On The Veranda – Part 3

A/N: Sorry about the long wait between chapters.

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Maria rushed out onto the veranda and nearly stumbled in the dark as she stopped abruptly at the top of the steps. Her heart was pounding so hard she could hardly catch her breath. She couldn’t stand still; she was barely able to contain the energy powering through her. She was vibrating with it.

She had been unable to sleep, to shut off her mind as it raced from one thought to another. She had found it impossible to control, let alone stop, the images that flashed in her head, at times moving at lightning speed, at times slowing down to linger on the feel of his hands on her back, on the taste of his lips on hers, on the sound of his voice as he told her he loved her and asked her to marry him. On the sound of her own voice when she had said yes.

It was that last thought above all the others that had, in the end, led her to surrender herself to the memories and mounting anticipation. She had given her yes. In a matter of hours, she would be walking down the aisle, walking toward the man who would be waiting for her at the altar. It was only a matter of hours before she would become the Baroness von Trapp.

It was no wonder she couldn’t sleep. She was too happy to sleep. She was too excited. And so she had made her way to the only place she could imagine being when consumed with thoughts of him. She had come to the veranda.

There was too much stirring inside of her, making her want to laugh, sing, fly. She was too restless to sit, but she leaned her hip against the railing at the top of the steps, letting the hard surface dig into her, hoping it would ground her.

She still wondered how it was possible for so much to change in just a few months. Had it all really happened? She had left the Abbey so reluctantly, but determined to make the best of it and prove to the Reverend Mother that she was indeed ready to take her vows and join the other nuns. She could hardly believe that she had found a whole other life, had never guessed that she would be completely captivated by seven children who had needed her, and whom she had she needed just as much.

And she certainly had never imagined that, miracle of miracles, she would fall in love, or that her love would be returned. It was too incredible, to gain so much all at once. It was more than she could have dreamed or asked for; it seemed more than she deserved. But God’s providence was like that, always gracing her in such abundance, opening not just one but a thousand windows.

She breathed in deeply and exhaled slowly, calming herself down. She repeated the process, closing her eyes and trying to concentrate solely on the way the air entered and left her body. Her heartbeat slowed, but her lashes were fluttering and her eyes sprang open, refusing to stay shut. She was too excited to settle down completely.

“I thought I just might find you here.”

She grinned, not at all surprised that he had found her on the veranda yet again, and only now admitting to herself that she had hoped he would find her here as he always did. He walked over to her and sat beside her.

“I couldn’t sleep. There are too many thoughts in my head.”

“I couldn’t sleep either. Is there anything I can do to help?” He reached for her hand and held it gently.

She smiled at him, loving the feel of his hand on hers. It still amazed her that something so simple could make her feel so secure.

“You already have,” she said, grasping his hand tightly.

After their initial, overwhelmingly intense encounters on the veranda, they had both agreed to take a step back. Neither one had wanted to take risks they might later regret.

They had spent many evenings here, talking late into the night. They had shared much of what was important to each of them; they had laughed often; they had even argued heatedly at times. They had welcomed many days on the veranda, rising early to share the sunrises they both loved. They had grown to know each other, and in the process had fallen more deeply in love. She treasured the time they had spent here. She knew he felt the same.

They sat in silence now, but it was an uneasy silence, not what she had become used to with him. She sensed that there was something he wanted to say.

“Whatever it is, please just tell me.”

He squeezed her hand, silently thanking her for the invitation to speak.

“After tomorrow, our lives will never be the same. Everything will change, for both of us, but more so for you.”

He was worried about her. He always worried too much, thinking he had to control everything, but she couldn’t bring herself to fault him for it. Sometimes she thought he needed her reassurance more than she needed his. If that was the case, she was only too happy to provide it.

“I’ve been thinking about that. It’s one of the reasons I couldn’t sleep tonight and came out here.”

He looked at her, the furrows in his brow deepening.

“I don’t think I’ve ever wanted anything as much as I want to be your wife, and to be a mother to the children.” She looked at him, trying to let him see the truth behind the words. “I’m living the life I was born to live.”

He returned her look, searching her eyes until he nodded, apparently having found whatever he needed to see.

