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Chapters (86)
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  4. Dedication
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  81. 77
  82. 78
  83. 79
  84. 80
  85. 81
  86. ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

Where had those panties gone? Because as the days passed, temperatures climbed and Elle had taken to wearing her dress every chance she got. When she walked, a subtle friction of what looked like her silky skin against cotton cloth distracted him, and once he noticed, he was obsessed with her butt.

Not only her rear; in the evenings, he examined her breasts for a bra. A bra would keep her warmer than she appeared to be, assuming that he remembered correctly—it had been a long time since he’d had personal experience—and nipples got hard when chilled. He worried she was going to catch him checking her out, but she never did. She seemed oblivious to his interest.

He couldn’t decide if he was a disgusting beast or a man with a scientific question that begged to be answered. Luckily for him, his control had been honed by hardship and pain, and no matter what she said, he would not take advantage of a woman under his roof and protection.

All in all, he thought that for two people who had known each other so briefly, they were doing pretty well.

Then came the night of the big storm, and all hell broke loose.

And all heaven, too.

45

AS THE SUN SET, the clouds built in bright pinks and golds, higher and higher, then darkened with the promise of menace. The wind sang in soft soprano tones, then gained the strength and despair of an operatic tenor who had lost his love. The storm rolled in with a bluster that turned to a threat, and Elle found herself staring at the journal in her hand, pen motionless, waiting in terror for the moment when the ocean closed over her head and she saw those faces again.

Adam’s hand gently plucked journal and pen out of her grasp. “Want to watch a movie?”

She stood. She walked to the middle of the living room. She listened to the storm arrive fully onstage and blast a melodramatic operatic climax that shook the house. She put her hands over her ears. “I can hear voices in the wind.”

He wanted to scoff, to tell her she was imagining things. But he heard voices, too. Voices of the past. Voices of reproach. “On nights like these, when the storms brew and the fog waits, lost souls visit Gothic and sometimes...they stay.” Why the hell had he said that to her, when she stared with eyes so wide and her face so pale? What could he do to ease her fears, to make her realize others shared the fears she suffered? That he shared the fears she suffered?

Taking her hand, he led her to the couch. Putting his hands on her shoulders, he looked into her tearful eyes. “We’ve all got secrets. You don’t remember yours. Sometimes I wish I didn’t remember mine.”