Hunting for Love Read Online Free Page B

man ruled by
impulse, by desire.   As Henry seemed to
adjust himself into Gavin’s body, it was like he could see all of it.   His dreams—cut short by his death—his needs,
his fears.
    Henry feared losing Louisa.   She was like the glittering grains of sand on a beach—the harder he
gripped her, trying to keep her with him, the faster she slipped through his
fingers.  
    He feared it so much that he blamed himself for their death
in the fire so long ago.   That he ended
his love, his beautiful and vivacious Louisa who dared to do anything for him,
ate at his soul all these years.
    And he couldn’t even tell her he was sorry in all these
years he’d been trapped in this house.   No matter how much he might have wanted to just hold her, beg her
forgiveness, something kept them apart.   He could sense her, as if she was just on the edge of his vision, but
never see her.   Never speak to her.   As if the veil that dropped over him when his
life slipped away while he coughed and choked separated him from the thing he
most wanted to find.
    He’d waited so long for her.
    Never waste a moment, Gavin.   The ghost’s voice was like some internal one,
like that little narrator in his head but not his.   Never
waste a moment because you never know which will be your last and the hell I’ve
been in all this time?   I wouldn’t wish
that on anyone.
    Gavin’s hand lifted, a strange sensation since he wasn’t the
one controlling it, and touched the face of his lover.
    Gavin felt himself fading to the background, as if he was
just watching a movie starring his own body rather than taking part in what was
to come.
    ****
    Louisa looked at her hands.   It felt strange, after being so unable to touch, to feel sensation
against her skin, to suddenly have all of it back.
    These arms were far more naked than hers had ever been in
the light of day.   Far
darker, too, as if the sun kissed the flesh.   The palms, even, were rougher.  
    She took a testing breath and enjoyed that simple sensation
of her chest filling and emptying without coughing.  
    For so long, she’d been trapped in a circle of events.   When darkness fell on the plantation she
relived her own death as surely as the clock chimed the hour of midnight.
    Now, on the anniversary of the events that changed
everything, she could speak the words trapped on her tongue since that first
night.
    “Henry?” He looked at her.   Although the body was strange, she recognized her lover in the angle of
his head, the arch of his brow, and the slow curl of his lips.
    “My Louisa—”
    Using a finger to silence him, she shook her head.   Tears threatened, making the image of him
waver and dance in the failing light. "I've waited so long to tell you I’m
so sorry, my lover.   My pride had me
striking out at you, acting the fool, when all I should have done was hold
you.   Tell you I loved you.   Assuaged your fears rather than becoming so
defensive.”
    He clutched the hand attached to the finger she’d pressed to
his mouth, hugging it to him.   “No, sweet Louisa.   Never blame yourself.   It was me,
my foolish pride that had us battling that fateful night.   I should never have doubted you or our love.   Can you ever forgive me, darling, for causing
this dreadful mess, this catastrophe?”
    Rising to her toes, she wrapped her arms around him, the
wonderful solid and warm mass of him, and met his lips, speaking the language
of the heart as she took his mouth with hungry possession.
    He returned her fervor with a matching starvation, as if their
flesh alone had needed this contact, needed this confirmation of their
feelings.
    He pulled back after a moment and her heart stilled in this
strange, borrowed chest.   The last time
he pulled away from her, he’d filled the air with painful accusations, with
lack of trust and ugly things that destroyed their world and separated them for
generations.
    But this time, his lips curled into a devilish smile.   “There