Bronnah tries to move and gasps when she realizes Chase is holding her with one arm around her waist and his other hand cupping her breast. Blushing in the dark she attempts to pull away, but he throws a leg over hers and squeezes gently. Bronnah gasps and her body responds by arching into him.
Chase groans and grinds against her and she can feel his response to her. Dear lord, the man feels amazing! For a moment, she is tempted to take what she can from him and be damned with the consequences. Shocked at her thinking, she freezes, and wonders who this woman she has become is. It feels so good to be held, but Bronnah knows she can't rely on him. He's a Marshall, and he isn't ready to settle down.
Chase twitches and snores softly. Bronnah's arm is attached to his by a pair of handcuffs. Her wicked grin is hidden by the coal black darkness of the house. A crack of lightning splits the air, and the wind and rain pick up pace as if sensing her intentions. She closes her eyes when he murmurs and rolls onto his back releasing his grip on her. Taking a full breath, she tries to remember her lessons.
One learns many things working in a poor house. He left her carpet bag next to the bed, and she drops a hand inside and smiles when she finds it. The richest to the poorest, the holiest to the wicked, all simmering in a pool of desperation. Sometimes the best that they could do was pass on their knowledge, and Bronnah was a sponge. She learned many things from the Sisters, but the most interesting lessons came from the inmates. The click of the cuff sounds like a gunshot to her ears, but over his heavy breathing, it's merely a silent whisper. Bronnah reaches up and snaps the cuff to the rod iron headboard and swings her legs over. Walking as silently as she can she moves through the keeper's house to the door, stopping only to glance behind her for a moment before straightening her shoulders and continuing.
A crack of lightening ricochets off the walls and thunder seems to vibrate the entire lighthouse. Chase jerks awake and reaches for Bronnah only to discover empty space. Sucking in his breath, he tries to sit up but finds to his astonishment that she has cuffed him to the headboard. "Son of a bitch!"
Chase listens and knows in this weather she couldn't have gone very far. He always keeps a spare key in his pocket, but his arms are over his head. After a few moments of cursing, he breaks the headboard free from the rails and curses. After some struggling, cursing, banging and beating, he hears her wicked laughter and sighs in relief.
Snatching the lantern from the table, he keeps the light low and runs from the room, not bothering to check the other bedroom. Chase runs up the spiral staircase into the main lighthouse. Bronnah is perched on a wooden bench in the dark with the occasional lightning bolt surrounding her.
“What are you doing?” he asks.
“Bad dreams,” she answers not bothering to look at him. “I dreamt I was handcuffed to a large obnoxious bear who kept groping me in my sleep.”
"That's funny, I had a similar dream except mine involved a fairy with a wicked sense of humor strapping me to a bedpost." They laugh for a few seconds until another bolt of lightning strikes, illuminating the entire tower. "It's amazing, isn't it?" she asks.
He sits next to her crowding her and stares. "It sure is." His deep voice sends chills through her body. Bronnah knows she shouldn't hold any thoughts in her heart about a future with him. Chase is a Marshall. He's addicted to his job, and his life is far from here, at least that's what she tells herself.
Afraid to look at him she continues staring out at the night sky. After a few minutes, she snaps, “Why are ya staring at me?” Chase grins enjoying the coziness of the moment and sighs.
“I don’t get you. Chasing criminals is my job. It’s what I do, part of who I am, but you, you’re are a healer. Bronnah, you lose your husband, your family, and even your country but you still hope. You’ve seen the worst in people. Their greed, lust, aggression and even their willingness to do whatever it takes to have more, but you refuse to give up. Why?” He demands desperate for the secret. She’s silent for a long few minutes.
Finally, she turns to look at him. “Because, Chase, it’s who I am.” Standing up she walks over to the glass window that overlooks the sea and puts a hand against the glass. It steams beneath the heat of her handprint. “You’ve got it all wrong. I came to America with no hope, Chase. Our country is being destroyed by this more you speak of.”
Bronnah pushes away from the glass to look at him. "The landowners want more money, and the people need more food, which means more jobs. But there seems to be a catch because the more they have, the more they want and need. Always is this cry for more! More crops to send to England, more families to work the land or more sheep and cattle to farm." Tossing her hair back over her shoulder she walks closer to him and cups his face in her hands.
"I came because I didn't want my own story to be part of that same narrative. It never changes. I thought that by making the choice to leave, I would change the outcome, but it didn't. I won't let their need for more destroy me."
Chase tugs her onto his lap and kisses her softly. "Bronnah, you make me wish for things I didn't think I wanted." Her hands trap his