“When you came back from the Abbey, I hoped it might have had something to do with me. But you were so distant when you returned.”

She remembered that day vividly. When she had returned from the Abbey, it had been with the intention to explore what she was feeling for him. She had abandoned that intention almost immediately when faced with what appeared to be a firm commitment between him and the Baroness. She had been forced to hide her disappointment, forced to hide all of her feelings for him.

“Well, there was the Baroness.”

“Yes, the Baroness. You know, once you returned, I knew I had to face the truth. I knew I couldn’t let you leave again, at least not without telling you how I felt. And that meant being honest with Elsa, and with myself. We spoke that very evening.”

“That’s why she left so suddenly.” He had hinted at what had happened, and she had pieced together the rest, but they had never discussed it. How strange that they had avoided the subject until now.

“But I still didn’t know how to approach you, when you were so distant. You seemed not to care for me at all. Then, of course, you walked out onto the veranda that day, wiping yourself with that washcloth. It was the most sensual thing I’d ever seen. I couldn’t resist you after that. Certainly not after the way you responded to me.”

It was another day that was burned into her memory. She remembered the way he had made her feel, the sensations he had awakened in her that went far beyond anything she had ever imagined. She lowered her eyes as she felt her cheeks burning at the memory of him pulling the washcloth from between her breasts. The memory that always accompanied that one, of him tugging on her collar, when she felt sure he would have reached inside her dress if she had allowed it… that memory always made her pulse jump, made her need to move to relieve the intense throbbing pressure she felt growing…

“What are you thinking about?” he asked, his eyes sharp, penetrating.

He might be able to see that she was blushing, but he couldn’t possibly know what she was thinking, or worse, what she was feeling. She hoped not, anyway. She tried to think of a response to his question without lying to him.

“I…” What could she say? She fell silent, hoping he would drop the subject. She should have known better.

“Tell me, how did you feel at that first encounter?”

He was much too perceptive. How did he know? She couldn’t bring herself to reply, not when he was so close to the truth.

“Wait, let me guess. Did you feel… warm?”

She refused to look at him. She knew she would see that teasing look in his eyes, and it would only make her more self-conscious. And warm. The man was incorrigible.

“Well, I can see that I’ll have to do something else to get a response from you.”

She looked at him then, her curiosity at what he had in mind momentarily overcoming her embarrassment.

He winked at her, stood, and began pacing in front of her, hands clasped behind his back, affecting a stern, sober look.

“Stand up. Turn around, please.”

She remembered instantly the first time he had directed those words at her as he had paced around her. How different things had been then. Delighted at his playfulness, and relieved at the change in topic, she feigned a look of confusion and mild indignation and followed his lead.

“What?!”

“Turn.” She stood and turned around, following the direction of his hand circling in the air, and faced him again, trying somewhat unsuccessfully to smother the unruly, persistent smile that she was struggling to restrain. It was a moment before he spoke again.

“Again. More slowly this time.”

The change in the tone of his voice caught her attention, and she looked at him more closely. The playfulness was gone, replaced by an intensity that wiped the smile from her face and made her throat feel dry.

“Please.” The deepening sound of his voice rumbled through her, urging her to do what he wanted. She turned slowly.

She knew he was looking at every inch of her, could feel his eyes on her. She had a sudden image of him looking at her this intently, but pictured them wearing far less clothing. Or wearing no clothing at all. She felt the heat rush to her face again, could feel the flush spreading through her, her body giving her away as it always did. She finished her slow turn and faced him again, hoping the darkness would mask her reaction. She raised her chin, daring him to tease her, ready to reply in kind.

But he wasn’t done looking yet. She watched as his eyes took her in slowly, from her feet up to her face, his gaze pausing several times along the way. Again she imagined another setting, imagined him standing much, much closer, close enough for him to touch every part of her where his gaze had lingered. Already she could almost feel his touch, could feel something touching her everywhere. By the time his eyes reached hers, she was trembling. And she was certain he was imagining the same things she was. There was no teasing look in his eyes. A muscle twitched in his jaw and she held her breath, waiting, wanting.

“You gave me your word,” she reminded him breathlessly.

