“Touch me like you did before,” she said softly.  His hand went from her shoulder slowly down her bare arm to her wrist, lingering there.  His fingers worked their way even more slowly back up the inside of her arm, across the lace strap, to her throat and then her mouth.  She felt he was holding his breath the same way she was holding hers.  Her hand went up between them to undo the lacing of the camisole.  He moved to give her room.  When the camisole came free, her hands went to his shirt, undoing it.  He struggled out of it and she wrapped her arms around him, making a small sound as their skin touched everywhere.  Suddenly he held her tight against him and kissed her hard, his strong hands in her hair, grasping her shoulders, traveling firmly down the smooth curve of her back.  She sensed just the faintest tremor underneath his touch, lending more urgency to the kisses, taking them both to a place where there was no time but now, no dark or light, no beginning or end.

“Don’t stop,” she said.  “Please don’t stop.”  He didn’t stop.  As more clothes came off, his hands took all of her.  She rose and twisted, crying out at his touch, then locked him into her embrace and kissed him wildly.  He held her down, his mouth fiercely on hers, answering her wanting with his own, all thought gone.  He kissed her deeply one last time and then they were moving together, going where he’d vowed they never would, to the edge and then over, in shattering free fall, taking possession of each other in the dark.

22

22

Charlotte climbed reluctantly up to the wagon seat.  She didn’t want to leave.  She’d made the illusion of a home here, with him.  She was still vibrating, still filled with a steady buzzing hum as if there were cicadas in her blood.

“Will we cross the creek today?”

“Tomorrow.”

Before they left its banks, she would wash out her clothes one more time, fill the canvas bags with water, harvest edibles.  She had searched over the crops in the field but nothing was close to ripe.  The corn would be a feast for the birds and raccoons if left till the ears came in, but the squash blossoms were already withering on the vine.

At the last minute, she got back down and dug in the back of the wagon.  As Chace waited, she took one of her iron fry pans into the house and set it in the fireplace.

“What was that for?” he said.

“In case someone else comes along and wants to cook and they don’t have a pan.”

He nodded, ignoring the vast empty land all around them.