"I thought we said everything we needed to say earlier." He looks at me briefly, but is unable to maintain eye contact. His hand slips uneasily through his hair as he stands in the fading light of the bunkhouse. Though too early to light the lanterns, the glow of the fire in the stove brightens the coming darkness and casts us both in growing shadows.

"You." I let the word slide from my lips on its own power. An hour ago it would have been an accusation, but my temper has cooled enough to let my words speak for themselves.

"What?" His expression is confused, but his eyes... Those bright, blue eyes know the truth of what I'm saying.

"You." I can tell that my calm flusters him. He expects me to make a scene. I sigh as if explaining something difficult to a child, but it helps me hold the corners of my fury in check. "You said everything you needed to say earlier. But you didn't let me explain my side of things."

Before he turns his face away, I see a flash of guilt and something else... Pride. His damnable pride is going before my fall. The shouting match the boys'd had earlier gave me some good ammunition. Jimmy had known what he was talking about. Kid takes a deep breath and squares his shoulders as if this conversation is a test and I am merely a trial to be borne. "C'mon, Lou. You know I'm right about this."

Lord, give me strength, a grip on my temper, and patience enough not to kill this man. "I know no such thing, Kid." He's already thinking about what he'll say to pacify me. My temper threatens to catch fire and consume us both. "In fact, I'd say Jimmy's right." There. That should throw him off center long enough for me to get his attention.

Kid spins around to face me, his eyes alight. I hurry to get the next word and keep control of the conversation. "He told me that I wasn't the love of your life. Said I would always come second, and I reckon he's right."

Bullseye. Kid is at once confused and angry. Sputtering, he tries to defend himself. "Jimmy doesn't know what he's talkin' about. He's just tryin' to secure his place in line."

My eyes narrow in anger, my hand itches to slap his face and halt the implications he's spewing forth. But instead I force an easy smile to my lips. "No, I'd say he was dead on." I step closer to Kid and watch his eyes widen. He's still expecting my temper to get the better of me, but this isn't a game to me. I can't afford to let the selfish demands of my anger and pride lose this battle when there's a war to be won.

I circle him slowly, my hand running up one arm then across his shoulders. He shudders at my touch, albeit unwillingly. It was the first time I had touched my husband since he'd gotten home. Two days ago. When I reach the opposite arm I stop and bring my other hand to the small of his back. "He said you loved your pride more than ya love me, and I'd have to say he's right."

Kid turns quickly and grabs my wrist in his callused left hand. "That ain't so!" His face is angry, but I can see the uncertainty as well. "It's 'cause I love ya that I gotta do this."

Somehow I keep my voice calm. But the tears are threatening to gather and overflow. "Love ain't got nothin' to do with what you're doin' to me, Kid. Love would never make ya leave me. Love would keep ya by my side, like ya always promised."

"Dammit, Lou! Do I hafta spell it out for ya?" Desperation drips from his words. "I ain't the man I used to be. The Kid you bound yerself to is gone. He died in the war."

"Ya know, I think Jimmy was wrong about you." Kid's eyes darken with hurt, even as I see him give himself a mental shake. I did just agree with him after all. But the hurt... The hurt gives me hope. "I think it's yer self-pity that yer holdin' close." I pull my hand free from his grip but step nearer, my face tipped up to his. "Closer than ya ever held me."

I mean the words as a dare, my stance chosen to provoke him. But the tremor in my voice belies my actions. I curse my weakness and feel the tears start to build again. I can't give in yet!

"Lou." He says my name like a prayer, a fervent plea for understanding. He's begging me to let him go, to release him from our vows. I can feel his hand hovering near my face, as if he's afraid to touch me. My anger flares to life, saving me from the shame of tears.

"Listen, Kid, you may think yer doin' this fer me, but I know this is all about you. You thinkin' you know what's best for everyone. You tryin' to protect me from the real world. And worst of all, you runnin' away and pinnin' it on me." Maybe I should just give him the show he's been expecting all along. Or maybe I should push him just a little bit farther. "Face it, Kid, yer a coward."

Timber! I've finally dropped him. His noble nature is laying in a heap at my feet, revealing the raw side of him I've only glimpsed before. The hand that had hovered near my face now closes into a fist. He pulls it to his side when he realizes the implied threat. "Why are ya doin' this?" His voice is low and demanding. "I told ya, I ain't the man I used to be. I've seen and done things that I'm ashamed of."

