Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

A/N: This story is rated M for "Merry Christmas from Edward, ladies!" As usual, if you're not over 18, please don't read. Thanks!

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Updated A/N: If you're curious about Bella's body temperature or why we've altered other canon elements, we have a nifty post about that on our blog.

It can be found at http://fragilefoxes[dot]blogspot[dot]

Enjoy!

Chapter 10: The Dreams We Held So Close

Chicago? Could she really have returned to the same city? The city where we had met in so long ago; where once upon a time we had fallen in love?

Edward paused in the hallway outside of Aro's study for a moment, wondering if he should go back and ask him for more information. One look at the guards waiting to show him out of the castle nixed that idea. Besides, if Aro had been willing to give Edward more information, he would have. He didn't.

Edward listened very closely, but Aro's thoughts were on the 'meal' he had just consumed before Edward had arrived. He was focusing on the sensation of the blood rushing down his throat, soothing the burning ache there. Edward knew Aro was waiting to be told that Edward had left before he would think of anything else. Edward had been given the gift of Aro's clues, but was left to his own devices to figure out its meaning.

The Isabella who Edward remembered wouldn't have returned to Chicago on a whim. If she had come back, she would have a reason. The pertinent question was: what was that reason?

As he made his way swiftly through the dark night of the city towards the garage where he had stowed his rental car, he tried to put the puzzle pieces together. He knew Aro had recognized him when he had seen him in Afton's thoughts. Clearly he had seen Edward in Jane's thoughts as well. But had he not also seen him in Isabella's? He must have. Yet if he and Isabella were as close as they seemed in Aro's memory, wouldn't he have told Isabella that Edward was in Chicago with Carlisle only a few short years after she left him? If he had, then that would mean she knew he was there but purposefully didn't come back until now? Perhaps she had tried but had been unable to find him. No, that couldn't be so. She could easily have asked Aro for help. He obviously loved her like a daughter. Aro would have found him through Carlisle for her if she had asked. Wouldn't he? Those questions offered no easy answers.

Sliding into the black leather seat of the Ferrari, Edward was no closer to an answer. He couldn't shake the nagging feeling that she had returned for him, although the sentiment held no logic. Quickly jettisoning any claim to rationality, he decided to go with his instincts, and they told him to return to the places of their courtship. If she was looking for him, she would do the same.

His mind flipped through hazy memories of Chicago during the summer of 1918. Although his memories of Isabella were the clearest ones he had of his human life, they were still murky. One stood out from the others with clarity, though, and, for the first time in decades, he let the sweetness of it flow over him without any accompanying rancor.

~*~

Edward nervously straightened his tie, building up the courage to knock on the door of Isabella's house. He could see from his reflection in the window to his left that he looked perfectly presentable: he was wearing his dove grey tweed suit with a crisp white shirt and light blue tie. His hair, always somewhat unruly, was slicked back on the sides neatly, the rest contained as much as possible under his dark grey fedora. He knew he looked every inch the picture of the perfect gentleman. So why, then, did he feel like such a fraud? He stood there frowning at his reflection for another minute when he nearly jumped out of his skin as the front door whipped open. An older woman with graying red hair and a faded work dress that marked her as a domestic stood there scowling at him.

"Are you going to stare through our windows all day, young man? Or were you planning to knock on the door and introduce yourself like a decent fellow?" The woman's imperious tone was so discordant with her dress that Edward stood there gaping, unable to formulate the correct response.

"What, no answer?" she continued, a hint of Irish showing up in her accent as she got more put out with him. "Must be one of them mental blokes they write about in the papers all the time," she murmured to herself, apparently deducing that Edward's lack of verbal response indicated a deficiency in his hearing as well. Before he could inform the woman that he was neither deaf nor insane, he heard the voice that haunted his dreams drift down the stairs.

"Sadie, is there someone at the door?" He could tell from the smile in her voice that she knew it was him but was letting her housekeeper torture him just a bit longer.

