Chapter 4

The word explode from her mouth with an unchallenged ferocity as Rebecca stood from the table and moved across the room her chair silently rocked at the force of her movement. Following his wife Rolfe crossed the room to the doorway. "Rebecca I wouldn't dare…"She cut him off."And I would. Have your land back, this I will do." Her words struck him and of the three years they had been married he had never seen this independence, this fire- had she hidden this as well? He nodded and she went through the door. Rolfe knew he needed this- he needed his pride back. Crossing the room he reached the table and leaned over to Smith.

"Agreed, half an hour."

Backing out of his chair John stood and leaned back close enough to kill or kiss- feeling the heated anger radiating off the other man. To Rolfe's heated gaze John's shown back in a blank darkness, a darkness that shrouded him when he as a soldier killed. In a voice that held a cold heat of its own he spoke, "agreed" then pulled his winter sky eyes away from his adversary. John's muscles stiffened as he swiftly turned and the tails of his cerulean coat brushed against the table as he began to cross the wide expanse of the room. As he walked out into the faint light of the hall, his heart ached; he felt the weight of his triumph but it didn't sit well with him, yet it was to late to turn back and as me moved he let the darkness over take him. It was the sharp chiding of "Well Rolfe lets see what else you have to barter" that turned him away form the door on to the face of Rachel; slowly he sank down on to his chair.

Flash-forward

"We are certainly sorry for you, he was a good man."She looked up into the face of the man in front of her. The polished pew in which she sat was hard and uncomfortable; and the dampness of the cathedral's air was cold against her skin. It was nothing compared to the ice flowing through her veins. This noble like the others only offered her half hearted condolences. They didn't really know her husband, he was too low in nobility. But the prevailing factor was that her husband was dead. As the last mourner walked towards the door way she stood and walked towards her husband's casket. He was frozen in time, the only thing that shown of his death was covered by the crisp shirt he wore but she knew it was there, she remembered the blood all too vividly.

Gently she brought her hand to her mouth, kissed it and then placed it upon her husband's mouth. Until now, this was the only closeness she offered him in these past months and now he was gone. Again she felt numbness surround her and she wore it like a cloak to hide her shameShehad not loved him enough and she turned from her husband and drifted away. She had made it towards the end of the row of pews when it over took her. Clutching a pew so hard that her knuckles became pale she did not notice the figure that slid to her side and offered assistance.

"Female," Pocahontas thought as the smell of oleander drifted to her nose.

She allowed the figure to guide her towards the door and out of the dark church. It wasn't until the nausea had passed that she had the strength to look up and when she did it shocked her. Anger and surprise shown in her voice-"What are you doing here."Well, one good deed certainly wouldn't get Rachel into heaven but she had to at least try.

"I am here to help you." Pocahontas scoffed at her word and gave her a looked that said just as much.

"Do you come here to gloat, to add to my misery?"

Surprised now herself Rachel offered, "No, I am here to help not mock...are you…?"

Pocahontas turned from her and began down the steps of the church. Rubbed the wrong way herself Rachel did the only thing she knew to still her and Pocahontas did at her words. Rachel let the words fall from her mouth like an absolving burden;

"He loves you…not I or anyone else…When will you realize that… when will you acknowledge it within yourself …what's done is done. Now live."

Quite certainly the longest speech she had ever given on the topic of love, Rachel turned from the woman and walked away, letting Pocahontas linger in her memories she disappeared into the distance.

Flash back

The room was dark and smelled of newly polished pine. Within the darkness she could see pools of light created by the crystals of the chandelier that hung above; its light guided her to the relative safety of the room's silk covered wall. She could hear his heavy foot falls behind her but she refused to acknowledge his presence, at lest until she was forced to. It was John's calloused hand that brushed along her chin which brought her face to him, their eyes meeting in the shadows. Silently she prayed for numbness to enshroud her heart, but her prayer would not be answered. His eyes spoke to her of their shared prideful mistakes, his love for her, and his reluctance.

"Love," it was strange she wondered.

"How could you?" she hissed.

For a moment his eyes fell with the impact of her words but he needed her, needed her more than she would know, more than he would ever let her know. When he raised his eye they reviled to her a low fire, asking her a silent question that he hoped she'd asked herself and would willingly answer for both their sakes. When it did not come crossed the short distance between them and his tender lips meet with hers as his powerful arms encircled her waist, she could not escape. It took her by surprise, he tasted of spice -it was familiar to her, his taste, she had missed it. It was the brush of his tongue on her lips seeking entrance that pulled her from the relishment of his kiss. She pulled back out of his arms and slapped him. His head snapped to one side and his eyes never rose to meet hers.

"Pocahontas," her name was said on a whisper and although her hands clinched at her sides she regretted the action.

She repeated herself, "How could you."

He finally turned to her and anger shown like blue fire within his eyes. "I made my mistakes, but I'm fighting now." With that her heart shattered and it started the trail tears which streamed down her face. He moved back to her then crossing the short distance, his hand cupped her cheek as his thumb wiped the tears from her eyes. His lips again moved to her mouth and she did not fight it, she could not fight her own needs, she had known that he would posses her, lay a claim to her and she wanted to be in his possession. Her defenses were broken, her heart was divided but she surrendered to him.

The movement of satin sounded harsh against the silence of the room, but it was the warm rub of the silk walls and the polished chair rail which bit against her necked back that was the most unpleasant. She was brought out of her thoughts as his lips and hands descended down her body cupping her against him making them one. It was the warm feel and rhythm of his body that erased the sounds of protest that came from the stroke of her satin dress against the cotton of his shirt. It was the defining sound of nothingness that spread across the room as moans were pulled from her only to be devoured by his hungry mouth. It was the warmth of his mouth that traced circles across her breast which made her forget her hurt. In the end it was the blindness of ecstasy that closed her eyes against his shoulder as she brought her nails up his back, leaving a trail of angry red marks as they searched his frame for support. Yet it was her name again soft from his lips that brought her into the reality of the situation. She slid down the silk covered wall down to the polished floor with her head in her hands as tears flowed in shame, betrayal, and love, and anger.

"Was this your revenge," she asked.

He did not answer and she refused to wait for one as she gathered herself and ran from the room back into darkness. He was left standing with her name on his lips and the lingering warmth of her body.