
oddly exciting.
He lay back. “I’m sorry, Mary Lynn. I took advantage of you. I’m sorry.”
Now she was
leaning on her elbow, facing him. “What
are you sorry for? How did you take advantage of me? Don’t I have a say in
this?”
He turned his head
to look at her. “Have you ever been with
a man before?”
“No…but…”
“That’s just
it. I can’t do what I might have done to
you just because we’re stuck here together like this.”
“What were you
going to do?”
“Love you. I would have made love to you.”
“What if I wanted
you to?”
“Do you even know
what you’re asking for? Do you even know what you’re talking about?”
She was
quiet. “Maybe. I’m not sure.
I know I wanted you to keep doing what you were doing.”
He grabbed her
hand almost angrily and put it over his aroused penis, holding her there to let
the implications sink in. “Are you
prepared for this? Do you know what
happens with this?” He let go of her,
but she didn’t snatch her hand back. She
was fascinated by the hugeness of him, the hardness she felt. Did she want this? She thought she did.
“Look,” he began,
his fingers pinching the bridge of his nose.
“I started this, but it was a mistake.
We’ve only known each other for 2 days, and most of that time was under
duress. I behaved badly. Let’s just go to sleep. Please.”
And with that, he turned his back to her and let his head sink into the
pillow.
With her hand back
in her own possession, she sat and stared at his back for a few minutes. She didn’t know what to think or feel. Hurt.
She knew she felt hurt, but she wasn’t sure exactly why. Silently she burrowed herself under the
covers with her back to him, and stared straight ahead. She didn’t think sleep would be claiming her
any time soon.
Mary Lynn awoke to
full daylight the next morning, and this time it was actual sunshine for the
first time in days. Adam was gone, and
she momentarily feared he had taken his leave until she noticed his saddlebags
and gun belt slung over the bed frame.
He was probably in the stable.
Memories of the night before came flooding back to her, and she groaned
inwardly. She didn’t know how she was
going to face him, and right now she didn’t want to. The hurt she felt was still present, now
accompanied by anger. He had been so gentle,
and then so rejecting. Was he playing a
game with her? She didn’t know. She only knew she was inexperienced enough
not to know how to play the same game with him.
She rose, used the
necessities, and moved over to the mirror where she unbraided her hair. Adam had already stoked the fire, and the
temperature in the room had improved slightly.
Still, she shivered as she deftly fixed her hair in a long French braid
down her back. She was splashing water
on her face when the door opened and Adam returned, stamping snow off his
boots. She glanced at him quickly
through the mirror, but he kept his head down as he headed toward the
fireplace. He began to make coffee and
warm the rabbit stew leftover from the night before. She made no move to help him.
There was no
change in the depth of the snow, and the wind was blowing deep drifts in
various places. He had set more snares
for small wild game, but he mentioned none of this to Mary Lynn. He didn’t know what to say to her. He had watched her sleep again this
morning. God, she was beautiful. He wanted her, there
was no question in his mind. The problem
was he had been raised by a strict father with high moral standards. He knew she was a virgin and that their
present circumstances created an artificial environment that would never exist
in the real world. There, he might never
have met her, and if he had, she might have dismissed him as an uninteresting,
older man. But then again, nine years
wasn’t such a big difference. People
had married with much greater age differences before this.
He was fighting
with his conscience, he knew. Last night
he could easily have taken her, and he knew she had been willing. But he also knew that any relationship they
had here might not carry over into a post-blizzard world. And if he took her virginity, she might have
trouble finding a man to accept her. She
could even become pregnant and then her reputation would be ruined
forever. Cartwright men did not take
advantage of unmarried girls that way.
He would have to marry her. Was
he prepared to do that? Was she willing
to marry him? Was their relationship
based on enough to sustain a marriage?
Characteristically, he tried to lay out his feelings under a thoughtful
microscope to examine them in depth. He
lost himself in thought.
“You’re burning
the stew,” her comment was tight, and yet she made no move to assist him.
His reverie lifted
and he quickly grabbed the pot from the fire and ladled out two plates, along
with coffee. Without comment, he handed
over her plate and cup. They ate in
silence.
During the long
day that followed, Mary Lynn read and re-read the Shakespeare sonnets, ignoring
Adam. He shaved again and skinned the
squirrel for that night’s meal, not speaking to her when she visited the stable
to check on her horse, April, and where he was working on the squirrel. She spent a long time with the horse, murmuring to her and stroking her nose and neck. She noted that Adam’s brown mount, Sport, was
a fine, large animal and had probably been very expensive. Big ranch, good horse, she thought to
herself. April was significantly
smaller, but she was the right size for Mary Lynn, and her disposition was
sweet. The two of them were a good match
for each other…unlike herself and Adam, Mary Lynn thought wistfully.
The evening meal
was roast squirrel and potatoes baked on the hearth, along with some boiled
carrots. They each helped cook the food,
but no words passed between them. Following
the silent meal, Mary Lynn sat herself in a chair in front of the fire, once
again reading the sonnets. Adam stood by
the window for a long time, staring out at nothing but darkness, wrestling with
his thoughts. He stood legs apart, his
arms crossed over his chest. He didn’t
move, and Mary Lynn, by now just staring at words blurred on a page, wondered
if he would sleep all night standing up that way.
Finally he turned
away from the window, but stayed put. He
rubbed the back of his neck. “I just
don’t know,” he sighed to himself in a low tone.
She turned to look
at him but didn’t respond to his comment in any way. She didn’t know what to
say. He looked over at her, the first
direct eye contact they’d had all day.
Even in the dimming light of the cabin she saw the question in his eyes.