"Yes, miss, but don't you worry yourself about it. It's just some lunatic come to moon at himself in your windows. I'll sweep him off the porch before I leave for the day." Sadie's dismissive words were answered with Isabella's lyrical laugh. Edward was slightly embarrassed at how much just the briefest sound of her voice could affect him, making his previous anxiety dissipate like mist melting away under the warm, morning sun. Rather than dwell on her power over him, though, Edward let it work its magic, bolstering his confidence. When Sadie turned back from her brief communication with her employer, Edward had removed his hat respectfully, holding it behind his back in one hand, behind the bouquet of lilacs and roses that was in the other.

"Hello. My name is Edward Masen." He turned the full force of his smile on the woman and had the satisfaction of seeing that, even though she thought him a madman, she at least found him to be a beguiling one. She gaped at him for a moment, wide eyed as one hand came to settle over her ample bosom, the other absentmindedly patting her almost peach colored hair. "I have come to call on Miss Swan, if she is available." His tone turned the last part into a question but it took her a few moments of blinking before she seemed to realize that.

When she came to her senses, Sadie's lips pinched up in a disapproving frown before grudgingly muttering, "I'll check." She all but shut the door in his face, and a moment later Isabella appeared, beaming at him in a simple yet elegant white cotton shirt and lavender skirt.

"Fair maiden," he returned her radiant smile as he murmured his by now traditional greeting.

"My champion," she rejoined, a laugh flirting at the edges of her lips as she leaned against the door in the shadowy part of her foyer. "You came." Edward was surprised at the vulnerability in those two words. Was it possible that she didn't realize how absolutely she owned him? She had but to crook her little finger at him, and he would follow her through hell and back.

Unable to confess those sentiments as he stood outside her door with her dueña-like servant nearby, most likely listening to their every word, Edward settled for presenting her with a small gift which he hoped would show his devotion.

"A token, my lady," he said as he presented her with the fragrant bouquet. "One that hopefully will show you that my heart is yours to command," he murmured softly, hoping Sadie's ears weren't as sharp as her tongue. Isabella looked pleased, by both the flowers and his words, and she stepped back to invite Edward in.

Once inside, Edward noted that the house was not just large but luxuriously appointed. Nothing ostentatious, that would never do with the war going on, but still visible in the quality of the furnishings. He hadn't realized Isabella was so well off, far more than even his family could boast, and they were among the wealthiest families in Chicago.

Sadie offered to put the flowers in water, breaking Edward's train of thought. He was pleased to hear Isabella tell her she'd do it herself, sending her housekeeper home for the evening. As Sadie bustled past him and out the door, the wicked part of Edward's brain swiftly noted that they were now alone.

Stop lusting after this woman, he reprimanded that part of himself. She's a lady, and you need to think of her as a lady.

A lady who you intend to marry… his baser instincts sallied back innocently. Even the Bible tells you cleave unto your own wife.

Edward firmly clamped down on that part of his mind. As much as he tried to keep his thoughts and actions around Isabella pure and honorable, a large part of him wanted nothing more than to lay her down and spend eternity exploring every curve, every hollow, every inch of her skin.

Thankful that she was unable to hear his thoughts, Edward wandered from the foyer to her front parlor after Isabella excused herself to place the bouquet in water. Above the fireplace mantel was a large, gilt frame painting of a woman, although he wasn't immediately able to discern if the subject was a portrait or something more allegorical due to insufficient lighting.

He moved to get a closer look and then flushed because the painting was not the sort of tame subject found in most homes. It was of a seminude woman holding the head a man, almost cradling it next to her naked breast. Even though Edward was sure it must be from a Biblical story, and therefore technically not inappropriate to have hanging so prominently, something about the painting instantly reminded him of Isabella, and that was all the prodding his lustful side needed to start spinning erotic scenarios all over again.

"You're admiring my Judith," she murmured, her pride in the work evident. "Isn't she lush?" Edward cleared his throat, surprised that she had returned so quickly and somewhat at a loss for words, not knowing what to say lest he offend her.

"Did you paint this?" he asked, pleasantly surprised that his voice came out for more self-assured than he felt.

