IV

Bella's POV

It was morning. At last. I sighed as I pushed aside the crumpled sheets. They were twisted around me, slightly damp with my sweat. I had had the dream. Again. I hated that I dreamt of him. He was there every waking moment, a ghost that loitered just at the edges of my awareness even when he was not in the same room.

Now he was in my dreams as well, slipping in and out of them as if he belonged there – as if he had every right to inhabit them. It seemed that I could not escape the intriguing Mr. Masen no matter how hard I tried. I groaned as I got to my feet. My entire body thrummed with unrelieved tension. I had endured enough mornings to recognize that what flowed through my body right now was lust – plain and simple.

I kept my ablutions simple. Even the touch of the cleansing cloth against my core made me hiss. I was throbbing, aching…empty. I pushed the thought away. I had too many people relying on me to allow my lurid fantasies to entice me into acting recklessly. I was a widow, and while I should have had more freedom than I had had as the innocent daughter of a prominent family, I was no less a prisoner of my life than I had been before Jacob Black.

Mr. Masen was as untouchable to me as ever.

I looked out the window and watched the sun rising over the mountains in the distant. It would be a beautiful day it seemed. The sun was shimmering with promise and I could already hear the songs of the birds as they greeted the new day. I closed my eyes briefly and tried to picture Jake's face. It was becoming less clear with every day, fuzzy and indistinct. He had been my husband and the only man to share my bed; he was the father of my sons. Surely I owed him more loyalty than this mindless lusting over the man who was educating our boys?

Squaring my shoulders, I resolved to keep thoughts of Mr. Masen and his charms completely repressed. My first and most important duty was to my sons. It was my job to keep them safe and clothed and sheltered, to provide for their every need including their education. Mr. Masen was simply a means to that end – nothing more or less. I would not let my own foolishness and loneliness push me to ruin.

Resolutely, I opened my door and prepared to face the day.

Immediately upon entering the hallway, a small blur crashed into my legs. It would have to be Alex, of course. I looked down to see his bright, dark eyes smiling at me and once more I was overwhelmed with how much I loved them. They had been my saving grace, the light that kept me sane and whole. I wrapped my arms around him and looked past him to where I knew Aaron would be approaching at a more sedate pace, his expression both patient and chagrined. Sure enough, there he was, rolling his eyes slightly as his brother's boisterousness. He took his role as the "big" brother quite seriously and always strove to set a positive example for Alex. That example, I feared, was in vain. And I would not have it any other way. I loved their unique personalities and would not change either of them for any treasure on this earth.

Soon I was enfolding a reluctant Aaron into my embrace. He had recently started to feel that pinch that a mother's affection can sometimes cause in boys as they grow older. He was more mature than Alex, so it was not surprising that it would be Aaron who found his mother's hugs embarrassing first. I sighed and released him far sooner than I would have liked, knowing that this too was simply a part of growing up. I smiled sadly as I envisioned the many years stretching out before me during which the boys would endure my affections with grim forbearance, protesting if there were witnesses. Then they would be come men and my hugs and kisses would once more be welcomed. At least, I hoped so.

Then I made the mistake of looking up to see Mr. Masen stalking up the hallway behind the boys. Once more, I was struck by the thought that he glided like a predator, skulking through the forest. It always made me feel vulnerable, as if I should keep watch over my shoulder. I should not have been surprised to see him. I knew that he shared breakfast with the boys, keeping a careful eye on them so that they did not torment Mrs. Kendall too much. "Mr. Masen," I greeted him coolly, congratulating myself on remaining true to my resolve to ignore the warmth he generated deep inside of me. I could almost pretend that my undergarments were not damp.

A wicked gleam appeared in his green eyes as he studied me, as if he knew about the state of my unmentionables, but his nod and murmured "Good morning, Mrs. Black," were completely proper. I told myself that I had misinterpreted that glint in his eyes.

Then I caught sight of myself in the mirror as I followed behind them and a fire bloomed in my cheeks. I had missed a button and I could see the soft, white cotton of my chemise in the gap. Hastily, I rectified my error, my cheeks hot with shame. He had seen it, and it had amused him.

