A/N: As a reminder, I am well aware I own neither the characters of Dr. Quinn, nor the snippets of dialogue I borrow, here and there.

Chapter 35

"Step forward, back, forward, and turn. See?"

Michaela and Sully had pushed the furniture out of the way in his study to create room for a dance floor. The Quinn's Christmas ball was the next evening, and they had yet to practice as Michaela had promised. Sully had settled himself on the hearth, his hands on his knees, as he watched Michaela demonstrate the steps.

She looked adorable, stepping and turning before him, and he couldn't help but notice how beautiful she was, her slender waist, the expression of concentration on her face, coppery hair glistening in the light of the fire, her fair skin glowing warmly, the swish of her full skirts around her ankles.

"Can't see your feet," he said casually, a playful glint in his eye.

"Oh," she hitched her skirts up, revealing slender, black-stockinged legs as she completed the steps again."See?"

"That's better," he whispered, glancing up at her, his heart thudding in his chest.

Realizing how he was looking at her, she dropped her skirts, blushing as she nervously smoothed them down and folding her hands together.

"Well aren't you going to try?" she asked, her controlled voice never betraying the rapid fluttering of her heart.

"I'd like to see that again," he said playfully, indicating her feet.

"Come on," she chided, pulling him up from his chair. In one fluid motion, his arms encircled her, his lips meeting hers in an innocent kiss.

"Sully!" she exclaimed in surprise.

"What?" He loosened his arms, confused.

"This doesn't come now," she stuttered uncertainly, blushing.

"Comes with courtin'," he grinned. His brow furrowed when she didn't respond. "You've let me kiss you before," he encouraged, his tone warm. He eased closer to her again, the warmth of his palm encircling her ribcage, passing precariously close to her breast, settling against the small of her back.

Flustered by his stirring touch, she touched his arm, gently pushing him away. "But I—I'm trying to show you something," she said, a quiver in her voice.

"What's the matter?" he asked, releasing her as he searched her eyes.

"Nothing," she dismissed, almost too quickly. "It—It's just we don't have much time left." She positioned them to dance, hesitantly meeting his gaze. "Please try," she instructed gently, unwilling to admit to herself how fragile her sense of control really was.

They arrived early at the Quinn's the next evening, Michaela expecting her mother to be in her normal tizzy in anticipation of the large-scale event. All seemed calm, however, as they entered the foyer, the house aglow with candles, fragrant greenery, velvety red ribbons, and tinsel. Privately, Elizabeth had thrown herself all the more fervently into her social calendar since Josef's death, instinctively needing to distract herself from his absence, her grief. She had been ready for two days, waiting only for the fresh flowers, greenery, and food to arrive fresh the day of her lavish party.

Sully had compliantly completed his dancing lesson the previous evening, though Michaela had remained stiff and a withdrawn. Truthfully, she wasn't angry with him for his behavior. Rather, she was flattered, but she also felt confused and uncertain, afraid to be close to him, frightened of her own feelings. She knew he had been taken aback by her demeanor, yet she couldn't quell the nerves which arose in her breast in response to his nearness, his touch, the way he looked at her. What was more, she didn't understand why she felt as she did, and therefore felt unable to explain herself to him. She was certain only that she loved him, and she was afraid, so very afraid, she would push him away.

Filing her tumultuous feelings away, Michaela ascended the staircase in search of her mother, leaving Sully in the foyer with Rebecca and her husband, Robert.

"Mother?"

Michaela stepped into Elizabeth's bedroom, where she sat at her vanity putting the final touches on her toilette.

"Hello, dear," Elizabeth responded in her usual regal tone.

Michaela took a step forward, surprised at her mother's apparent sense of calm. "Are you feeling well? Rebecca said you wished to see me."

"The question is, are you feeling well." She turned in her chair to study her daughter.

"Wh—yes, I'm fine," she answered evenly, perplexed.

"And still as slender as ever, I see," Elizabeth remarked disapprovingly, rising to slip into her kid slippers for the ball.

Michaela rolled her eyes. "What are you implying, Mother," she said tiredly.

"Only that you have been married seven months now, and you have yet to show signs of motherhood," she observed ostentatiously.

Michaela's lips parted in shock. "Mother!"

"I know he is your best friend Michaela, but that gives you no right to deny him his rights as your husband. It is your duty as his wife—"

"I am well aware of my duties, Mother," she interrupted with equal condescension.

"And I suppose you would blame your failure to conceive on Sully's absence?"