"No," she replied wistfully, still gazing at it. "It's by a Viennese artist named Gustav Klimt. Have you heard of him?" She turned her head, and Edward simply shook his own. She sighed as her eyes were drawn back to the gold bedecked woman. "He died recently, so of course he will become more important now, but I love the dreamlike quality of his works. You should see his drawings; they're exceptional."

"Did you meet him, then? When you purchased the painting?" Edward was more curious at her reaction to the work than anything else. It was special to her, and he wondered if she had met the artist she so obviously admired.

"No, unfortunately. It was a gift from a dear friend." Edward could tell from her tone that she was not interested in discussing how she had come to acquire the painting. But she didn't seem ready to move from where they stood, mutually admiring the work itself.

"It's a painting of Judith, then? From the Bible?" Edward was familiar with the story of the Jewish widow who had risked her very life to save her people by using her seductive wiles to inebriate the leader of the Assyrians and then behead him. It was a common enough topic for sermons these days as the war in Europe raged on, and Edward had heard the tale more than once over the past few years as his preacher had exhorted them, men and women alike, to support their nation the way selfless Judith had. In those sermons, however, Judith's sexuality was obviously never emphasized. Looking at the subject through the eyes of the Viennese artist, Edward realized the story had other allegorical meanings that could be drawn from it besides that of patriotism.

"She doesn't look as fierce as I would have imagined," Edward continued after Isabella nodded. "She's definitely still a woman, not some almost-male virago. But she also doesn't look repulsed by what she's done."

Isabella smiled somewhat thoughtfully before murmuring, "It's interesting you would think of that. When my friend, Aro, gave it to me, he told me it was to remind me that it was possible be powerful while still remaining feminine. That a woman can be, and should be, both."

Edward was impressed with Isabella's friend. The sentiment was not particularly popular or prevalent, but it certainly was true of her. As he looked at Isabella, he could see both strength and vulnerability in her eyes, and he desperately wanted to take the last one away. He turned toward her. They were so close now that he need only lean forward and he would be able to kiss her lips.

In the secluded shadows of her parlor, the thought naturally flowed into the action, and his lips brushed hers softly. Ever since that day under the oak when they had shared their first kiss, Edward had desperately tried to remain a gentleman with Isabella, only rarely indulging in brief, chaste kisses. Still, his body always yearned for more. His lust for Isabella was unquenchable, and he had to fight it every time he was near her. It left him perpetually tongue-tied, and he wasn't sure he had said more than three coherent things in her presence in the entire time of their acquaintance. He certainly had been too dazzled to string together the words he most long to say to her. And if those three little words were too much, then the thoughtful and romantic profession of love he planned to give her in preface to his proposal of marriage was even more so. But he would remedy that tonight.

"Isabella," he murmured as her lips continued to softly graze his, inviting him back into their embrace. Her eyes fluttered open, and, as always, the emotion he saw in them distracted him from their unusual shade of burgundy. "I promised you a picnic under the stars, remember? Are you ready?"

She shot a rueful smile back at him but nodded her head and motioned to the door with her hand. He took her arm and led her out into the warm summer evening toward his father's car, which he had borrowed for the occasion. Francine, the Masen's cook, had generously prepared a lavish cold supper for him to bring, neatly packaged in a large wicker basket complete with a soft blanket to sit on. There was also an ice cold bottle of champagne in the basket, and he fervently hoped to have reason to open it that evening.

The drive from Isabella's house to the meadow just outside the city didn't take long. Soon they were seated on the soft flannel blanket, gazing at the ever more visible stars as the night sky darkened from purplish grey to deep violet. As usual, Bella picked at her food, far more intent on talking to Edward than eating. Edward packed up the remnants of the meal when they were done and placed the basket next to his coat and tie. Isabella had teased him into removing them soon after they sat down, telling him he looked silly dressed so formally on such a hot night out with her in the middle of nowhere. She had even unbuttoned his collar for him, a simple action that had made it his heartbeat stutter and caused his throat to constrict dryly. But there was no awkwardness between them when Edward now lay back on the blanket to look more fully at the night sky, opening an arm for Bella to lie next to him.

