XXV – Feed the Fire

~ Part I ~

Wednesday, June 1st, 1870

The next morning, Sully was the first to emerge from slumber, at an earlier hour than he had the past few days. It was as if his internal clock knew that two days later they would have to be up before sunrise, so they could catch the first train out of Denver to go back home. There was also a slight uneasiness he couldn't shake. He must have had a dream sometime during the night, but the harder he tried to remember, the more elusive the impression it had left became. It wasn't the first time he had awakened to that odd unbalanced feeling… but now, he had Michaela by his side for good, both emotionally and physically. She was presently spooned into him, sleeping soundly. Her sole presence gave him a measure of comfort and safety no one, nor anything, ever could. He had never dared imagine, after he had lost so many loved ones, that it would only take the love of one woman – and not just any woman, but the most extraordinary and beautiful and caring person there was – to make up for all the grief, loneliness and confusion he had experienced. Never more grateful and in love, he planted the softest of kisses below her ear, and drew closer to her. She had been sleeping unclothed all night, much to his delight – her skin so soft and warm against his… her scent… By what wonder of Nature could it be that his love and need for her still felt so brand new, so overpowering, so unquenchable…? The memory of something she had told him a few months before came back to him at that moment.

"Do you know what Sam said? She said that seeing us together was… like watching a fire burn."

"Is that good?"

"Well, ignore a fire and it burns out… but if you tend to it, take care of it, feed it… it keeps growing bigger, it burns brighter…"

Their love indeed blazed as high and bright as a bonfire that would never die down since it took very little to rekindle it – a touch, a loving word… sometimes just a look. It totally encompassed the phrase body and soul… Closing his eyes, he willed his soul to reach out to hers, and the touch of his lips and fingers to rouse her.

Michaela woke up to the feel of Sully nuzzling her neck ever so lightly. She kept her eyes shut as she wanted to bask fully in the sweetly arousing sensation spreading its warmth through her body. She allowed her awakening consciousness to focus only on his touch, the way his fingers were following the curve of her waist to her hip, her thigh, then back up, in a tantalizingly slow manner, to graze her ribs and the underside of her breast… his breath tickling her skin… his ankle hooked over hers… his broad chest and arms cocooning her upper body… She swallowed when she felt the evidence of his desire, her heart rate speeding up and her breath coming quicker, but still she didn't move as the wondrous physical sensations weren't all that she perceived. There was that non-verbal call, something that reverberated within her like a heavenly choir, something familiar. It was Sully's heart calling out to her, only its song wasn't desperate like when he had tried to locate her by feeling her when she had been abducted by the Dog Soldiers. It was soft and engaging, subtly seductive, and she felt her own heart responding in kind, their inner voices mingling into a vibrant unison… She fully luxuriated in that moment of contemplation of how their bodies and souls communicated without words their endless need of one another – the slight oppression in her chest… her blood pounding thick and hot in her veins… the dizziness that only made her want to cling to him, and him only, for his arms were the safety net that would catch the trapeze performer should she fall from the thrilling heights his love could take her… and her own soft knot of desire in her lower belly, swelling, fluttering, and then turning liquid, pooling, flooding…. She opened her eyes a sliver, her breath no more than short, panting sighs, her body now aflame and begging for his, craving the ultimate fusion. Reaching behind, she found his thigh, pressed tightly to hers, and began a sensuous movement, somewhere between a caress and a massage, which she had discovered he particularly enjoyed. As he emitted a soft grunt of appreciation, she shifted slightly in his arms, and turned her head seeking his eyes.

Their mouths came together first, in one single kiss that deepened and lengthened with each breath they shared. Their fingers threaded together securely, never breaking. And when they became one physically, they were already so completely attuned to one another that they didn't really feel the need to chase after any kind of gratification, somehow they were already where they wanted to be… how they wanted to be. One single flame.

