I wanted to stay in the woods all night, all week, for the rest of our lives. But we dared linger there together only an hour more—we had to make it back before the household began to stir. My father believed our innocence thus far, but if we were found returning from the woods together in the wee hours of the morning, there was no excuse that would be plausible.
Reluctantly, we rose and helped each other dress, taking the opportunity to let our hands wander over one another all over again.
“We shall never make it back in time if you do not stop that, my love,” Ichabod whispered against my ear as my hands strayed below his waist.
I bit my lip, considering letting him make love to me again, and damn the consequences. I heard his breath catch in his throat and knew that he was thinking the very same thing.
Luckily—or unluckily, perhaps—reason prevailed, and we resumed dressing. I picked up my cloak from the ground—soiled and rumpled; I would need to hide it from Nancy until I could wash it—and draped it over my arm. Ichabod took my hand, lacing his fingers through mine, and together we began to make our way out of the forest, staying pressed close to one another the whole way.
We both slowed as we came out of the trees and crossed the road, approaching the fields that surrounded my house, eyes sifting through the darkness to see if anyone was watching, then paused when we reached the side door that led into the kitchen.
Swiftly, Ichabod pressed my back up against the house and kissed me, crushing my body against his briefly before releasing me. “God help me, I wish I was not leaving in the morning,” he said.
“When … how shall we meet again?” I asked, only now beginning to see the difficulty of the thing. “You shall be in the village, and I here … where can we meet safely? How will we communicate with one another? When—”
“Shhh.” He pulled me close. “Do not fret, my love. We will find a way. I … I will borrow a horse, buy one, if I must, and ride to meet you. And I will still come to give you music lessons, if your father is agreeable, yes?”
I brightened. I had forgotten. “Yes,” I said. “And then we can make … arrangements.”
He smiled. “Indeed. Very pleasurable arrangements.” He kissed me once more. “When we go inside, I shall go into the kitchen, so if anyone hears and awakens, I can say that I was simply getting myself some milk.”
“And I shall go straight upstairs.”
“Yes.” His lips found mine again, and lingered, knowing it might be some time before we could be alone together again.
Finally, too soon, we broke apart and entered the house as quietly as possible. I moved swiftly toward the back stairs, while he remained in the kitchen. Once there, I balled up my cloak, stuffing it into the back corner of my wardrobe, then quickly removed my dress and changed back into my shift. Noticing traces of blood on my thighs, I quickly dipped a cloth into the bowl on the washstand and cleared it away. I shoved the cloth under my bed until morning, when I could dispose of it. Then, at last, I climbed into bed. Yet even then the nervous, euphoric energy of the night would not leave me, and as such, it was not until dawn was bleeding into the night sky that I finally fell asleep.
* * *
I had expected to be despondent when I awoke, knowing Ichabod was leaving, yet I was not. Though I barely slept, I rose with an enormous grin on my face, one I would be hard pressed to hide from the world.
Nancy knocked twice, then bustled in. “Good morning, Miss Katrina,” she said. She paused. “And what are you so joyful about this morning?” she asked. “Is it a holiday I don’t know about?”
“No,” I said, trying and failing to dim my smile. “Just … just sweet dreams, I suppose.”
“Mmmhmm.” Nancy studied me for a moment. “Sweet dreams about that handsome schoolteacher, I wouldn’t wonder.”
“Nancy!” I shrieked, feeling my face redden. I had to fight to fend off a fit of giggles.
Luckily, she had turned away to open my wardrobe. My grin fading, I held my breath, hoping she would not notice the cloak; but she merely pulled out a clean dress and shut the door. Thankfully, she made no other teasing comments and simply helped me dress as usual. As soon as she left, I went straight downstairs, not wanting to miss a moment of Ichabod’s presence.
As it happened, my parents had laid out a large breakfast in the dining room, with fresh rolls, cheese, slices of chicken and ham, and some strawberries. I walked in to find Ichabod already seated at the table with my mother and father. He and my father rose as I came in.
“Good morning, Katrina,” my father said. “We decided to send young Mr. Crane off in style. Join us, won’t you?”
“Of course,” I said, taking a seat directly across from Ichabod. Our eyes met, and to my horror I felt my blush return, remembering in far too much detail the night before, how his skin felt against mine, how it felt to have him inside me. Quickly I looked down. By God, but it is a good thing he is leaving, I thought fervently. I could never behave normally around him after that. Never.
“Good morning, Miss Van Tassel,” Ichabod said, perfectly courteous, and in glancing up, I saw he was avoiding my gaze as well.
“Good morning, Mr. Crane,” I said, matching his tone. A slight, mischievous smile curved my lips. “I trust you slept well last night?”
I thought he was going to choke, but he managed to swallow the sip of tea he had just taken without incident—barely. “Indeed,” he said. Ensuring my parents were both distracted, he cocked an eyebrow at me.
I looked away, fighting back laughter yet again. Oh, thank God he was leaving. We would never survive more than an hour with our secret intact.
The rest of breakfast passed without any incident. Once we were through eating, we all rose and moved toward the front door, where Henry, my father’s manservant, had already brought down Ichabod’s two bags and his guitar.
My father and Ichabod shook hands. “It has been a pleasure having you,” my father said.
“Indeed,” my mother said. “You may expect invitations to dine with us in future.”
He bowed to my mother. “Nothing would please me more, madam. Truly, the pleasure has been all mine in receiving your wonderful hospitality, and I shall be forever grateful.”
Apparently the talking to my father had given the both of us yesterday was to be forgotten and not spoken of again.
Ichabod turned to me, and could not entirely mask the heat in his gaze. “Miss Van Tassel,” he said, taking my hand and kissing it. Even so innocent a touch of his lips caused my breath to catch in my throat. “I shall see you in two days’ time in the afternoon, when we shall continue your musical education, yes?”
“Yes,” I echoed, struggling to control my voice. “I shall look forward to it.”
“As shall I.” He turned away from me and tipped his hat to my parents. “Thank you again, dear sir and madam.”
“Not at all,” my father said. “And indeed, I do have a parting gift for you, if you will be so good as to accept it.” He let out a sharp whistle, and Henry rounded the corner, leading one of our horses—the older gray gelding.
“This is Gunpowder,” my father said. “I present him to you, sir, as a gesture of my gratitude for your work in Sleepy Hollow, and in the hopes of making your way here a bit easier.”
I was speechless, and I could see that Ichabod was as well—though not only with gratitude. We had spoken of how he might somehow find a horse—and here my father was, presenting him with one. It was nearly too good to be true.
This boded well for my father’s opinion of Ichabod. Perhaps things were not as dire as we’d thought.
“I … I do not know what to say, sir,” Ichabod said. “I am quite overwhelmed with gratitude.”
“You are most welcome,” he said. “And now we bid you good journey, and hope to see you soon.”
We waited as Henry and Ichabod attached his bags to the saddle, and once that was done, Ichabod slung his guitar over his shoulder and mounted up. He swept off his hat again. “You have my infinite thanks, all of you,” he said. “May we meet again soon.” His eyes locked on mine in the final instant before he wheeled Gunpowder about and turned toward the road into the village, away from our farm.
My parents went back inside, but I could not resist watching until he was completely out of sight. I felt naught but desolation as I watched him ride away.