"Molly... I mean, we've never even kissed, this is kind of-"

"Sudden?" she finished. "Well, yes, I suppose you're right. Actually, I've only kissed a couple of guys. And one, he was in the patrols, I didn't even want him to kiss me. But he did, and he put his hand on my chest. I yelled, pushed him away, and ran for it. That's the sum total of my s.e.xual experience.

"David, I'm a virgin. I'm going to be with this guy, and the thing that bothers me the most about it... well, other than that I'm being forced to do it in the first place... the thing that bothers me the most is that he'd be my first time. Not a memory I want to have for the rest of my life. I know you, I like you a lot, and I think you like me. You're nice. You're better- looking than some, and brighter than most. You're an officer. A gentleman, too, otherwise you'd already be on top of me."

"It's not like the thought hasn't crossed my mind, Molly."

"Just go slow, okay, David?" she said, scooting her hips up off the floor of the loft and slipping the oversize shorts down to her feet. She kicked them off with the flick of a leg.

Valentine sank to his knees beside her, placing his mouth on hers. He was also inexperienced, his innate shyness and quiet manner made even youthful kisses and pettings few and far between. Molly Carlson, perhaps the most beautiful girl he had ever known, was in his arms and his for the taking. Animal instinct came to his rescue. His young, demanding l.u.s.t took him where his self-confidence feared to tread. He felt her probing hand reach the hardness in his pants. She fumbled with his belt. He wanted to take off his shirt, but her soft, yielding mouth felt so exquisite against his, it was impossible to break contact. She undid his belt and the worn-out st.i.tching of the fly gave way to her hearty pull; skittering b.u.t.tons flew in all directions. He managed to tear his mouth away from hers, laying a series of gentle kisses across her face and down her neck. She giggled and squirmed, thrusting her b.r.e.a.s.t.s against his chest. He pulled his shirt up and off his head and thrashed out of his pants.

She came up to his mouth, pressing him with a hard kiss that went all the way down to his soul, and he lost balance, falling onto his back with her on top of him. Coppery-blond hair tickled his face and neck like tiny dancing fingers as she kissed him. Her hand trailed down across his stomach and found him, first touching, then exploring, and finally gripping his hardness. His own arms traced the muscles on her back and caressed the soft skin of her b.u.t.tocks. She responded, rubbing herself against his thigh, one of her hands playing with his black hair as the other stroked him below.

"G.o.d, Molly, that's good," he groaned, a deep and sensual rasp in his voice. He returned the favor, his gentle hand tracing the outlines of her s.e.x, from the curly triangular mat of pubic hair to the soft folds of flesh between her legs. Their kisses became a rapid staccato, and he felt a rush of moisture come to her.

"Please, David. Slowly, okay?" she breathed in his ear. She turned over on her back, and he followed her movement as if in time to a waltz. She gazed up at him, pupils dilated in the dimness of the loft. He suddenly wanted this moment to be forever, Molly in his arms and the smell of womanhood and clover and a hint of lavender-sweet nepenthe in his nostrils.

He pressed himself against her, kissing her softly and slowly as she guided him inside, and they were one. He took her in a series of slow strokes, each one slightly deeper than the last.

A wince of pain washed across her face and then turned, as an ebb tide gives way to the flow, into a flush of pa.s.sion. Her hands alternately clawed and caressed his rippling back with each deep, slow penetration. They lost themselves, together and yet apart, until at last he climaxed, emptying himself into her as spasm after spasm racked his body, mouth gaping open as if in a scream, but producing only an intense, unintelligible moan.

Afterwards she lay in his arms, drowsing away the afternoon. He teetered on the pleasant point between exhilaration and exhaustion.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

"Wonderful," she said, drawling out the word. She reached between her legs and brought up her fingers. A smear of blood coated her forefinger and thumb.

"Funny. I figured it would be gone after all the horse riding," she mused.

He kissed away the blood from her hand. The girl named Molly who walked into the barn that afternoon would have been disgusted at the gesture, but the woman in her lover's arms thought it touching.

"Ha, fooled you. My time of the month," she said.

He glanced up at her, eyebrows lifted.

"Joke," she said, twitching her nose at him and rolling her eyes.

"Well, since this ch.o.r.e is done, I really have to look into making a pack for my horse,"

Valentine said, not letting her get away with it. She restrained him, tightening her grip around his neck.

"Ch.o.r.e indeed! When I took off my shirt, you about pa.s.sed out."

"Yeah, the blood drained out of my head, all right," Valentine agreed.