"I won't blame it on anything, Mother. We are happily married, it should please you to know, and children—" her heart skipped at the implications. "—Children will come in their own time," she cajoled.

"Children, my dear, are a natural consequence of a dutiful marriage, happy or not," Elizabeth stated authoritatively, eyeing her daughter. "Now, I must get downstairs to greet my guests." She brushed past Michaela, leaving her standing there, in her parents' room, more uncertain than ever, and quite overwhelmed.

Descending the stairs, Michaela felt her control slipping. She'd taken several minutes to compose herself after her mother left, but for the second time since she'd arrived, she felt as if she might burst from the pressure of it all. Entering the ballroom, her eyes met Sully's across the room, and though he was a source of her uncertainty, she felt immensely relieved to see him. Hurriedly, she wove through the crowd toward him.

Halfway there, she felt someone pull her aside, only to find it was her sister.

"Rebecca?"

"Happy Christmas, Michaela," she said sweetly.

"Happy Christmas," she returned, perplexed by the way her eldest sister seemed to be searching her countenance. "Is everything alright?"

"Walk with me, Michaela?" was all she said.

"Certainly," she agreed, slipping her arm through Rebecca's. She glanced back at Sully, and he nodded to her almost imperceptibly, a faint grin on his lips.

They walked silently together up to Michaela's old bedroom, and closed the door behind them.

"Rebecca?" Michaela inquired as Rebecca perched on the bed.

"How are you and Sully doing, Mike?"

"Sully and I? We're…" she froze. "Did Mother put you up to this?"

Rebecca stared into the empty fire grate. "I remember my first year of marriage, wondering if my married life was normal. Of course Mother spoke with me before the wedding, to prepare me for what was to come. But later, after Robert and I had been married for several months, I wondered... And I had no one to talk to. No one I could come to."

Michaela nodded, sitting next to Rebecca on the bed, and looked down at her hands, folded in her lap. "Mother is disappointed we haven't conceived yet," she spoke low.

Rebecca shook her head, her dark ringlets bobbing with the movement. "Oh, Mike, you of all people know children don't always come along right away."

"Yes, I know," she whispered, unsure how much she should tell her sister.

"Do you have any questions about… I remember how uncertain I was about… things… after I had been married for a time…" Rebecca said awkwardly.

"He's my best friend, Rebecca," Michaela hedged.

Rebecca patted her hand. "Of course he is—"

Michaela fell silent, at once afraid to confide in her sister, and longing to do so. Finally, her desire for her sister's confidence won out. "Sully and I… We—we haven't…" she raised pleading eyes to the soft, brown ones of her sister.

Understanding dawned on her. "…Oh…" she said slowly. "Oh, Mike…" She said carefully, unsure of Michaela's feelings on the matter.

"We agreed, when we were engaged, that we wouldn't… It was too—uncomfortable…" she said, looking away. "I—no one knows."

"Sully is a man of character, isn't he," Rebecca remarked wonderingly.

"Yes, he is." Michaela smiled a little. "It was his idea."

"That was very considerate of him," Rebecca complimented, remembering the way Sully had been looking at her sister a few minutes before, wondering if Michaela was aware of his true feelings.

"We've… we've fallen in love, Rebecca," Michaela whispered, tentatively meeting Rebecca's eyes.

"I see," she said after a meaningful pause. "Then… how are… things… now?"

Michaela's eyes widened at Rebecca's implication. "Oh!" she shook her head. "No, we're—we're courting."

The older woman looked perplexed. "Courting?"

Michaela smiled softly, looking unseeing at her hands, absently toying with her wedding ring. "That's what I said… He—he wants us to take things slowly, since we didn't truly court before." Abruptly, her eyes met her sister's, sharp anxiety replacing the soft wonder that had filled her expression a moment before. "Oh, Rebecca, I feel so confused! I've always felt so confident in other matters, but in this… I… Sully makes me feel things, wonderful things, but those feelings frighten me, as well…"

"Oh, Mike, such feelings are perfectly normal."

She shook her head, feeling Rebecca didn't understand. "He wants to kiss… and touch…"

Rebecca blushed. "Yes, well, isn't that part of courting?"

"Is it? I suppose I never paid much attention to such things…"

"Oh, Mike, kissing and touching… it's perfectly normal. And healthy. And it's wonderful, but you're right, it is overwhelming. I remember the first time Robert put his arms around me while he kissed me. It was exciting, and frightening, too, I suppose. It felt wonderful to be held so close, and I remember thinking I might faint, my heart was beating so fast. And I wondered what it might be like, if he were to deepen the kiss, or perhaps kiss my neck. Or what it might be like when we were married…"

Michaela blushed. Sully's close embrace last night had brought similar thoughts to mind.