"It's so lovely out here, Edward. Thank you for thinking of this." She fit in his arms as if she had been shaped solely for them, and Edward was so happy to show her in any small way how much she meant to him. He loved this woman with every fiber of his being. There wasn't a thing in this world or the next he wouldn't give her. As his thoughts turned more serious, his expression mirrored them, and Isabella reached up a single finger, trying to smooth out the puckered skin on his forehead.

"Isabella," Edward whispered as he sat up and captured her hand, gently tugging her to sit up with him. "My one and only love." She sighed at his words, and he gently cupped her cheek, staring deeply into the pools of her eyes.

"From the moment I first saw you, from the moment we first spoke, you have owned my heart. It will belong to you for eternity, as will I if you'll have me." He pulled her hand to his chest so she could feel how that feeble organ beat solely for her. His words brought a tightness to her eyes, and he could see she felt the same for him. He reached into his pocket and brought out the ring that was nestled there, wrapped in a swatch of black satin. He quickly removed the cloth, holding the slim, gold band between his fingers as he held the ring up for her to see. His heart squeezed as he realized in this moment she had the power to make him the happiest man in the world or to break him completely. Please, God, let her say, 'Yes.'

"Isabella Swan? I promise to love you for forever – every single day of forever." He swallowed hard before he asked the question he had specifically brought her there for. "Will you marry me?" Isabella's eyes, which had been drawn to the ring between them, suddenly flickered up to meet Edward's. He could see there were so many words she wanted to say, so many emotions that fluttered across her face, and for a moment, one that felt like an eternity, she looked as if she might refuse him. When she spoke, it was the barest hint of a whisper.

"Yes."

Edward slid the ring onto her finger, taking his time to enjoy the triumph of the moment. Looking at his mother's ring on his beloved's finger, he was overwhelmed with gratitude that this beautiful creature could somehow want him.

"Thank you," he murmured. He kissed each of the fingertips on her left hand before kissing the ring itself. Lifting his head, he leaned forward and finally kissed her lips. When his tongue snaked out, licking her lips slowly, she opened them willingly, taking him in with a sweetness that made his head swim. The mere taste of her mouth was so delicious he wanted to kneel down and thank God for her; but not more than he wanted to continue to taste her.

As they continued to embrace, rational thought fled, and his body began to move on instinct alone. Leaning back, he pulled her down with him, cradling her in his arms as his hands began to tentatively explore her body. At first they just roamed up and down her back, but his palms itched to feel the weight of her breasts, and, since his body was far more in charge than his brain, they did.

She moaned a little as he felt her flesh through the filmy barrier of her thin, cotton shirt, pressing her body against his in silent encouragement. Can she want this as much as I do, he wondered as rational thought surfaced briefly. He cupped her, molding her with his hand, letting his thumb brush over her hardening nipple, earning him another gasp of pleasure. His body yearned for so much more. His demons whispered in his ears, telling him to lay her down, pull her clothes off, to take her here and now and let pleasure be his only guide.

It was that last part, the directive to be ruled solely by his selfish pleasure and not his love for the woman lying next to him that allowed logic to break through the haze of lust. He pulled back; suddenly uncertain. Isabella's eyes fluttered open and her expression tightened as she took in his visible indecision. He was about to apologize for his behavior, but she silenced him with a finger placed gently over his lips.

"Don't, Edward," she murmured. "Please don't say that you're sorry. Not for this." Her eyes searched his, silently imploring him to understand something he couldn't quite grasp. "Never for this. Please…" She pulled his head back down to her own, and he went willingly, understanding finally that her need for him was as great as his own for her. He might have been able to pull back, to deny himself, but he would never be able to deny her. This time, when he pushed her back into the blanket and their lips touched, what had been a smoldering fire burst forth into an inferno. He poured his love into their embrace, showing her with each touch how ardently he loved her.

His lips left a fiery trail down her cheek to her neck. His tongue swirled from the crook of her ear to the hollow of her collar, sweeping back and forth, reveling in the perfection of her skin. He pressed his body into her, and she rose up to meet him, inciting his lust and welcoming it in the same action. Driven to touch more of her, his hands swiftly pulled her shirt loose, gliding under the soft cotton. The tactile pleasure of her cool flesh had him reeling, her breathy response to his touch even more so.

