Chapter 10 "The Rider Who Fell from Heaven"

From here on this story is for adults only. And this is your trigger warning too. Things are about to heat up and get gritty.

This is the second draft of the 10th chapter of “The Rider Who Fell from Heaven.” It will likely be different from the final version based on additional edits and YOUR INPUT!

Eliza woke in Sera’s arms. Birds heralded the morning along with the rooster crows. The sun had just peeked over the horizon and painted a faint orange glimmer in her house. The day had begun.

Two years since Jonas passed and she hadn’t been touched in all that time. Before coming to Drythorne, back in Missouri, it was not unusual for friends or even strangers to casually brush past her or give her an enthusiastic hug. Something she took for granted. But not here. Drythorne was a wasteland of empathy. Arid as the cracked earth that surrounded the town. Emotionally barren. The lack of touch made her feel like a ghost, invisible to the world.

She ran her hand over Sera’s strikingly smooth chest. He didn’t carry weight around his waist like most men his age. He was muscular and lean. An artist should study his physique. He looked like one of Michelangelo’s white marble statues, quietly breathing in and out. In and out.

Last night, it took so long for him to let go and rest. She refused to go to sleep before him, but he fought so hard to stay awake. His sleeping patterns were likely created over years of sleeping on the trail, or while being pursued, or in enemy territory, or in an unknown place. Perhaps worried about the weather. Fearing for his safety from animals or men with ill intent. He must have learned to be eternally on alert. Sleep was when he was most vulnerable. He probably never slept like a king. But he was a king right now.

Sera bolted upright, inadvertently pushing her aside, hands in fists, half asleep, scanning her house. He looked surprised. Bewildered.

She cemented next to him again and stroked his face. “It’s okay. No danger.” Barely above a whisper.

His taut muscles soothed again. He turned to her and smiled sheepishly, “I don’t think I’ve sacked out like that in over a decade.”

“You’re safe here…”

She never had amorous congress quite like last night. Eliza had been with Jonas often before moving to Drythorne, they were trying to have a child, but his bread-and-butter skills were perfunctory. When she was younger she met a sailor who was a friend of her father. He was experienced and showed her plenty. They were both eclipsed by Sera.

When he was pounding into her she lost track of who and where she was. She completely faded into him. It was a dance of unimaginable pleasure. Overwhelming. Incredibly passionate. And unforgettable. “We had a magical night.”

He leaned over and kissed her gently. “That we did.”

She rolled out of bed and replaced the chemise he had torn in two. “I have something special for you this morning.” She slipped on the chemise as he stirred.

“I should get going. Talk to the sheriff. And the Shaws…”

“Oh no. No, no, no,” she playfully wagged her finger at him. “You’re not running out of here this morning, mister. Stay in bed or go sit on the couch. You’ll leave when I say so.”

“But…”

“I said no.”

“As you wish.”

He stayed in bed while she padded across the floor, picked up a large pot in the kitchen, went outside to the water pump and filled it. She returned to the stove, placed it on top and started a fire. She glanced over at Sera on the bed. He had a quizzical crease between his eyes, trying to suss out what she was doing.

She grabbed a bucket and went out to the pump to fill it. Tiptoeing across the floor, trying not to spill a drop, she dumped it in a Kohler claw-foot tub. The tub was an indulgence that she bought when Jonas passed. Before that, they used a metal tub they drug in from outdoors and it worked fine, but it was rigid, stentorious, and muddy. The Kohler cast iron tub with an enamel finish was pretty and purposefully impractical. It was a well-considered discordant object. Designed and executed to thumb her nose at the dusty hardscrabble frontier.

Sera rose from bed and put on his drawers. He was stretching as she went back outside. This would take a while. It was all a pain in the ass. That’s what made it special.

She came back to find him on the couch, watching her go back and forth. “Can I help?”

“Absolutely not.” This was for him. Engineered to be overblown and completely unnecessary. A deliberate waste of time. For someone who, she imagined, had never been gifted an extravagance. “Just relax.”

She took the boiling water off the stove and poured it into the tub, filling it up again, placing it back on the hot stove.

