Wild Fell Read Online Free PDF

him stir and twitch against her thigh. She giggled.
    “Sean!”
    “I can’t help it. You just make me feel . . . well, you make me feel that way.” He laughed self-consciously.
    “I do?”
    He was blushing. “Yes, you do.”
    “That’s so sweet.”
    “Do you want to . . . ?”
    In reply, she ran her nails along the shelf of his shoulders and pressed her body to his. Sean groaned. This time, she touched it, feeling it grow in her hands. A feeling of unquestioned, queenly prerogative came over her. In Sean’s desire for her, she saw her own desirability. In his clear need for her, she saw her own self-worth. She was finally prettier-than-average, smarter-than-average. She was finally . . . special.
    Her father’s words came back to her, unbidden.
    The Devil is always a thief, Brenda. If he’d steal from a god, you can imagine what he’d take from a little girl like you. So you’d better always be good.
    She slammed the door to her mind with a defiance that was likewise new to her.
    I
am
good, Daddy. And there’s no such thing as the Devil. And even if there was, he’s got better things to do than worry about the likes of me, especially tonight. Now, go away.
    They made love again, slowly this time and with a tenderness that was as new to her as was sex itself. This time when she cried out his name, Brenda didn’t recognize the sound of her own voice.
    When they finished, Brenda reminded Sean that she had a curfew. He told her not to worry, that he’d get her home in plenty of time, but that he wanted to just hold her now and watch the fire for a while. She agreed, snuggling against him, surfing bliss.
    “Sean, did you ever read
Romeo and Juliet
in grade nine?”
    His voice was wary. “Yeah, I think so. I don’t remember. Why?”
    “There’s a scene when Romeo and Juliet are . . . you know, making love. And she doesn’t want him to leave, even though she knows he’s got to leave before dawn, or her family will murder him. She makes excuses the whole time, saying it’s a nightingale he’s hearing, not a lark.”
    Sean said, “Ummm . . . what’s a lark?”
    “It’s a bird that sings in the morning, dummy. If the sound Juliet was hearing were a nightingale, it would mean they had hours ahead of them. If it were a lark, it would mean he had to leave right away. Don’t you get it?”
    “No, not really. Sorry.”
    She punched him in the arm, but gently. “Isn’t it a bit like this? I mean, isn’t this—you and I, here—sort of like Romeo and Juliet waiting for the lark to sing, so we’ll know how much time we have?”
    “Bren, I don’t know what you’re talking about. Wait . . . was
Romeo and Juliet
the one with the ghost in it?”
    She rolled her eyes. “No, that’s
Hamlet
. Oh, never mind. Honestly, you and your ghost stories. I’d rather think about
Romeo and Juliet
right now than think about one of your made-up, weird ghost stories.”
    “Bren?”
    “
Sean
?”
    “Bren, that story I told you in the truck? That one about me and my uncle, and what happened that night?”
    “Yeah? What?”
    “That wasn’t a story I made up.” He yawned, covering his mouth too late to stifle the sound. “That was true. That really happened.”
    “Sure it did, Sean. I’m absolutely
positive
that I believe you. Is there any more wine?”
    There was, and he fetched it from where the bottle stood against a rock. The wine was fire-warmed. They each had another glass as they watched the flames. Brenda leaned her head on Sean’s naked chest. Her eyelids flickered, felt suddenly heavy.
    Only for a minute
, Brenda promised herself as she drifted on a drowsy river of warm red that flowed smoothly into a darkening cavern behind her eyes, where sleep waited.
We have to get going soon, or I’ll be in so much trouble. Just for a minute.
    Brenda woke shivering in the cold. Her closed eyes stung from the smoke of the dead fire trapped behind her eyelids. She sat up, then rubbed her eyes