Free Drawing Blood by C.D. Breadner Page A

either.
    “I’m sorry your family moved on.” She threw the thought out there to cover the silence. His smile had changed while she’d been taking note of his boots. He thought she was attracted to him. Oh for heaven’s sake –
    “Don’t tell me a lovely lady like you is here all alone?” He moved forward, leaning against the door jamb. She took a step backwards, keeping a hold on the door.
    Why was it when a man made a statement like that it almost always sounded like a threat, even though it was delivered with a charming smile and amiable wink?
    “It’s not your business if I’m here alone. I don’t know you. I invite you to move along. If you’re really trapped for a place to stay the barn will keep you out of the wind and, by the looks of it, the oncoming rainstorm tonight. But forgive me if I insist on staying with my own company.”
    His smile broadened. “I only meant to ask if you desired male companionship, cherie . I mean you no harm. I can see by your hand you are taken, however. I thank you for your kind offer. Do you know if the Boulangers are still in that house up on the hill?”
    The name was familiar as well. “I believe so. I haven’t lived here long. I’m sorry, I can’t say for sure.”
    “Thank you very much, cherie . I will bother you no further.”
    He lightly skipped down her stairs and disappeared in to the gloom. She shut the door and locked it before turning off the lamp in the living room, too. Then she went back to the door to peek outside.
    The stranger stood at the foot of her steps, lighting a cigarette. Abigail frowned, but she wasn’t scared either. This man was odd, yes, but he didn’t seem dangerous … yet. He gave a small wave and she backed up with a soft curse. He’d caught her watching.
    Abigail crossed the floorboards to the kitchen, paced for a couple minutes, then returned to the door. He was gone, and she had no idea if he was still on her property or not.
    Abigail had heard that there were French Resistance fighters out there, but she’d thought it a rumour the Germans started to keep everyone calm. As time went on the stories went from a secret membership to a swarm of gnats in the south that cut phone and power lines, blew up train tracks, hijacked supply shipments. If Abigail wasn’t mistaken, she had just met a member.
    Abigail took the secret stairs to the shelter, knowing the steps from memory. She pulled the door shut by the rope tied to the bottom of the cellar shelf, then at the foot of the stairs she flicked the light on.  She’d taken out three of the five light bulbs in the ceiling, both to conserve light bulbs and for her own preference. It was too bright with all five sockets lit up.
    Her book was open on her bed from where she’d left it that morning. She changed in to a flannel nightgown, kept her wool socks on. It was a warm night, but the shelter managed to stay cooler no matter what the temperature outdoors. She wasn’t sure how the air circulated, but it did. She assumed there was no air sealing around either door.
    Abigail climbed in to bed trying to read, but her mind wandered. She couldn’t focus on the plot.
    So instead she hugged her pillow to her chest and closed her eyes, imaging it was James. She’d had three months of waking up next to her warm-blooded husband, and it was easy to get used to having access to strong arms, a broad chest and warm mouth whenever she needed it.
    Good lord she needed him right then.
    With her eyes closed she called up his face. In her mind he always had that cock-eyed private smile that was just for her. Under the right circumstances that grin made her blush all five shades of hell.  It also made her thrill in places below her belly button … which it was meant to do.
    He was the only man she’d ever been with, and she had no inclination to wonder if that caused her to “miss out” on anything. He was more than she could have wanted. She hadn’t waited for their wedding night, she