Topic: A Question Of Impulse

Marin

Date: 2012-04-10 05:22 EST
((The following scene contains adult situations. Please do not read if such content offends you.))

Marin had woken up before midnight tonight, her body anticipating the violent attacks on her doors back and front below. She rolled onto her side, her hand wrapping about the shotgun on her bedside table. Despite knowing she wouldn't be able to fire it, she felt a little better just holding onto the heavy piece of weaponry. Sitting up, she strained her hearing, just waiting for that first rap against wood that would signal two hours of hell, just like the past nights had contained. And then she heard it ....below her open window, the sound of feet against the dry grass. Someone was moving backwards and forwards beneath her window - whoever it was knew she slept in this room!

Terror gripped her again, for the third night in a row, and she felt the beginning of her natural reaction to cry beginning to well up. The shotgun was abandoned in the bed as she slithered hurriedly from between the sheets, not even bothering to snatch up her robe tonight. She didn't want to be in here, not if her tormentor knew where she slept already.

Exhausted and still recovering from the bullet wound in his side, Evan had fallen into a restless, feverish sleep, tangled in his blankets, sweating and yet shivering with cold. It wasn't an infection that was causing the fever, so much as exhaustion and dehydration. As restless as his sleep was, he was oblivious to any trouble outside Marin's window, or despite the fever, he would have been up and prowling about with revolver in hand.

Shivering herself for no other reason but fear, Marin reached Evan's door just as the first bang resounded through the house. A quiet sob escaped her throat, one hand muffling the sound as the other turned the door knob, letting herself into her guest's bedroom and closing the door firmly behind her. Her deep blue eyes turned to the restless shape on the bed, feeling a little calm reassert itself at the tangible knowledge of a capable man in the house, even if he was wracked with fever.

He was mumbling a little in his sleep, incoherently, not making much sense, eyes moving beneath closed lids at the dream that was running like a bad horror film through his brain. On the verge of waking, completely unaware of the women who'd just crept into his room or the intruder outside.

Bang. Bang. Bang.

Pressed back against the door, Marin felt herself shake with each impact against the guard she had installed over the back door earlier that day. It wasn't very sturdy, she knew, her imagination offering the terrifying image of the guard being ripped free, the back door buckling inward, and that ....that man below being free to roam her house. The sound of something metal being dragged down over the steel wire of that guard screeched, setting her teeth on edge, and her nerve broke, sending her scurrying barefoot to the bed.

She slid under the covers with him, barely noticing the fact that Evan was still fully dressed again, and pressed her face into his chest, her hand rising to cover her ear as she squeezed her eyes shut. "Go away," she whispered into the darkness, her voice tiny and without force. "Please ....leave me alone ..."

Somewhere in Evan's fevered subconscious those bangs on the door were registering and forcing their way into his already troublesome dream, illiciting another half-mumbled groan from the man as he started to come to. His shirt was only partially buttoned, soaked in sweat, hair plastered to his cheeks and forehead. Thankfully, she had slid into the bed on his uninjured side but even so, that slight movement was enough to jerk him out of a restless sleep. Startled by her unexpected intrusion, he was jerked awake, eyes wide with alarm, instincts kicking in before he realized who she was. He rolled over, reaching for her hands and pinning them over her head, peering into the darkness at her face.

She hadn't expected any kind of reaction from him - he hadn't even woken up last night, she'd had no reason to think he would this time. But despite the surprise, she didn't make a sound as his weight rolled onto hers, the soft weakness of her form pinned easily beneath his as she gasped amid the noise from below. Her eyes opened wide as she stared up at him through the gloom, unwittingly displaying the traitorous heat that his dominant action had stirred in her.

It took a moment or two for the brain fog to lift from his brain, induced by both fever, sleep, and exhaustion, realizing several things at once - that it was Marin who'd invaded his bed, that she was barely dressed, that she appeared either shocked or afraid, and that it sounded like someone or something was trying to get into the house. He let go of her hands but remained where he was, pressing a finger against her lips to indicate that she should keep quiet, while he lifted his head, tilting it to one side to give a closer listen to what was going on outside.

Shocked, afraid, definitely uncertain how she was supposed to react to having a very attractive man lying on top of her, Marin nodded hurriedly in answer to the gentle press of his finger against the full curve of her lips, her breath quick against his skin as she watched him look up.

Below them, the impacts against the door had stopped, but the sound of feet beneath her window two rooms along had not. There was a long pause, and suddenly another shuddering bang as something large and heavy slammed against the shutters protecting the glass of her bedroom window. Marin jumped violently at the unexpectedly close sound, a faint whimper escaping her lips as she squeezed her eyes closed, one hand covering her own mouth as the other curled into the shirt Evan wore.

Evan didn't look afraid, so much as annoyed, angry even. God help whoever it was that was trying to frighten her if he got his hands on them. He looked back at her, gray-green eyes glassy with fever, but in complete control of his wits. The fact that there was a beautiful woman lying beneath him was more than a little distracting, especially to a man who hadn't been with a woman since his wife had died, but there were more pressing matters at hand. He looked back at her, whispering a quiet, "Shhh," as he pulled away from her, slipping out from beneath the blankets to his feet and grabbing his six-shooter from the side table.

She pushed to sit up as he slipped from the bed, her shoulders hunched, arms wrapped tight about herself. Blue eyes watched him as he took up his gun, and despite the common sense that was trying to prevail, she, too, slid out from under the blankets to press close against his uninjured side. "Don't leave me," she whispered, gripping at his shirt as another resounding thump of what must have been a brick against the wooden shutter two rooms along hammered through the house.

He started toward the window, slowly so as not to make a sound, not even the creak of a floorboard. Glancing back when he heard her plea and felt her grip his shirt, he realized how truly terrified she was, which only fuelled his desire - his need - to protect her and keep her safe, something he believed he'd failed to do for something he'd loved once before. He made no reply except for a sharp nod of his head, laying a finger against his own lips to silently remind her to keep quiet.

She nodded again, the motion jerky and almost too quick to make sense of, her fingers flexing in and out of the cloth at his back as she pressed her face to his shoulder-blade, only just tall enough that her curls tumbled forward from her temple to hang over his shoulder. Below them, the sinister laugh that had so terrified her during her first encounter with this nocturnal tormentor echoed up to the cracked window, fading as footsteps moved away.

Marin

Date: 2012-04-10 05:28 EST
Evan moved to the side of the window, close enough that he could peek at the intruder, but far enough away that he couldn't be seen from from outside, moving the curtains slowly and carefully, just slightly away from the window to get a clear look who was down there and what they were up to. He heard the sound of a single man's laughter and then footsteps moving away. He waited for a moment, prickling his ears to listen for any further movement.

Close against his back, Marin moved with Evan across the floor, knowing all too well what was coming next. Her mind desperately ran through the evening before they had separated to bed - had she locked all the shutters" Both doors" Were they secure in here or had she left some way for this bastard to get in" Perhaps a little too obedient to Evan's silent order for her to stay quiet, she didn't warn him, muffling a squeak of fear against his back as the familiar hammering of something hard against the front door made itself known.

He furrowed his brows as he turned his head toward the door, hearing the distinct sound of hammering coming from the front door. He threw another warning glance at Marin and started toward the bedroom door and the hallway that led down the stairs, pausing a moment as a thought occurred to him and turning to face her. "Where's the shotgun?" he whispered, as quietly as he could.

It took her a moment to answer, forced to find her voice from wherever it was hiding before she could give him the information he needed. "My room," she whispered back, up on her toes to let her breath brush over his ear. "He'll go away by two o'clock, he always does." She didn't say it, but it was clear that she was suggesting he not do anything - just stay there with her until the noise and fear went away.

Her additional comment seemed to suggest that her tormentor had been here before and that only made Evan angrier. He had no time to explain what he had planned, no time to explain why he couldn't allow this to continue. He was already out of bed, and he wasn't going to cower in a corner like a coward waiting for the man to go away so he could come back and repeat his torment her again. "Go get it," he instructed her quietly, wondering why she'd left it there, assuming she'd been too terrified to know what to do with it.

The darkening of his expression was somehow more upsetting than knowing she was being deliberately targeted, that someone was trying to run her off her own property. Believing Evan was now angry with her, Marin stepped back from him hurriedly, the hunched wrap of her arms about herself somehow managing to make the little woman seem even smaller as she turned and scurried from the room, all but silent with bare feet against the smooth boards of the floor. Her chemise was dark in color, which only served to highlight the pale expanse of her bare arms and legs as she hurried into her room and emerged once again, gripping the shotgun in trembling hands.

He watched the hourglass silhouette in the dark as she darted away from him. He would have preferred to keep her close, but he didn't want to leave her behind without a means of protecting herself, in case something happened to him. He listened quietly, waiting until she returned, silent and still as stone. He knew she was terrified, but there was no time to comfort her now. If they were lucky, there'd be time for that later. Upon her return, he very slowly cocked the hammer of the revolver back and handed it to her, reaching for the shotgun. "Go to my room and stay there. If anyone but me tries to get inside, don't ask questions, just shoot 'em." The sixgun was loaded and ready to be fired; all she had to do was point and pull the trigger.

Her expression became a grimace of outright alarm as she realised what he was intending, trembling fingers automatically closing around the handgun he gave her in exchange for the shotgun. "How will I know it's you?" she asked in a shaking whisper, holding the smaller gun as though it were a grenade close to going off.

"You'll know," he whispered back, confident she'd be able to tell the difference between him and an intruder who meant her harm. He'd make sure she knew it was him before he barged through the door, whereas an intruder might not be so careful. He was tempted to kiss her before he left, but there was no time. Turning, he didn't wait to see if she'd do as he said, but started quietly down the stairs, disappearing in the darkness on his way to the back door, rather than the front door as might be expected.