When his palms finally held her perfect breasts, he was again filled with the knowledge of how unworthy he was to be touching her, this perfect woman, this goddess. But then she called out his name softly, and he was lost. She wanted him, she needed him, and he had no choice but to give himself to her.

He pushed her shirt up, pulling it off her with a muted swish. As he tossed it to the side, she quickly undid the buttons on his shirt and ran her hands over his chest, admiring the flesh she had exposed. She placed a single, soft kiss over his heart and then looked up at him, her eyes filled with some unreadable want, and he was again filled with uncertainty.

"Darling, if I've done something to…" his words trailed off as she shook her head slightly.

"No, Edward, it's not that. I want this; I want you. But I don't ever want this to be something you regret." Her eyes became unbearably sad before she dropped them, whispering in a small, shame-filled voice. "You don't know the things that have happened to me...the things I've done..." Edward wasn't sure what she had been about to confess, but he realized that none of it mattered.

"Isabella," he lifted her chin with a knuckle so her eyes met his once more. "Please don't let the past get in the way of our future. Nothing you've done, nothing that's happened before will ever change the way I feel about you. Nobody's perfect. But I love you," he emphasized. "Your past helped make you what you are, but I want you for all of our tomorrows…not your yesterdays."

She kissed him then, slowly and passionately, saying things in that kiss that he didn't fully understand but accepted with his whole heart. And he kissed her back with all of the ardor that had pent up since that fateful day from what felt like an eternity ago. They tumbled back onto the blanket. He covered her body with his own, desperate to show her just how intensely he loved her, desperate to feel her response. And from the moment his lips touched hers, he was lost. This woman was his siren, calling to both his better angels and darkest demons, and for once they were in full agreement. Edward knew in his soul that they belonged to one another, in every way that a man and a woman could belong to each other. As he pulled her flush against his chest, he pushed his fingers into her soft, dark hair, burying himself in their kiss.

It wasn't long before Isabella's russet hair was spilling free of its bonds and down her back. Edward's hands roamed back and forth between the satin of her skin and the silk of her hair. When he encountered the waist of her skirt, though, he hesitated. He heard James's voice in his head.

Just flip it up, his friend's voice taunted it. That's the quickest way to get what you want. But James's idea of courting was often a quick tumble and an even quicker escape; rarely talking to the girls he "dated" once he got what he wanted from them. Clearly, Edward wasn't going to rely on what he imagined James's advice would be. None of his other friends were credibly experienced, despite their many stories to the contrary, and that left Edward with very little in the way of information on how to proceed.

He looked down, hoping that there would be a simple button on the side but saw nothing. As his fingers brushed lower he encountered what he realized would be a row of tiny buttons all the way down the back of her skirt. There was no way he was going to be able to undo them without her help. He looked up to find her regarding him with bemused indulgence.

"Would you be willing to…" He smiled helplessly as his hand toyed with the top button. Taking pity on him, she reached behind and rapidly dispatched with the buttons within her grasp, leaving the sides to fall haphazardly apart.

"That's mine, but there's still yours." Her fingers ghosted over the button at the front of his pants, and his body twitched in response. Swallowing slowly, he thumbed the closure open, sitting up to remove the trousers as she sat back and divested herself of her skirt. Just like that they were naked. It had been accomplished far more easily than he had imagined it would, but now he wasn't quite sure how to proceed.

Isabella sank back to her side and held out her hand for him to join her. When their skin touched, his insecurities fled, and again he was able to focus only on her. His hands resumed their lazy exploration as their tongues merged and melted against one another. Her hands skimmed over his body, eliciting as many pleasured sighs from him as he had garnered from her. When she wrapped her tiny hand around his hardened length, Edward thought he might pass out from the sheer pleasure of it.