Their union lasted as long as Sully could sustain it, after both of them had reached the absolute state of bliss, almost unwittingly. Their hold onto one another's hands gradually loosened, and their kiss eventually slowed to a stop, when the prosaic and much colder world outside reclaimed their attention again. Voices and footsteps from the occupants of the neighboring rooms could be heard on the other side of their door, encroaching onto their peaceful quiet and mundanely signaling it was breakfast time. Sighing deeply, Michaela turned fully into her husband's arms to face him.

"What was that sigh for?" Sully murmured against her brow, giving it a soft kiss.

"I don't want to get up," she bemoaned exaggeratedly. He chuckled at the way she frowned, her lower lip sticking out like that of a pouty child, as she snuggled closer. Amused, he pulled the sheet over their heads with a flourish and wrapped his arms around her once again with boyish eagerness.

"Then don't. Let's play hooky!"

Michaela chuckled at her husband's frisky suggestion and then sobered again. She was still somewhat under the spell of their loving, the powerful feeling of communion she had just experienced with him not entirely dissipated. Part of her wanted to cling to it with all her might, not let it vanish… So she clutched Sully's shoulders, pressed her nose to his neck, deeply breathing in his scent, and draped her leg over his, trying to recapture his essence and have it suffuse her being once more. Somewhere at the back of her mind, she wondered about that feeling of completeness. More than once, their lovemaking had carried out the Cheyenne legend of man and woman once created as a single being, their union carnal and spiritual all at once. Now, she found the concept all the more tangible in the light of her seemingly insatiable longing. It wasn't so much for the pleasure he could give her, but more in how he fulfilled her in every way imaginable and how the mere thought of being separated from him, even for a brief period of time, had become unbearable to her, as if she would lose a vital part of herself.

For a long moment, they lay quietly, cocooned within each other's embrace under the covers, and savored both their privacy and the absence of obligations. When they had come back from the train station after saying goodbye to Michaela's mother and sister, Sully had given the clerk the strict instruction that any message for them could wait to be picked up at the front desk, ensuring that there wouldn't be any more inopportune knocks on their door during the last forty-eight hours of their honeymoon. However, the basic necessities of life couldn't be ignored forever, and Michaela ended up grudgingly disengaging herself from Sully's arms to go to the bathroom.

Linking his hands behind his head, Sully grinned secretively, thinking of the surprise he had up his sleeve for his wife: he had noticed during one of their outings that there would be an opera played at the Denver Theatre this Wednesday night, and he had managed to secure two seats without Michaela suspecting anything, for which he was rather pleased with himself. He also secretly hoped she would agree to wear the particularly fabulous evening gown made of royal blue silk and black lace that he had spotted in her extensive wardrobe, yet never seen on her. The gold-trimmed red one she had worn for her mother's birthday party in Boston was certainly becoming, but Sully feared it might make Michaela all the more noticeable. Regardless of his pride to be married to such a beautiful woman or his dislike of seeing other males openly ogling her, it was more that he was aware she didn't care much about being the center of attention, unless it was to take a stand and fight for what she believed in.

Just as he considered joining her, Michaela reappeared in the doorway, wrapped in the plain bathrobe provided by the hotel, a wry smile on her face and a small empty tin cradled in her hand.

"What's that?" Sully asked.

Michaela's cheeks colored a little as she lowered her eyes and answered, "Balm. You know how I always bite my lip, so I have to put some of this on once in a while…"

"And you runnin' out?"

She nodded, somewhat bashfully. Sully got up and came to her, sensuously slipping his arms inside the robe to encircle her naked waist, and bending his head to kiss her neck. "How come?" he murmured teasingly, pleased to see her grin in mock modesty as she answered, "My husband and I have been kissing too much I'm afraid."

"You have? But dontcha know there ain't no such thing as too much kissin'? … But I reckon, if that husband o' yours is the guilty party, he outta go buy you some more." With that he planted tiny kisses all over her face, neck and upper chest, while avoiding her slightly chaffed lips.