The constant banging against the front door ceased as Evan slipped into the kitchen, the sound of boots walking back across the porch and down the steps clearly audible. There was a moment of quiet, and the sharp retort of a gun firing off. The lock on the front door shattered, the door itself swinging open with a bang as upstairs Marin's frightened little scream made itself known. Apparently tonight the stakes had been raised.

Hearing the sound of the gunshot and then the front door slamming open, following by Marin's scream, Evan didn't hesitate but turned back, not for the front door, but for the staircase aiming to cut whoever it was off before they could reach the stairs, lifting the shotgun and bringing it up to his shoulder.

A burly male silhouette filled the doorway, the face shadowed by the brim of his hat as he advanced into the main room. Stupidly, he didn't even notice Evan's shadow moving toward the stairs, distracted by the shimmer of Marin's disobedient crouch at the top of the stairs. That cruel laugh made itself known once again. "Interrupt somethin', did I?"

Evan came to a halt a few feet from the stairs; instead of getting in the man's way, he simply raised the gun and pointed it his way. There was no way he was going to miss at this range. "Don't move," he told the man sharply.

Those shadowed eyes turned from where they had been openly leering at Marin's generous, scantily-clad form to glare along the double-barrel of the gun into Evan's eyes. "I ain't moving," he said in his low voice. "You shoot, and she's got a lot of explaining to do when the Watch get up here."

Evan wasn't sure if the man had a weapon or not and he didn't want to take that chance. Perhaps stupid on his own part, as he didn't really know anything about this world, but he wasn't going to let anyone intimidate him.

"Do what I said and don't come out til I say," he instructed Marin in a stern voice, eyes and shotgun fixed on the man before him, ignoring the fever that made him feel like he was about to burn up. "I ain't gonna miss, and dead men don't talk," he told the man curtly, not bothering to fill in the blanks, his threat clear enough.

"No." Despite the shake in her voice, Marin was surprisingly firm, sighting along the hand gun in her fingers. "I'm not hiding from this, Evan."

The object of both their aim, the man who had been tormenting her for the past three nights, didn't even shift position, his thin lips quirking into a nasty smirk. "Shame wives ain't meek and mild here like they are back home, right, Lassiter?" The way he said the name suggested that there was a chance this man knew Evan's past, or at least a little of it.

Marin

Date: 2012-04-10 05:32 EST
Evan clenched his jaw when Marin refused to leave, preferring her to stay out of harm's way, but he had to admit, she had gumption and two guns were better than one, so long as she hit the right target. Evan's finger remained steady on the trigger, though he was almost itching to pull it. Just give me a reason, he thought to himself, giving no visible reaction when the man called him by name and hinted at knowledge of his past. All that did was solidify Evan's suspicions that Rogier was behind all this. He was, after all, the only one besides Marin who knew him by name. "Shame if she got spooked and pulled the trigger. Don't rightly feel like digging a grave tonight, but I will if I have to."

The unnamed stranger snorted with laughter, supremely unmoved by the threat of bullets fired in his direction, even by Evan himself. "I'm going to say it again," he warned them both. "I end up dead, your girl there's got explaining to do. Folks have already died on this farm, or didn't she tell you?"

Evan wasn't as easily frightened or intimidated as some would be in such a situation. He'd seen worse than this and survived and fairly recently, as evidenced from the wound in his side. "I suggest you hightail it outta here, if'n you wanna see the daylight." He thought about stepping forward, but instead stood his ground, not budging an inch. "I ain't telling you again."

"I'm going." Their unwelcome visitor stepped backward at a leisurely pace out onto the porch, his hands spread wide from his hips. He nodded to Marin. "Evening, Mrs Lassiter. Apologies for the inconvenience." Dark eyes turned back to Evan with a cruel smirk. "Mr Lassiter. Be seeing you."

With confidence that was almost as terrifying as his successful attempt to get into the house, he turned his back to the shotgun levelled at him and walked calmly down the porch steps, mounting a patiently waiting horse whose hooves had been gloved.

Evan followed the man's retreat out onto the porch, the shotgun held steadily in his arms, no reply to the man's barely veiled threat. He waited until he was on his horse and getting ready to leave before firing a single warning shot, purposely missing the man's head, the shot whistling dangerously past, close enough that the man would probably feel it.

The man jumped, his hand going straight for the gun holstered at his hip. His clear intention to shoot back, however, was foiled by the panicked rear of his horse, the dark stallion pawing at the air violently enough that he had to clutch at the reins before the creature thundered into a gallop. A bullet whistled back as the horse bore his rider out of range, slamming into one of the porch columns closest to Evan.

He barely flinched when the bullet hit the porch, watching as the man made his retreat, only lowering the shotgun when he deemed it finally safe. His face was shrouded in darkness, his expression grim. He wasn't looking for trouble, but it seemed that somehow trouble had found him. He exhaled a slow, weary sigh, wondering what the hell he was supposed to do now. He was only one man, against who knew how many' All of this was reminding him of what had happened to Ellie, a fate he didn't want Marin to share.

There was a long moment of tense silence that hung over the house like a thick, stifling blanket, broken by the tentative tone of Marin's voice, sounding far too close. "Is he gone?" she asked in a shaking tone, stepping into the moonlight from inside the doorway, the gun held loose at her side. "Evan?"

It seemed that suddenly a million thoughts were running through his head. Questions without answers. He heard her voice, tearing him away from those thoughts, and he felt his heart sink. It was all happening all over again. "He's gone," he replied, not turning to face her, looking off into the distance toward the figure that was no longer visible in the darkness. "Reckon you oughta tell me what?s going on." He knew what she'd already told him, but he wondered if there was anything she'd left out.

The sound that left her wasn't a moan of relief. It wasn't even a sigh. It was a rushing breath that signalled the loss of all that tension as she sagged back against the doorframe, her free hand pressing to her mouth as she stifled the urge to tears once again. It took another moment or two for her to be able to answer him. "I did," she said in a tiny voice, barely noticing the coolness of the breeze that ruffled her thin chemise in the moonlight. "I just didn't tell you about the man trying to get in at night, that's all. I didn't think he'd come back, not once they knew that I wasn't alone here anymore."

"They," he repeated, turning to her finally, eyes moving over her and realizing she must be freezing in that....whatever it was she was wearing which left far too little to the imagination. "You mean Rogier and his men." He only realized just then that he was shivering with cold and took a long-legged step back toward her and the front door, shotgun in one hand, reaching for the revolver with the other.

She pushed the revolver into his outstretched hand without needing to be told, hating the fact that she'd even aimed the thing, much less had been almost ready to fire it. "I didn't know it was him until this morning," she said in a voice that bordered on frantic. "Why are you angry with me?" Trembling, she pushed from the doorframe and inside, not wanting to be under that censuring gaze of his any longer.

He uncocked the revolver one handed, like it was something he was accustomed to and could almost do in his sleep. He arched a brow at her outburst, wondering where that had come from. He wasn't angry at her; he was only angry at the situation and at the men who were trying to hurt her. "I ain't..." he started, looking confused, but then she had turned her back on him and was heading inside. He sighed again, feeling caught in a no-win situation. Someone was going to get killed, and he didn't want it to be her.

There was a yelp from inside, accompanied by the thump of Marin's bare toes impacting with the leg of one of the couches. She whimpered, obviously hopping as she gripped her sore foot in one hand, falling to perch on the arm of the couch that had attacked her in the darkness. Even the sharpness of physical pain wasn't enough to completely wipe away the sting of Evan's anger away from the upset of the evening thus far, and a small, heart-breakingly frightened sob broke the quiet to reach his ears out on the porch.

He frowned when her heard her crying. Despite the yelp, he blamed himself for her tears, believing that his being there had only made things worse for her, harder. He shoved the sixgun into his pants and followed her inside, setting the shotgun near the front door and closing the door. He'd have a better look at it in the morning and make sure it was secure.

"Marin..." he ventured quietly as he approached her on the couch, his heart lurching at the sight of her, only partly due to her tears. He'd only been there a few days, and he knew he was already starting to care for her. Instead of waiting for her to reply, he went to her, lifting her chin to face him, brushing the tears from her face. "You should leave here. Go to town. Some place safe."

Marin

Date: 2012-04-10 05:38 EST
Her tears weren't out of control, easily swept aside by the gentle brush of his calloused fingers as she sniffed faintly. Blue eyes met his with trusting defiance. "I'm not leaving, Evan," she insisted, rising onto her feet once again, though this didn't really change the disparity in their heights. "This is my home, it's all I have left of my family. Don't tell me to run away."

Without thinking, she let her arms rise, looping gently about his waist as she leaned into him, lowering her head to press her face into his chest, her lips brushing the skin bared by his half-buttoned shirt. "Please don't leave me now," she whispered fervently. "I need you."

And also without thinking, his arms went around her to envelop her in his feverishly warm embrace, feeling torn between his need to protect her and his desire to keep her close. His fingers wove their way between her curls, letting them slide softly between his fingertips as he held her close, his pulse leaping into his throat when he felt her lips against his bare chest. "I ain't leaving and I ain't angry, but I'm only one man, and....I wouldn't be able to live with myself if something happened to you. It ain't worth it, Marin. It ain't worth losing your life over." He spoke as if he was someone who knew.

Her head lifted slowly, the gentle smoothing of her hands against his back proof enough that his embrace was more than welcome without the tender warmth in her eyes as her gaze met his. "I know what I'm doing," she promised him, rising on her toes to bring her face closer to his, unable to hide the very physical reaction to the sensation of their bodies rubbing together. "We won't be the only people here much longer. I just need a little time to get the old hands and their families back, that's all. Just a few more days."

He searched her eyes, wondering what it was she wanted from him, what she needed him for. When the old hands returned would she need him there any longer" He'd already claimed to be her husband and he wondered if by doing so, he'd put her in greater danger. "And what then" You think he's gonna stop" I've hurt his pride. He's gonna be back with a vengeance. I told you I was trouble."

