A/N: Hi all!

The chapter you have been Waiting, Waiting, Waiting, Waiting, Waiting, Waiting and did I mention Waiting for is finally here! Thank you to BabyB26 and HC247 for their constant words of encouragement and motivation. These are wonderful people and authors, and I am very blessed to know them.

Thank you for reading and if you have any thoughts, suggestions or ideas please feel free to reach out! Also, reviews do feed my muses when they are not surviving on water or coffee lol!

DISCLAIMER: I own absolutely nothing. Flames will always and forever be used to light firewood and candles.

-….-….

Chapter 8:

-…-…-…-

One by one, the stars shown in the sky above as John Smith gently took her hand. They walked past a barking dog, only to have the animal stop in order to curiously glance at the couple as it pulled on the rope that secured it to the outside post. Pocahontas smiled when the dog promptly sat down, then laughed as the dog held out its paw.

"What a good boy you are," she said as John chuckled beside her.

"The child that lives here told me it is a girl," he continued as Pocahontas inched closer, "I walk through here every day, and she is always here."

The dog wagged its tail as Pocahontas scratched behind her ears before slipping her hand back into John's grasp.

After a short walk towards the river, they turned towards the foot of a large stone bridge with brick and timber buildings spanning across the wide distance. Traversing down the bridge, they passed a gilded church built right into the bridge before John Smith halted in front of a well-lit five story limestone structure, its curved archway concealing a hallway and staircase leading upward.

After a few steps, Pocahontas stumbled. She quickly grabbed onto the wall for support as John pulled her closer and made sure she was steady on her feet.

"Are you alright?"

"I will walk better without these shoes," Pocahontas said as John nodded. John Smith smirked and bent to help her with her shoes. The stone was cold yet felt wonderful upon her stockinged feet as John held her heels in one hand and guided her with the other. They walked the many flights up the stone and wood staircase. When they reached the top floor, the couple stopped at a landing that held a single, seasoned oak door.

"If you reach in the right pocket, you will find a key," John Smith began as he wrapped his left arm around her shoulders, "Tis the only one."

Pocahontas smiled as she placed it in his hand, their fingers gently grasping as John gradually withdrew and fitted the iron key into the lock.

She heard an audible click, and, with a push, the heavy door opened. The large flat spanned the distance of the bridge, encasing the living area with a large hearth for cooking on the left and on the right side of the flat a study with a sitting area and balcony that overlooked the river. The walls were painted bright white, and the windows had a diamond shaped design. The wooden floor shone, bright and new. The apartment was sparse without being barren.

'A traveler's place.'

Pocahontas mused as she wondered how long he had lived here.

Advancing further into the flat, the native woman noted the living room had two dark blue velvet and wood tapestry armchairs that depicted a hunting scene. Beside that rested a large, high, dark blue velvet sofa, the arms and back being of equal height.

Near the balcony, maps, an open book, quills, and parchment covered a great wooden desk in the corner of the right side of the room, while a large carved bookcase filled with books lined the opposite wall. In the middle of the room was an open door that led to the bedchamber. A large, carved, chestnut oak bed that had heavy blue damask curtains sat in the middle of the floor. The bed's counterpane matched the silk curtains. She noticed the sheets were bleached and looked to be soft flax along with a goose down mattress.

It warmed her heart when she spied her father's soft deer hide mantle neatly folded on a trunk at the foot of his bed. The bedroom was tidy and had a large wardrobe that assumed nearly half the area. A window on the opposite side illuminated another open door. Peering through the doorway, Pocahontas saw a private washroom. A wooden soaking tub with a hand pump took up half the room and a latrine that hung over the Thames was lifted on the opposite side. In the middle sat a small table with small jars, a comb, mirror, and a candle.

"This is lovely," Pocahontas said as she eyed the bathing tub, "I miss being able to fully go into the water. I would do that every day in my homeland. However, here…"

She allowed her voice to fade, meeting Smith's gaze in the mirror.

"I understand that," he replied as he stepped closer, "One of the customs I adopted from a place was bathing every day. Although here, tis not that easy so I try as much as I can during the week. If you ever wish…"

She could not be certain in the dimness of the room, but she thought she saw a reddening of his cheeks before he cleared his throat and moved away from her and out of her sight as she tucked a strand of hair behind an ear before following him through the flat.

"Would you care for a drink? Perhaps you would like some tea? Or perhaps you would rather have a glass of wine?"