Michaela giggled at the silliness of their banter and added, "I think I'd better go with you to the apothecary's. You're very capable and I trust you, but it will be faster if I directly ask for the items I need myself."

"Got it – the faster you get that balm, the faster we'll come back here, right?"

Michaela's smile widened all the more, as she nodded again. "Indeed," she could barely articulate before Sully touched his lips to hers ever so lightly, repeatedly. Soon they both succumbed to their need for a much deeper contact, fueled by their badinage. The kiss soon became charged with restrained passion, as they both tried to resist their attraction only to find themselves hopelessly trapped in a lustful spiral. Impulsively, Sully braced his wife against the doorframe, grabbing at her thigh. The loose knot of her sash unfurled, leaving the bathrobe suggestively gaping. Sully would have lost all control if not for Michaela's supreme effort of will in breaking off the kiss. Winded and burning with thwarted desire, she still found enough presence of mind to push him away and touch his chin to stop him – and herself, for that matter – from kissing again.

"I'd better get dressed and go buy that balm, or we won't be able to kiss anymore," she reasoned in a husky voice.

Breathless and frustrated too, yet not entirely bereft of his sense of humor, Sully could only answer just as hoarsely, "We can't have that, can we?"

For once, they took the time to enjoy their breakfast in the dining room, before heading out. It was a clear, sunny day, but the air had grown much cooler as the North wind was blowing in treacherous gusts, making the couple all the more eager to return to their room as soon as possible. Their postponed encounter had left them on edge, and yet, they suffered an odd sort of thrill at deferring it, as the experiences of the past week had taught them that the longer the anticipation of their coming intimacy lasted, the greater their satisfaction would be in the end.

The apothecary's shop was only a few blocks from the hotel, so they chose to go on foot rather than use a streetcar, walking briskly to ward off the chill. Along the way, they came across a small open market, its stands displaying various vegetables, fruit and other farm products, as well as flowers. Sully had noticed the florist's stand presented roses in a wide array of ravishing colors, and as he waited for Michaela to make her purchases in the store, he considered buying her a bouquet on their way back. He had occasionally brought her flowers he had picked himself in the meadow at home, but even when he had courted her in Boston, or during their stay in Washington, he hadn't thought of offering her roses. Now, he remembered how her face had lightened up and her eyes had sparkled with joy when he had handed her the rosebud from Flash' victory garland. He knew she loved roses above all flowers, to the point she had even expressed the fancy of growing a few rose bushes in the garden she was planning to put in at the new homestead. He wasn't too sure the soil there was appropriate for such projects, but he knew all too well how stubborn she was. She wouldn't give up…

Michaela's interest in herbal medicine perked up when she entered Berwick's Apothecary. The shop was tiny and crammed with jars of herbs and tinctures. The familiar aromas of bitter, eye-watering vapors, spices, waxed wood, and the delicious smell of leather and old paper from the heavy volumes about empiric medical science, squeezed into a nearly collapsed bookcase, made her feel at home. For but a split second, she expected an Indian medicine man to come forward, before dourly reminding herself that at the rate the government was going in their policy of getting rid of the Red Man, soon there wouldn't be anybody left to share the wise ways of Indian medicine…

Just then the salesclerk appeared, as if out of nowhere, and he smiled with genuine delight. It wasn't often he had the luck to have such a beautiful woman gracing his humble shop! However, he soon recovered his professional manner as he realized the lady wasn't alone, but with a man who was probably her husband, judging by his protective closeness.

Michaela took the opportunity to stock up on the various ingredients she needed to prepare her own tinctures, salves and liniments, those she normally ordered from New York, Chicago or Boston at a rather forbidding cost. The idea pleased her greatly that she would be saving a substantial sum from now on, with a supplier so much closer! She ended up buying so many items that she chose to have the crate delivered directly to Colorado Springs, rather than encumber themselves with it on the train, only pocketing the small tin of beeswax balm for immediate use. The salesman then thanked her so profusely for her business that it made her almost uncomfortable. Nevertheless, she was quite satisfied with making such a bargain!