"No, I don't think he's going to stop," she said, shaking her head vehemently. "I think the more time goes on and he doesn't get what he wants, the worse things will get. The more I'll need you." She let out a sigh, her jaw jutting out for a moment as her gaze lowered, stifling the impulsive suggestion that rose in her mind. "It's not you he's going to want to hurt. It's me. And he's already proved that if he can, he'll marry me just to get his hands on my parents' land. And ....and the only thing I can think of that might stop him from doing that is to ..."

She paused, her gaze flickering up to his once again. "Well, it's to get married to someone I choose, someone I trust, before he finds out that we're ....Oh gods, this sounds so awful, especially after you told me about your wife, and ..." She pressed her forehead to his chest once again with a reluctant groan.

He rubbed her back, almost absent-mindedly, frowning while he listened to her, knowing where her thoughts were taking her, and also knowing that it wasn't as simple as she made it sound. She didn't seem to understand that if he was the one thing that stood in Rogier's way, it was him that Rogier would want to get rid of first, but pointing that out would only frighten her further. "My wife died because I wasn't there to save her," he admitted quietly, knowing he would have willingly sacrificed his life for Ellie, just as he would for Marin. "If I were back home, I'd call him out, but I don't know how things work here."

"Out here, we're on our own, pretty much," Marin told him with a quiet sigh, her hands smoothing from his back to curl with startling familiarity at his hips. "The Watch don't have jurisdiction, much less the power to enforce the law." Her head tilted back to gaze on him once again.

"I'm not asking you to do anything you don't want to, Evan," she said softly. "If you don't want to marry me, that's fine. Even if you do, I won't expect anything from you, I promise. But if you did marry me, then the rights to the land go to you and your family, and since you don't have any family here on Rhy'Din, if anything happened to you - which I would never allow - but if anything happened, the land would revert as property of the Governor's Office in the city."

By the time she had finished this little speech, her cheeks were bright red, but she was determined to continue. "And with the hands and their wives back, there will be too many people here for Mr Rogier to dare mount any kind of attack on us without some word of it leaking through beforehand."

He furrowed his brows down at her, pulling away and holding her at arm's length, settling his hands on her shoulders, which were distractingly bare, trying to keep his eyes from wandering and having a hard time. She had strung a lot of words together, and he wasn't quite sure what exactly it was she was trying to get at. "What are you trying to say, Miss Marin?" he asked, still looking confused.

He had known her barely two days, and some of that time had been spent in an unconscious stupor. Was she asking to make a business proposition or did she want something more"

"Um ..." The chill of the air against her where previously had been the feverish heat of his body did nothing to make certain parts of her less distracting to look at. "Well, I, um ..." She swallowed slowly, lifting her hand to bite at her thumbnail. "I suppose I'm asking you to marry me." Did she dare to add that ideally it would be a true marriage" Sadly, not yet. Some part of her upbringing was refusing to concede the idea that it was possible to be certain of someone and your feelings for them after only two days.

A marriage of convenience, he assumed with a small frown. Unable to stand any longer, he lowered himself onto the couch to think it over, shoving a hand through his hair to push it away from his face. "What happens when all this is over" When Rogier don't want your land no more" What happens to..." Dare he say "us?" "What happens to me?"

She winced, realising too late that she should have kept talking. He seemed hurt, somehow, disappointed by what she had verbally offered. Was it really so hard to tell how much she liked him, how comfortable she was in his presence? Hell, look at what she was wearing now! How many women had he known who weren't prostitutes who were comfortable to stand close to him when they were barely decent' "Well, I ..." Her fingers touched together as she picked at her nail, lowering slowly to the couch beside him. "I would ....I'd like to think you would stay," she said finally, her voice quiet but deeply touched with hope. "I wouldn't hold you here, not if you wanted to go, but ....I know we don't know each other well, and it isn't the way things are done, exactly, but, well, I think together we could have a good chance of a future." Her eyes turned to his profile, hope warring with a wary fear of an outright rejection in the sparkling blue of her gaze.

He tried to remain stoic, but a variety of emotions played across his face, and he wondered if he should tell her the truth. Her, a stranger, someone he'd only known two days, and yet felt inexplicably drawn to almost from the first moment he'd laid eyes on her. He thought it was silly, really, what he was feeling, but he couldn't deny there was something about her, and it wasn't merely the fact that she was beautiful or barely decent.

He might as well say it, lay all his cards on the table, or at least, the important ones. If she was serious about this, then she needed to know. He chewed at the corner of his mouth as he considered it, leaning forward, hands clasped between his legs as he contemplated it. He wasn't quite sure what to do. There was someone who needed him back home, and someone who needed him here.

After a long moment, he finally spoke, his voice sounding more weary than he meant for it to. "I got a daughter back home. Little girl. Her name's Maggie. Margaret. I ain't....I ain't seen her in a year," he continued, a frown on his face, not meeting her gaze.

Marin

Date: 2012-04-10 05:41 EST
A child. Marin felt her hope drain away at that, the instinctive response to urge him into returning home to his little girl rising before she clamped down hard on it. She could understand why he hadn't said anything before, of course she could. But quiet common sense reasserted itself before she could give up entirely. Her hand snuck over to slide her fingers over his palm delicately, inserting themselves between his digits. "Is there some reason why ....why she couldn't come to live here?"

He wished he had his hat so he could fidget with the brim, but his hands were disturbingly empty, until he found her fingers sliding between his own. He wasn't the type who cried often, but he felt a strange burning at the back of his eyes at the thought of his young daughter, and he closed his eyes against that pain. He hadn't cried since Ellie had died, and he wasn't going to start now.

"It ain't safe here, Marin." He turned his head to face her. "It ain't safe anywhere." He clenched his jaw against the wave of pain that accompanied that thought. Damned if he did and damned if he didn't. Back home he was a wanted man, and here he had Rogier and his men to worry about.

She bit her lower lip, unconsciously shifting closer until her thigh pressed to his, her other hand moving to cover his. "We can make it safe," she told him firmly. "This isn't Earth, Evan. We have access to magic, and technology ....there are so many things we can do to make the Brambles somewhere safe for her. But ..." Her voice tightened, forcing her to swallow before she went on, pushing away her selfish desire to have him there with her no matter what. "If you can't stay, then ....I understand. I'll think of something else. Your daughter needs you."

She wasn't hearing him or maybe she just wasn't understanding. Now that he was here, he couldn't go back there. They'd hang him if he did. His daughter was there and he was here, separated by Fate. Maybe it was better that way. Safer, at least for her.

"You..." He let his eyes drift over her form finally, taking in all of that womanliness - the more than ample curves, the softness of her, the blue of her eyes, the red of her hair. Suddenly, he longed for something he hadn't had in a very long time. Suddenly, he longed for an end to the loneliness.

A question entered his mind, one he was afraid to ask, but needed to know, if only to understand what was happening between them, to know it wasn't just concern for herself and her homestead that was spurring her on. "Are you falling in love with me, ma'am?"

A soft smile touched her lips, her gaze lowering to their joined hands as her skin pinked delicately at his question. "I know it sounds ridiculous, but ..." Those warm, tender blue eyes rose to find his, holding his gaze with hopeful sincerity. "Yes," she breathed quietly. "Yes, I think I am."

A thought occurred to her, something that might be giving him problems with his answer to her tentative suggestion of their marrying. "You wouldn't have to go back, to bring your little girl here," she said softly, squeezing his hands between her own. "Mr Hayes might be able to think of some way to bring her here without putting you in any more danger."

For some reason, though they'd only just met, the thought of her caring for him stirred something inside him - feelings he thought he'd never know again and a strange sense of hope. Perhaps to build a new life here with her. A second chance to make things right. He looked into her eyes, searching for sincerity, that she wasn't just using him for her own means. What it was she saw in him, he didn't know.

"Why me?" he asked impulsively, a million questions rattling around in his fevered brain again. He didn't know who Mr. Hayes was or how he'd be able to bring Maggie there, but first things first.

Marin's gaze was almst wet, but oh so tender, as she gazed into his eyes, needing him to trust and understand her as she answered him. It was such a simple reply, but one she couldn't put any other way. "You need me," she told him gently. "And the more I'm around you ....the more I realise that, that I need you. I want you in my life, Evan, more than I've ever wanted anything."

What was it about this delicate creature that so touched his heart' In a way, she reminded him of Ellie, though Ellie'd had hair the color of wheat, eyes the color of a clear, summer sky. So different and yet so much alike. Her words touched his heart, stirring up old feelings he'd thought he'd never feel again and yet, they had only just met. "We hardly know each other," he pointed out, his thumbs rubbing the backs of her hands, almost without realizing it.

"Do we need to?" She shivered lightly under the gentle caress of his thumbs over her skin, reacting more strongly than she had thought she would to his touch in such a context. Her breath deepened, quickening just a little as her gaze warmed, staring into his beautiful eyes in quiet amazement. If he was surprised by his stirring toward her, she was no less surprised by her own desire for him - not just physically, but in every other way. "Some people say that ....that love happens instantly, no matter how little you know about the one you want."

He had kissed her once, briefly, too brief really to have judged anything by it. They'd pulled away from each other, perhaps both of them afraid of whatever it was they were feeling, but two days or two years, there was only one way to know if what they were feeling was real.

Gently, he tugged one hand from her grasp, rough yet gentle fingers grazing her cheek, searching the sapphire depths that looked back at him, gaze drifting to the lush lips that begged to be kissed. He paused a moment as if debating, and then he leaned toward her, capturing her lips with his own, taking his time, as he did with most things, the heat radiating from him to her only partly due to fever.

