The Mammoth Book Of Vampire Stories Written By Women

Danielle paused in her squeezing. "You have decided to hire him?"

The man stamped his cane and frowned. "You mean to question me?"

"No, sir," said Danielle, and looked away long enough to roll her eyes in Marie's direction. Marie put her hand over her mouth so as not to giggle. "He sleeps in the calves' barn, sir."

"And where is the calves' barn?"

Danielle pointed down the path.

An oily nod and the man meandered off up the path. "He shall be employed," whispered Danielle as she began squeezing again. The thin stream of milk sizzled into the bucket; the cow's tail caught her across the cheek. "He shall be able to stay here!"

"You take care, now," said Marie. "He'll be busy and so will you. He's not a doctor to make excuses for your absences. Madame Duban may be old but she can smell the scent of sex like a horse can smell fire."

Danielle grinned. "Then I'll steal some of her cheap perfume. And we'll make time. And aren't you just jealous?"

Marie put the empty bucket down by Danielle's stool and put the wooden churn lid in place. "I have my fun, don't worry about me."

The girls laughed heartily.

With the onset of April, planting time arrived. The Little Farm's plots were ploughed by one of the imbecile boys from the hospital who was strong enough to guide the sharp furrowing blade behind the old sorrel gelding. The girls followed with bags of seeds on their hips, sprinkling the soil and covering up the grooves with their bare feet. It took several days to put in the rows of beets, cabbage, beans and onions.

Yet her days were more pleasant, in spite of back-bending work and the flies, for at night she sneaked to the barn to make love with Alexandre on the blanket in the straw. Each encounter was a flurry of heat and joy, followed by the muffle of pounding hearts and the sounds of Paris's night streets. When lovemaking was done and their passions spent, Danielle lay in his arms and asked him about his day. How many shoes had he repaired, how many new pairs had be requisitioned? Had he a cobbler's shop within the institution, or did he carry with him tools from room to room? What was it like in the prison? She had seen only the kitchen and the cellar; did the men foam at the mouth and chew off their fingers?

But Alexandre gave up little detail. He had a wooden work-box with tools, purchased for him by Monsieur LeBeque, which he took around with him when he was called for repairs. Monsieur LeBeque himself had requested a new pair of boots for which he supplied the leather. "It is work I know," Alexandre said simply. "I shall do it until I must find something else."

"Why would you need to find something else?" asked Danielle. "I know your lodging is poor, but surely they shall find a room for you soon."

"I do not want a room, I want this barn and you."

It was on the fourth night that, lying against Alexandre's chest, her fingers probing his nipples, she looked at the makeshift shelf and said, "What is that book there, my dearest? The black leather?"

Alexandre wiped his mouth and then his chest, pushing Danielle's fingers away. "It's a Bible."

"You?" marvelled the maid. "A God-loving man? I've yet to hear you preach to me, only to cry into my shoulder, 'Dear God, dear God!' in the height of your thrusting!"

Alexandre didn't return her laugh. His jaw tightened, drawing up the hairs on his chin. "Don't blaspheme."

"I'm not, Alex," said Danielle. Pushing up on her elbow, she took the book from its beam and brought it down to the hay. "I was raised a Catholic, I know the wages of blasphemy, at least in the eyes of the clergy."

"Put it back, please," said Alexandre. He held out his palm, and the insistence in his voice taunted Danielle and made her laugh the more. She sat abruptly and flipped open the pages. "Book of Temptations? Book of Trials? I've not seen these in a Bible. What is this, truly?"

Alexandre shoved Danielle viciously against the stall's scabby wall and snatched the book away. "I said put it back! Do you not know what to leave alone?"

Danielle blew a furious breath through her teeth. "Oh, but I do now, Monsieur Demanche! It is you I shall leave alone!" She scrambled to her feet, knocking straw dust from her breasts and arms. "I'm never worth more than a few days, anyway! Ask the doctors!"

But Alexandre's face softened, and he grabbed her suddenly by the wrist and said, "Don't leave me. I've been alone always. Please, dearest Danielle, I'm sorry." His voice broke and went silent. And she held him again then, and knew that she loved him.