Paradise Falls (29 page)

Fiona glanced toward the window. “How high is the snow?”

Gray caught her hand. “Let’s look.”

Wrapping a blanket around them both, he led her to the window, and they stared out at the most amazing sight.

It was a dazzling world of white. Snow had buried the fences and outbuildings and had drifted to the roof of the porch. The branches of evergreens were mounded with so much snow they were bent nearly double, and several trees had collapsed under the weight of it. And still the snow fell, in a gauzy white curtain that softened the landscape and blurred their view of the sky.

Her voice was hushed. “I’ve never seen anything like this. It’s so beautiful from here.”

He nodded. “And so deadly, if you’re trapped in it.”

“I need no reminder of that.” She shivered and glanced across the room. “I see you’ve already tended the fire.”

“And brought you something to eat.” He pointed to the tray on a bedside table.

“Oh, Gray. Food.” With a laugh of delight she led him toward the bed.

He handed her one of his shirts. “It’s going to be awhile before your clothes are dry, so you might want to wear this. Otherwise I might forget about food.”

“Which is what you did all night, as I recall.” She slipped her arms into the oversize sleeves and drew the fabric around her.

“Are you complaining, Miss Downey?”

Her laughter was warm and rich, wrapping itself around his heart. “Not at all, Mr. Haydn. As I recall, I was most grateful for your kind attentions.” She blushed at the thought of their wanton behavior. Like children with a new game, they couldn’t seem to get enough of each other. They had loved, slept, only to wake and love again. “But now you’ve come bearing food.” She placed a hand to her heart. “What did you make for breakfast?”

“Last night’s supper,” he said with a laugh.

She breathed deeply. “I don’t care. It smells wonderful.”

He picked up the tray and settled himself beside her in the bed.

“Such luxury.” She turned to him. “I’ve never eaten breakfast in bed before. Have you?”

“No. But I’m discovering the joy of having my own home.” He winked at her. “I like being free to make my own rules.” He leaned over to brush his lips over hers. “Or to break them.”

“Just what rules are you thinking of breaking now?”

“I believe we’ve already broken most of them.” He poured her a cup of tea. “I’ve been meaning to tell you. That shirt looks much better on you than it ever did on me.”

He loved the pretty blush that stole over her cheeks. To put her at ease he said, “Tell me what you were like when you were a little girl.”

“Why?”

“I want to know everything about you, Fiona.” He buttered a biscuit and handed it to her. “Where you lived, and how. What you liked. Your favorite foods.”

“All right.” She bit into the biscuit and leaned back against the pillows. “And then I’ll expect you to do the same.”

He glanced at the snow that continued falling outside their window. “I don’t see why not. It looks like we have all the time in the world.”

* * *

All the time in the world.

Those words played through Fiona’s mind as she settled into a tub of warm water. What a grand and glorious luxury—one they were both determined to use to the best of their ability.

Gray had hauled buckets of snow indoors and placed them on the big kitchen stove before braving the elements to check on the animals in the barn.

She’d watched him dig a path through snow until all she could see was his dark hair blowing in the wind above the snow line. It would take him the better part of the day to make it all the way to the barn.

It was hard to believe, soaking in the comfort of a bath, that just yesterday she’d feared she might not live to see this day. Yet here she was, snug and warm and deliriously happy.

And all because of Gray. He’d not only lifted her from the depths of despair and saved her life, but he’d brought her more joy than she would have ever believed possible.

She stepped from the tub and dried herself before dressing quickly. With her wet hair falling in curls to her waist, she made her way to the kitchen and began mixing dough.

By the time Gray stomped up the steps and rushed inside on a swirl of snowflakes, she had a pot of soup simmering on the stove, and the air was redolent with the wonderful aroma of baking bread.

“You can cook?”

She laughed at the look of surprise on his face. “Of course I can cook. My mother was frail, and most of the household chores fell to me. I’ve been cooking since I was a wee lass. I’d have been happy to share the cooking with your mother, if only she’d have let me.”

He hung his coat and crossed the room to wrap his arms around her waist. Pressing his mouth to the nape of her neck, he breathed her in. “How can this be? A woman who looks like an angel, and spent the most amazing night in my bed, is now cooking something that smells heavenly. Tell me I’m not dreaming.”