He had nothing to offer really. No money, no land, only a horse and a sixgun to his name, nothing of any real substance but himself. Was this what she really wanted" A man who had nothing but himself to offer"

She stilled, frightened to react in case this was some dream, in case he might disappear if she dared to lean in and take more of the tenderness he offered. But slowly, as the heat from him eased through her, caressing deep inside at the longing she'd been denying since he'd first opened his eyes and looked into hers, Marin felt a soft moan well up from her throat, her hand rising to curl against the roughness of his unkempt beard as she nestled closer, her lips parting to ask tentatively for more.

He sensed the longing in her, unable to miss the cues and clues she was giving him. The vibration of her moan against his lips was like a ripple effect, sending a shudder up his spine, his whole body tensing as he felt desire welling up inside him, like a fire burning inside him and spiraling outwards. He pushed his hand back through her hair, lips parting to deepen the kiss, tongue searching and exploring, tasting the sweetness that her mouth had to offer. Though not skilled with women, he'd loved someone once, and it was the memory of the time spent with her that served him well now in showering another woman with his affection and attention.

A slow intake of her breath filled her with the scent of him, that unique musk that underpinned the smell of blood and sweat and dirt that still clung to him and made her nose wrinkle in unconscious reaction. Her other hand left his fingers to join the other in cradling his jaw, the memory of his injury and the pain he must be in softening the kiss for a moment as she twisted to lean over him. She'd had lovers in the past, of course; but none of them had made her want so much so quickly, and yet still have the restraint to break her lips from his with a tender smile. "Does that answer your question?"

Marin

Date: 2012-04-10 05:45 EST
He sighed softly as she broke away from his lips, desire clashing with the need to take things slow. "Been so long I forgot what that felt like," he admitted quietly, with a flush of embarrassment, feeling suddenly more self-conscious than before. He knew he looked a mess and that she wasn't seeing him at his best, but somehow she didn't seem to mind so much. "There's a lot to to tomorrow. We should get some sleep."

She nodded slowly, lowering herself back to the couch beside him as her hands retreated, not so shy about stroking her fingertips over his bare skin this time. "We should," she agreed softly, and yet made no move to get up just yet. There was something she wanted to tell him, that he had the right to know. "Evan, I ....You have the right to know. I'm, I'm not a ....I've been with other men, before now. But with you ....I want to do things right. That is, if you did just agree to marry me, because if you didn't, then, well, it doesn't matter, does it?"

His forehead wrinkled as he tried to suss out what it was she was trying to tell him. That she wasn't a virgin" Why did that matter" He wasn't either. "That don't matter none, Marin," he said, thinking he should probably get used to calling her by her first name, for starters. He thought, too, there were probably things she should know about him, but not now, not tonight. There'd be time for that soon enough.

Relief touched her smile as she stroked his cheek. "I'm glad," she breathed gently. "I just, I thought it might matter. I thought you might be offended by not being the first." She shook her head. "Silly ideas about Earth and the Wild West, I suppose."

"Reckon I'm a speck old fashioned to someone like you." He actually smiled a little, faint lines beside his eyes crinkling. "Why should I be offended" You ain't my first neither." Though there had only been one other in all his days.

"Well, the common perception is that, in your time, men could do who they liked whenever they liked, but if a woman lost her virginity before her first wedding night, she'd never be more than a whore," she chuckled softly, shaking her head. "Sorry, I sort of assumed ....wrongly."

"Some men might think that. I ain't one of them." He paused a moment before continuing, not one of many words usually. "Only woman I ever..." He broke off, leaving the rest unsaid, breaking from her gaze to glance aside.

She felt his discomfort, not letting him look away for long. Her hand curled tighter to his cheek, drawing his gaze back to hers. "I'll never ask you to forget her, you know," she promised him fervently. "She's a huge part of your life. But please don't think you need to hide how much you still love her. I know you do, Evan."

He turned back to her when she drew his gaze toward her, feeling the weight of her eyes on him, seeming to bore into his very heart and soul. If she asked him for the moon at the moment, he would have promised it to her. "I killed the man that killed her." It needed saying, almost like a confession, and by letting her know that, it should tell her what lengths he was willing to go to to protect and avenge those he loved.

Marin stared back into his deep, gray-green eyes and felt her natural aversion to violence swept aside on a wave of fierce approval. "Good," she nodded firmly, stroking her thumbs against his cheekbones. "I wouldn't expect anything else from you."

That simple touch stirred something in him again, feelings buried deep, an almost fearful look in his eyes, afraid of letting himself love again, afraid he'd lose her just like he'd lost Ellie. But no, he wouldn't let that happen again, not to her, especially not to her. "Maybe I'm here for a reason, Marin," he ventured, hinting that maybe that reason was her.

"I hope so," she murmured back to him, still gazing into his eyes with tender longing of her own. She'd forgotten her lack of decency, his injury, everything but the promise of being his that he had not yet given her truly. "Oh gods, I really hope so ..." She cut off her own eager breath as her lips descended to his once again, still gentle but passionate in her own small way.

Even though he prided himself on being a gentleman, not one to whore around like so many back home, he was a man with a man's needs and desires and that gentle yet passionate kiss rekindled the flame that was already burning inside him, made of both desire and something deeper, a longing for companionship and an end to loneliness. His lips met hers and he was on fire, trying so hard to resist his body's urges and failing. He moaned softly against her lips, his heart pounding in his chest. Why she wanted him, he didn't know, and though he didn't admit it, he wanted her just as badly.

There were many different kinds of courage, and what Marin lacked in some areas, she made up for in others. The woman who couldn't sit through the sound of someone banging on her doors without crying was all calm confidence as she rose from the couch, holding out her hands to Evan in quiet invitation. Forget wanting to do things right, she could feel his need and it made her own desire impatient to be satisfied, wanting him in her arms, in her bed. "I'll be gentle," she promised him in a soft voice that throbbed with desire, remembering finally the injury that might well keep him from enjoying the coupling she offered.

He knew he looked a wreck. He needed a bath and a shave and a haircut. He knew he probably stank like blood and sweat and horse. She wasn't seeing him at his best, and yet, somehow she still wanted him, and it filled him with wonder. His head followed her, looking up as she rose to her feet and reached for his hands. He seemed to consider for a split second, and then he was reaching out to her, taking her hands in his and moving to his feet. Even if all they did was lay together, it was enough for now. He'd held her in his arms, and he wanted to know what that felt like again.

It was just as well that it was dark, or he might have had second thoughts at the sight of the blush that covered her skin, not merely her face but the pale wash of her neck, the swell of her bosom where it disappeared beneath the neckline of her chemise. She lifted his hand to her lips for a brief moment, offering him a sweetly promising smile in the gloom, and turned, leading the way back up the stairs. And no doubt offering quite the view to his feverish eyes in the process.

He couldn't help but let his gaze roam over her body now that she had invited it, the swell of desire rising like a tidal wave inside him, as he followed her up the stairs. How long had it been since he'd laid with a woman' Months, no, years. Ever since his beloved Ellie had died. It wasn't that he hadn't had the opportunity. A man like him received enough offers and not only from whores, but until this very moment, he'd never really met anyone who could compare with his Ellie. It was a simple enough thing to sleep with a woman; but opening his heart again and taking a chance on love, that was another matter all together, but maybe it was time. He'd said it himself: People die all the time, but that doesn't mean they should stop living.

She led him not to the room where he had been sleeping, but to her own, quietly opening the door to invite him inside, the first man ever to enter her childhood bedroom at her invitation. Releasing his hand, she turned to face him, her lower lip caught between her teeth as she smiled a little hesitantly. "Gods, you have no idea how nervous I am about disappointing you," she giggled suddenly, pressing a hand to her mouth to try and stifle the merry sound.

Marin

Date: 2012-04-10 05:49 EST
His eyes roamed over her again, as she turned to face him, admiring the soft, womanly curves - the swell of her breasts, the tiny waistline, ample hips - the kind of body any red-blooded man would desire. Was it any wonder Evan was willing to kill for her" Was it any wonder Rogier wanted her so badly' Evan was unconvinced it was just about her land. It wasn't just her land Rogier wanted, but the woman, as well, and Evan seemed to be the only thing that stood between them.

Well, hell with Rogier. What he wanted to take, Marin seemed more than willing to give, but to a man of her own choosing. "You won't disappoint me. You could never disappoint me," he reassured her gently as he stepped toward her, sliding his fingers against a bare shoulder, taking the strap of her nightgown with him.

Her giggles suddenly stilled, silenced by the surge of desire that rose with the closeness of him. Yes, he was a little whiffy, but she could happily ignore that for now, shivering with unsurpressed arousal as his fingers slid over her shoulder - such an innocent touch, but promising of so much more as it took the first strap of her chemise down with it. Her own hands rose to his chest, her head falling back to caress his gaze with her own lustful longing as her fingers slowly undid the rest of his shirt buttons. "You're so big," she heard herself murmur, unable to keep herself from pondering just how proportional he was.

"I ain't been with a woman in..." He trailed off, unsure when the last time was exactly. It had doubtless been a long time. Maybe too long. He wasn't sure what it was he'd been waiting for, maybe for his heart to mend a little or to meet someone who could mend that heart. There was a small twitch of a smile at her observation, wondering exactly how she'd meant that to come out. He was pretty evenly proportioned, as she'd soon find out. "I'm a mess," he admitted, sourly, feeling suddenly like he should clean up before he soiled her.

She blushed a little darker as his lips twitched, aware that her observation hadn't exactly come out as the cleanest comment of all time. And speaking of clean ....She bounced up onto her toes, managing to touch her lips to his with a sweet smile. "Just give me a few minutes," she told him, whirling to scurry from the bedroom. A moment later, it became clear why as the sound of water filling the ceramic bath in the family bathroom filtered through the house. There was also the snap of a match striking, and the gentle flicker of lamp light illuminated the hallway. "Evan?"