"I know you, Kid. I cain't belie-"

"That's just it, Lou, you don't know me. Not anymore." His shoulders drop and he looks away, defeat evident in his every move. "I have looked men, boys in the eye and taken their lives. When my own boots wore out, I stole some from a dead man. I lied to my comrades. Told 'em they were gonna make it, when I knew they were gonna die. And I did it all for a piece of land that ain't even my home anymore. I fought against my brothers, against Jimmy and Cody and even Noah, for nothin'."

He shakes his head in disbelief. "I saw Noah killed over this, and still I thought I knew better. I thought I was doing this great thing, fightin' for Virginia. The land that saw me poor as dirt as a boy, saw me bury my mother, saw my father drink himself to death... And I went to war to protect it. So yeah, I seen and done things I'm ashamed of."

"Don't forget yer other favorite excuse." I keep my voice deliberately singsong and light. Another twist of the knife. I cannot afford to show him compassion now. War is hell for everyone, and I won't lose him because he feels sorry for himself. In every "discussion" we've had since his return, he's come back this over and over again.

"It's not an excuse, dammit! Look at this! You call this-these an excuse?!" In his anger, he tugs his shirt free of his waistband. He fumbles with the buttons before whipping the shirt from his body. "Look at this! Look at this and tell me I'm the same man you married, that I have anything to offer you." He is panting now, as if he really had been running away. Looking in his eyes I can see the horror there. Horror over what he has seen and done, and horror that he confessed the truth to me.

He looks at me expectantly, waiting for me to recoil and turn away at the sight of his tortured flesh. The scarring consumes much of the right side of his torso, from chin to waist. I cannot imagine the pain he has suffered, the pain he continues to suffer. And I cannot let him think it wasn't worth the agony to survive it. Somehow I must make him see that this body he hates is more precious to me than his youthful perfection ever was. His right arm and hand look drawn and tight, the puckered skin limiting his movements. I can see his every argument written on his face. He'll say he can't write, can't rope, and can't shoot. And even deeper I can see his doubts about everything else. He can't touch me, can't be touched, can't hold our future children.

I make certain that I never look away from his brilliant blue eyes. "I'm sorry, Kid." Before his confidence can crumble even the tiniest bit more, I continue, "I'm so sorry that you think so little of me." His mouth opens to protest my words, but I am quicker. "If you really knew me, you would know that these scars mean nothin' to me. And you would know that I'm a woman of my word. I made a vow to you, and I intend to keep it." I surprise him by sealing my promise with a kiss.

Kid opens his mouth and, whether it is to return my kiss or to condemn me, I take advantage of the opportunity. I plan to seduce my husband tonight and win this war we've been waging. I sigh against his mouth, a shiver running the length of my spine. His facade weakens. Stepping closer, I let my lips part so he can explore my depths. His tongue lightly sweeps across my lips before plundering my mouth. His eyes close and his body shudders all over as he, almost drunkenly raises his hand to my hair, pushing his fingers through it possessively, pulling me closer. I smile into his mouth as his control crumbles to ash and blows away in the fire of our passion. My pulse races and electricity surges through my veins. The warmth pooling in my belly overflows, heating my skin and quickening my breath.

My palms rest against his chest momentarily and feel the sharp intake of his breath. I use his distraction to take control of the kiss. Ever so lightly, I suck his bottom lip into my mouth. I feel the conflicting responses warring within him, before he comes back to himself and tears his lips from mine with a small cry in the back of his throat. "Dammit, I don't want yer pity."

I refuse to give him the response he seeks, to cast him from me. Instead I will lay myself bare before him in every way I know how. I step back and slowly unbutton my blouse. His eyes grow wide and wary, until I push the fabric down my shoulders and let it slip to the floor of the bunkhouse. In a few more seconds I am stepping from where my skirt now pools on the floor. Kicking the fabric aside, I turn my attention to the intricacies of my corset. And moments later I have shed the rest of my undergarments.

Brazenly I stand before my reluctant husband, my chin raised proudly. "Does this look like pity?"

I can see his hands curling into fists as he fights the urge to touch me. I step closer, raise my hands to his shoulders, and push the fabric of his shirt back. He lets it fall until the sleeves pool at his wrists. I slide my hands down his arms and tug the cuffs of his shirt until the garment glides to the floor. The flickering light of the stove dances across his imperfect body. And his voice is no more than a bare whisper, "Are ya happy now?"