She set aside the wooden spoon before turning in his arms. “If it’s a dream, it’s the best one ever, and we’re in it together.”

“Together.” He brushed her lips with his and felt the jolt clear to his toes.
Would it always be like this?
he wondered. Would she always have this affect on him? The slightest touch, the simplest kiss, and he couldn’t think of anything except how much he wanted her. “I love the sound of that word.”

“I was just thinking the same thing.” She lay a hand on his cheek. “You’re cold. I have some soup that will warm you.”

“The soup will keep. I have something else in mind to warm us both.”

Her laugh was quick and lilting. “Is this the same shy man who was going to spend his night in the barn?”

“Now you’ve found me out.” He gathered her close and pressed his mouth to a tangle of hair at her temple. “A word of warning. Beware the bear hibernating in his den. Once awake, he’s ravenous.”

“I don’t mind feeding the bear.”

“Ah, but soup isn’t the food I have in mind.”

She laughed and arched a brow. “Perhaps that wasn’t what I had in mind either.”

“Like minds. I love that about us.” He brushed kisses over her upturned face. “Can you spare an hour upstairs?”

“Just so we don’t forget about the bread in the oven.”

He scooped her up and started toward the stairs. “After an hour of your loving, I won’t complain if the bread is a little burned.”

* * *

“I love your home, Gray.”

“My home.” He smiled. “It is mine now, isn’t it?”

They were curled up together on the sofa in the parlor, staring quietly into the flames of the fire, after enjoying their supper. Gray lay with his head in Fiona’s lap, loving the feel of her fingers playing with his hair.

Outside the snow had finally stopped, and the wind had died down, leaving an eerie silence to settle over the land. “I’ve already stopped thinking of it as Herman Vogel’s place. It’s mine. The fields, the barns, and this house.”

“It’s a lovely big house. And the furniture.” She sighed. “How could he bear to part with all these lovely things?”

“Herman said his daughter’s house was too small for all this. And, he said, they were only things, after all. They weren’t important.” He threaded his fingers through hers and brought her hand to his mouth, feeling again the pleasant rush of heat. “He said to remember that it’s the people who live in it that make a house a home.”

“That’s lovely.” She felt the warmth of his lips against her flesh and shivered. “Do you ever feel lonely here, Gray?”

He was quiet for a long moment before saying, “I’ve learned that it’s possible to feel lonely anywhere. Even with an entire family around.”

“Were you lonely often?”

“Not often. But there were times. Ma and Flem have a way of shutting others out.”

His admission tugged at her heart. “I was sad when you left. I don’t believe I’ve ever felt so alone. But I understood why you had to go.”

“Papa was right. It was time for me to have something of my own.” Seeing the look of sadness in her eyes he added, “No tears now. Look at what this has done for Chester. I think he’s happy to be able to spend these cold nights in front of a fire, instead of buried in hay in a cold barn.”

Hearing his name, the dog walked over to thrust his nose into Gray’s palm.

“How do you like your new home, Chester?”

The hound’s tail swished like a pendulum.

“There’s your answer.”

Fiona scratched behind his ears and Chester started to climb into her lap.

“Not on your life.” Gray nudged the dog aside. “Right now my woman is busy with me. Go back to your fire.”
My woman.
Fiona wondered at the way her heart soared at his words. And then she thought about all the sadness that had been in his life.

As the hound settled down on the rug, Gray sat up and drew Fiona into his arms. Seeing the look of sorrow in her eyes he pulled a little away. “What’s wrong?”

She shook her head. “I can’t stop thinking about Amelia, and the fact that your attempt to do the right thing brought you so much shame.”

He brushed her lips with his. “Don’t waste a minute thinking about the past, Fiona. We can’t change it.”

“I know. Nor should we wish to. If things had been different in our past, we wouldn’t be where we are, now. If Amelia had lived, you’d now be wed. And if Papa hadn’t died so suddenly, I’d have never had the chance to meet you.”

“So.” He smiled. “Let’s look only to the future. Think about all the unknowns that are around the corner.”

“Then I’ll think about springtime,” she said softly.

