breathe for a spell. Her husband was a monster, and she needs to heal from the wounds he left on her soul. If we press her to open up when she isnae ready, we risk losing her.”
Long minutes passed before Thomas heaved a sigh. “You’re right. Of course, you’re right.”
“I believe that’s the first time you’ve ever told me that.” Alec winked, hoping to ease the tension.
A smile twitched Thomas’s lips.
“Come. The lass is right. We have chores. And there’s always tonight. Did Hope nae invite us into her bed from now on?”
* * * *
Hope caught herself glancing over her shoulder every other minute, expecting Alec and Thomas to join her for another bath. They had to be every bit as grimy as she’d been from trying to complete a day’s worth of chores in a few short hours, especially in the sweltering heat. If they planned to sleep on her clean linens, they would have to bathe. Cleanliness was important to her.
Would they want to share her bed again?
She feared Abe Driscoll’s intrusion might have scared them off. Surely they didn’t wish to be the subjects of Clearbrook gossip. She’d stopped caring long ago what the good people of that benighted little town thought of her, although she hated being discussed behind her back. If she had, she never would have found the courage to write her uncle and beg for his help finding men like Alec and Thomas.
Her uncle was either as unaware as the townsfolk or absolutely brilliant. Did he know that Alec and Thomas desired men, but that they also desired women? She could almost picture his shocked priestly expression if he knew what she’d shared with them.
No . He, of all people, might understand. He was the most forgiving person she’d ever known.
She’d taken advantage of the pond to not only wash but to clean her work clothes. Wearing only a fresh shirt and skirt, Hope draped her wet clothes over the clothesline, a bit concerned that the men’s wet things weren’t there. After a hard day, they usually washed their clothes and hung them out to dry. Their fastidious nature had always appealed to her. Most men—including Billy—weren’t concerned about being clean, caring little about how offensive their body odor and filthy clothes might be to others.
Supper would be nothing more than salt pork and some bread left from yesterday evening. The animals’ welfare took precedence over her own meals, and her day had been spent caring for them as she tried to catch up with chores.
Hauling water had been the hardest task. August had taken its toll, and while no one would tempt fate by uttering the word “drought,” the area was clearly affected by the lack of rain. After the brushfire the day before, Hope kept a vigilant eye, searching for any sign of smoke. She made sure the animals had plenty of water, and she checked the storage barrels to be sure they were full.
Kicking off her muddy boots, she stepped into her home and gaped at what she saw. Expecting to be greeted by darkness, she found candles lit and waiting on the table.
Such a romantic scene .
“Alec? Thomas? Where are you?”
“Upstairs,” Thomas called. “Our room.”
Our room .
Hope couldn’t contain a grin.
The floor squeaked as she moved across the smooth boards. Holding tight to the banister, she looked up to the second floor. It was dark, and the mystery made her heartbeat speed. There was no fear—something that came as a surprise. She’d learned her lesson well on the folly of trusting men. But those lessons didn’t seem to apply to Alec and Thomas.
They were luring her upstairs into a dark bedroom, and she wasn’t frightened. Instead, her nipples tightened, and her cunny filled with heat, growing damp as she pondered what new pleasures they could bring her.
She climbed the steps, moving skillfully around anything in her way. Her candle-making skills were not the best, and whale oil was too expensive, so she knew her way around in the dark quite well. When
Kent Flannery, Joyce Marcus