The insufferable man!

Edward's POV

That peek of the innocent white of Mrs. Black's chemise had left me hard and aching. I adjusted myself discretely as I walked in front of the boys, Mrs. Black safely in the back. Unfortunately, I had become an expert at hiding my physical reaction to Mrs. Black. I could hear the soft swish-swish of her skirts as she walked down the stairs and the sound alone was enough to make me throb and twitch in my pants.

May the Good Lord help me, I was a slave to my own treacherous flesh. Why the sound of her voluminous skirts would arouse me so much, I had no idea. But the fact remained and it was irrefutable. Perhaps it was because the sound made me imagine the swooshing sound those skirts would make as they fell to the floor when I had her alone in that bedroom. They would fall and then she would be bared before me, clad only in her petticoats and chemise and the dark waterfall of her hair. I would enjoy slowly revealing more and more of her flesh to my avid gaze.

God, I needed to stop this immediately!

Breakfast was a quiet affair, with the boys gulping down eggs and bacon and biscuits so quickly that I was shocked they did not choke. They knew I would eat more slowly, having no desire to die from a bit of biscuit, and they would take advantage of their few, unsupervised minutes to get into mischief. I sighed when they dashed from the table, having surprisingly remembered to carry their dishes to Mrs. Kendall. I would deal with the destruction after my meal.

"You are an uncommonly good cook, Mrs. Kendall," I complimented her. Mrs. Kendall reminded me of my mother, not a physical resemblance, but rather one of expression and kindness. She had a good heart and she genuinely loved Mrs. Black and her sons. Anyone who loved Bella and Alex and Aaron had my own devotion as well.

I looked at Mrs. Black, sipping at her tea with quiet thoughtfulness, nibbling at her toast with marmalade. She seemed preoccupied and distant this morning and I wondered if she had noticed me adjusting myself. God, I hoped not! The mortification might be enough to kill me. And I did not really want to die before I had fully tasted the charms of the reticent Mrs. Black. However, I did not think that was a proper prayer to offer up to the Lord so I remained silent on the matter. Surely He would understand that my feelings for Mrs. Black were entirely honorable. Well, mostly honorable. My favorite fantasy of bending Mrs. Black over her big desk flashed through my mind and before I allowed myself to proceed to flipping her skirts up, I quickly excused myself and went to the classroom.

The boys provided a much needed diversion as Aaron had talked Alex into attempting to crawl across the beam that spanned the room and Alex had gotten stuck on top of an armoire that held supplies. Alex always forgot that he hated heights until it was too late. I sighed as I rescued him, too grateful for the diversion to scold them as properly as I should.

The rest of the morning was no less a disaster than the start had been. We began by discussing the Trojan War, and I soon found myself imagining Mrs. Black wrapped in the revealing garments of the time. Not much would be left to the imagination, I mused. The glowing, pale flesh of her shoulders would be revealed to my hungry eyes, the scanty folds of the cloth would press against her limbs as she walked, and if I was lucky, I might see the shadow of –

I had to stop right there, biting back my groan as the boys stared at me curiously. Damn. I had really anticipated that my attraction to Mrs. Black would grow less distracting as time went on, instead it seemed to be picking up in intensity and frequency. If it kept up at this pace, I would be forced to pay a visit to town and engage the services of an amenable female companion, as much as the thought disgusted me. My own hand was proving to be of little help in the matter.

The day plodded on, with me attempting to do my job while unwelcomed and inconvenient fantasies of Mrs. Black interrupted me. The boys sensed my disturbance and were not above taking advantage of it. I finally surrendered to the inevitable and declared that we would take our sketch pads outside so that they could observe and record the beauties of nature. In reality, I simply wanted to give them a chance to run about and burn off some of their excess high spirits so that I could indulge in some naughty thoughts in relative peace. I decided that I was a horrible tutor and if I had any pride at all I would quit my post, return to my family home and beg for my father's forgiveness.