“It’s already come.” He welcomed the quick rush of heat as his lips skimmed hers, and his hands began moving over her. “Here in my heart, it’s already springtime, Fiona.”

There was no more need for words as they took each other, with soft sighs and whispered kisses, to that place where only lovers can go.

F
or two days and nights the countryside lay entombed beneath a frigid white blanket. No birds sang. No farm animals could leave the shelter of their barns. Even the creatures in the wild stayed inside, huddled in dens and caves and tunnels.

On the third morning the sun broke through the clouds and a southern wind blew its warm breath across the land. Melting snow ran in rivers down the side of the roof, starting a symphony of drips that soon turned into a torrent, running from the highest peak of the barn’s roof and forming little tributaries across the yard.

Gray came rushing into the kitchen, followed by Chester. While his master removed his boots, the hound gave a series of violent shakes before stretching out on the big hooked rug to groom his long, thick coat.

Gray crossed the room to wrap his arms around Fiona, who stood stirring something on the stove. As always, he was forced to absorb the now-familiar jolt at the simple touch of her.

“The way the snow’s melting, it’ll be gone in a couple of days.”

His words brought her no joy. Instead, she felt her heart hitch.

She turned and touched a hand to his cheek. “I made stew.”

“I’m not hungry.”

“Well then. Maybe later.” She set down the spoon and turned to look out the window. “How soon?”

She didn’t have to elaborate. It was the only thing on both their minds now. How much time did they have left, before she would have to return to the home of his parents?

He shrugged and avoided her eyes. “I’ll keep an eye out for wagons on the road. If not tonight, tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow.”

As she sighed and started to turn away he caught her hand and brought it to his lips. “Come up to bed, Fiona.”

“Now? In the middle of the day?”

He managed a smile. “My house, remember? We break the rules here.”

She laughed as she danced along beside him. “I’ve begun to like breaking the rules.”

* * *

Sunlight stabbed Fiona’s eyelids, and she squeezed them shut, determined to blot out the morning. A chorus of birdsong drifted through the open window, and she pressed her face to Gray’s chest, hoping the sound of his heartbeat would drown out all else.

All night they’d clung together, knowing their idyll was about to end. Their lovemaking had taken on the desperation of two lovers about to be separated for a lifetime.

He’d been so tender, it had made her weep. But she’d hidden her tears, waiting until he was asleep before allowing herself even that small weakness.

Now, as the sun climbed higher in the sky, there was no denying that the time of reckoning was at hand.

Gray was the first to speak. “Guess I’d better get out to the barn.” He brushed a kiss over her mouth. “Are you all right?”

“Fine.” She managed a smile. “I’ll make you breakfast.”

“I’d like that.” He kissed her again and slid out of bed. After slipping into his clothes he eased down on the edge of the bed. “We could always pray for another blizzard.”

He was relieved to see the hint of a smile that came into her eyes. “Do you think there’s a chance?”

He kissed the tip of her nose, “I believe in miracles.” Then, because he had to, he gathered her into his arms and kissed her until they were both breathless.

As he eased her back against the pillows she arched a brow.

He grinned. “I figure the cows can wait another hour.”

* * *

Fiona set Gray’s place at the big wooden table, slicing thick slabs of bread still warm from the oven and steeping the tea until it was strong, the way he liked it.

She glanced out the window. Except for the remnants of snow it might have been just another spring day, with birds chirping and squirrels chasing each other around the base of the tree.

She leaned a hip on the sill and surveyed the kitchen. It was obvious that it had been built with a family in mind. The big, intricately carved table and six sturdy chairs. The stove, with an oven big enough to accommodate several loaves of bread and enough burners to cook an entire meal at one time.

For these few precious days she had been able to pretend that this was hers. She had been the lady of the house, and Gray her man.

Because he was still in the barn, she took her time walking around the house, as though trying to store it all away in her mind. The big cozy parlor, with its overstuffed furniture and fireplace made of stone. The upstairs bedroom with a matching stone fireplace, and the big soft bed where she and Gray had so recently slept—and loved. She peered into the other bedrooms and smiled at the thought of curly-haired children asleep in each of the beds.