He arched a brow as she slipped away from him, wondering what she was up to, the brief touch of lips to his telling him without saying it, not to go anywhere. His hearing prickled at the sound of water running....Indoors" Yet another wonder of modern technology. His attention was drawn toward the flicker of light and he headed that way when she called him, poking his head into the bathroom to see what she was up to.

The bathroom wasn't exactly the marvel of modern technology it might have been, but to Evan's eyes, it must have been a strange space. Dominated by a large bath which was filling with steaming water from the indoor plumbing, it held a sink and cabinet, too. And it was from this cabinet that Marin was drawing a small pair of scissors, a comb, and a bottle of liquid soap that hopefully wouldn't smell too feminine. She looked up at him as he poked his head inside. "Would you care to bathe, Mr Lassiter?"

His jaw dropped open a little at the sight of the steaming tub within the confines of the house, not outdoors or tucked away in a cellar, and not one he'd have to drag buckets of heated water to or pump from a cistern or well. The tub of hot water looked like heaven to the man, sore, aching, and feverish, not to mention ripe with odors not exactly conducive to romantic moments.

"Bathe....with you?" he repeated, his gaze flickering back to her, noticing the items she was pulling out of the cabinet. "Are you planning on grooming me, Miss Marin?" he asked, an almost teasing tone in his voice. Okay, so he did actually have a sense of humor hidden somewhere in all that angst.

She misread his expression, her smile turning a little shy as she set the items on the edge of the bath. "Well, I ....I don't have to get in with you," she adjusted the offer a little, dipping her fingers into the water and bending over to add a little more cold to the mix. Looking back over her shoulder to him, her smile resumed its playful aspect at his almost teasing tone. "Only if you want me to."

"Reckon I need a trim," he admitted, that being an understatement. He turned to the reflection of himself in the mirror as he stepped further into the room, frowning at the face that looked back at him and rubbing his fingers over his bearded cheeks and chin. "Ain't had a proper bath in a while."

Turning the faucet off, Marin stood, moving to rejoin Evan by the mirror. It had been set at the right height for her father to shave, which meant that she could see her nose and above in that reflection, while Evan had a good view of his own face. Her fingers curled into the shirt he wore, moving to gently slide it from his shoulders. "I won't be sleeping again tonight," she predicted softly. "I don't see why I shouldn't ....take advantage of you a little."

"Need to fix that door," he muttered, making a to-do list of chores for himself in his head, still examining his own countenance, which troubled him somewhat, distracted a moment to shrug the shirt from his shoulders as he glanced to the now stitched up wound at his side. "Did a good job, Marin. You would've made a fine nurse."

"I'd rather be a useful wife," she countered without thinking, dropping the soiled shirt into basket set by the sink. Standing behind him, she brushed her lips between his shoulderblades, one hand gently stroking down his injured side to test the heat of the now closed wound. "The stitches will dissolve when they're not needed to hold you together anymore."

He arched a brow, ticking a glance to her at the word wife, but he made no comment on it just yet, choosing to let it go for now, though he did file it away in his brain for later contemplation. "Dissolve" You mean you won't have to take them out?" he asked, a little incredulously, a small intake of breath as her hands moved over him. His skin still felt hot, slightly feverish, but not dangerously so. A bath would do him a world of good.

Rising onto her toes, she managed to get her eyes above the line of his shoulder to meet his gaze in the reflection of the mirror, the clear blue sparkling with amusement at his incredulity. "Would you rather I said it was all magic, or technology?" she teased lightly, smoothing her arms around him from behind to undo the button on the fly of his jeans.

"I ain't never been much for believing in magic." Though the more time he spent on Rhydin, the more that might change. He remained where he was, standing his ground, watching them both in the mirror. He couldn't see all of what she was doing, but he feel her hands on him, about to reveal that most private of places. He felt a sudden swell of excitement, along with a good dose of nervousness, his body visibly tensing.

"Shhh ..." Feeling the tension sweep through him, her lips touched against his shoulderblade once again, open-mouthed and tender with caressing kisses, trying to distract him from the gentle tug of the zipper as she drew it down. "I can leave you to it, if you would rather."

"It's all right. I'm just..." In a word, nervous, though he wasn't sure why. He'd only ever been with one woman in all his life, and he was worried she'd disappoint him, hence he echoed her previous worry. "Don't wanna disappoint you."

Her gaze found his in the mirror, sincere and tender. "You won't." There was such confidence in her voice, such certainty that there was no conceivable way he could disappoint her. Lowering back to her heels, she ducked around to slip between him and the sink, tipping her head back to look up at him. "Kiss me?"

Marin

Date: 2012-04-10 05:53 EST
He followed her movement, first in the mirror and then she had slipped in front of him, his eyes tracking her, brows arching at her question. Well, how could he say no to that' Instead of replying, he dipped his head down, tipping her chin upwards with a thumb, and leaning slowly in, taking his time, like he did with most things. There was no need to hurry. Neither of them was getting any more sleep tonight, at least not yet. When his lips touched hers, it was with a passion she may not have felt from him before, a hopeful longing passed to her in that kiss, his heart slowly warming to this sweet, gentle flower Fate had set in his path.

The first touch of lips was soft, tender, her body thrilling to the sudden surge of passion that laced from him into her with a quiet moan that couldn't quite be muffled. Her hands, itching to remove his jeans, rose instead to his skin; one curled to the strong column of his throat as the other pressed to his back, drawing herself so close against him that even a hair would have been hard pressed to fit between them. She couldn't quite believe this was happening, that she was falling so fast, but at the same time, she didn't want to risk losing this quiet, wonderful man by wasting time with silly games and pretence at indifference. She hadn't lied - she wanted Evan in her life, no matter what role he chose to fill.

He slid an arm around her slender waist, almost tentatively, wanting to take his time, no pressure, no expectations. What would be would be, and if it was meant to be, then there'd be no denying or stopping it. He deepened the kiss slowly, tenderly, eyes drifting closed to savor the moment. Surprisingly, it was Marin's face he saw behind those closed lids, no longer Ellie's. He lingered against her lips a little longer than he intended before breaking away with a soft sigh of breath, looking down at her in wonder and awe, unsure what to say, letting his eyes say it all for him.

Her own eyes were no less filled with wonder, her hands drawing about to stroke fingertips tenderly against his chest as her lips curved in a slow smile. But despite the tenderness, the soft feelings that flickered in response to his touch and taste, she felt a playful light find her face.

"Perhaps I should get a step to stand on so you don't hurt your back like this," she suggested quietly, rising onto her toes once again to gently stroke the tip of her nose to his. Her hands slid down his sides, one softer than the other over the stitched wound in his flesh, to tuck into the waist of his jeans. "Time to wash."

Gray-green eyes slid open, studying her, catching the playful smile on her face. "I'm fine." He lent a small smirk of his own to mirror hers. "Should I get down on my knees?" he asked, his hands moving downward to finish the job of unzipping his pants, stepping back to turn away from her, suddenly feeling the modesty of his 1800s upbringing. She'd get a look at him soon enough.

Marin's mind leapt straight to something else he might be wanting to do on his knees, and a brilliant flush lit up her cheeks in the gentle flicker of lamp light. "Only if you want to," she giggled back, tracing her fingertips down the length of his spine as he turned away from her. Despite her initial suggestion, she wasn't actually going to strip and slide into the bath with him unless he asked her to; he seemed somehow too conscious of the dirt that clung to him to be comfortable with her pale nudity just yet.

He finished unzipping his pants and slid them down over his hips and down his legs, which were as solid and muscled as the rest of him, a man who was obviously not afraid of hard labor. He stepped out of the jeans, which were at least somewhat familiar to him, unlike the shirt, hesitating a moment with his back still toward her, broad shoulders, slender waist, not an inch of fat on him.

Blue eyes lingered possessively on him as he stripped the cloth from his body, following the lines of sculpted muscle that defined his back and legs, openly admiring that naked skin with baited breath before remembering how modest he seemed. Clearing her throat, she turned her own back, offering him privacy of a sort to get into the bath. "I'm not looking," she assured him, biting her lips to keep from giggling again.

He grunted a little at her remark, knowing the first chance she had, she'd probably sneak a peek, but he didn't really have anything to hide. Even in the dim light, the lines of scars across his back stood out against his flesh, faded and old, no longer painful, a reminder of a rough life and difficult past he'd rather not speak of. "S'alright. I just ain't been with a woman in a long time," he duly reminded her once again, feeling a hot crimson flush on his face, this time not due to fever.

The scars on his back had touched her deeply, reminding her that this man had a past he might never tell her about, clearly filled with pain of one kind or another, and despite the itch to see and touch, she wasn't going to tear away the guard of his modesty from him so quickly. "No, really," she promised, drawing her curls over her shoulder, her fingertips fiddling in and out of the mass of vibrant copper. "I won't look."

He peeked over his shoulder to see if she was looking and was going to keep her promise, turning slowly around to face her, not a stitch of clothing left to hide the solid bulk of muscle that made up his body. He ventured a step forward, warning her. "I'm gonna get in the tub now."

Somehow, she felt his gaze fall on her, knowing that he was seeing the hourglass curve of her frame encased in the brief silk of her chemise, and knowing even better that he was stark naked. "Alright," she murmured, unable to keep the anticipation from her voice.

Oh, he was well aware of the curves that were hardly hidden at all behind the soft veil of silk, and he was dying to unwrap her, but all in good time. The slosh of bath water was heard as he climbed into the tub and settled himself beneath the water, exhaling a slow sigh of contentment. Sometimes it was the little pleasures in life.