Chivalrously, Sully held the door for his wife and offered his arm as they started back toward their hotel.

"You sure the things you bought from that fella are as good as the ones you usually order from back East?" asked Sully a bit worriedly, as he had noticed the rather shabby appearance of the shop and its owner.

Michaela shrugged. "I don't see why they wouldn't be… I agree that it didn't look as tidy as it should have been in there, but I made several inquiries about finding a supplier closer to home for the medicines I can't prepare myself, and the name came up several times…"

They went on talking about medicine, and her projects of cultivating more medicinal plants in her garden. She even suggested they set aside one of her recovery rooms to install her very own laboratory. Sully chuckled indulgently – her passionate nature enchanted him, even if it wasn't presently directed toward him. He no longer resented her deep-seated love for medicine, and he no longer felt he was coming second or last after her work and the Cooper children. At least for now. He shooed away the inopportune thought that once they got home to Colorado Springs, her priorities might shift again… No need to borrow trouble when it don't exist, he reminded himself.

They had almost reached the market, so Sully suddenly stopped them a few yards from the first stand.

"D'you mind waitin' for me, here? I'll be back in a minute…"

Her curiosity piqued to its fullest at the twinkle in his eyes, Michaela barely managed to keep it in check, only doing so because it seemed important to him. She nodded her assent, wondering what surprise he had up his sleeve.

He made her wait for him near a shop that sold beautiful china and exquisitely ornate dishware, hoping the items shown in the window might distract her from looking his way.

The florist beamed when she spotted the handsome long-haired man she had seen passing by earlier coming back and standing at a strategic angle so that the woman who accompanied him wouldn't see what he was up to. Upon noticing his slight impatience at his own inability to choose, she took matters into her own hands.

"For the pretty lady you're with, Sir?" she assumed, casting a look beyond his shoulder toward Michaela, who was thankfully looking at the china. "Your wife?"

Sully nodded eagerly, relieved to see the florist quickly gather a lush assortment of deep red, fiery orange and soft coral roses with long stems of baby's breath. The resulting bouquet was even more stunning that Sully could have hoped for.

"Here you are. That'll be three dollars even," the florist said as she handed Sully the flowers in exchange for the cash. Since Sully didn't have a clue about the average price of flowers, whether in Denver or back East, he couldn't have been able to tell if the sum he was paying for the roses was reasonable or he was being swindled. Yet something in his gut told him the woman's smile was sincere, and he had to admit she had done a remarkable job of creating such a beautiful arrangement at record speed and discretion.

"Much obliged, ma'am," he said with a last nod in adieu, before turning back toward his wife.

Michaela's eyes widened as she beheld the magnificent bouquet of roses, and shook her head in astonishment.

"Sully! You shouldn't have…" she protested only half-heartedly, feeling overwhelmed by joy and gratitude, but at the same time hardly deserving of such outpouring love. Without a care in the world for any possible onlookers, she slipped her hand under the fall of his hair at his nape to draw his lips to hers for a sweet, lingering, thankful kiss. "What is the occasion?" she asked curiously as she pulled back.

"Weren't it you who said a while back that ya didn't always need a reason ta give presents?" he teased, answered by her giggles. He wrapped his arm around her shoulders and steered her away from the market, oblivious of the wistful stare and half-smile of the florist who was watching them go with a faint pang of envy tugging at her heart.

As they ambled along the paved sidewalk, Michaela took a better look at the bouquet now cradled in the crook of her arm, softly fingering a delicate bud. She caught her breath as she fully took in the arrangement of colors and blushed, its significance suddenly registering in her mind.

"Sully!" she exclaimed again.

"Mmmh?"

"Did… did you actually ask for this bouquet in particular?" she asked in a loud whisper, as if there was some sort of shameful secret.

