"No, I want you to listen to me. Your slim chance, it involves us trying to slip out, becoming runners, right?"
"Not just us, everyone. Your parents, the horses, even the dog."
"Listen, David, you're crazy. None of us are in shape to ride or walk for days and days. And they're watching us. If my uncle's letting us see two men, that probably means there's six more all around somewhere. He's no doubt let the Breitlings know that if we try something stupid, they can get the five-year bonds just for calling the patrols.
"They're only giving me an illusion of choice in the matter. My mom didn't say it, but I think that one side of the coin has the promise of the bond, but the other has a threat. If the bishop says frog, my uncle jumps. He's not going to let something like family get in the way of orders."
Valentine opened his mouth, but she stepped toward him and gently cupped her hand over it. "David, I'm glad you were thinking about getting us out. Before this stuff with Touchet, it would have worked, I'm sure. No one would have expected us to up and disappear. We could have done it with you guiding us. You know, almost nobody has maps anymore. None of the roads have signs. I couldn't find my way to Madison if I wanted to, or anywhere else outside a twenty-mile circle." She pulled her hand away and hugged him. He put his arms around her, strangely unhappy at the embrace. "You're being good and brave," she said. "But let's face facts. I'm not a damsel in distress, and there are too many dragons anyway. This guy is a big shot. He's going to get what he wants. I see a few cow farms I've never seen before, and some backwater towns. I get a trip to Madison. Maybe he just likes having a girl on his arm to impress people, who knows. So I sleep with him. One thing's for sure, I don't want a baby. My mom said there's a way-"
"Molly, don't say it. I don't want to think about you doing that," Valentine said, twisting his mouth in disgust.
"What, pregnancy? Well, you're a man. I guess you don't have to think about it if you don't want to. You seem a little old not to know the facts of life, but women have to consider the possibility."
"No, I've just heard things. About women dying that way, you know."
She looked down the aisle of horses and patted Lucy on the nose. Valentine looked at her, in an old pair of her father's pants cut off at the knee, breasts swelling under a T-shirt. In her disheveled state, she looked younger than her eighteen years, too young to be cold-bloodedly discussing abortion.
"Well, with luck, the old fart's incapable," she said, closing the discussion. She walked down the line of horses. "Great, the hay nets are empty. Mary only wants to ride and groom horses; she leaves the mucking out to Frat and me. Poor things! Sorry, guys, we can't turn you out in the new field until the fence is done! These two new horses ate up what grass you guys left in your pasture. Do me a favor, David. Can you get two bales from the loft? I'm going to water these two."
Valentine crossed to the barn and climbed into the hayloft. He liked the sweet smell of hay and alfalfa up there, masking the cow odor from beneath. A couple of sparrows hopped and played in the air, and spiderwebs caught the sunlight like little silver flowers.
He heard the ladder rungs creaking. Molly joined him in the loft, a determinedly cheerful smile showing off her good teeth. She had washed her face at the horse-pump, her T-shirt had a wet, face-shaped patch over the belly where she'd used it to dry herself.
"Thought I'd give you a hand with the bales. They're really loose. Sometimes they're hard to handle. But if you bale hay tight, it gets all mildewy and rots. We can't afford to waste anything."
Valentine sniffed .a bale. "Hey, you're right. I didn't know that. All the hay I've ever seen has been packed too tight. Doesn't smell as good as this."
"That's the clover. We grow that on the other side of the road."
She cut a bundle and spilled it onto the floor of the loft.
"Very funny," Valentine said. "How are we going to carry it now? Or do you want to make a scarecrow?"
"Sure, David," she said, her eyes big and bright. "We can use your clothes. Why don't you take them off and give them to me."
"What's that?" he said.
She knelt in the hay. "Too shy? Okay, I'll start."
With a quick, graceful movement she pulled her T-shirt up and over her head. Her shapely young breasts bobbed enticingly as she leaned back into the hay. Valentine stood and gaped, feeling his groin swell, otherwise utterly dumbfounded.
"David, do I have to spell it out for you? Let's make love. I need you to do this for me."
"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 sexual 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 lust 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 stitching of the fly gave way to her hearty pull; skittering buttons 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 breasts 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 buttocks. She responded, rubbing herself against his thigh, one of her hands playing with his black hair as the other stroked him below."
"God, 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 sex, 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.