I meet his eyes as my hands reach for his waistband. "Almost..."

He retreats, holding his hands up between us. "What're ya tryin' to prove?" His voice is raw and tortured and his eyes well with tears. "I can't be what ya need with all these scars."

"Kid, I need you to answer a question for me." I can see the uncertainty in his eyes. "Do ya remember when I told ya about Wicks and what he done?"

"Yeah..." I hear anger in that one word. "That ain't the same-"

"Why ain't it? It kept me from livin' a normal life. Caused me to cut my hair and dress like a boy. Made me feel ashamed of the love we shared. It still makes me feel like I ain't woman enough fer a man like you." It's not in my nature to talk so much about my own feelings, but I'm afraid that if I don't tell him now I may never get the chance. "Those are my scars."

"Lou, you know that ain't true. Yer all woman." His eyes flash with his vehemence.

It's time to lay all my cards on the table. "I guess I didn't say that right. What I meant is that I ain't lady enough fer a man like you... I, I'm a mess, Kid. You're a gentleman, it's one of the things I love about you." I smile sadly up at him. "But I ain't no lady. Wicks recognized it in me. I just kept tryin' to fight it."

Looking down at my own nudity, shame and embarrassment wash over me. My face heats even as my blood turns to ice. I thought I had it planned so perfectly. "But I guess I just ain't as good as you. I can't give you up, Kid. I know I'm not good enough, but I just can't give you up." The tears run freely down my face as I crouch and gather my clothes.

"Louise." He bends down to stay my hands, his voice soft and close. The moist heat of his breath sends a thrill down my spine. We lock eyes and straighten ourselves, his hands now holding mine. "Louise McCloud, you most definitely are a lady. There ain't nothin' Wicks or anyone else could do to make me think otherwise." He raises his right hand to cradle my cheek and freezes momentarily before finally following through with the caress.

I capture his hand in mine, pressing it to my cheek then placing a kiss on his palm. At his sharp intake of breath and slight tug of his hand as he tries to free himself, I find I'm at the breaking point. I let him hear the warring emotions in my voice. "Dammit, Kid! Don't hide from me." A choked sob escapes my lips. "I love you, you foolish man! Why don't you trust me to know my own mind?"

"But Lou, I'm..." His expression is desperate, pleading.

"What? You're scarred? So am I. You done things ya wish ya hadn't? Me too. You're afraid of the future? I ain't... Unless you're not by mah side." I pull him closer and kiss him deeply, my hands gliding along his skin. He stiffens, uncertainty obvious in his hesitation before he finally relents. His body hums with a tension I've never seen in him. And despite his efforts to fight his response, his eyes cloud with longing. Breathlessly I continue, "You're still you. You're still kind and generous. You got a heart as big as all outdoors, and for some reason, you still love me. You came back to me after the war. I don't care that you have scars, Kid. I wouldn't care if you couldn't walk, or see, or hear, or anything! As long as yer heart beats and even after it stops, I will love you. I swore in front of God and everybody." This is it. Please let me get through to him! Hoarse with the strain of so much emotion, my voice trembles, "Please Kid, please don't leave me!"

He studies my tearstained face momentarily before pulling me into his arms. "I'm so sorry, Lou." My first thought is to curse my failure to convince him, but then he speaks again. "I'm so sorry I've done this to you, that I'm such a fool. I still can't believe that you'd want me. But God help me, I love you too much to run this time."

My body flushes instantly with heat. "Kid..." My hushed tone beckons him to kiss me. Our lips meet with a furious need to reclaim each other. We are both rough and demanding as we explore each other's mouths. I break away and place a trail of kisses along his jawline. Reaching the sensitive scar tissue that climbs his neck and ends just behind his ear, I lightly glide over the puckered flesh with my fingertips. He shivers at the sensation. My lips trail after, my warm breath caressing his tortured skin.

As I continue my ministrations he still holds back, reluctant to touch his scarred hand to my unblemished skin. I look deeply into his brilliant, blue eyes and reach for his right hand. The scarring has made the skin tight and difficult to move. I drop a kiss to his palm, still looking in his eyes, and then lay the marred flesh to the curve of my breast. He lightly squeezes and runs his rough thumb over my nipple. A low moan escapes my throat, and my eyes roll back. "Kid... It's been too long since you've touched me." A throaty chuckle spills from me, "You always did know how to push my buttons." I smile up at him.