Pocahontas smiled as they entered the study, her gaze going out the balcony door whilst the wind tossed the heavy curtains.

"I will take a glass of wine," she softly said as she watched him open a cabinet, "If you will join me."

"I could not refuse that invitation even if I wanted to," he grinned as he poured her a glass prior to handing her the delicate goblet, "And believe me, I do not want to."

Pocahontas could not keep the smile off her face as he clinked his glass against hers, a move she had seen done in the court signaling others to drink. She did so, relishing the sweet taste and not realizing how thirsty she was as she took another sip.

"Thank you," she said as he nodded. The captain took another drink as he watched her place her glass on a little table that sat beside the balcony door. He gazed on as she picked up the glass again, her other hand resting on the knob of the door as she looked back at him through her lashes.

"I have never seen a balcony this high up," she said as she smiled, "Would you mind if I go look?"

"Of course not," John replied without hesitation, "I will join you in a moment. I thought I might change into some more comfortable attire."

"This is your home," Pocahontas began as she smiled and pushed the curtains aside, "You can do as you please."

John Smith lightly chuckled as he quickly turned away, undoing his doublet as he walked towards his bedchamber. Shutting the door, he neared his fireplace and began scraping the ashes and kindling in order to start a fire. Sighing heavily, he dusted his hands on a cloth before opening his wardrobe and fully undressing. He paused as he felt the warmth of the flames on his skin, closing the doors to his wardrobe prior to leaning against it. The captain glanced around his bedchamber, making certain everything was in its proper place. An action he only did when he was nervous, he knew, yet he wanted to make sure all was perfect for the woman he had loved for years.

'She could be in your bed.'

The thought made him look over at the counterpane and he chuckled to himself as the man usually carelessly threw the coverings. Moving towards the large bed, he rearranged and situated the pillows. He then made his way towards the washroom, heading straight for the small table in the middle of the room. As he poured the water from the pitcher into the basin and gathered his things, he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror.

He noticed the tightness of his jaw and the stiffness in his shoulders. Breathing a deep sigh, he allowed his shoulders to drop.

'She is truly here.'

A thought surfaced in his mind whilst an anxious smile spread across his face.

'You could lose her.'

The captain shook his head, willing the thought to vanish.

'She chose to accompany you here.'

Massaging his neck with the cool cloth, along with the comforting thought made him slightly relax.

'Her affections are for you.'

Alaric's words from earlier in the evening echoed back in his mind. The fact she was currently standing on his balcony, drinking a glass of his wine and had been delighted to look at the view made him beam with joy…

…only for his smile to wither as his class, the state of his flat and his wealth, or lack thereof entered his mind.

'The size of John Rolfe's house could hold ten of your flats.'

John Smith frowned as the voice in his mind taunted him as he scrubbed his face. It bitterly reminded him of a young pretentious lad he had once known; an aristocrat whom he had traveled with after returning from his first battle.

'Rolfe is a diplomat.'

'The king will not listen.'

As he finished washing and began tidying up the room, a barrage of questions entered his mind.

'Is the marriage arranged?'

'Does she have a choice in the matter?'

'Does she love him?'

The captain would never deny he had loved and desired her for years, however his heart ached at the prospect of losing her forever. The fact she was merely a few feet away, had wanted to accompany him back to his flat and how she had kissed him at the celebration made him relax his stance. He would be delighted to hold and kiss her all evening. He would do anything she desired to show his love. Drying his hands on a towel, John Smith exited the room and headed towards the wardrobe. Dressing in loose trousers and a beige shirt embroidered with silver thread, he left his bedchamber and walked towards the balcony door. The captain was determined to do all he could to show his love and to have her always remember this night. He knew in the depths of his soul that the diplomat could never love her the way he did.

Feeling his heart clench at the possibility of never seeing her again, John Smith reached for his half-filled wine glass and downed it in one go.

As he pulled aside the curtains, he felt his breath catch as the moonlight framed her face, her wine glass being lowered from her lips.

John Smith watched, whilst the wind caught her ebony tresses that had come loose from her hairstyle. "W-Would you care for more wine?"

Pocahontas smiled as she looked up at him. "No, I am fine. It is nice out here."