The sound of his descent into the hot water somehow relaxed Marin's tension, her shoulders lowering from their trembling hunch as the water settled in around him. She turned, sitting herself onto a stool beside the bath. Blue eyes dragged over his naked back once again, lifting to meet his gaze with flaming cheeks as she endeavored not to look below the surface of the water at his front. One hand dipped a cloth into the water and began to firmly draw it over the line of his shoulders, washing away the weeks of accumulated grime that caked his skin.

They say everything is bigger in Texas, and Evan was no exception to that rule. Tall, solid, broad shouldered, with a body that was accustomed to physical labor, skin tanned from the sun, the calloused hands of a working man. There was nothing special about the man really, except for the eyes. Gray-green, expressive eyes that hinted at a past he'd rather not discuss, much less remember, an easy-going smile when he had reason to smile, an almost boyish face at times, except when he was hard pressed. A face and body worn by years of hardship, but still young enough to weather it well.

The hot water felt heavenly against his sore, aching muscles, soothing his worry and hardship, washing away a week's worth of dust, sweat and grime. Being on the run left little time for such luxuries as baths, bed, meals, and sleep. He tried to avoid her gaze, his own cheeks flaming with embarrassment, but it was hard to avoid her with her insisting on tending to his needs. He made no protest as she washed away the grime, the cloth the only thing that separated her hand from his flesh. After a while, he closed his eyes, the hot water combined with her caress lulling and calming him, tense muscles relaxing, unwinding, like a tightly wound spring that was finally unwound.

Marin

Date: 2012-04-10 05:58 EST
As the water in which he sat grew murky with dirt, Marin inched closer, a little too engaged in watching the smoothing of her cloth over his skin. With each layer of grime washed away, she felt him relaxing, leaning far over to be as thorough as she could, plunging her arm to the elbow into the water to make sure he was completely clean. When it came to his chest and legs, however, her bold nerve failed a little. The warmth of her fingers stroked against the back of his neck as she leaned close, easing the cloth into his hand. "Your turn," she murmured into his ear, leaning away to set the taps running in the sink. She was going to need clean water to wash his hair.

He remembered sharing quiet moments like this with Ellie once upon a time. It seemed like a lifetime ago. Another world, another life. Was he really here" Was he really safe" Was she real" Or was this some fever-induced dream he was having while he laid in an empty field somewhere dying" His eyelids slowly opened when she spoke, turning his head to look at her. He watched while she turned away from him to draw clean water, his gaze moving over her and admiring her from yet another angle. "Are you real?" he asked finally, his voice sounding almost distant to his own ears.

She looked back at him, her surprise softened by the quiet air of intimacy that hung over and around them in the warm bathroom. "Only if you are," was her reply, her fingers shaking excess water away before bent to pick up a jug that lived beneath the tub. At the bottom of that bend, her lips brushed to his shoulder, her eyes never leaving his. "You still think I'm some kind of angel?"

"That or a dream," he answered, eyes following her as she moved back to him and brushed a kiss against his shoulder. But if he was really dying, wouldn't he be dreaming of someone else, not this sweet flower of a woman' "Wonder if I'm dying somewhere and this is all a dream," a slow lazy Texan drawl of each word. He held the wet cloth in one hand, but made no move to finish the job of bathing just yet, too distracted by her presence to continue.

Marin couldn't help a quiet laugh. "If this is all a dream, why do you have a hole in your side, and why has your mind created me?" she asked him, gentle amusement dripping from her voice. She'd never met anyone like him before - not simply the way he was, the skills and certainties he made no secret of, but how comfortable she felt in his presence. Tall men usually made her feel unsafe; with Evan, nothing could be further from the truth. She tucked the jug under the flow of water in the sink, filling it before lifting it over him. Her quiet voice offered him one warning as she tipped the clear stream over his head."Close your eyes."

"I dunno." He frowned a little, trying to sort it out himself. He had been shot, so it made sense to him that that detail might be part of a fevered dream, but he wasn't too sure why his mind had created her. "Maybe you're the woman of my dreams," he ventured quietly, though he really wasn't sure. His gaze tracked her as she filled the jug and returned to his side. Realizing what she intended, he did as he was told, tensing a little and preparing for the eventual rush of water over his head as he closed his eyes.

She wasn't exactly gentle when it came to washing his hair, more than a little fastidious when it came to personal grooming. Despite having ignored his lack of cleanliness for the past couple of days, Marin finally had him in a bath, and now Evan was going to reap the full impact of her fussy little habits. She emptied two jugs of water over his head before even reaching for the soap, taking her time working the lather into his unkempt hair and even over the hair that decorated his jaw before pouring yet more clean water over his head, her fingers stroking through to be sure all the soap was rinsed away.

He didn't mind her roughness. She was, in fact, gentler than he'd anticipated, given the fact the he needed a good scrubbing. He'd have done it himself, but she seemed adamant on doing it, and he wasn't about to argue or complain. The truth was she was doing a far better job at it than he would have. Not that he was lazy, but he just wasn't that vain or concerned about his appearance. Even though Ellie had told him time and time again that he was good looking, he didn't really believe it. He stilled at her administrations, waiting patiently for her to finish scrubbing away all the sweat and grime. He was shivering a little from the fever, but it felt good to be clean again. It made him feel a little less like a fugitive and a little more human.

Marin frowned as she felt his shivering, wiping the water from his forehead as she tested the heat of his head. "Okay, you need to get out and warmed up again," she told him firmly. "Haircuts and beard whatevers can wait until tomorrow ....later today." The jug went down, and she rose to her feet, gathering up a thick towel from where it lay over a rail. She hesitated, remembering again the gentlemanly modesty that had colored his getting into the bath in the first place. "I'll leave you to dry yourself," she said finally, offering him a way out of showing himself off to her again. "I'll, um, I'll grab some pyjamas for you."

He pushed his sodden and overgrown hair away from his forehead once she was finished, the cloth still clutched in his hand. He didn't think much of the gooseflesh that had broken out on his arms or the shivering. He'd felt far worse than this on many occasions, but she seemed concerned for some reason. "I won't break, Marin," he remarked, reminding her that he wasn't made of glass and calling her by her first name without even realizing he was doing it.

Her expression turned ever so slightly stern at his dismissive remark, stepping forward and bending at the waist until her face was on a level with his, her nose barely an inch from his own as she looked into his eyes. "I only just found you, I'm not risking you at all if I can help it," she informed him, her tone warm and uncompromising. "Don't make me pull the plug and leave you totally naked."

He knew her stern expression and tone of voice was meant to impress him and encourage him to obey, but he couldn't help but smirk a little beneath that overgrown beard at her. If the water wasn't so dirty, he might have been tempted to pull her in with him, but he wasn't feeling quite that comfortable with their relationship just yet. She was, however, so close that he was having trouble keeping his eyes from wandering away from her face to her more feminine attributes. "I reckon there ain't much point in hiding what you seen once already."

Her eyes narrowed even as she flushed, realising belatedly just what was distracting him. The towel was brought up to her chest, too late to do much good but at least she'd thought of it. "So maybe I should make you wait a couple of months to see what you haven't seen already?" she suggested, trying a different tack to get him to look after his own health.

Marin

Date: 2012-04-10 06:02 EST
He chuckled a little, either the bath or the fever loosening his tongue a little. "You wouldn't make it past a week." He'd already felt the heat in her, the desire that was mutually shared between them, and he knew if he was any less a gentleman or maybe any less injured, they would have coupled already.

"Are you laying down a challenge, Mr Lassiter?" Marin asked sweetly, finally straightening up as her brows rose high to match her rather playful smirk. "Because I'm pretty sure I would win that challenge." She flashed him a wink. "I cheat."

"I just might be, Miss Richards." Even in his fevered state and all the excitement, he'd caught her last name. "Now if you will excuse me, I'll just finish what you started."

The redhead he was laying down his challenge to snorted with laughter. "Oh, no, I don't think I'll be excusing you," she assured him, putting the towel down. She seemed unaware of the way the straps of her chemise had slipped downward, the neckline apparently only held up by the curve of her generous assets, but then, she did cheat. "Besides, I want to watch."

He arched a masculine brow at her, taking that as a personal challenge. Touche. "Should I charge admission to the peep show" Reckon you had a freebie once already." He was trying not to smirk, but now that he had her flustered, he was enjoying teasing her a little.

"I'll have you know I was a perfect gentleman-woman," she corrected herself, laying her hands on her hips as she glared laughingly at him. "I didn't look, I didn't even touch like I wanted to. Or taste, which was really tempting." She deliberately drew her lips into a full pout, licking them sweetly as she batted her lashes at him. He wasn't the only one who could tease.

"Taste?" he echoed, breaking into laughter, the first real laugh since he'd arrived. "Don't tempt me." He gave her a last appreciative sweep of eyes over her; something about the way she was standing there with her hands on her hips that showed him there was more to her than met the eyes. There was a hidden fire that burned inside her. She had more gumption that even she might realize. He turned away and went about washing those parts of his body she had been too timid to touch.

Marin's mouth dropped open. She'd never not had a reaction to the lip-licking pout before. Either Evan had incredible self-control, or he was still too feverish for his brain to be able to spare the blood for a proper reaction. And look at him! Calmly going about cleaning himself, completely ignoring the fact that she would willingly rip her clothes off and leap on top of him if he gave her the slightest provocation. Or rather, she would have done, if he hadn't laid down his little challenge. "So what are the stakes?" she heard herself ask.

Oh, he was fully aware of the so-called seductive lip-pout, but he was enjoying this game far too much to give in that easily. He wasn't sure what had come over him so suddenly, but he was enjoying teasing her, at least for the present. "The stakes?" he asked, turning his head toward her again, forcing his eyes level with her face or he'd lose the wager before it even began.

Shaking herself out of her stare at him, she took up the towel once again, returning to sit on the stool beside the tub with one pale leg crossed over the other, closer to him than was perhaps wise given the bet being laid out. "Well, I do believe you just bet me that I couldn't keep my clothes on around you for a full week," she clarified for him. "So if you're right ....what do you win?"

