she'd witnessed all her siblings be born, helped the midwife occasionally, and it couldn't be that much different.
Could it?
***
The hunt was unsuccessful, and Andre prowled around the forest longer than he intended, walking off the growl in his chest before he returned home to Mary. It was always frustrating when he couldn't find anything to hunt, and he needed meat! The beans Mary had begun to cut their meals with were tasty but unsatisfying.
His heart lifted when he emerged in the clearing where his little log cabin stood. The sight of home, and knowing it wasn't empty, cheered him up immensely. He hadn't felt happy to come home since he lost his wife and daughter all those years ago.
As he strode to the barn to dress before heading to the cabin itself, he could smell something delicious cooking, and his stomach rumbled. He liked having Mary around, and not just because she cooked. He liked the way she laughed, the way she listened to him when he talked, and her never-ending questions when she read his books.
She had such a thirst for knowledge, and he cursed her father for preventing his eldest daughter from getting all the education she desired. Locke had a lot of sins to his name, but to treat his own child as a slave? It was unthinkable.
But he knew why he could never ask her to stay. She deserved more freedom than he could offer.
When he entered the cabin, a waft of smoke blew into his eyes, making them water. Andre coughed, reeling back. The black fumes billowed from the oven, filling the room. He rushed forward, getting caught in ropes that were spider-webbed through the room.
"I thought I turned it off!" Mary cried, slipped under his arm. She shot towards the oven, yanking the door open. Black smoke belched into her face. As she dragged a roaster pan from inside it, Andre heard something bleating.
His head swiveled, and his eyes locked on a sheep lying next to the fireplace. Its little lamb stood next to its head, still slick from being born, and it 'baaed' as its mother licked it. Towels were nested around the mother and lamb, stained from birthing fluids. A pile of books was scattered over the table.
"I'm sorry," Mary said.
He turned back to her and saw tears running down her face. Her lip wobbled as she held the roaster pan. Some black mass was inside it.
Mary set the pan down, and a sob shook her shoulders. "I'm sorry."
Andre found himself laughing. It was all so surreal. Mary's perfect homemaking skills failing so dramatically reminded him that life was messy and complicated, but somehow everything that was in this room, from the bedclothes getting saturated with smoke to the sheep that would have been just fine in the barn, to Mary staring at him as though he had lost his mind, everything was far more perfect than he could imagine.
"Andre?" She cautiously touched his shoulder.
He didn't know why he did it, but he suddenly wanted to kiss her, and so he did. She was warm in his arms, her voluminous body pressed against his, so soft, so real. His hands tangled into her beautiful black hair, and her arms wound around his chest. Heat rose in him, a spark forming between their lips as she closed her eyes and melted against him.
***
Every inch of skin that touched him exploded with fireworks. Mary pressed herself deeper into Andre's embrace. She had given up her dream that anybody would ever hold like this, arms around her so tightly as though he would never let her go. And yet here she was, in the arms of a man who was more beautiful than she ever hoped in her wildest dreams. Her whole body seemed to glow as his mouth pressed her lips open. Tongues danced. She clung to him, feeling her Wolf howling in delight, her chest so full she thought she might burst.
Abruptly he pulled away.
Mary blinked, reeling, as Andre backed away from her. She panted, not understanding what had happened. For a moment she thought she had imagined it all; the kiss, the passion.
Andre shook his head. "You can sleep by
Could it?
***
The hunt was unsuccessful, and Andre prowled around the forest longer than he intended, walking off the growl in his chest before he returned home to Mary. It was always frustrating when he couldn't find anything to hunt, and he needed meat! The beans Mary had begun to cut their meals with were tasty but unsatisfying.
His heart lifted when he emerged in the clearing where his little log cabin stood. The sight of home, and knowing it wasn't empty, cheered him up immensely. He hadn't felt happy to come home since he lost his wife and daughter all those years ago.
As he strode to the barn to dress before heading to the cabin itself, he could smell something delicious cooking, and his stomach rumbled. He liked having Mary around, and not just because she cooked. He liked the way she laughed, the way she listened to him when he talked, and her never-ending questions when she read his books.
She had such a thirst for knowledge, and he cursed her father for preventing his eldest daughter from getting all the education she desired. Locke had a lot of sins to his name, but to treat his own child as a slave? It was unthinkable.
But he knew why he could never ask her to stay. She deserved more freedom than he could offer.
When he entered the cabin, a waft of smoke blew into his eyes, making them water. Andre coughed, reeling back. The black fumes billowed from the oven, filling the room. He rushed forward, getting caught in ropes that were spider-webbed through the room.
"I thought I turned it off!" Mary cried, slipped under his arm. She shot towards the oven, yanking the door open. Black smoke belched into her face. As she dragged a roaster pan from inside it, Andre heard something bleating.
His head swiveled, and his eyes locked on a sheep lying next to the fireplace. Its little lamb stood next to its head, still slick from being born, and it 'baaed' as its mother licked it. Towels were nested around the mother and lamb, stained from birthing fluids. A pile of books was scattered over the table.
"I'm sorry," Mary said.
He turned back to her and saw tears running down her face. Her lip wobbled as she held the roaster pan. Some black mass was inside it.
Mary set the pan down, and a sob shook her shoulders. "I'm sorry."
Andre found himself laughing. It was all so surreal. Mary's perfect homemaking skills failing so dramatically reminded him that life was messy and complicated, but somehow everything that was in this room, from the bedclothes getting saturated with smoke to the sheep that would have been just fine in the barn, to Mary staring at him as though he had lost his mind, everything was far more perfect than he could imagine.
"Andre?" She cautiously touched his shoulder.
He didn't know why he did it, but he suddenly wanted to kiss her, and so he did. She was warm in his arms, her voluminous body pressed against his, so soft, so real. His hands tangled into her beautiful black hair, and her arms wound around his chest. Heat rose in him, a spark forming between their lips as she closed her eyes and melted against him.
***
Every inch of skin that touched him exploded with fireworks. Mary pressed herself deeper into Andre's embrace. She had given up her dream that anybody would ever hold like this, arms around her so tightly as though he would never let her go. And yet here she was, in the arms of a man who was more beautiful than she ever hoped in her wildest dreams. Her whole body seemed to glow as his mouth pressed her lips open. Tongues danced. She clung to him, feeling her Wolf howling in delight, her chest so full she thought she might burst.
Abruptly he pulled away.
Mary blinked, reeling, as Andre backed away from her. She panted, not understanding what had happened. For a moment she thought she had imagined it all; the kiss, the passion.
Andre shook his head. "You can sleep by
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