She moved and set her glass on the ledge before turning to face him. "The moon is showing her face and over the water…"

She allowed her voice to trail off as Smith joined her and picked up the wine glass. His heart soared as she leant against him, her hands folded on top of the wall. Silence fell as the wind blew strands of her hair against the side of his face. Wordlessly, Smith gently tucked the wayward tresses behind her ear as he caressed her cheek. It was then she turned to fully face him, her lips gliding over his before he drew her close. He tightened his hold as she sighed against his lips, the captain deepening the kiss before she pulled back. John smiled as her gentle fingers ran the length of his jaw line before coming to rest on his shoulder.

"I must say," Pocahontas murmured as she caught his gaze, "I have not felt so merry or have had such an enjoyable time in a long while."

"I have not either," John replied as Pocahontas raised an eyebrow in surprise.

She shifted on her feet. "You live in this lovely flat, you can go to that tavern whenever you like, and you can carouse with your friends whenever it pleases you."

John Smith shrugged. "That is enjoyable for a time however… then, tis not anymore."

"Oh? At my village, we have many feasts- sometimes for no reason at all."

"You share food and stories together, do you not?"

Pocahontas nodded as John continued, "After the feast is over, what do you do then?"

"You mean, right after it is done? Some of us tidy up, go with someone, or just go on back to their sleeping huts."

"However, you have that camaraderie with your people. At the tavern, people come and go, and you never know who you will encounter."

"That sounds exciting," Pocahontas smiled, "Something different."

"It is," John Smith agreed as his voice lowered, "And then, it is not any longer."

Pocahontas gave a light chuckle as she moved away, her gaze flicking towards the river in the distance.

"Which ship is yours?"

The captain slightly shook his head in order to clear his mind as he turned his gaze towards the Thames.

After a moment's hesitation, he replied, "The third one on the left."

He watched as she leant forward, her hands on the wall for balance as she tried to see more details of his ship than the shadows would allow. It was then John saw the sparkle of her engagement ring in the full moonlight, the large solitaire diamond instantly drawing his eye. He knew it was worth more money than he would ever possess lest it be a miracle, and he fought to keep down the sparks of envy that threatened to enshroud his heart.

'She had said your home is lovely. She is standing next to you.'

A voice reminded him as he subconsciously tucked the wayward tresses behind her ear.

"When do you think?"

"What?"

Immediately his eyes went to her face before she glanced down and saw what he was looking at.

"I…I was asking when you thought you would leave on your ship," she began as she twisted the ring on her left hand.

"I…am not certain," he replied as he swallowed hard and flicked his eyes towards the Thames. "Whenever his Majesty has need of me, yet I have not been summoned… Actually, I have not named her yet. She is a small ship; she will be particularly good for exploring an.-"

"I was wondering," Pocahontas interrupted as she chuckled nervously, "I…I need your assistance out of this gown. It is very lovely, yet I am starting to get uncomfortable."

"Of course," Smith quickly replied as he took her arm and ushered her inside, shutting the balcony doors and drawing the curtains closed prior to glancing at her. He noted she was rubbing her hands together and he made his way over towards the bedchamber door.

"It is warmer for I lit a fire," he said as he opened the door. A blast of heat enveloped the both of them as they stepped in the room.

"It feels wonderful in here," Pocahontas began as she smiled, "I did not realize how chilled I had become."

John nodded as they walked towards the washroom. Pocahontas stopped in front of the little table as John gently placed his hands on her shoulders.

"I have a thick night shirt you can put on if you are chilled," John Smith said, his voice barely above the crackling of the fire.

"I will be fine," Pocahontas stated as she placed her smooth hands on the table, "I think once I get situated with a blanket, I will be alright."

'Along with his embrace.'

The native princess was glad that her back was turned for she could feel the heat from such an unexpected thought creep up her neck. She was well aware of what could take place this night, yet it was as if this evening was a dream. Clearing her throat, she reached forward and picked up a clean linen cloth.

"Do you want me to fill the basin for you?"

John asked as he made to reach for the pitcher.

"No," Pocahontas replied, "After I pour the water, can you assist with the dress?"

"Of course," John answered as he moved to stand behind her once more. Once the water was poured, she dipped the cloth into the basin, squeezing out the excess liquid before noticing the soap. She began to wash her face as he started to unlace her gown.

Pocahontas loved to take off the heavy makeup that Mrs. Jenkins insisted she wear in public. Even though she had seen other women have the same, she loathed how it felt on her skin. Glancing in the mirror, she felt relieved as the face paint was finally washed away. Rummaging through the folds of her skirts, Pocahontas came across her own comb, small glass bottle and a piece of lace to bind her ebony tresses. Setting the items on the table, the native princess began to take out all the pins and clips that held her hair in place.