Confused, Sully shook his head. "Nope. I couldn't decide which ones to pick out. They were all real pretty. So the flower lady fixed this one for ya, and that was it."

"Oh…What did you tell her?"

"Not much. She musta seen us together…What is it, 'Chaela? You don't like 'em?"

"No, no—I love them… It's just that…"

"They ain't appropriate?" he ventured a guess.

Her flustered hesitation and deepening blush gave her away more so than her explanation. "No—not exactly… It's just that… Are… Are we that obvious?"

"What d'ya mean?" He had a fair idea of her interpretation of the bouquet, but he wanted her to say it, rather than skirting around the issue. He was convinced the intention of embarrassing his wife had never crossed the florist's mind, and that it was merely a case of Michaela's Boston ways resurfacing. When she failed to give him an answer, he reformulated his question, "What do they mean?"

Her eyes lowered, she stammered, "Well—I… you probably know the red roses mean 'love'… and 'passion'…"

"Huh-huh… And?"

"They also mean 'courage' and 'respect'…"

"And what's wrong about that?"

"It's the orange[1] and coral ones… They express… oh dear!" She pressed her cool hand to her flushed cheek. She just couldn't bring herself to say the words when they were this out in the open!

"You sayin' they mean 'I want ya'… or 'I wanna make love with ya'?" he murmured so low in her ear she could barely hear him.

Nearly paralyzed with the fear of being heard discussing such intimate matters right there in the middle of the street, with her face probably a deep crimson to make matters worse, Michaela cast her husband her furtive glance before looking away. Nodding ever so lightly, she mumbled, "Maybe not so explicitly, but you have the general idea…"

"And how d'you know that, huh?" he wondered out loud how on Earth someone with a puritan upbringing like his wife could be aware of such things.

"I told you that my mother almost didn't come to our wedding because of her annual charity flower show…"

He acquiesced silently.

"She's been the main chairwoman for the event for as long as I can remember. Needless to say, she somehow managed to enroll my sisters and me into contributing in one way or the other every year. I often ended up putting bouquets together following the instructions I was given. Some of the ladies from my mother's comity knew quite a lot about the different meaning of each flower, depending on their color, their number, how they were arranged… That's how I learned which ones were deemed suitable and which ones should be avoided depending on the occasion…"

Sully couldn't help but laugh. "Of all the things to fuss 'bout!... Wanna know what I think?" he asked, his tone deliberately light in the hope of diffusing her fretting. She peered up at him, curiosity gleaming in her eyes. "I'm willin' to bet that flower lady probably didn't think of all this… She just noticed how in love we are, and picked out her prettiest roses because you are the prettiest lady around…"

He stopped them in their tracks and turned to cup her face lovingly, drinking in her beloved features, before he added, "…and I couldn't agree more."

Once they were back at the hotel, to the warmth and privacy of their suite, Michaela had barely put the flowers in a borrowed vase before she flung her arms around Sully's neck and initiated a fervent kiss. When she pulled back, her cheeks still a bright shade of pink, she said breathlessly, "I didn't even thank you for the roses."

"Yes, you did—"

"Not appropriately," she specified, quirking her eyebrows meaningfully. "And I'm sorry about making such a fuss about them… It was foolish…"

"Yeah, it was," Sully emphasized, tongue-in-cheek.

Michaela's eyes briefly narrowed in mock vexation, but she couldn't help but grin broadly as she retorted, "Didn't I tell you that you don't have to agree with me all the time?" She then leaned in to kiss him once more, any embarrassment forgotten as their contact deepened urgently. Sparks flew between them, instantly reigniting the raw desire that had been smoldering for the past couple of hours.

Sensing that they wouldn't be able to put off their physical union much longer, Sully broke off the kiss only momentarily to tease her, "Well, then…You're welcome… Honey." Provocatively, he ran his tongue over his lips, tasting the distinctive flavor of her balm-coated ones.