"I know where it all went. I'm going to be walking funny for a while, I think."

They kissed, laughing into each other's mouths.

"Seriously now, David. This whole thing actually helps you, too. If you and Gonzo pack up and go right after I do, it will fit perfectly. I'm sure they're expecting you to get p.i.s.sed and leave. You can keep the story about looking for a place to farm west of here. Your work cards are legit. Even if they call Monroe to check it out, your story will stand up."

He rolled onto his back in the hay with a sigh. He did not want the afternoon to end.

"When are you going to Monroe?"

"Tomorrow afternoon. Touchet is leaving for Richland Center the day after tomorrow. Tuesday morning, I guess. That's what Uncle Mike told my dad on the phone today. Is this guy that important that they kidnap young ex-virgins for him?"

Valentine shrugged. "You'd know better than I. But if he gets production out of the farms, I suppose he's pretty important. Their army has to eat, too. Speaking of eating, I wonder if Frat found any rabbits. Your mother makes a great game pie. Oh, G.o.d! Your parents... I'm going to have a hard time acting normal in front of them."

"You and me both. But-what do we have to feel guilty about? You're my fiance, right?"

He chuckled, nuzzling her with his chin. The shyness had magically vanished. Or perhaps it had been exorcised by a far stronger and more ancient magic.

"Molly Valentine," she mused. "Ugh!"

"Hey!" he objected.

"No, I just hate the Molly part. I love Valentine. Melissa Valentine? That's better. n.o.body ever called me Melissa. Molly is way easier to shout."

"Put your pants on, Melissa. Or we'll be here all night," he said, looking out at the setting sun.

"That wouldn't be so bad. I wonder if the patrolman watching the place got an eyeful."

Dinner pa.s.sed self-consciously, but Valentine found he could talk to her parents without feeling too uncomfortable. Her parents seemed to have other things on their minds. All Valentine could do was look at Molly's red, raw lips. How could they not notice that?

Gonzalez noticed something else in the bas.e.m.e.nt as they got ready for bed.

"Hey, Val, what happened today?" he asked.

"Split a lot of wood."

Gonzalez snorted. "You stuck your wedge into something."

Valentine turned around. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Well, your fly's been unb.u.t.toned all night, and your back looks like two alley cats went about fifteen rounds on it. Unless you've been rolling in barbed wire, I'd say someone was moaning in your ear."

"Just go to sleep, funnyman. I was just doing some ch.o.r.es for the family, really. Molly had something she needed fixed, so I took care of it for her."

Gonzalez shook his head and turned over, carefully positioning his injured arm. "You officers get all the good jobs," he observed.

Valentine awoke in the middle of the night to a light tread on the stair. In the dim light shining down from the kitchen, he saw Molly cautiously entering the bas.e.m.e.nt.

"David?" she whispered.

"Over here," Valentine breathed back.

"No, over here," Gonzalez answered. "Shut up, you," Valentine said, throwing his pillow at the scout.

"I wanted to talk to you. Sorry, Gonzo," she said.

Gonzalez swung his feet to the floor with a groan and pulled on his pants with his good arm.

"I just remembered how long it's been since I've watched a sunrise. Don't make too much noise 'talking," you two."

"Thanks, Victor. I mean it," Valentine said.

"You owe me one. See you at breakfast."

He moved soundlessly up the stairs.

Molly scuttled into Valentine's arms. He kissed her, grateful for her surprise.

"Did you want to talk?" he asked.

"Sort of," she said. "But not anymore. Let's go into the secret room. It's dark, and we can make a little bit of noise. But just a little."

Valentine opened the panel in the wall, and they nipped into the deep shadows, holding hands.

"Hey, you used one of those soaps," Valentine whispered, smelling her clean skin.

"Yes, this one's-"

"Roses," Valentine said, caressing her hair. "Beautiful."

She shut the door, and they were in blackness so total there was nothing but touch, and the faint smell of roses.

They kissed and kissing, lay down together. They melded in the darkness, learning new ways to please each other, delight each other, and, finally, love each other.

They said good-byes in a steady, spirit-sapping drizzle. As Flanagan and his ubiquitous shadow waited out of the rain in the patrol car, family, friends, and lovers shared a few parting hugs. Valentine, Molly, and her parents all wore the same air of false cheerfulness that appears at a funeral, after a septuagenarian drops dead in perfect health. "Never knew what hit him," one relative will say to another. "Yes, I'd love to go that way. No pain, no suffering, no illness. Lucky man," the other will agree, jointly looking for the tiny patch of sunshine among the dreary clouds.

