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Authors: Lizbeth Dusseau
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right
here.”
“Right
here? She questioned him.
He smiled, and
set her wounded rear on the kitchen table.
“0uch!”
she exclaimed.
‘Just what you
deserve,” he said sternly, though he was smiling now. Leaning her back
against the hard surface of the table, he was inside her swiftly, the husband
and wife coming to a crashing fin- ish with all their
pent-up emotion and sexu - al desire finding a release at last.
“I am
sorry, Aaron,” Abigail said, once they were both satisfied and he was
pulling her to her feet.
“1 know
you are,” he said. “And I know you’re still not happy about Brighton
Springs. All I ask is that you give it try. See if maybe you’re wrong about it,
and then, well … you never know, we might just move back here, or somewhere
else.’
“You
really mean that? We don’t have to stay?” she said excitedly.
“I really
mean that. But you watch yourself,” he said, his eyes narrowing severely
to enunciate his point. “We talk about our feelings, we don’t go plotting
revenge. You understand?”
“I
do,” she said, and with her bottom still smarting so it was tender to touch,
she let Aaron hold her in his arms, her head dropping to his chest for comfort.
The rough
journey across a rocky mountain terrain to Brighton Springs did not forecast a
successful venture in their new home. Their house was not as comfortable as the
old one, and there was - just as Abigail suspected - far fewer people with whom
a young woman of such spirit as Abigail could spend her time. All things con- sidered , however, Abigail didn’t offer one word of
disappointment or protest to Aaron. He was a man of his word: if he really knew
she was unhappy with the move, eventually he’d reconsider his decision, and
perhaps they could move back closer to her family and friends. At least for
awhile, she was determined to bide her time and give their new home the
thorough consideration that Aaron expected. Eventually they would return to
their old home, she was certain of that.
As quick as
the wind can change the direction of a storm, just a month after Aaron and
Abigail settled in Brighton Springs, the testy young woman had an abrupt change
of heart about her new home, with the arrival of an unexpected guest.
“Hey,
what are you doing way up here?” Abigail heard a familiar voice exclaim as
she was picking flowers from her garden. Jerking up, she turned and stared, her
mouth wide open in shock, the flowers for-gotten, dropping to her feet.
“Darcy
Greenwood, I should as the same thing to you,” Abigail said, catching her
breath. She darted towards her friend and gave her an affectionate greeting.
“The
mountains agree with you,” Darcy observed, seeing the bright color on
Abigail’s pale cheeks.
“I’ve
hated it here,” she whispered. “But don’t you tell Aaron. He’s sure
to whip my behind if I so much as say one blessed thing against this
place.”
“Has you
that scared?” Darcy asked, surprised.
“No, not
really scared. I just promised him I wouldn’t raise anymore fuss over living
here, at least until we settled in. I guess I wasn’t very kind to him after he
announced the move.”
“You did
something stupid, didn’t you? I bet he whupped your
ass.”
“How
would you know?”
“It
figures, coming from you and Aaron. You’re both stubborn as mules, I don’t
imagine that’s going to be the last time.”
“It is if
I can help it,” Abigail said.
“So what
you do, anyway. Run off somewhere?”
“Just
back to mama, but it was more than that.”
Darcy looked
at her as if she wasn’t going to budge from the spot unless she told her
everything.
“I told
him I wouldn’t… I wouldn’t, you know, give him what he wanted in bed.”
“Oh, that
is a bratty notion. But why you’d want to withhold yourself from Aaron Barrow,
I can’t imagine. He’s one man I wouldn’t mind having myself.”
“Darcy
Greenwood! He’s my hus -band,” Abigail
here.”
“Right
here? She questioned him.
He smiled, and
set her wounded rear on the kitchen table.
“0uch!”
she exclaimed.
‘Just what you
deserve,” he said sternly, though he was smiling now. Leaning her back
against the hard surface of the table, he was inside her swiftly, the husband
and wife coming to a crashing fin- ish with all their
pent-up emotion and sexu - al desire finding a release at last.
“I am
sorry, Aaron,” Abigail said, once they were both satisfied and he was
pulling her to her feet.
“1 know
you are,” he said. “And I know you’re still not happy about Brighton
Springs. All I ask is that you give it try. See if maybe you’re wrong about it,
and then, well … you never know, we might just move back here, or somewhere
else.’
“You
really mean that? We don’t have to stay?” she said excitedly.
“I really
mean that. But you watch yourself,” he said, his eyes narrowing severely
to enunciate his point. “We talk about our feelings, we don’t go plotting
revenge. You understand?”
“I
do,” she said, and with her bottom still smarting so it was tender to touch,
she let Aaron hold her in his arms, her head dropping to his chest for comfort.
The rough
journey across a rocky mountain terrain to Brighton Springs did not forecast a
successful venture in their new home. Their house was not as comfortable as the
old one, and there was - just as Abigail suspected - far fewer people with whom
a young woman of such spirit as Abigail could spend her time. All things con- sidered , however, Abigail didn’t offer one word of
disappointment or protest to Aaron. He was a man of his word: if he really knew
she was unhappy with the move, eventually he’d reconsider his decision, and
perhaps they could move back closer to her family and friends. At least for
awhile, she was determined to bide her time and give their new home the
thorough consideration that Aaron expected. Eventually they would return to
their old home, she was certain of that.
As quick as
the wind can change the direction of a storm, just a month after Aaron and
Abigail settled in Brighton Springs, the testy young woman had an abrupt change
of heart about her new home, with the arrival of an unexpected guest.
“Hey,
what are you doing way up here?” Abigail heard a familiar voice exclaim as
she was picking flowers from her garden. Jerking up, she turned and stared, her
mouth wide open in shock, the flowers for-gotten, dropping to her feet.
“Darcy
Greenwood, I should as the same thing to you,” Abigail said, catching her
breath. She darted towards her friend and gave her an affectionate greeting.
“The
mountains agree with you,” Darcy observed, seeing the bright color on
Abigail’s pale cheeks.
“I’ve
hated it here,” she whispered. “But don’t you tell Aaron. He’s sure
to whip my behind if I so much as say one blessed thing against this
place.”
“Has you
that scared?” Darcy asked, surprised.
“No, not
really scared. I just promised him I wouldn’t raise anymore fuss over living
here, at least until we settled in. I guess I wasn’t very kind to him after he
announced the move.”
“You did
something stupid, didn’t you? I bet he whupped your
ass.”
“How
would you know?”
“It
figures, coming from you and Aaron. You’re both stubborn as mules, I don’t
imagine that’s going to be the last time.”
“It is if
I can help it,” Abigail said.
“So what
you do, anyway. Run off somewhere?”
“Just
back to mama, but it was more than that.”
Darcy looked
at her as if she wasn’t going to budge from the spot unless she told her
everything.
“I told
him I wouldn’t… I wouldn’t, you know, give him what he wanted in bed.”
“Oh, that
is a bratty notion. But why you’d want to withhold yourself from Aaron Barrow,
I can’t imagine. He’s one man I wouldn’t mind having myself.”
“Darcy
Greenwood! He’s my hus -band,” Abigail
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