"I dropped a hairpin," Pocahontas said as the tiny ornament slipped from her grasp, "Can you find it?"

"Certainly," John replied as she turned from the mirror and watched him gracefully bend and retrieve the object. She gazed on as he stood, the loose clothing doing little to hide his powerful limbs and stance as he grinned, giving her a glimpse of the rogue, she knew he had been. Smiling, Pocahontas reached for the pin and shivered as his fingers brushed her own.

"Thank you," she murmured as she stared at his soft expression, whilst relishing the way he held her hand. His fingers gently curled, firmly holding the pin so as it would not fall to the ground.

In that moment, she fully realized how much she desired his touch, and before she thought better of it, brought his hand towards her face and gently brushed her lips over his pale skin. Their gazes locked, blue meeting brown, and Pocahontas knew that a silent question had been answered.

And she was the one who had answered it.

Her fingers caressed his hand before she whispered. "I love you. I will always love you until the day my spirit leaves this earth."

She watched the parting of his lips, heard his intake of breath as he let go of her hand and fully embraced her before his mouth sought hers in the dimness of the room.

"I love you too," he whispered as he pressed himself against her, "More than anything in this world."

"I know," she continued whilst clutching him to her, "I know you always will."

"I always have," he smiled as she gazed up at him through her lashes.

Her tone was light, her lips upturned in a playful smile. "I want to kiss you."

She felt his shoulders shake with laughter as his hands went back to unlacing her gown.

"What?"

Her stern expression could not completely hide her smirk as he wholly laughed. The captain kissed her again prior to taking her by the shoulders and gracefully turning her around. She could not keep her countenance from softening even more as his gentle fingers grazed over her mid back, only to slowly glide up the fine fabric in order to smooth it away from her shoulders. Letting out a breath, Pocahontas began to run her comb through her mass of dark hair until her gaze caught his in the mirror once more, strands of raven-like hair falling over his pale hands as he worked. The native princess bound her tresses with the piece of lace she carried.

Looking up, Pocahontas noted his grin in the mirror as his fingertips traced the nape of her neck. Inhaling, Pocahontas tightened her grip on the table as his lips connected with the smooth skin that the shifts would allow. Back and forth, he laid soft kisses on the area from the shell of her ear to the top of her shoulders. His calculated, slow movements alternated from the left to the right. She heard his chuckle behind her as she whispered his name under his light touch.

"P-Pray tell, what has you so amused?"

He made no reply, merely moved a part of the dress down her right arm and lightly kissed the exact spot where her neck and shoulder met. Her heart quickened as she felt the kiss of the evening air through her linen shifts as the gown's fine fabric slipped down her arms, it finally pooling at her bare feet.

She noted his arched eyebrow in the smooth glass before her. "What is it?"

"Tis you, you are not wearing a corset?"

It was her turn to look surprised. "Do you think I need one?"

"No, No, that is not what I meant."

"I have come to enjoy taking deep breaths whenever I deem it necessary."

He took a step back while Pocahontas chuckled at his placating expression. "I did not mean any offense, tis just most women in England do."

"Miss Winter's gown has a corseted foundation if you have not noticed… Mrs. Jenkins and I had a brief quarrel this morning concerning this very topic. Three days ago, I was attending a garden party at Lady Martha's home when I was suddenly overcome. I suddenly could not breathe, and I had to go rest in one of her chambers. Sometime later, the lady herself came to me and loosened the bindings. After that, I had no more trouble."

"You certainly have no need of one," he began, "So that we understand one another, I am thankful that you are no English lady."

Remembering the conversation in the tavern made her heart flutter as a smile graced her face. "So that we understand one another, I am your lady."

"If you would be willing, I would have you for my wife."

Stepping out of the dress she silently turned to face him, his azure gaze boring into her as she caressed his cheek. Pocahontas smiled as he leaned forward, brushing his lips against hers. The blaze in the other room loudly popped and hissed as John pulled back to look at her.

"I, I will see to the fire," he began whilst his hand captured hers, "Can I get you anything?"

"No," she whispered as he slowly exited the room, softly shutting the door before she heard his footfalls fade away.

Taking a deep breath, Pocahontas slowly exhaled as she started to remove her shifts. One by one, the three of them slid effortlessly off her curves as she swallowed hard, John Smith's words echoing in her mind as she made ready a clean cloth in order to start washing her copper skin.