Despite his bravado, once she got closer, he sunk further down into the water, nonchalantly tossing the cloth over that part of his body he preferred her not to gawk at. "What do I win?" he echoed again, returning to his former less self-assured self. He settled his arms against the sides of the tub, submerged up to his neck in water which was quickly getting a little too cold for his liking and did nothing to help his shivering. "I ain't got nothing to wager, Miss Richards, and the only thing I want is..." He trailed off, allowing her to fill in the blanks.

She giggled softly, leaning down to touch her lips to the tip of his nose at that. "So why set the challenge?" she murmured playfully. "I'm going to make you work harder for it now, just to prove I'm not quite as ruled by my passions as you'd like to think." This, of course, was a lie right at that moment, but she quite liked the idea of this handsome man having to seduce her, no matter how willing she was. But she'd seen him shivering again, and took pity this time. "Come on - if you get out of the bath, I promise I'll keep you warm for the rest of the night."

He had turned serious again, confused by his feelings regarding her obvious attraction to him. She'd told him flat out that she was falling in love with him and had gone so far as to ask him to marry her, and yet she hardly knew him or anything about him. Maybe she thought she knew enough. Or was it simply a physical attraction, in which case, her feelings would either grow into something deeper or fade with time, and he wasn't sure he was willing to risk a broken heart in order to find out. Despite these worries, he relented, water sloshing again as he pushed himself up from his lazy lean.

She rose to her feet, obligingly closing her eyes and turning her face away as she held out the towel for him, her smile all manner of playful but respectful in the same moment. If he could have put his concerns into words, she would have understood, and equally would not have been able to offer any better explanation than she had already. Her attraction to Evan was strong, yes, but it was not the only force behind her proposal. She didn't, however, have any idea how she could reassure him of that.

He moved to his feet, waving a hand across her face to make sure her eyes were closed, feeling the need for modesty once again, reaching for the towel with his free hand and wrapping it first around his shoulders to rub himself dry, shivering a little, his chin quivering. Now that she had her eyes closed, he felt it was not only safe to climb out of the tub, but maybe safe to try and explain himself a little. He'd already given her most of the reasons why he shouldn't stay, but they hadn't seemed to dissuade her. He'd been honest in promising he wasn't going anywhere, but she needed to know the risks she was taking by allowing him to stay.

"I-I don't want what happened to Ellie to happen to you," he told her quietly, his voice shaking with his shivering.

She felt the air move before her face, guessing that he was testing how closed her eyes were before risking climbing out. What had been a playful cast to the atmosphere had become serious suddenly, and though she wasn't looking at him, somehow Marin had become attuned enough to to Evan to recognise this. Her smile faded, her face turning toward his, though she kept her eyes closed. "What did happen to Ellie, Evan?" she asked softly, unsure whether she truly wanted to know.

Marin

Date: 2012-04-10 06:07 EST
Evan's mouth twitched at the question, that almost ever-present frown lurking once again on his face. Whatever flirtation that had just taken place between them forgotten in the wake of that question. He finished drying off, damp hair stubbornly sticking up this way and that and clinging to a forehead that was lined with worry. He wrapped the towel around his waist in a decorum of modesty, tucking it in to keep it secure, eyes studying her face as he considered a reply.

Ellie's death had been terrifying, the single most terrifying day of his life, and for a man who'd seen death and war, that was saying something. The memory of it flashed through his mind, like snapshots of horrifying scene after scene. The flames that quickly engulfed the house, so hot that no one could get close, not even him, though he'd tried. Dragged away against his will by those who loved him, screaming her name until his throat was raw, followed by the emptiness and despair in knowing she was gone. All of it had happened so quickly, too quickly, her life snuffed out like a spent candle.

"Fire," he said finally, a one-word response, unsure if he could recount any more than that without losing his composure.

The pause was so long, Marin thought that perhaps she had gone too far in asking such a question. He so clearly felt such pain every time he so much as thought of his beloved first wife, she was already berating herself for probing deeper when he gave her that single worded response. Deep blue eyes snapped open, shocked and horrified on his behalf for such a dreadful death, and without thinking, she pressed forward, curling her arms about his waist to offer the comfort of an embrace. "I'm so sorry," she murmured. "I shouldn't have asked."

The pain of Ellie's death lingered, like a weight against his chest, but though he'd always miss her, always love her, he knew nothing would bring her back. He had thought killing the men who'd done that to her would ease the pain and make him feel better, but it hadn't. All it had done was make him a wanted man, and in retrospect, he wondered if what he'd done made him any better than they were. Despite the heavy weight of guilt and grief, he found Marin's embrace comforting, and he wondered now if it was time to put the past behind him and try to start over. He didn't bother to reply to her apology; instead, he only returned her embrace, wrapping his arms around her to hold her close against him, his heart beating slow and steady within his chest.

The steady thump against her ear held Marin in thrall for several long moments, counting, measuring the even pump of his heart in his chest as her fingers stroked soothingly against the now clean and smooth muscles of his back. She was a tender-hearted little thing, who found it all too easy to empathise with the people she loved, and for a moment, she grieved with him for the loss of his wife.

When, finally, she noticed again the shiver in his limbs, she lifted her head, gently untangling her arms from about him. "You should get some more sleep," she murmured quietly. "There are nightclothes in the dresser of the room you've been sleeping in. I'll tidy up in here."

"Not sleepy," he murmured, though that wasn't quite true. It was still the middle of the night, and he was feverish and exhausted, but feeling the restless after the encounter with the intruder, despite the warm bath. She pulled away from him, but he wasn't yet ready to let her go, reaching for her hand to stop her from escaping him so easily. "I ain't gonna let no one hurt you, Marin. I promise." Not like they hurt Ellie. Never again. He brushed the fingers of a calloused hand against her cheek, longing to taste her lips one more time, to feel her soft body close to his.

Caught by his hand in hers, she stilled her retreat, letting her body sway toward his once again as her gaze settled with his, green to blue, in quiet acceptance of his denial of his weariness. She seemed to hear what it was he wasn't saying, as much as understanding what it was he did say, the tender cast of her expression softening in intimate acknowledgement of his promise. She couldn't help the way her cheek turned into the stroke of his fingers, the way her own hand crept upward to lay palm flat over his heart.

"I know," she whispered back with a faint quirk of a smile. And she did know; his word was his bond, and he had given her his word so many times now that she felt certain in the promise he so often repeated.

He searched her eyes, not wanting to let go of her. It was the middle of the night. No one would know or care what transpired between them, no one but them. Two hearts searching for something or someone to fill the emptiness, maybe searching for each other. He wasn't usually the spontaneous type. He was slow to make decisions, taking his time in weighing all the possibilities, but there were times when it was better not to think, to just trust what you were feeling and Evan guessed this was one of those times.

He said nothing, no warning, no tender words of affection, quietly letting his actions speak for him instead, as was his way. One hand found her hip while the other grazed her cheek, tilting his head forward to find her lips once again, to see if what he was feeling was real or just wishful thinking.

She read his studying of her perfectly, feeling herself step into time and tune with him to the point where as he leant down, she rose onto her toes, her lips meeting his halfway in tender confirmation of what she was feeling. The soft, small frame that was so dwarfed by his tall hardness took that last step forward, pressing close as a tiny moan, an unmistakeable sound of encouragement and pleasure, buzzed into his mouth from her own.

For a moment, her lips parted from his, her eyes searching his for something known only to herself, before she pressed forward once again, truly giving into the longing he roused in her for the first time. Her arm snaked about his uninjured side to press her hand to his back, holding herself tightly to him as she released another soft sound to paint her desire for him on the air, her other hand sliding higher to delve her fingertips into the shaggy dampness of the hair at his nape, her lips gently teasing his to open and let her taste him properly.

It seemed he was reading her signs as well as she was reading his, or so he hoped. Hell, he'd been reading her signs nearly from the start. She seemed drawn to him for some inexplicable reason and he to her. He wasn't sure why, but his resolve to resist was quickly wearing down, and it wasn't just the fever this time that was muddling his brain. His lips parted to deepen the kiss, relaxing enough to pull her tightly against him, despite the wound in his side, nearly giving over to the hunger that was burning inside him, the need to claim not only her mouth, but all of her.

Again, the sweetness of her voice rose to fill his mouth with the taste of her moaning breath, a woman who did not hold herself back when she finally let passion rule her. No matter how long this embrace, this coming together, lasted, Evan could be sure that he was experiencing everything Marin had to offer, with nothing held back or hidden.

He was on the verge himself of letting go, of giving in to the needful desire that was raging inside him. There was little between them but towel and chemise, so easily removed, yet as much as he wanted her in that moment, he didn't want to take advantage, he didn't want her to regret this moment. He pulled gently away, just enough to question her with his eyes, no words spoken between them. If she didn't know his thoughts by now, if she didn't read what he was feeling, so obviously there to see in the way he looked at her, the longing in his eyes, the trembling of his limbs, she never would.

Oh, she saw it. She saw it, and felt it, and echoed every frustration, every desire, her own need to be with him however he would allow her to be shining from her own eyes. A little breathless, a little flushed, she rose onto her toes once again, this time pressing just the briefest of kisses to his lips as her hands slid down over his arms, entwining her fingers with his own. Squeezing gently, she stepped back with a tentative, inviting smile, leading him - if he would be led - from the bathroom and across the hall, into her own bedroom, lit by moonlight.

Marin

Date: 2012-04-10 06:09 EST
He followed, no questions asked, no resistance given. She clearly wanted him as much as he wanted her, lonely and longing for someone to not only share a bed with, but a heart and a life, longing for a second chance, to start over, to make things right this time. He followed quietly behind her until they arrived in her room, moonlight shining through her window, casting its silvery light on her lovely face. He felt his heart ache with a bittersweet longing, wanting so much more from her than just this moment, just this night, determined not to lose it again, not to lose her like he'd lose his Ellie.

