What was she going to do, just knock on the door of his
cottage? She turned and looked back up the hill to her home. A
few lights glowed - Matthew's office. She swallowed, and her left
hand throbbed some more.
Yes, she decided, that was exactly what she was going to do.
She moved on, her pace quickening, her heart pumping. Shortly the
stables came into view, illuminated by both the light of the moon
and by the floodlights surrounding the property. Trailing along
the border of light, just beyond its edge, she grew excited and
reckless, like an inexperienced burglar. Her brisk walk had
warmed her and she unzipped her jacket as she stealthily slipped
around the stable.
She passed the main house, where the ranch's owner lived alone.
Purple-blue light flickered from an upstairs window. About fifty
yards from where she stood were two small cottages. She had
passed them many times while riding. Jean-Pierre lived in one of
those cottages, and though she had never been invited inside, she
knew which one was his because he had mentioned once that it
afforded a beautiful view of the pond from his bedroom window,
through which he could see her home and its rear upstairs light
glowing late at night. Though her home was too high and far away
for him to see inside, she was excited by the thought of him
lying in his dark bedroom, fixated on her bedroom window.
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