Chapter 36

In the days following the Quinn's Christmas ball, Michaela devoted herself to her practice and her patients at the hospital. The practice she had shared with her father was still waning, though she was managing to keep it afloat, if just barely. Its downfall seemed imminent, but she refused to give up, to give in to the patriarchal attitudes that predominated the world of medicine. Determination had brought her everything she had achieved professionally, and it would lead her to success here, as well.

Sully, for his part, was busy maintaining correspondence with statesmen in Philadelphia, Boston, New York, and Washington. Talk of war was increasingly threatening, even as Indian conflicts swelled to overwhelming in the western territories. Talk was circling about where his peace-negotiating skills would be best put to use, and he was increasingly uneasy about being asked to leave Michaela sooner than he was ready.

Despite their absorbing professional lives, Christmas came and went with quiet joy in the Sullys' row house on Acorn Street, punctuated briefly by a lavish family dinner given by Elizabeth. Sully and Michaela exchanged simples gifts of sweets, books, and stationary, and Michaela gave Sully a new pocket watch with a current portrait of herself mounted inside, to carry along on his travels. Ironically, Sully had been of the same mind, giving her a handsomely framed portrait of himself to keep on her desk or nightstand while he was away. Each anticipated that his next assignment would come soon, but neither mentioned it to the other, preferring to make the most of this time they had together, this calm before an impending storm.

Their courtship progressed in all the richness and sweetness with which it began as Michaela's awkwardness and uncertainty began to fall away. Sully continued to show both initiative and restraint. Their kisses remained sweet and innocent, even as they increasingly, secretly, longed for more. He frequently surprised her with flowers in the mornings when she emerged from her room, and left sweet notes or poetry copied in his own hand on her pillow at night. They often sat up late into the evenings, talking about everything, reading together, and holding hands.

Rarely did Sully allow himself to become too lost in her, permitting himself only chaste kisses outside her bedroom door before they retired for the evening. Still, every day grew his desire for more, his longing for greater intimacy. A turn of her head, the play of light over her skin, the particular cut of her dress, the bright glitter of jade and amber beneath the heavy fringe of her lashes as she glanced at him, her crooked smile, each would accelerate the beating of his heart in his chest. His dreams were filled with her, with them, and it was rare that he awoke in the morning, his body calm, his mind filled with something other than Michaela.

Down the hall, Michaela's dreams came very close to mirroring his own. They were filled with his warmth, his strength, the tenderness of his caresses, the lure of his kiss. With every day that passed, she became more aware of his nearness, the strength of his muscular chest and shoulders beneath his shirt, the soft pressure of his lips on her own, and with her awareness grew her surprising desire to touch him, to be held by him. But despite Rebecca's reassurance, she couldn't help but be embarrassed by what to her were quite shocking desires.

Heat rising to her cheeks, she shook her head, scolding herself for her straying thoughts. It was St. Valentine's Day, and they had made no plans. Secretly, she wondered if he had planned a surprise for her this evening, but her sensibilities told her that was nonsense. He was wonderful to her every day; they didn't need a special occasion to celebrate their blossoming romance.

Sighing in resignation, she pulled a bottle out of the crate before her, holding the label up to the wintery sunlight filtering through her office window. Quinine. She slid it onto the shelf in the cabinet, straightening it in front of the others before she drew out the next bottle. Morphine.

Now fully absorbed in the task before her, she was startled to feel a large hand slip around her waist, another rest on her shoulder, and a kiss brush over her temple.

"Sully!" she exclaimed in surprise, embarrassed.

He sweetly caressed her cheek with the backs of his fingers. "Sun's out. Snow's fresh this morning. Come ice skating with me."

She glanced out the window, seeing the sun sparkle upon crisp, white snow.

"I—I'd love to, Sully, but I can't." She removed another bottle from the crate. "I've got this shipment to unpack, and files to organize…"

"You have any patients this afternoon?" he asked, hovering behind her, resting his hands lightly on her shoulders as she tried determinedly to continue working.