'If you would be willing, I would have you for my wife.'

It had been a declaration she had longed for ever since she had stood atop that cliff in her homeland, watching the wind carry him back across the endless salt waters.

She had always known the desire had never left her; it had simply shattered into a thousand jagged shards that had embedded themselves into her soul when news of his death had reached her.

And knowing it had all been a farce.

Realizing he had never stopped loving her.

Knowing in her soul there was so much more to his narrative that she wanted to discover it all from him.

She needed to learn all of him, from his soul to his body, she wholly recognized that he was giving all to her this very evening. That he was letting her, of all people, into his heart.

No matter where the spirits brought them after this night, Pocahontas was well aware that this time was hers for the taking.

That he was hers for the taking.

Her heart pounded in her chest as she unbound her hair, picked up her comb and began to work at untangling her tresses.

'Why bother when they will get tangled again in no time?'

She could not help the chuckle that escaped her lips, knowing how much he loved her hair. She wondered when was the last time he had seen it cascade down her back, only to be caught by the wind or his hand. As she selected another clean cloth and continued to wash, she recalled when they had swum together in the river. She had just climbed out of the cool water, his tall frame behind her when she had felt a tug on her hair. Not expecting it, the playful gesture sent her sprawling backwards. His teasing laugh had echoed around them as his strong hands gripped her waist, pulling her against him. She had turned then, her breath catching as for the first time she had seen desire in his eyes, their breaths mingling in the summer air as he moved a wet strand out of her face. His damp, smooth fingertips trailed along her forehead as she tilted her face towards his own. The moment had been broken by a splash up-stream, and the two of them practically wrenched themselves away from one another as their eyes scanned for the source of the noise.

Even though it had been nothing more than a flock of birds that had decided to land, the scare had been enough for them to go their separate ways for that day. She had returned to her village and, feigning a headache, retired to her hut where she pleasantly recalled their afternoon: the way the water had glistened on his golden hair to the way his shirt clung to his muscular frame.

And how badly she had wanted him to kiss her.

Smoothing down the cotton shift over her body, Pocahontas glanced in the mirror, the glint of her engagement ring catching the light from the small candle. Nearing the table, the woman looked down at the beautiful stone. Unbidden, the night John Rolfe had asked her to marry him flashed in her mind as she frowned.

"I hope you know I have a genuine affection for you," he had said, gently picking up her hand from across the dining room table, "We have gone through so much with Ratcliffe and his lies… It would do me a great honor if you would consent to be my wife."

Thinking back, Pocahontas now realized he had taken her stunned silence as if she had agreed with him.

"We can start planning as soon as possible. I am certain.-"

"Planning, what are we planning?"

"Our wedding," Rolfe had answered as he squeezed her hand, "You have made me happy."

"John Rolfe," she cleared her throat before continuing, "I did not say that I would marry you."

"Why would you not? It will be alright…"

Her objections were ignored-even when she had sent the dress makers away. Prior to this evening, feelings of dread and uncertainty had long seeped into her bones.

Only to lift as she slid the ring from the fourth finger of her left hand. A wave of euphoria swept over her, making her dizzy as she clutched the table to keep her balance. She hurriedly placed the ring upon the surface, as if it could somehow crawl back onto her hand.

Gathering her breath, smoothing down her hair and scrubbing her hands on her shift, Pocahontas opened the door.

Only to blink in surprise when she faced the empty room before her, the fire merrily crackling in the fireplace. Noticing the door was ajar, Pocahontas approached just in time to see John Smith's shadow before he fully opened the door.

"Oh!"

Pocahontas startled as John Smith hurriedly stepped back, holding a small plate of fruit.

"I am sorry," he said as he placed the plate down on a table, "I did not mean to frighten you."

"You did not frighten me," Pocahontas chuckled, "I was merely startled."

"I thought to get you some fruit… If you are not hungry, I am certain the color can brighten up the room… I am sure you have a great room, a lovely room at…"

"No, no this is a wonderful room," Pocahontas interrupted as she took in the comfortable surroundings.

"I like how everything has a place here. All is tidy, it reminds me of the longhouses back home with everything in order."

"Thank you," John smiled as he sat on the edge of the bed.

Pocahontas nodded as she neared the food, picking up a round piece that looked as if it had been cut in half. Her curious gaze took in the white outer covering, coupled with the bright color of the inner fruit.

