Written In Stone

very peculiar man and seemingly a paradox as well.
    ~ * ~
    Carrying the conversation between them, Gavin spoke on a variety of subjects he thought Angie would be interested in, and was delighted to learn she was also well-read and educated. She was as interested in the arts as she was the history of warfare, and he discovered that, before fate landed her in the wheelchair, she had learned to wield a sword and shoot a gun with equal accuracy.
    Unwilling to discuss what had happened to her, other than to say it was an accident and her husband died at the same time, Gavin didn't press the subject. Though he had a million other questions to ask, he sensed her reluctance to open up to him any further, and so he put it away for another time… and there would be another time, he was sure of that.
    Angela Elliott was an engaging young woman who excited him physically, emotionally, and intellectually. That had certainly never happened before. Beautiful, intelligent, and witty, her wonderful laugh sounded like music to Gavin's ears. He certainly enjoyed watching her; such a beautiful face with large green eyes and chestnut-colored hair. Her long neck was slender, her skin creamy and smooth, and her large breasts mov ed rhythmically with each breath.
    When it was time to leave, Gavin helped Mrs. Elliott into her carriage, and though she hadn't invited him to call on her, he felt sure he would anyway. He mounted his horse and headed for home, thinking of his conversation with her the entire way.
    He was smiling when he dismounted and handed the reins to the stable boy and went inside.
    ~ * ~
    "You and Mr. Stone seemed to have a lot to talk about," Mrs. Waterston noted, as she helped Angie off with her shawl.
    "He was quite engaging," Angie replied, smiling and feeling her cheeks color slightly. "It really was quite stimulating to find a man so interesting and knowledgeable about such a wide range of subjects."
    "So it is only his mind that interests you?"
    " Mrs. Waterston, will you see to some tea, please?" Angie blushed and picked up a book. She flipped it open and pretended to read even as Mrs. Waterston continued to stand where she was, obviously deciding whether to continue the conversation or not.
    "Angie…"
    "Tea please, Mrs. Waterston." Angie didn't bother looking up and continued to pretend she was reading the book until she was sure Mrs. Waterston left the room.
    Angie stared out the window, across the rolling green hills dotted with cattle and sheep grazing contentedly. She often watched the animals graze, wondering what it must be like to have no worries, no cares at all. She often wished her life were as content and carefree, and remembered the days when she felt it was. Sighing loudly, she pushed herself toward the sofa then worked to get from the wheelchair to the softer cushions. Feeling nearly useless, unable to do more for herself than put on her clothing, feed herself, and sometimes, move herself either to or from the wheelchair, and sometimes she felt sorry for herself, crying over the situation and her building frustration.
    Each evening she waited until Mrs. Waterston left her alone in her room for the night, then she exercised - stretching her legs, massaging the muscles, and using whatever movement she had. Angie also kept a set of dumbbells hidden under the bed, which she used to exercise her upper body as well. Her upper body strength was increasing daily, but she knew if Mrs. Waterston learned of her lifting weights, it would appall her.
    Angie missed riding her roan mare, missed the gallops through the pasture and into the forest beyond. She missed the pool at the base of the waterfall where she used to strip to bare skin and dive in. She missed digging in the flower gardens, planting and cutting fresh flowers for the vases throughout the house. She missed the home she and Jonathan had shared. It was too big and empty after he was gone, so Angie sold it and bought this smaller one in town, closer to the doctor and other services she might need. Mostly, she simply missed being able to move the way she used to.
    Angie was relieved when Mrs. Waterston returned with the tray of tea, cakes, and honey. She knew she would think herself into a depression if not for Mrs. Waterston's presence forcing her to pull herself out of it. She admonished herself mentally then smiled at her companion as she accepted a cup of hot tea.

Chapter Three
The Auction
     
    Gavin Stone paced the floor of his room, thinking of