His reluctance is but a memory now, as our hands explore each other's bodies. My breasts, though still small, are more full, and my hips have broadened. When he left for the war I was still so much a girl, but I am all woman now. As a girl I would hurry to get to the joining of our bodies, always seeking the release we found together. But the woman in me longs for the slow, teasing touch of his hand on my skin, the tightening of muscles, the weakening of limbs, the feathery feel of his breath on my neck. His lips and hands move almost reverently across my form. I feel worshipped and adored, the sounds from his throat telling me he appreciates my maturity.

I let my fingers dance across the warped skin on his torso. I know the scars are no longer physically painful to him, but I want him to know that I find them beautiful. When he walked away from me he was a stubborn boy, but he's returned a proud man. The scars run from his neck to just below his waist. I finish removing his breeches and explore all the changes time and war have wrought on my husband. His burns are extensive and tell me just how lucky I am that he survived at all.

The firm muscles of his body only serve to highlight the wounds that threatened to keep him from me. I can still catalog the scars from our days with the Express. The Pike gang, the claim jumper we came across stealing gold dust on the way to Elias Mills' hanging, even his own brother had marked him. But the new scars he carries mean something else. The letter from his commanding officer told of a battle of frightening intensity, where the victor sought not just to defeat but to destroy. Kid saved the lives of his men, but only barely managed to save himself. When his horse fell and pinned him in that fire, he barely managed to drag himself free. That recognition of how close I came to losing him drives my passion to new heights.

His rough hands glide gently over my warm skin, seeking out as well the wounds that have marked me. The wound from my very first ride with the mochila, faded scars from being bound to a cross by the Pike gang and nearly hung by Hopkins. From old to new, he explores the way time and experience have marked me. His index finger traces the long healed wound in my side. Though I planned to say nothing at the time, Teaspoon and Rachel had both sent word of the attack to him. Close to death for nearly a week, I hovered between life and the beyond and wished only for the Kid to come back to me.

We both seem to realize just how lucky we are to end up together after all life has dealt us. We hold each other tightly and whisper words of love. Then Kid drops his head and takes my nipple into his mouth. The heat of his mouth sends an echoing warmth shooting straight to my core. He suckles and teases the peak with his tongue. My mind explodes with stars. It's been so long, and he feels so good. I can no longer speak and simply moan my approval. My hands thread through his thick, soft hair, holding his head to me. He slides one hand to the small of my back, while the other massages and tweaks my other breast. He pulls his mouth away, allowing his teeth to drag along the sensitive skin of my peak, and my knees buckle in response.

A smile tugs at the corners of his mouth as he pulls me closer. He bends down to hug me tightly, then stands up. My skin thrills at the contact, sending waves of quivering pleasure through my body. I want to drink him in and pull him closer, so close that we can never again be parted. My lips meet his neck, my tongue darting out to tease the sensitive skin. My hunger grows tasting his salty skin and smelling his scent of soap and leather. My feet dangle just above the ground as he walks toward the center of the room. Sitting me on the end of the table, he returns his attention to my breasts. I reach my hands out to caress his body. Drawn to his erect manhood, I'm relieved to find the scarring didn't reach this part of him. His firm flesh is smooth, his shaft thicker than I remember. It's clear that time has changed us both.

I run my careworn hands up and down the length of him, fascinated by the feel of such silky hardness against my roughened skin. Finally my curiosity wins out, and I push him back a step so I can hop down from the table. I kiss him passionately, inviting his tongue to swirl deep into my mouth. Reaching up I pull the pins from my hair, letting the auburn waves roll down my back. As much as my body has changed, I am most proud of my long tresses. Kid raises his head to look at this newly revealed part of me. His hands are soon buried in my long, silky locks, even as I drop to my knees before him.