The same forced tone was present in Mr. Carlson's voice as he said good-bye to his daughter. Molly wore her oldest cow-mucking work clothes, clean but nevertheless permanently stained. "Country girl he wants, country girl he gets," she had said to her mother after turning down the suggestion that she wear her prettiest dress, a blue- checkered barn-dancer that matched her eyes, to cheer herself up. "No, give that to Mary.

Something to remember me by," she said, leaving the room before her mother could ask what she meant.

"Take care of that arm, Victor," Molly said, shaking his left hand. "My turn to see the big city, Frat. At least Madison isn't Chicago, thank G.o.d. Mary, there's more to horses than riding and brushing them. I'm putting you in charge of the stables while I'm gone, and you'd better keep it clean." Her words to Valentine, in hindsight, also hinted at her dark mood under the steel-gray clouds. "David, you're going tonight, right? When it gets dark?"

"That's the plan. I'm still working on that pack for my horse. We'll be miles away by morning."

She smiled up at him, satisfied. They wandered to the side of the house, where they could kiss without watchful eyes on them. "I'll think of you fighting Reapers, David. You know, now that I've thought of it, maybe your Masada solution is the better one. Take a few of them with you."

"Molly, don't get so grim. You'll look back on this in a couple of years and laugh. Or maybe throw up. But it's not forever. It's really kind of pathetic of him if you think about it.

Sending your b.u.t.t-kissing uncle out into the woods to bring him a dinner date at gunpoint."

"That's the first thing I'll tell him," Molly said, beaming at the thought.

"Come back and work the farm. And just because my plan won't work right now doesn't mean it won't three years from now. Some night a team of Wolves will show up at your back door. We'll get your whole family out."

"If my dad will go. He's pretty committed to smuggling people out of here."

"Well, I owe your family a very big favor. You're going to collect on it. I'll come for you someday in the fall, if I can."

She looked into his eyes. "I think three years from now, you'll have more important things to worry about. Be careful with promises. You know that saying, "Tomorrow is promised to no one," right? That's like the law of the Kurian lands."

"You've got five years promised to you and your family."

"We'll see, David. That bond might be as worthless as the ring he tossed into the audience.

Just go tonight, okay? But can you tell me one thing, David? Was I your first time... you know... lovemaking?"

Valentine owed her the truth. "Yes. I hope you liked it. I've never been very... lucky with women."

"Good. You'll remember me, then."

"I'll remember you as the Wisconsin beauty who was re-ally good at pointing out the obvious," he said, giving her nose a gentle tweak.

They embraced, kissed, and touched each other's faces as if trying to record memories with their fingertips.

"Believe it or not, I'll come for you. It's a promise, Molly." He read hurt disbelief in her eyes.

"No, not a promise: a vow." Now only the hurt remained.

"Don't," she said, unable to look at him. "A lot can happen in three years."

"A lot can happen in three days. Like falling in love, Melissa."

"David, stop. You're just making this hard, making it painful. This is an end. I don't want you to talk like it's a beginning."

He kissed her, trying to win a concession through sheer sensual power."No," she said, lowering her eyes from his. "I can't. Not when I have to... go like this."

She turned and fled.

At dinner that night, Valentine and Gonzalez decided to leave with the first light of dawn. A morning departure, with a quick good-bye to the Breitlings, would seem less suspicious than a midnight escape.

After a final farewell talk with the Carlsons, Gonzalez and Valentine lay in the bas.e.m.e.nt, their guns and packs stored for the last night in the secret room. Gonzalez hid his anxiety about his injured arm well, but Valentine knew the worry dragged at his scout. Gonzalez worked best when the only thing worrying him was what might be around the next bend or over the next hill, so he talked frankly about how they would accommodate his injury on the trip home. The rest of the household had long since retired, and they burned only a foul- smelling tallow dip for light.

"You'll ride," Valentine said after rolling his maps back up into their tube. "I wish we could hang around longer, but it might be months before your arm is totally healed."

"You think it will get better?"

"Of course, Gonzo. Nerve tissue just takes forever to heal."

Gonzalez moved two painful fingers. "I don't know about that. Might never grow back."

"Well, you can move your hand a little. I think that's a good sign. In fact... Hey, an engine."

Both Wolves used their hard ears. It sounded like a truck engine. Perhaps one of the semi drivers was pa.s.sing through with another foundling. But it stopped in the road, idling with thick coughs of exhaust.