"What is this?"

"It is called an orange. They are costly yet a Portuguese trader was in town and since we are acquaintances, I was able to purchase a few. Some of them can be sweet and others sour."

Her gaze met his as she approached the bed.

"It seems you can pull slices apart," she continued before placing one into her mouth and experimentally chewing on the juicy orange.

Wordlessly, she held out the other slice, John Smith taking her hand and raising it to his lips. The woman giggled as he took the piece from her fingertips. She watched as he swallowed and gazed up at her.

"What do you think of it?"

Pocahontas fully laughed. "I like it very much, however I have some of it on my face. I will go and wash.-"

"I would not worry about that," John began as he stood, cupping her face in his large hand before deeply kissing her.

Raising her left hand, Pocahontas trailed it along his wrist and up his arm until her palm rested on his shoulder. She smiled at the feel of the fine linen of his shirt, a material so different than what she had ever seen from her homeland.

Their eyes locked, John's steady gaze bore into her own as he took a soft breath. However, it was Pocahontas who spoke.

"Will you dance with me?"

Both knew the question was not necessary, yet it encompassed their whole relationship. From the first step that she took when he assisted her from the canoe, to when he had warned her about his men's intentions to attack her people, when they had finally come together in a kiss that had ended too soon, to the moment their hands were pulled apart as he boarded the ship to return to London.

Merely to abruptly stop when news of his death had reached her.

The steps that had finally brought them to this point were achingly slow and arduous. Yet now they stood face to face, John Smith's strong arms pulling her close as he took a step forward.

"Here?"

"Here," she breathed whilst pressing herself against him in her thin shift.

Pocahontas rested her head on his shoulder as the two of them began to sway to the rhythm they had set long ago. She sighed in content as both arms wrapped around his back, gently sliding upwards until her fingertips dove into his golden hair at the nape of his neck. Pocahontas smiled as he embraced her, his hands pressing into the small of her back as she raised her head to gaze at him through dark lashes.

Bending slightly, John softly drew his lips over her forehead, down her cheek to her jaw line as she arched her slender throat. Needing no further encouragement, the captain placed gentle kisses on her neck, pulling her closer as she trembled in his arms. It sent a thrill through him when she whispered his name, her hand stroking through his hair whilst the other traced the curve of his shoulders not covered by his shirt. Only when her fingertips grazed his chest did she pull back, giggling as she felt him frown against her skin.

His heartbeat thudded against her hand, and she wondered if he could sense hers as the material bunched between her fingers. He took a step to the side, Pocahontas following his lead as they neared the shadows in the corner of the room. The woman gasped as his hands firmly held her waist before releasing her as they swiftly went to his shirt, Pocahontas gazing on as he lifted it over his head and dropped it to the floor.

She reached for him as his gaze followed the path to the ground, the captain swallowing hard as his eyes studied the good linen that now lay crumbled at his feet.

Dark eyes tried to meet his own as she placed her hands onto his hard stomach. John Smith gasped as her fingertips gradually moved along his pale skin. He closed his eyes, gritting his teeth as the heat from her touch became overwhelming. Her fingers slid up his chest until they rested on his broad shoulders, her lips tenderly touching the hollow of his throat, then moving to his chest. She felt her own body respond to his pleasure as he softly moaned, her ebony tresses trailing gently across his skin. The native princess slowly bent and kissed the place along his rib cage where he had been shot in order to save her father, her soft cheek nuzzling his side.

"Thank you," she whispered before continuing, "You saved so much that day, beyond what you know."

John gently smiled at her praise, knowing at least that for that scar, he did not have to feel any shame.

"I would do it again," he replied as she straightened and leant against him.

He finally met her eyes. "I would do anything to protect you and your people. I would do anything to make you happy."

Melting into an embrace, their languid dance steadily guided them towards the firelight. Pocahontas allowed her hands to slowly caress his shoulders as they swayed together, lips merely parting in order to breathe as the glow from the fire caused the heat between them to nearly be unbearable.

He pulled her close, then. Pocahontas gasped at his slow, fiery kiss in contrast with the feel of his rapid heartbeat. Savoring her bottom lip, his pale hands gently swept her hair away from her face as he gazed down at her serene expression.

Flames leapt in the fireplace as Pocahontas sighed in contentment, John leaning forward to kiss the base of her throat.

"I never thought you would wish to join me at my flat," His gaze searched hers before he continued, "When I danced the Volta with you this evening, I honestly believed that would be the last time I would hold you. I prayed it would be something you would never forget."