“Why don’t you
want me?” It was a soft, tenuous
question.
Then he
moved. He walked across the room in
three strides, grabbed her upper arms and lifted her to a standing position
directly in front of him. His jaw was
clenched.
“I want you. How could I not want you?” He said it
harshly. “But you don’t know what you’re
getting yourself into. You’re a virgin. You could get pregnant. No other man would have you after that. Who knows what will happen to us when we
leave here? I can’t ruin your life!”
“I want you, too,”
it was a whisper.
“How do you know
that? I could hurt you. It hurts, you know, the first time.”
“I don’t think you
would hurt me. You didn’t yesterday.”
“That was only
kissing. When a man sleeps with a woman
for the first time, it hurts for her, but only once and only for a few
moments.”
“All
right.”
“All right, what?”
“All right, I
accept that.”
“Why? Why?
You don’t know me.”
“I knew enough
last night. You did too.”
Defeated, he threw
his head back and let out an inarticulate sound of defeat. Then in a quick move, he grabbed her head and
pulled her to him. His lips were on hers
again, pressing, crushing, demanding, and then suddenly gentling. There was a moan deep in his throat, yearning
for more. His arms wrapped around her,
holding her so close to his body that she couldn’t have moved if she wanted to,
but she didn’t want to. Her arms reached
up around his neck and he kissed her with deep, open-mouthed kisses that sent
molten blood spiraling through her body.
He took a step
back and unbuttoned his black shirt, shrugging it off to the floor. He kicked his boots off and then moved back
to her, unbuttoning the row of buttons down the front of her cream colored flannel
nightgown. As he did so, she looked at
his torso. He had a chest of black hair,
broad shoulders, muscled arms and a flat stomach. She wanted to touch him but he was drawing
her gown up over her head. As it floated
to the floor she stood before him in her thin camisole and her pantalets. He drew in his breath as he gazed at her
breasts, rising and falling with her breathing.
He moved behind her and let his hands slide up her sides until he
reached her breasts, which he held in each hand. He began to caress them and let his thumbs
slide across each nipple, hearing her swift intake of breath at the same time
he felt them harden beneath his fingers.
Her head rested against his chest, and he heard her moan when he lightly
rolled her nipples between his thumb and forefinger. He slid the camisole over her head and then
his thumbs jerked down her pantalets.
She stepped out of them and he turned her to face him. She was breathtaking, he thought. Her legs were slim, her bottom rounded and
her belly was flat. Within a second he
swept her over to the bed and under the covers.
He kissed her neck
and her breasts, stopping to suckle gently there. His hands moved over her belly and across her
breasts, down her sides and along the inside of her thighs. She was moaning softly, feeling things she
had never even imagined before. She
said his name and he bent to kiss her again, continuing as his hand moved
between her legs. He probed and touched
her where no one had ever touched her before, and his touch was like fire. Without thinking she moved her legs apart,
and one of his legs moved over hers. He
began to stroke her rhythmically in a place and in a way she had never felt
before. She began to feel the building
of a pent-up energy that felt like white-hot fire and she was unconscious of
her writhing hips as his movements continued in rapid strokes. She was breathing heavily, and just when she
thought she could bear no more of what he was doing, he pushed her over the
edge and her back arched as spasm after spasm of electric pulses cascaded
through her core.
Then suddenly he
left her and as she lay back, spent and panting, he was back just as quickly,
moving over her, having stripped off his pants.
He was as huge and hard as she remembered from the night before and she
felt him probing between her legs. With
a jolt she remembered him telling her that she didn’t know what she was asking
for, and she felt a stab of panic. It must
have shown as her eyes flew open because he was right there with reassurance.
“It’s all right,
Mary Lynn. I’ll be gentle. You’re wet and you’re ready,” His low voice
was soothing. He moved himself up and
down between her legs and when he found his place he began to nudge himself
inside her. She felt she would explode
from the size of him, but she didn’t and he kept moving, kissing her neck as he
went. Then he stopped pushing in and
held himself in place. “This is the
place where it hurts,” he told her. “It
will be quick.” He pulled back slightly
and then sent his entire length driving inside her all at once. She felt a sharp stab like a knife tip. She gasped, and he stopped, waiting. “Are you all right?” She nodded, her face hidden against his neck.
He resumed his
movement, stroking in and out of her.
Suddenly she realized that he fit inside her and he was moving
easily. Her arms reached up and curled
around his shoulders; her hands rubbed his back. She felt his muscles moving. Soon her hips were rising to meet his down
strokes and a rhythm was established. She felt the spirals of excitement start
in her stomach again as he kept on.
Presently he began moving faster and his breathing quickened. His thrusts became more urgent, demanding and
suddenly there was a low growl deep in his throat, as he sent his full length
within her deeply and urgently. Then he
collapsed on top of her, his face buried in the side of her neck, catching his
breath. As her hands moved over his back
she found he was damp from perspiration.
Shortly he pushed himself up and she felt him pull out of her. He rolled onto his back next to her, pulling
her to him so that her head rested on his shoulder.
He was still
trying to catch his breath, but he was talking to her. “Never… never like
that…before. So tight…so wet…never
before.” He turned his head and kissed
her forehead. She didn’t know how to
respond, so she didn’t, but she thought what he was saying was good. They were quiet for a time, drugged by their
lovemaking, holding each other. Mary
Lynn moved slightly and felt something wet and sticky between her legs. It felt like blood. Alarmed, she reached quickly down to feel it
and brought some up on her fingers. Adam
noticed her movement, and touched her hand.
“Ah, don’t worry,” he said knowingly. “That’s just a small part of me th