Instead, I merely followed the boys, keeping them from the worst of disaster and finally forcing them to sit down and actually sketch. I was afraid to open my own sketch pad because I knew what sort of images would end up on those pristine, blank pages and they were not the sort that any child should see of their mother. So I sat and suffered.

I was both disappointed and relieved when Mrs. Black took her noon meal in the study. The correspondence had arrived and she was usually engaged with that for several hours. Then it was time for dinner, lessons being mercifully concluded, and Mrs. Black still had not emerged from her study. I sent the boys upstairs to begin their nighttime routine and reveled in the silence for a moment. But Mrs. Black remained in the study.

That was most definitely not the usual pattern. "Mrs. Kendall?" I asked at last. "Is Mrs. Black feeling well? I have not seen her since breakfast and I have noticed that she has not emerged from the study and she usually…" I let my words trail off, somewhat embarrassed that I had let it slip that I was aware of Mrs. Black's habits.

But Mrs. Kendall gave me a look of concern in return and that made my heart beat a bit faster. Now I was truly growing concerned. Mrs. Kendall shook her head. "She got the post this morning and I haven't seen her since," she confirmed.

I frowned at that bit of news. "Was there anything that might have been a cause for… concern?" I was well aware of Mrs. Black's financial difficulties; my own salary reflected that quite glaringly. Creditors could get nasty if pushed, but I had not thought that affairs had progressed to that point. Not yet at any rate.

Mrs. Kendall appeared thoughtful for a moment and then she shrugged. "I don't rightly know, Mr. Masen. There seemed to be the usual." Then her expression cleared. "And a letter from her home, of course. But that was all."

I nodded and pretended to dismiss the matter, but as soon as Mrs. Kendall was occupied with other things I tip-toed down the hallway and stood at the closed door of the study, listening intently. I heard nothing for a moment, but then I detected the soft, muffled sounds of crying.

My beautiful Bella was weeping.

Before I could talk myself out of it, I knocked quietly on the door. "Mrs. Black?"

Nothing but silence.

"I've sent the boys along to bed, told them I'd be along in a moment to hear their prayers." This was usually Mrs. Black's job and I had told them no such thing – yet. But I would. It was a lie only by its timing.

Still nothing.

"Mrs. Black, is there anything I can get for you? Some more tea? More firewood?" May I hold you in my arms, Bella? Perhaps I may comfort you while you cry? Might I kiss the tears from your soft, lovely cheeks?

I heard the sounds of movement at last, and just for a moment I feared I had spoken my forbidden thoughts aloud. Then the door opened and I could do nothing more than stare at her. Mrs. Black's eyes were swollen and red, her cheeks pale, her hands trembling. I took a deep breath and was shocked to catch the scent of brandy on her breath. I had never known Mrs. Black to indulge in alcohol.

Then I saw the letter that had fallen to the floor. I saw the tear stains that made the black ink run in ugly rivulets over the paper. "Mrs. Black?" I asked softly in my most soothing voice. I felt as if I was approaching a horse that had not yet been broken, a wild creature that would soon run into peril merely to escape the blinding fear of being cornered.

Carefully, slowly I wrapped my hands around her upper arms and I felt her shudder. "What is wrong, Mrs. Black?" I was growing more frantic with every passing moment.

She blinked as if she had not noticed I was there until that very instant. Her head lolled on her fragile neck and I could see that she had undone the top two buttons of her dress. A white chemise peeked out at me, but for once my body did not harden in response. I was too scared to be aroused.

"They're gone," she whispered. "They're gone."

"Who is gone?" I asked in a low voice, still seeking to soothe her. "Where did they go?"

She sighed deeply and I felt her body tremble with it. The sigh turned into a sob and before I could question the wisdom of it, I had enfolded her into my embrace, tucking her up against me as I had longed to do for so long. "My parents," she whispered into my chest, her hot breath warming my flesh even through my vest and shirt and coat. "They're dead. They're dead." She looked up at me, her lovely brown eyes lost and unfocused. "I'm alone now. All alone…"

Then she collapsed against me.