"I have not forgotten the Volta," she whispered, eyes falling closed as his chin tilted up to sweep a kiss across her brow, "I have never forgotten you."

The admission was nothing more than a whisper in the darkness, but it sparked something in the air between them. It was inescapable and undeniable as Pocahontas fiercely embraced him.

Gathering her courage, she rose onto her toes to take his mouth again, edging their steps to the bed that had beckoned to them since their arrival, purring unspoken promises of a pleasure long denied to both of them.

Only when John's calves hit the wood with a soft thump that caused blue eyes to flash open and return with a smile did she, at last, dare speak her heart's desire, "And I never wish to forget tonight."

Though his eyes widened, she could see the barely leashed hunger within their depths as he spoke, his voice rough as sand on the seashore from fierce kisses and short breaths, "Pocahontas, are you certain?"

Heaven knew he wanted her, needed her love more than air. Yet he knew his heart when it came to her, and he was well aware that there would be no going back for him. She was getting all of him, whether she realized it or not and the thought terrified him.

And yet, as his gaze met her soulful deep brown eyes, he knew he could deny her nothing.

"Are you, John Smith?"

He detected the slight challenge in her tone, coupled with the longing in her embrace and he needed no further encouragement.

"I am yours, Pocahontas, for always."

Without preamble, his strong hands lifted her by the waist while her surprised laughter echoed around the room as she brought up her legs in order to kneel on the bed where he now sat. Pocahontas laughed again as her knees threatened to give out beneath her as she clutched onto John Smith's shoulders in order to kneel behind him.

His laugh joined her own. "Are you alright?"

He let out a breath when he felt her body press against him. He shivered as her arms wrapped around his neck, only for her hands to tenderly slide over the ridges of his chest.

"I am."

Her tremulous answer was followed by a kiss to the shell of his ear. John Smith gasped her name when her soft lips traced the nape of his neck. Leaning back on her knees, Pocahontas grinned as he moaned when her hands gently glided over his torso, only to allow her fingers to run through his golden hair.

Leaning forward, Pocahontas fully embraced him, pressing her breasts into his muscled back whilst her hands gently cupped his face before exploring the strength in his arms.

He shivered at her open-mouthed kiss when she moved to behind his left ear, merely to slowly glide across his scarred shoulder blades to the opposite side.

"I love you," she whispered as her fingertips slid over his wrists, tenderly grasping his arms before resting on his broad shoulders.

She took his gasp to mean that he was enjoying her caress, yet a gnawing feeling entered his mind.

Not even the whores would ever acknowledge the scars on his body. Some would give a cursory glance prior to averting their eyes. In their minds, they were marks of deserved chastisement and whomever had authorized it had every right to do so.

And yet, his coin was as good as anyone so they would always inquire about it before doing their business with him.

John Smith swallowed hard: for at this very moment, the only woman he had ever loved laid her smooth cheek against his back, kissing a narrow scar that drew the length of his shoulder blade.

"Pocahontas," he gasped her name merely to keep his mind from wandering, "Pocahontas…"

"My love, what is it?"

He swallowed the sudden lump in his throat, and for a span of seconds he felt his desire waver.

"M-my love, you do not have to…"

He felt her move away and waited for her displeasure. He heard a shift in movement as she embraced him once more.

"You are so strong, my love… My warrior…"

His breath was slow and measured. "What do you mean? Yes, I have fought… I am a fighter I…"

Soft fingertips against his lips silenced John Smith whilst Pocahontas moved to sit beside him, their shoulders brushing as she tenderly took his hand and turned to face him.

"Yes, you have fought much but you are no fighter. You are a warrior."

The captain tilted his head to look at her. "What is the difference?"

"A fighter provokes discord while a warrior defends and protects those from it."

He gazed at her calm expression and listened to her soft explanation. The words, so matter of fact, that he felt his eyebrow arch and his mouth go slack in shock.

"What?"

"We all fight for no reason when we are young," Pocahontas chuckled, "I know the warrior in you… The man that fought for justice, who saved my father… The love that will have me as I am, not mold me as he sees fit."

"I would never."

Pocahontas smiled at the fervor in his tone.

"I know," she murmured as her mouth found him once more and her soft hands glided across his scarred flesh. In that moment, he realized she was accepting every part of his body and soul. At this revelation, his strong arms embraced her lithe form as she deepened the kiss.