The glow of the fire throws enough light for me to see the hunger and anticipation in his eyes. I have only tasted him in this way once before. So many years have passed since then, but I still remember the slightly salty taste of him. I had been reluctant to love him this way, remembering the stories I'd overheard in the whorehouse when I was a laundry girl. Disgusting. Dirty. It should only be done when a man forces it or pays extra. But sharing this with Kid makes me feel powerful. His mouth brings my body such pleasure, I eagerly return the favor. I drop a kiss, feather light, on the tip of his manhood. Then my tongue glides the full length of him, base to tip, before I draw him into my mouth. My lips hug his width, while my tongue caresses his length. One hand cups his sac, massaging gently, while the other glides up and down his hard shaft. I revel in the control I have over his excitement. The heat between my thighs grows to a needy ache. His body thrums with a slowly building tautness.

Kid throws his head back, moaning loudly. "Louise, that feels so good!" His hands grip my hair, as if holding me in place. I continue my tender assault and gently suck as I slide my mouth up and down. "Lou! Damn! I'm so..." I smile around his engorged shaft, and draw my nails along his inner thigh. He inhales with a hiss. The last time I tasted him like this we were both young and he lacked the control he needed to make it last.. But now Kid has the patience and stamina of a man, and I tease, caress, and worship him to the very last. He lets go of my hair, expecting me to stop my ministrations, but I continue. I lavish all my attention on his shaft. Kid breathes harder and quicker now and before he can pull away, he releases his essence into my eager mouth. I drink him down until I feel his involuntary shudder. Still holding his rod in my hand I look up and smile.

With heavy-lidded eyes he reaches for me and pulls me to my feet. Lifting me again, he returns me to the edge of the table. He kisses me for a moment, his hands caressing my breasts. Then his mouth suckles my tightened peaks. His warm breath dances across my skin, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake. He pushes me until my back rests on the tabletop. Leaving my breasts, he kisses a path to my patch of silky, dark curls. I nearly scream when his tongue finds my core.

I can only feel, I cannot speak. My body will never produce words to describe the all-consuming bliss I feel. My hands grip the edge of the table. I need to anchor myself before I shatter and fly into a million tiny pieces. The growing tenseness in every muscle draws toward my core and the long, heated kiss he places there. Pleasure radiates through me, and I can sense his adoration with every stroke of his tongue. As his mouth suckles my hidden nub, he slides a finger into my eager sheath. "Louise, you're so wet for me," he murmurs. Another finger slips inside me, then yet another. When he begins to slide them in and out, I start to wonder if I can survive so much pleasure. In and out, in and out. Slowly at first, then building. My toes curl, and my head tosses from side to side. His other hand separates my folds so his tongue can better access the very sensitive nub above the core of my womanhood. My body thrashes as the tension in me builds slowly.

I feel as though I am standing on the peak of a mountain, looking at an ocean below. The pleasure tightens my body, and I want nothing more than to jump off the peak. One more careful swipe of his tongue followed by a gentle suckling, and I am begging Kid to push me over the edge of this mountain. "Kid!" I shout his name as a plea and a prayer. He stands suddenly, and I am momentarily bereft. Another second passes, and I am suddenly filled nigh to bursting as Kid plunges to the hilt. "Ah, Lou... yer so... tight..." His voice sounds as though he has run a long distance.

Slowly now he pulls almost completely out before plunging quickly in again. I can feel that him holding back, treating me as if I were a fragile thing he could break. His every caress brings me pleasure, but my body cries out for intensity. "Harder!" My legs spread wider to give him more access, and he pounds into me. His thrusts are almost uncontrolled and wild, filling me completely then leaving me almost empty. I start to tighten around his thick cock. My breathing is rapid and heavy, matching his, while he continues to pump almost savagely into my womanhood. I teeter on the brink when his mouth drops to my breast, and he sucks my nipple into his mouth tugging it lightly with his teeth.

I scream his name and fly apart, falling, falling, falling. Our bodies continue to move in rhythm as my womanhood squeezes him, pulling his climax from his throbbing shaft. "Louise!" His shout helps spur me to another release. We both collapse on the table, our sweaty bodies still joined. Panting, Kid raises his head to kiss me once more. Where our earlier kisses had been frenzied and passionate, this tender kiss holds the promise of our future.

That was ten years ago to the day. We ended up spending the rest of the night talking and loving until our bodies gave out. Kid finally came to realize that his scars only made me love him more. They're proof of how he's been tested and tried yet came out the victor. And while they make his work on our ranch harder, he doesn't let them get in the way of anything anymore, especially me. And tonight, as I lay our sixth child in his arms, we both smile, remembering the time he tried to ride on without me.

Many, many thanks to Gert and Hortense for their help.