Her blush deepened all the more at his risqué innuendo and the remembrance of the circumstances when he had first given her this normally innocuous pet name, but she broke into a fit of laughter just the same. "Oh, you!" she chided with a playful slap on his arm, before he reclaimed her mouth fiercely, their lips and tongues locked in an exciting duel.

The sexual tension from their interrupted loving earlier that morning and presently revived by their amorous banter and kisses made her feel as giddy and intoxicated as if she'd had several glasses of champagne. Barely conscious of anything save the raging fire taking over her body, heart and soul and desperate to soothe the ache it was leaving in its wake, she didn't pay much thought to how fast things were escalating…

Neither did Sully. In a matter of seconds, he had her perched on the edge of their bed, her skirts bunched up and her blouse and camisole ripped open to reveal her breasts, onto which he pressed ravenous, open-mouthed kisses. In turn, she feverishly untucked his shirt from his buckskins so she could slip her hands underneath and touch the heated skin of his torso, clawing possessively at the taut muscles. But it wasn't enough – they both needed more of the other. They needed all… Right there and then. It didn't matter to whom belonged the hand that unbuttoned Sully's pants, or who untied and drew down Michaela's pantaloons with such impatience that they got torn... It didn't matter that they didn't even bother to entirely disrobe. It only mattered that she welcomed him gladly and enthusiastically inside her, inhaling sharply and then letting out her breath in a long hissed groan.

Yet, despite the all-consuming urgency that drove their bodies together in a fast, vigorous rhythm until they reached the explosive conclusion of their coupling, it was still their love that burnt the brightest in their hearts. It was their love that shone in their eyes as they quietly held each other afterwards.

Once he had cooled down enough and regained some of his consciousness and equilibrium, Sully fully took in their mutual disheveled appearance, and realized just how brash their union had been. He couldn't help the pang of shame and concern that in the heat of the moment, he hadn't only damaged his wife's clothing but also her trust in him and his promise to take it ever so easy, and not push her too far beyond her limits. Not that it was the first time the force of their attraction had gotten the best of him, but this time… the violence of his desire had been so overpowering — what if he had hurt her? What if the cries she had muffled in the crook of this neck had been of pain instead of pleasure? What if the way she had so savagely clapperclawed his shoulders had been a sign of distress rather than a way of showing him her enjoyment?

Michaela's head was lolling onto his chest, just under his chin. She was indeed leaning rather limply against him, her breathing still uneven… as he listened more attentively, he perceived the softest of sounds, somewhere between whimpering and purring, coming from the back of her throat. Then she moved a little, in an attempt to straighten herself up, and as she pressed her lips to his partially exposed collarbone and caressed his sides, he sighed in relief, knowing she wouldn't be acting loving like this if he had indeed hurt her.

"You all right?" he asked sotto voce, partly to reassure himself, yet with a slightly amused undertone.

Michaela shuddered at the effect his voice was having on her in the state she was in. She couldn't remember ever feeling this physically weak – except for when she had been struck by the influenza – nor this… this possessed, this out-of-control! Yet, the certainty of their love was now sturdy enough to shield her from experiencing shame or disgust… She nodded in answer to his question, unable to articulate any kind of verbal response just yet… After the few more seconds it took to fully assess the situation, the absolute wantonness of it all suddenly struck her as highly humorous and she burst out into quiet chuckles.

When her shoulders started heaving, Sully realized she was laughing and joined in her mirth, gratefully hugging her once more.

"That was…" he began, searching for the adequate adjective. Michaela only laughed all the more, turning up her flushed face toward his.

"Indescribable?" she eventually managed to utter in an uncharacteristically lazy drawl.

"That pretty much describes it," Sully joshed back, tilting up her chin a little more so he could kiss her one last time with all the love, passion and tenderness he had in him.

Lust would come and go, occasionally blow them away as it had just done, but never, ever would it surpass the love that had sealed their two souls into one forever…

[1] Deep orange roses mean desire and enthusiasm as well.