There was so much he wanted to say to her, so much he desired to ask. Yet as she softly moaned his name all thoughts seemed to vanish in the night.

The fire crackled in the hearth as John Smith shifted to lay beside her, gently easing her down on the mattress as his long leg draped over hers. They both moaned as he rocked his hips against her soft body, his nimble fingers trailing down her spine, over the curves of her hips towards her thighs. He reveled in her soft cries, his hands slowly kneading along her shoulders and all the way towards her thighs once more.

The native mirrored his actions, loving the feel of his smooth pale skin under her hands and the softness of the material of his trousers. Their teasingly slow touches fed her desire as she clutched him in a firm embrace, her kiss matching his in its longing.

Pocahontas gasped as the evening air kissed her bare skin whilst John's hand twisted in the thin linen of her shift. Pulling back, he searched her gaze in the firelight as his fingertips traced the bare skin. The only sound in the room was the crackling of the fire and their breaths as her longing gaze swept over his face, showing the hunger deep in her dark eyes. She smiled up at him and leant forward, drawing her mouth down his jaw line to where she gently suckled the place where his jaw and shoulder met. John Smith buried his face in her neck, breathing in her scent sprinkled with lavender as he moaned whilst the shift climbed higher on her leg.

Gazing at one another through half-lidded eyes, their bodies came to an accord as he slowly shifted onto his back, pulling her up and on top of him, the action leaving no doubt as to his desire. Her hands moved down his chest whilst he glided the chemise upwards, the captain taking his time to admire her body in the firelight. Merely breaking contact to drop the garment onto the floor, it landed silently as he stared at her. Strands of midnight hair framed her tan face, the rest spread out behind her like a raven ready to take flight. He gazed into the dark pools of her eyes, seeing nothing but hunger and desire as she tentatively moved above him. A ragged moan escaped his lips as he watched her chest as her breaths rose and fell, he aching to taste every part of her whilst his eyes roved lower. Swallowing thickly, he watched her shiver as the peaks of her breasts hardened, calling for his caress.

A light laugh left her lips as her dark eyes locked with his. "I see you are pleased, my love."

She watched him swallow thickly before he could reply. "Absolutely…"

He pulled her down beside him, moaning in pure delight as her full breasts pressed into his chest. John allowed his warm hands to move through her hair, to gently finger the tiny pearl earrings she wore before sliding across her cheeks and cupping her face.

"Beautiful," he breathed as he kissed her mouth before drawing his lips over her tan skin to the place where her shoulder and jaw met. He watched her lips turn upwards as he placed feather-light kisses to the column of her throat. He whispered her name as her body arched against him in his arms. His open palms followed his kiss, the pads of his thumbs making slow circles on her tan skin. He breathed her scent as his war-worn hands finally cupped her soft breasts. She arched towards his caress in pleasure. His gaze sought hers as he answered her silent plea, her soft cries of pleasure being his reward. When he tasted her skin, she threw her head back against the pale pillows and his name fell from her lips. His warm breath caressed her as he dipped his head and gently suckled one breast whilst kneading the other. He pulled back to gaze into her dark eyes and when the captain did so, he saw nothing but love and desire in their depths. The moment stilled his heart and filled it with joy. In pure happiness and passion, he captured her mouth in a searing kiss. He felt her arms hold him tighter as her hands glided up his muscled back.

"I love you," she whispered whilst gentle fingertips swept strands of golden hair away from his face.

He was certain of one notion in that moment. One word that held him fast to her, one pair of soulful dark eyes wherein he saw his past be washed away. In that moment he dared not move lest all be missed. As if her touch was taking the pain from him, drawing it out only to be forever banished.

He was unable to speak, utterly spellbound by her warmth. Time seemed to slow, the only sounds in the room being the crackling of the fire and their soft breaths.

Though time slowed, it nonetheless carried the two of them along a tender current of exploration and new discoveries.

For once in his life, he realized that the actions of his body could be in harmony with his heart and soul.

She learned the secrets of his body, the native princess thrilling at the sound of her name falling from his lips at just her inquisitive touch.

He knew after the first taste of her fulfilled sweetness that he would never be fully sated.

She learned that momentary pain could bring exquisite joy.

Like the chorus of a beloved song their voices blended in tempo with their arching twisting movements…

…Merely to release in a heart pounding finish, leaving them breathless as a serene silence fell.

-….End of Chapter 8…-