Page 72 of Craig

She didn't object to him holding her hand while they took their walks. They ate out on the deck, and two days before they were due to leave, he convinced her to take a ride on the boat and a swim in the river.

In between all of it, he made love to her constantly. It was only there that he ruled.

She was unable to hide behind her coolness when he was inside her. When that happened, she was laid bare, naked inside and out before his eyes.

She gave him what he needed. So, he made love to her often, on the deck in the cool of the night, after a picnic lunch they had under the overhanging leaves of the huge oak tree.

He spread a blanket in the thick lushness of the grass and stripped off her clothes, fingers and mouth playing over her body until her cries echoed in the stillness. He would examine every inch of her delectable body until he had the feeling that he knew every inch of it.

There was no way she could ever go back to the way it was before, not bloody likely, he thought fiercely. They were going back and he could not help but feel a twinge of misgiving and, yes, fear.

They would be living with his grandfather and there were bound to be arguments and incidents.

But by God, he would lay down some rules. He was not going to tolerate the highhandedness or the interferences.

He would see to that as well. They were going back and he was going to make their last day memorable.

He would see to that as well.

With that in mind, he took her driving the day before they left.

With the top down, the wind cruising on their flesh, she enjoyed the outing. There were quaint little cottages, with livestock, mostly cows grazing in the incredibly green fields, and hundreds of flowers blooming everywhere.

He slowed down enough for her to see colored bikes strewn in the various yards. There were also horses, a few goats, and several chicken coops.

"What is this place?"

"The country." He flashed her a grin as he made the turn into what was the town center.

Her delight tripled. It was like a Norman Rockwell painting.

The place was sleepy; the storefronts quaint and cozy. There was a neatness, a cleanness to the place that had her sucking in her breath.

And the air was surprisingly clean. Traffic was light, even though it was a Saturday.

"Let's stop here." She pointed to the gaily painted little café with the handmade board sign.

"Hungry?"

"I am. And I want to walk from here. Is there a parking-"

"We can park at the library." He made the turn into a small parking lot that housed a wooden structure.

Parking under the shade of a flowering hibiscus bush, he came around to open her door. Locking up, he took her hand as they made their way out.

The people were friendly. The ones they met during the short walk towards the café waved at them cheerfully as they went on about their business.

It amused and amazed her. Where she came from, people didn't even want to look you in the eye.

And the minute they stepped inside the café, the scent of baking and coffee hit them head on.

The beaming owner, with a soiled apron around her ample waist, came towards them and greeted Craig by name.

"Well, as I live and breathe!" She opened her arms and embraced him.

"If it isn't Master Craig." Stepping back, she studied him and nodded approvingly.

"Well, aren't you the handsome one?"