"Mare," he whispered, eyes bright with fever and desire, his lips and his mind shortening her name without thinking. "I want you," he told her, his eyes drinking her up, no longer satisfied to imagine what lay beneath that silken covering but wanting to see with his own eyes, to touch with his own fingers, to taste with his own lips.

Under his gaze, she felt beautiful, desirable, everything a confident woman should feel without arrogance or coldness. Yet the sultry smile that began to cast its wicked light over her face softened abruptly as he spoke, her mouth falling open with startlingly vulnerability. No one had called her that for years, not since her father's death. She felt her heartbeat skip and surge, a wave of deeply moving affection warming her skin under his gaze as she felt that nickname become his. And she rewarded his feverish desire without thinking, drawing the thin silk of her chemise up and over her head, letting it fall aside as the moonlight illuminated the voluptuous curves that were all her own, clad only in delicate panties that were dark against her creamy skin.

Her lips barely moved as she answered his longing words with her own, not even feeling a momentary wish to hide herself from him. "I need you, Evan," she told him softly in return, and there was more than simple physical desire in that assurance, more than attraction or gratitude or comfort. She needed him, not merely his body or what he represented to her.

Quietly, he watched her in the moonlight, noticing the change in her expression when her name passed his lips and he confessed his desire, so long repressed and almost forgotten, rekindled by this fragile flower of a woman whose kindness had touched his heart and whose beauty had stirred feelings he though he'd never feel again. He watched, still as stone, as she peeled away the final layer that separated them, that hid the full bloom of her graceful beauty from his eyes and his touch. He couldn't stop his eyes from drinking her up, his body stirring with arousal, a fire burning in the pit of his stomach, a fire that threatened to consume him.

He was on the verge of kissing her again, of returning the favor and removing the towel that hid the evidence of his own desire, and then she was telling him she needed him, words he hadn't heard in a very long time, and he suddenly knew that need was not just the need for a handyman or a protector but also that of a lover. He felt his heart surge, overflowing with emotion, even as he could no longer deny what his body was feeling, and he could resist her no longer. He closed the space between them, an arm circling her waist to sweep her into his arms, his mouth covering hers to reply without speaking, to tell her how much he needed her in return.

The sudden ferocity of their connection communicated itself to her only too easily, her arms rising to loop possessively about his neck as he swept her close, almost off her feet. His kiss swallowed the gasp that arose at the unrelenting press of his hot flesh to her own, her hands clutching to his neck, his back, his hair, roaming with eager desperation to know him by touch alone as her mouth devoured his, drinking in the need that echoed her own even as she poured back all the newness of deep affection and desire with yet more tender moans. And finally, her fingers slid down his chest, dipping into the tuck of the towel that hid him from her, asking without words for permission to go on.

He barely even flinched when he felt her fingers travel down his chest to wordlessly ask to remove that last strip of cloth that separated them, granting her permission without speaking, no resistance between them, too busy kissing her, savoring the sweetness of her kiss, opening his mouth to devour her lips, his tongue delving forth, exploring, tangling with hers, deepening the kiss until he was out of breath and moaning in anticipation against her lips.

Was this truly happening" Had Marin, for the first time in her life, ignored her in-bred restraint and modesty to seize what she wanted with both hands" Even if this was only a dream, and she would wake in a few hours alone and needy, she was determined to savor every moment, losing her breath to Evan as kiss followed kiss, growing in desperate desire. Her fingers slid into the towel at his hips, loosening it, letting it fall away, unable to resist touching the bounty she knew was hers to enjoy now.

His breath caught in his throat when he felt her fingers upon his, the towel snatched away to reveal that which only a short while earlier he'd been too modest to let her see. Now, he seemed not to care, willingly allowing her to see him completely, nothing hidden or left to the imagination any longer. He drew away from her kiss, groaning with barely restrained arousal. If she stopped him now, if they were interrupted, he thought he would surely die of deprivation. As it was, it was taking all his will power and restraint not to throw her onto the bed and have his way with her, worrying he might be too rough in his hurried need. He let his eyes wander over her again, but that only fuelled his desire until he thought he would burst.

Drawn from his kiss by his retreat, Marin could almost see the twanging of his desire conflicting with his wish to be gentle with her, unafraid to realise that she loved him for worrying about her fragility even in the midst of a little offence at his assumption that she wouldn't be able to take a little rough. Her eyes swept down over him, taking in every last inch, her breath catching in her throat at the scintillating realisation that he was entirely in proportion. "My goodness," she whispered, her voice throbbing with eager anticipation.

Stepping back from him herself, she bent to slide that last barrier from between them down from her own hips, letting the scrap of black satin fall forgotten against the rug as she pushed herself up onto the bed. Her hand rose, reaching for him in a warm, intimate repetition of the sultry invitation she had offered him before. "I'm not going to break, Evan," she promised him, her voice now husky, almost hoarse with the need to have him against her, over her, under her, however he wanted it.

There was such intimacy in her voice, in her promise that she wouldn't break, in the way she said his name, so private and intimate and with such desire that he felt something break, give way inside him, like a heavy weight suddenly lifting away from his heart and giving him permission to love again. He felt the rush of unexpected emotion mingled with physical need, and he found his eyes suddenly wet with tears long repressed, touched by the simple utterance of his name. He felt a rush of heat that wasn't fever and knew they were about to cross a threshold, the point of no return, but he'd already come to far to turn back now, nor did he want to. His eyes admired the soft hourglass curves of her body in the moonlight, the way the soft curls of hair fell over the ivory white of a bare shoulder, and he felt the steady throb of desire not only in his heart but in his loins.

He went to her, holding out his hand to her as if he needed her to take his hand and guide him home.

Marin

Date: 2012-04-10 06:13 EST
If he needed that guidance, she was more than happy to give it. Marin rose onto her knees as their fingers touched, drawing him down onto the bed beside her. Her hands lifted to cradle his jaw as she touched a softer kiss to his lips, no less passionate than before but more reassuring that this was what she wanted. That he was all she wanted, not just in this moment but from now on. Her confidence grew with each sign of the trust and certainty he showed in her, urging the usually demure woman into action she would normally have waited to be guided into herself. With gentle kisses peppering his lips, she laid him back against the bed, lying over him as her hands returned to their roaming, curious exploration.

He followed her lead, lowering himself onto her bed to lie beside her, a calloused hand grazing her cheek with a soft brush of fingertips, past her cheek and into her hair, drawing her toward him to partake once again of her soft, sweet lips. His breath hitched, pulse quickening with anticipation, as her hands moved over him, arching his back as she explored and enticed, moaning low in his throat, his eyes drifting closed. It had been years since he'd laid with a woman, since he'd felt anything so exquisite as a woman's touch, since he'd tasted lips as sweet and enticing as hers. He was veryslowly coming completely undone.

There are few things so deeply moving as the moment when physical intimacy spills over into something more than a sharing of touch and tenderness. With Evan, Marin was seeking that moment, not wanting merely the satiation of her arousal from him. She rolled over him, careful of his healing wound, their coming together slow and shattering as bodies fit almost perfectly and breath mingled in the sharing of moaning delight. Bright copper curls spilled over her shoulder to decorated his skin in a heavy tumble as she leaned over him, languid in her enticing rise to pleasure, drawing out that promise of ecstasy until it might almost have been considered the best kind of torture.

As for his part, he was not a passive lover, hands and lips exploring those soft womanly curves, awed by the splendor of her beauty, though so tensely wound with emotion and longing, he could barely hold himself back long enough to explore her completely. No matter, there would be time for that later, plenty of time. Time to learn her, to memorize every inch of her, to know what gave her pleasure. For now, they simply moved together as if one one, the passion between them catching fire, burning deeply, the most exquisite torment, until it broke and exploded, taking his breath away as pulled her tight against him, shuddering with pleasure.

And now they trembled together, pressed close as the delicate sheen of sweat-slicked bodies met and slid, red and brown hair darkened where it stuck to tingling skin. Shaken to the core by the sheer power of that first, wonderful joining, Marin buried her face against Evan's throat, showering his skin with loving kisses even as she gasped for control over her staggered breath and hammering heart, glorying in the stunning strength and control of the man who had taken her further and faster than any other could claim.

He buried his face in her hair, breathing deeply to memorize the scent of her, strong arms circling her waist, the wound at his side throbbing painfully, distantly, forgotten for now, amidst the wonder of what they'd just shared. He wasn't even sure if his Ellie had elicited such a strong response from him, but he knew better to compare them. Ellie was gone, part of his past. He'd always love her and never forget her, but it was time to let her go, time to move on, and he couldn't ignore the feelings that were on the cusp of burgeoning for this other woman, this fiery redhead who was on the verge of stealing his heart.

"Mare," he whispered, a muscle twitching in jaw as he tried to slow the hammering of his heart, fingers sliding across her cheek, searching her eyes in the moonlight, in sheer wonder of all that was her.

Even here, lying in one another's arms, their faces level, she was tiny in comparison to him, nuzzling close in tender fascination with the wonder in his face and voice, not understanding still what it was he saw in her to elicit such a feeling.

"Evan," she breathed his name in an echo of her own from his lips, teasing her fingertips to the hollow of his throat as she gazed into his eyes.

As the hours ticked by, they came together in a conflagration of promises and assurances, of tenderness and passion, of soft words and unspoken affection, of touches and kisses and shared breaths that lasted an eternity in an instant. And when, finally, they were spent, curled close to one another in the tangled sheets, they found the sleep that had eluded them before, untroubled by nightmares in the newness of their unexpected connection.

((Huge thanks to Evan Lassiter's player!))