"I know those feelings can be frightening, when certain things seem so… unimaginable… so far away. But you must try to enjoy how you're feeling now, to embrace it. The wonder, the magic, the mystery of it. As things progress, they're equally wonderful, sometimes more so in their own way, but a simple kiss may never hold that same kind of wonder, may never be so exciting, again. The familiarity is beautiful, too, of course, but that stirring, frightening wonder is something to be treasured, rather than avoided."

"Then you—you enjoy…?"

Rebecca smiled softly, her eyes far away. "Yes, very much."

Michaela dropped her eyes as she fingered the folds of her skirt, blushing.

"Oh, Michaela, it's so romantic, what you have with Sully right now."

"Is it? I thought it was rather awkward."

"It isn't very often one is able to fall in love at her own pace. There are usually very strict constraints on one side, or expectations on the other – courtship, the wifely duty, as Mother calls it. But Sully has given you such a gift, to be able to move forward in your own timing, to come together when you're both truly ready. I'm so very happy for you."

Michaela smiled tearfully, feeling as if Rebecca had removed blinders from her eyes. "Thank you, Rebecca," she whispered tearfully. "Thank you for our talk."

Rebecca hugged her tightly. "I'm always here for you, Mike. You can always come to me with anything."

Michaela pulled back, sniffling. "You won't tell Mother?"

Rebecca giggled, shaking her head. "What are sisters for?"

Sully was standing next to the bowl of mulled cider talking to Senator Blackwell when Michaela descended the stairs with Rebecca. He had thought her breathtakingly beautiful when she had emerged from her room on Acorn street, the vivid red silk gown set in contrast with her fair shoulders, soft ringlets brushing the curve of her neck, a self-conscious blush upon her cheeks. But now. Now, she looked perhaps a little tired, but altogether radiant. She blushed when their eyes met, but he realized it wasn't the becoming pink of her cheeks that caused his heart to skip a beat, but the light in her eyes. Over the past weeks, he had been worried when her composure had increasingly tamped out the ember of vitality and freedom in her eyes. He was afraid it had to do with him, that maybe their courtship wasn't such a good idea.

Distractedly, he excused himself from the senator, moving toward the staircase as she neared the bottom.

"Well, I must be finding Robert. Have you seen him, Sully?"

"…Huh?" He tore his eyes away from Michaela's long enough to glance back into the ballroom. "Over by the fireplace, I think…"

Rebecca smiled knowingly at him, and cast a meaningful glance at Michaela, who dropped her eyes, smiling a little. Sully barely noticed Rebecca's retreating figure. There was a new freedom in Michaela's countenance, and it was captivating. He wanted to whisk her away somewhere, but resisted. She'd barely been able to enjoy the party yet, and she'd been looking forward to it.

He cleared his throat, causing her to meet his eyes, the timid shine in them almost making him forget what he was going to say.

"W-would you like to dance?" he asked, one corner of his mouth rising in a charming smile.

Her smile was soft, wide, shy. "Yes," she breathed.

He held his hand out, and she placed hers there, allowing him to lead her into a waltz. Her eyes sparkled warmly in the candlelight, his hand on her lower back set her heart fluttering high in her chest. The warm glow of the candlelit room surrounded them, and the world fell away as they became lost in one another's eyes.

"Sully?" Michaela held fast to Sully's hand when he turned toward his own bedroom. "I'm not tired just yet." There was that new openness in her eyes again, that fresh spark of life, of fire, of anticipation.

He grinned. "Come sit with me by the fire?"

Michaela stopped just inside the door, biting her lip as looked around Sully's room while he shut the door behind them. Circling her slowly, he eased in front of her, his hands rising to frame her waist.

"This okay?"

Once corner of her mouth rose in a crooked smile, and she nodded shyly, feeling an odd, new sense of freedom to enjoy her feelings, to appreciate the nervousness he stirred in her.

Watching her carefully, he leaned in slowly, kissing her softly, his lips meeting hers for the space of a breath before he pulled away. Tenderly holding her gaze, he grinned boyishly, and then backed away, leading her to sit upon the chest at the foot of his bed, close to the fire. He leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees as he studied the flames.

"What did your mother have to say tonight?"

She rolled her eyes. "She was concerned that a married woman of seven months shouldn't have kept her figure so long as I have," she explained wryly.

