Shouldn't Have Gone - BOOK III

Chapter 18 - By the Fire

Chapter 18 – By the Fire

 

Damien ties the horse's rope around the wooden pole of the cottage which he readily identifies as the gamekeeper's home. His family no longer keeps one on long-term basis since his father stopped engaging in hunting after he was elected in office. Some animal rights law he champion for years totally forced him out of this obsession. Hence, the keeper's cottage is literally abandoned although once in a while members of the household would visit it to check the supplies.

It is unsafe to continue to ride back to the mansion. The rain has not stopped and the thunderous growls of the sky still petrify Angel and the horse, after it has exhausted itself from running.

"Damien," she starts while watching him tend to his horse. "I don't think this is a good idea."

"You need not to be afraid, Angel," he answers while letting the horse drink water from his cupped hands.

But she is.

After what happened a while ago, after she let him devour her, after she allowed him to see her weakness, after all that, she knows she has become more vulnerable.

"Your word, Damien. Please I need to hear it one more time."

He sighs, straightens his back. He turns on his heels to face her.

"I promise," he says reluctantly.

But Damien is a man whom she knows to always not walk the talk.

"I have to make fire now," hisses Damien before he crosses the doorsill of the cottage.

Angel stays outside, takes the duty to watch after the horse.

There's an ash-free cold hearth at the left side corner, and  beside it are piles of logs, covered with cloth. Damien quickly loads the hearth with logs and starts fire, and the while cottage burns with heat and light. He flings off shirt and hangs it on the railing near the fire. The cottage only has one room for everything except that is free from furniture like tables, chair and bed. He begins to wonder how the gamekeeper would eat or sleep. It appears that all he got for himself is the floor, a few dry clothes and linen, logs for burning, a kettle and a pot.

Then he shifts his gaze outside where Angel is caressing the wet mane of the horse. Her legs are drenched with mud and rainwater, her clothes stick to her skin like a glove, showing off her shape and shadows of her undergarment. Her in that oversize white shirt creates an illusion of sensuality. Damien resists the urge to stare at her for long because if he continues this insanity, he might lose his control, and break his promise. A severe calling to quench the grave desire to kiss and touch her will have to end now. He better enjoy the disappointment, he thought—let himself suffer this effortless and unconsciously done seduction.

She's not dressed for this cold weather, so Damien thought that with her tiny body movements, she's trying to preserve heat.

From the cupboard, he takes out a thick bedspread and spreads it all over the floor, then another clean linen for Angel to use.

"I'm sorry I could not find you something appropriate," says he as he hands her the linen.

"This would be fine. Thank you." Slightly taken aback by Damien's bareness.

"I put up something for you to lay down at on the floor while we wait for the storm to pass."

Peeking through the opening on the door, her eyes fall on the bed of comfort her body aches for now. With the hearth alone, the make-shift floor bed he made did almost nothing to convince her to walk inside.