Working on the principle of what felt good for him would feel good for her, he placed his hand over her sex as well. She was hot and wet, and without thinking he slipped a finger into the slick folds of flesh. He grazed a small nub of flesh along the way and Isabella moaned loudly, her hand tightening about him. He brought his fingers back and stroked that part of her again and was rewarded with another hard, slow stroke.

They continued to work each other's flesh, no longer kissing as Isabella's head fell forward onto Edward's chest in fevered concentration. When she shifted her legs and his fingers slid inside her, he felt her body convulse around him as she whimpered, "Oh, yes, Edward…please." He curled his long fingers inside her until she was panting, her hand abandoning his cock to steady herself against his chest. Not that he minded. He was now able to focus solely on the beauty that was Isabella lost in the throes of passion, and it was a glorious sight to behold.

With his thumb, he was able to graze what he realized was her clitoris, while still moving his fingers in and out of her, and in no time she was falling apart in front of him. Her head flung back, and her body arched into him ecstasy as she shouted his name. "Edward!" When the convulsions ceased, she fell back toward him, her head once more against his chest and he gathered her into his arms, placing a soft kiss at the top of her head.

A few moments later, she roused herself enough to look up at him with lust filled eyes. "You do know we're not over yet, right?" A wicked smile spread across her lips, and Edward's heart stopped for a second before starting to beat in double time. As she sat upright, she lifted her hips to straddle him. Isabella locked her eyes on his, and they never wavered as she slid, inch by inch down his aching shaft. She stopped when she was fully seated on him, and Edward's mouth dropped open at the sensation of being buried in her amazingly wet heat.

"Oh…my…God…Isabella…" he gasped as she raised herself on him only to engulf him again with agonizing slowness. Every instinct in his body screamed at him to roll her over onto her back and ride her until he reached oblivion. But if he had ever known how completely under her power he was, he knew it then. She could have tortured him endlessly that night, and he would have taken it, begged for it, giving her anything and everything she wanted. He lifted his hands to her hips in silent supplication for some sort of release, asking her to quicken her pace or at least strengthen the impact of her thrusts. She cocked an eyebrow at him and then shook her head lazily. His eyes closed in defeat, and he knew he would simply have to follow her lead.

She rocked her hips back and forth, and he slid in and out of her effortlessly, ebbing and flowing inexorably toward his climax. She was so unbearably hot and tight and wet, and Edward was certain he would lose his mind any minute when she spoke to him again, her voice dripping with passion.

"Edward, won't you look at me?" His eyes drifted open, and he saw her in all of her dark splendor, her hair tumbling down her back, her hands cupping her breasts as if in offering to some pagan god. "Don't you want to see what you do to me?" He groaned as she writhed above him, simultaneously innocent and wanton. How could he have wasted a single moment by closing his eyes?

"Yes, Isabella…oh, yes." His words fell from his mouth like a prayer as his hands and eyes worshipped every part of her they could land upon. She was Venus incarnate, and he was the luckiest mortal alive. He could feel his orgasm building as he struggled to hold on, wanting to make sure she had a chance to feel as heavenly as she was making him feel. He was so close, though, and the newness of the sensations heightened them unbearably.

Finally she leaned down to kiss him sensuously, placing her hands on his chest before pleading, "My love, I'm so close…won't you come with me?" Edward's eyes flashed as he grabbed her hips again, forcefully this time as he pushed up into her as hard as he could. His pelvis ground into the soft, sensitive flesh that surrounded him, making her gasp as she was thrown over the edge. Isabella's body clenched in wave upon wave of pleasure, and she pulled him with her, his voice screaming her name into the lush, star-filled night.

~*~

That had been the one and only time he had known carnal love, and the memory of it had been burned into his brain for eternity. For years the mere hint of it would send him spiraling into anger and shame, but now the memory was altered. Having seen Aro's version of Isabella, the whole tenor of it had changed. No longer did she seem a seductress, intent on stealing his innocence and leaving him damned. No, now she was a woman, as desperate for love as he.

It was this new version of Isabella he returned to find, sure in the knowledge that he would see her soon.

A/N: The proposal scene is taken from Eclipse. The words are direct quotes from page 460. I hope Mrs. Meyer won't mind. *wink*