When he had declared his feelings and asked her to marry him, she had felt even more vulnerable than before, apprehensive about relying solely on her strength of will to continue to pull away from him. Because of their past experiences on the veranda, she had asked him to promise that he would not touch her before they were married. He had agreed. He had kept his word, as he kept it now, but it had been a near thing more than once.

He smiled ruefully. “So I did.”

The moment passed, and he resumed his pacing, his next words indicating an attempt at regaining the playfulness that had so quickly turned into something more dangerous. She was relieved. She didn’t think she had enough strength left to resist him if he were unable to restrain himself at this point.

“I think that now would be a good time to instruct you on what’s expected of you once we’re married.”

“Please, do tell, Captain. I’m all ears.” She played along, but she knew it was all still there, just under the surface, waiting to shatter what was left of her will.

“There are rules that must be followed. The first rule of this house is discipline.”

“Yes, I believe you have said that many times, ad nauseam.” She choked back a giggle at his impressive look of injured pride. “Are there any other rules of which I should be aware?”

“You will see to it that you conduct yourself with the utmost orderliness and decorum.”

“Of course, Captain. Have you ever known me to behave otherwise?”

He chose to respond with a simple raise of an eyebrow and a pompous ‘Harrumph.’ She nearly laughed aloud.

“Finally, I am placing you in command. Of the household, that is.”

“Yes, sir!” She saluted crisply, attempting to look as fearsome as a sea captain.

He laughed, dropped the pretense, and took her hand. In the next moment, faster than she would have believed possible, he was serious again. Not for the first time, she marveled at how quickly his moods changed.

“You are a wondrous delight, my dear. I don’t know who I’d be if not for you.”

He stepped closer to her, lacing his fingers through hers, and instantly, what had been under the surface, what was always just beneath the surface, flared.

He leaned toward her and kissed her mouth gently, a light touch of his lips. It was a chaste, careful kiss, as all their kisses had been. It was a kiss that left her wanting more. Standing this close together, she could hear how unsteadily he was breathing, could smell his unmistakable scent, could see the desire in his eyes. Standing this close together, her senses were overwhelmed with him, with what he was trying so strenuously not to unleash. It was so difficult to remember why she shouldn’t take that one step closer and feel him on her, letting him ease the ache that never went away.

She knew he could see what she was feeling. She couldn’t hide from him. He could always see right through her. He kissed her again, another chaste kiss that she felt in her bones.

“I’d almost forgotten. There is one more rule.” That tone in his voice, that half whisper, half growl. How was he able to reach so deeply inside her and touch her with it?

“Bedtime is to be strictly observed. I trust you’ll have no difficulty observing such simple instructions?”

He was going to drive her mad. How was he able to continue reconstructing an old conversation, turning it upside down, when she was barely able to even breathe?

He kissed her again, chastely. Only it didn’t feel chaste at all.

“Now, when I want you, this is what you will hear.”

He leaned toward her, about to whisper something in her ear. She didn’t know what he was going to say, but she couldn’t let herself hear it. She wouldn’t be able to stop herself from doing whatever he wanted. She searched desperately for something to say while she could still think.

“Excuse me, sir. I don’t know your signal.”

She was mortified as soon as the words came out of her mouth. She wanted to blame him, for insisting on reliving this conversation; it had made it impossible for her to think of anything else. But she had chosen the words; part of her, a disturbingly large part, didn’t want to put a stop to any of it.

She had startled him, though, enough for him to pull back from her. She saw a rapid fluctuation of emotions run across his face until amusement won out.

“You may call me ‘Captain,’” he said finally, that half smile returning, “although you will find that, once you’ve discovered my signals, I can be quite responsive and adaptable.”

He stepped away from her at last. She was grateful that this time he had found the strength to pull away.

“Don’t stay out too late. You need your rest.”

He grinned at her, knowing full well that she would be unable to sleep at all tonight. She doubted he would be able to sleep either. Not with the anticipation of their wedding. And not after the way he had made sure to leave them both aching with need for each other.

He kissed her hand, a facetious return to his former chaste behavior.

“Until tomorrow,” he said, smiling, eyes still dark.

“Until tomorrow,” she replied, still in the grip of desire. One more promise to keep.

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And one more chapter to go!