"Kept your…?" He turned to her, his brow furrowed. She raised an eyebrow, and his eyes widened in understanding. "Oh," he uttered uncomfortably. "…You alright?"

Michaela nodded, a wry smile upon her lips.

"…Is that what Rebecca was talking to you about too?"

"In a way, I suppose," she said lightly. "She wanted to know if I had any… concerns… about our—our marriage," she said delicately.

"Concerns." He studied her expression, his heart rising to his throat in response to the knowing twinkle in her eyes.

"Concerns," she reiterated meaningfully.

"…I see."

She looked at him, his broad form cast in shadow and light, the way the crisp white cotton of his shirt stretched over his back as he leaned forward. She felt an attraction to him in that moment she hadn't known before, felt it deep within her. She took a steadying breath. "I told her, Sully." She looked at him tentatively, her eyes full of concern. Had she betrayed him, his confidence?

He turned to her, a little surprised. "Told her what?"

"About us… about our relationship. I've never told anyone before," she murmured, dropping her eyes.

"Me neither," he agreed, his voice low.

"Does that upset you?" she asked gently.

"No," he said without hesitation. "I'm glad you could have another woman to talk to."

Michaela smiled a little, her eyes reflecting the flickering movement of the flames.

"Sully?" She turned to him, taking his larger hands in her own small ones as he turned toward her on the bench, their knees touching. "I've been so foolish lately; afraid of… of what was happening between us…"

"Michaela…" he whispered compassionately.

She shook her head, silencing him. Tears of love shone in her eyes, and she brushed them away. "I'm so glad to have you, Sully. I want… I—I want us to continue—"

"Me too," he interrupted, caressing her cheek with the backs of his fingers.

"Even when I've been so foolish?" she asked coyly, her eyes sparkling.

He chuckled silently, losing himself in her eyes, in her sweetness, in everything she was. "Especially then," he whispered, kissing her soundly before she could say more.

She gasped in belated surprise when he pulled back, gazing into her eyes. The intensity of his love for her burned hot in his chest, her innocence, eagerness, and courage to explore their growing love touching him deeply. He pressed his forehead to hers, framing her face in his hands. He felt her soft sigh against his chin, and kissed her again, pressing his lips against one corner of her mouth, and then the other, before he met her lips fully once more.

Her heart racing, warmth flushing her cheeks, she submitted herself to his touch, his kiss. Her shaking hands rose from her lap to cradle his jaw, drawing him closer. He sighed against her lips, his hands falling down her bare shoulders to her corseted waist, pulling her closer even as his touch stirred her senses. Their lips closed and soft, they kissed again and again, the room quiet but for their impassioned breathing and the crackle of the fire in the hearth.

Finally, feeling dizzy from his kiss, Michaela broke away, bowing her head as she struggled to steady her breathing. He pressed his lips to her forehead, amazed and moved by her response to his affections. Never before had she so openly returned his kiss, and the notion sent another thrill through his body.

She looked up at him, and her eyes, though still shy, shone with love and affection, pure and true. He was holding her so close, his hands warm around her. Her fingers in his thick hair, her thumbs brushing the corners of his jaw, her body stirred at the intimacy of the moment, the implications it held for their future. Her gaze fell from his eyes to his lips, remembering his kiss, and not daring to run her thumb over them as she wanted to, she boldly kissed him again, softly.

When she pulled away, he leaned toward her again, spurred on by her bold initiative, but she stopped him with her palm against his heart.

"We should go to bed…it's late," she whispered, her eyes innocently seductive.

One corner of his mouth rose in a slow grin, and she blushed, realizing the double meaning of her words.

"…I—I mean—"

"I know," he whispered, stroking her cheek. He rose, pulling her to her feet, and walked her the short distance down the hall. Letting out a deep breath, he held her fingers in his, not wanting to let her go yet. Not ever.

He looked so handsome, his white shirt unbuttoned at the top, his eyes cobalt blue in the darkness. She didn't want to leave him yet, but knew she must. She smiled; this was the tension Rebecca had said to enjoy. And she was.

"Good night, Sully," she whispered, a crooked little smile upon her lips.

He looked at her quizzically, but she was already moving away, opening her door.

"'Night," he whispered as her fingers slipped from his. "I love you," he murmured as the door closed behind her.

Minutes later, Michaela sank into her pillows, pressing her feet against the hot water bottle under her covers. She pressed her hands against her neck, feeling her rapid pulse thrumming beneath her fingers. "I love you, too," she whispered dreamily, far from sleep.