Sera grabbed her copy of “Jane Eyre” off the table and flipped through it. “Any good?”

“It’s a story that reminds me not to judge too quickly. About a man convinced he doesn’t deserve to be loved.”

He set the book down as if it were infected, grabbed one of her horehound drops and popped it in his mouth. Leaning back on the couch, he settled in for an extended wait.

It was bright outside before she poured the last pot of hot water into the tub. She tested it with her hand and nodded her head. She locked eyes with Sera and curled a finger toward her. He bridged the distance between them.

She was on her knees when he arrived. He was naked from the waist up, and then from the waist down when she pulled off his drawers. His manhood was right in front of her, thick and long. Unobscured by pubic hair. And resplendent.

Eliza turned her hand upside down and waved it over the tub. “Well… get in.”

He stepped into the tub, cautiously at first, then confidently when he realized that the temperature was perfect.

There was a short drape on a rail that she pulled around the tub, creating a private space with diffused light through a small side window. Only the creaks of wooden planks and splashes could be heard. Time slowed down. It was just the two of them. The world could go to hell.

Eliza opened a cabinet with her bathing supplies. She ordered a few bars of Yardley’s English Lavender when she got the tub. Another ridiculous luxury. Most people on the frontier made soap with ashes and animal fat. It was harsh and made you smell like pig. Others just used water with no soap. And some just skipped bathing altogether. That was not her way.

She dipped the soap in water and worked it in her hands. Moving behind Sera, she lathered his long blond hair. The lovely fragrance of lavender colored their world.

“There it is,” he said. “Lavender will forever remind me of you.”

She pushed him forward and used a cup to run water through his hair. “Your lips write poetry, sir.”

Yes, he was the most masculine man she had ever met, but it was tempered with such grace. He had a quiet certainty about him. He was so gentle and considerate with his horse. And, of course, he had helped Lucien, Polina, and her, expecting nothing in return. Sera deserved this. He deserved an oasis of peace.

She wanted to be that oasis.

He was wound like barbed wire. Forever ready to attack and defend. Uncoiling him was a monumental endeavor. It might take a lifetime.

Eliza created more lather, spread it on with her hands, and used a brush to get his back and chest. She was rhythmic and thorough. Taking her time to dote on him and enjoy their time together. He exhaled and sank into the tub. A tiny victory.

She leaned over him and brushed his chest and stomach in the same manner she did with his back. Occasionally her ample chest would brush against his back and head. Her hair was damp from dipping into the water. She fought the urge to tame her locks and centered on him. She stopped scrubbing and stole a glance at him. His eyes were at half-mast, breathing in languid tempo. He looked right at her, then to the window for a tick, and straight forward, blinking a few times. When his eyes found her again he reached up with his wet hand to cradle her chin.

“No one…” He swallowed. “Thank you.”

Eliza stood up and removed the chemise. She couldn’t afford to buy a new one each time. Stepping into the tub she put her legs around his torso as he adjusted to her. She put his scruffy face in her hands and kissed him with all her spirit.

He pulled her naked body into him and hugged her so deeply that, for a heatbeat, she couldn’t catch her breath. Neither air nor water was between them. And only the sound of morning birdsong broke the silence.

This chapter didn’t exist in the first draft.

I added this chapter to give Eliza a moment to reflect on what happened the previous night and to give them both another intimate moment together. I also wanted to define her motivations better and set up some things in later chapters.

I worried about putting them together in such an intimate way, but after sitting with it a few days I no longer feel that way. I think this does some heavy lifting the first draft didn’t do.

When I finished drafting this chapter a few days ago I had a weird reaction. I don’t think I’ve ever written a scene like this. I tend toward loud and direct scenes. This was soft and tender and quiet.

After a little reflection and doing some editing, I like it.

But I’d really love to hear what YOU THINK! I’m kind of flailing around here, hoping I’m hitting the right notes.

If you enjoyed this chapter, please share it!

I want to hear from you! What did you love? What did you hate? Did I miss something? Predictions? Let me know in the comments below! Your input could change the final version of this story.

This is the second draft of the book and will not be the final printed version.

To read from the beginning start here: https://kdhooper.substack.com/publish/post/199260832