I could not sleep that night, nor had I expected to. Instead I indulged in my fears and wept, then once spent lay awake, dry-eyed. Everything was slipping away from me, and as hard as I tried, I could not seem to find a better purchase with which to hold on.
After midnight, I heard a set of footsteps come from the guest rooms. They paused outside my door, then continued on down the stairs.
In the silence I seemed to hear Charlotte’s voice again. Be careful, Katrina.
I would not heed her. I could not, anymore. For what had careful gotten me?
I leapt from my bed, prompting Nox to raise his head and look at me quizzically, and quickly changed from my nightgown into a simple, dark gray dress. I grabbed my cloak, to hide my face and keep me warm against the cool night air—and donned my boots. Moving as quietly as I could, I left my bedchamber, closed the door behind me, and tiptoed down the stairs. At the bottom, I paused, listening to see if I had roused any servants—or worse, my parents—but all was still.
I returned to the site of our first rendezvous: the kitchen. As I pushed open the door, I found Ichabod waiting within. His palms pressed down on the counter, his head bowed, as though deep in thought. He raised his head when he heard me, and a lifetime’s worth of conversation passed between us as our eyes met.
Yet some things still need to be said aloud. “I cannot wait any longer,” I said. Though I spoke softly, my voice rang through the dark, silent kitchen. I walked around the counter toward him. “I cannot wait any longer to be yours. I … I love you too much.”
“Katrina,” he sighed, as though part of him wanted me—and himself—to turn back. Instead, he closed the distance between us and kissed me, deeply and slowly, a promise of what was to come.
He rested his forehead against mine. “Katrina,” he whispered again. “Are you certain?”
I was certain, because I was possessed of a fear that this night—perhaps a few nights—might be all that we could ever have. I could no longer speak; I only nodded. I pressed my fingers to his lips and drew him after me, through the house and out the back door. Across the road we went, and into the forest. Neither of us spoke; we made as little noise as possible as we found our way through the dark to our spot by the stream. Even then, thoughts of the Headless Horseman flickered through my mind, and I wondered if he could see us, if he knew we were there—but that night was different. I was with Ichabod, and nothing could harm me so long as I had him. And more frightening than venturing into the woods at night was the thought of who I might become if I stayed in the house, if I obeyed, bent and broke beneath such strictures as propriety and what’s best for you and a good woman.
We reached our favorite place, our sacred place, and I removed my cloak to spread it on the ground. I turned to face him, trembling, from both chill and nerves, uncertain of what to do next.
“Katrina,” he said again, as though he could never say my name enough, as though it tasted like the finest of wines on his tongue. “I never replied to you there.”
“Wha … what do you mean?” I stammered.
He stepped closer to me, brushing my loose hair away from my face. “When you said you love me,” he said. “What I meant to say was this.
“I love you as well. I love you beyond all sense and reason. I love you so much that though I know I should put a stop to this, return us to our own beds, I will not. Because I love you so much there is nothing on this earth that could compel me to refuse time with you. And I love you so much that I cannot resist the thought of becoming yours. Yours and yours alone.”
Tears clung to my lashes before splashing down my face, as his beautiful words flowed over me and caressed my skin. He drew me into his arms, kissing the tears from my face. His hands worked to undo the lacings of my dress, and when his fingers fumbled I drew back.
“Let me,” I said, kicking off my boots and removing the simple garment so that I stood naked before him, shivering with cold and desire and uncertainty.
His eyes took in every inch of me. Even in the dark, I knew he could see me clearly. “Do not leave me all alone,” I said with a coy smile, reaching down and pulling his thin shirt off over his head. I leaned in to kiss him again, and the feel of his lean, bare chest against my naked breasts caused me to sway on my feet, lost in the forbidden sensation I had barely dared to dream of. He groaned against my mouth.
“How rude of you to remain dressed when a lady is unclothed,” I teased as we broke apart.
“Rude indeed,” he said with a devilish grin, and bent to remove his boots and breeches. When he straightened, I found myself blushing and averting my eyes, suddenly afraid to look at that part of a man with which I was still unfamiliar.
His grin faded as he approached me, seeming to sense everything I could not say. He pulled me to him and kissed me again, more hungrily and urgently this time, and the whole lengths of our naked bodies pressed together. I shrank away at first from the feel of his manhood against me, mentally cursing myself for acting the silly, inexperienced virgin, even if that was exactly what I was.
I drew him down upon my cloak, so that we lay side by side upon it. His hand traveled along my side, coming up to cup my breast, his long fingers gently toying with the nipple. I gasped at the sharp twinge of pleasure that shot up through me from my core.
He turned me so that I was laying on my back, and replaced his hand with his mouth. I uttered a small cry, grateful we were deep enough in the woods that no one could hear us. “Yes,” I whispered.
His mouth shifted from one breast to the other, his hand sliding down between my legs. Nervous, I wanted to clamp them together, but allowed myself to relax into his touch, letting his hand move between them, stroking me in that secret place a woman was supposed to reserve only for her husband. Yet no marriage bed could have felt as sacred as that night did.
I gasped as his fingers moved gently within me, bringing forth sensations I had not thought my own body capable of. I arched my back, pressing against him, wrapping one leg around his waist, bringing him closer to me. “Yes,” I whispered. “Please.”
His breathing was heavy as he withdrew his hand. We were so close I could feel his heart pounding. Even so, he paused, bracing his weight on his arms so that he hovered above me. “Katrina. Katrina, my love. Are you certain?” he asked again.
“Yes,” I breathed. “Oh, yes.” I wrapped my arms around his neck and drew his lips down to mine, and as we kissed again I felt him lower his weight onto me, felt him at the entrance to my body, and opened my legs a bit wider. The kiss went on as he gently, slowly entered me. I jerked away and cried out at the sharp pain.
“I am sorry,” he whispered. “I am sorry, my love.”
I looked into his beloved eyes above mine in the dark. “I … I know,” I said. “All is well.”
With that, he began to move within me, and I became consumed by feeling, by the strange, awkward, intimate, yet pleasurable movement of his body inside mine, reveling in the feeling of our closeness, as close as two people could physically be, and felt in that moment that our hearts, our souls, were as close as they could be as well. Pleasure and happiness swept through me. I understood how desire culminated in this act, and why it was called the act of love, and I never wanted it to end.
He cried out and shuddered in his pleasure, resting his head against my shoulder, spent. I held him against me, both of us panting, the sheen of sweat on our bodies cooling in the summer night’s breeze.
“God and the devil together forbid I shall ever be without you again,” he murmured. “A life without you would be no life at all.”
“Never stop saying such things to me,” I said, pressing my lips to his. “I want nothing but you and your beautiful words for the rest of the days of my life. Never leave me.”
He returned the kiss, hard. “Never,” he said. “I will die first.”
He lifted himself off of me and drew me against his side, his breath slowing. Tears seeped from my eyes again. I would never have expected it, but it hurt to be this happy.