"No. But I— Sully!" She exclaimed as he suddenly swept her into his arms, carrying her across her office toward the foyer. "What are you doing?" she chided, laughing, pulling her arms around his neck for balance.

"Michaela Anne Quinn, what on earth is this ungodly ruckus!" Elizabeth scolded firmly as she came around the corner from the morning room. She paused in her footsteps as Sully slowed his own, setting Michaela down with a sheepish grin.

"Mother," Michaela began as she folded her hands together, completely flustered. "We—"

Elizabeth narrowed her eyes, struggling to hide the smile quirking at the corner of her lips. "Well, I must say it's comforting to see you take an afternoon off, Michaela," she stated. Perhaps her concerns about forthcoming grandchildren were unfounded.

Michaela was so mortified to have been caught in such a position by her mother that she couldn't think of how to respond. Sully drew her heavy wool cloak around her shoulders, grinning like a schoolboy.

"'Bye, Mrs. Quinn," he said, ushering a still stunned Michaela out the door.

"Good day, Sully. Michaela."

"You're awful quiet," Sully commented as he strapped on his skates. The Common was beautiful today, trees silver with snow, the sun glittering off the ice. The world was fresh and clean, and the bustle of the city seemed far away.

"I can't believe Mother saw us like that. She must think we still behave like children when we're alone."

"She thinks," he said confidently as he pulled her to her feet, "that we're in love. And if we're in love, she's going to get some more grandchildren after all."

"Sully!" Michaela scolded, abashed.

He spun around, skating backwards in front of her, offering no more reply than a suggestive grin.

Giving in, she laughed, shaking her head ruefully. "Aren't you going to skate with me?" she asked, her expression at once intentionally playful and unconsciously flirtatious.

He chuckled, turning and falling back to take her hand.

"You bet," he whispered, bumping her shoulder with his own.

Sully leaned casually against Michaela's doorframe, crossing his arms over his chest. It was nearly dawn, and he'd risen early to make sure he would catch her. He could hear her rustling about a bit, and she was bound to come out soon. He waited, trying not to crinkle the envelope in his hand as he shifted around nervously.

He wanted tonight to be special. They had come a long way in their courtship, and he sensed she was growing more comfortable with the more physical aspects of their relationship. He grinned, remembering the look in her eyes when he kissed her goodnight, glad she trusted him, glad she seemed to enjoy being with him.

Michaela's door swung open without warning, and Sully jumped to his feet, startling her completely.

"Sully," she laughed. "You frightened me. What are you doing?"

"Happy birthday," he murmured with a sheepish grin.

She looked surprised. "I— thank you," she whispered, searching his eyes.

"…I— wanted to ask you…" he stuttered. "I was hopin'… Would you like to go out with me tonight?" He cleared his throat, thrusting the envelope toward her. "I got us tickets to the opera."

"The opera," she breathed, smiling. She turned the envelope over, removing the tickets. "La Traviata. At the Howard. Do you know this one?"

He shook his head nervously. "I heard of it. I hoped you'd like it."

"Yes, it's—it's beautiful. My favorite." She touched his forearm, trying to ease his apparent nerves. She wasn't sure she had ever seen him this nervous.

He smiled a little, hope kindling in his eyes. "Then you'll go?" he rose his eyebrows in question.

"Yes," she laughed softly. "Of course I'll go. Thank you."

"Would you like some punch?" Sully and Michaela were perched in box seats, making them feel as if they were the only two in the theatre. Occasionally, they whispered together about what was happening. They were taken by one another and this private, romantic evening together. The curtains had just drawn on the second act, beginning a short intermission.

"Yes, let's," she replied, rising to her feet. Michaela accepted his arm, and the couple wandered through the lobby of the Howard toward the refreshment desk.

"Aren't these windows beautiful? You should see them in the daylight," Michaela said, stopping near the large, gothic, stained glass windows dominating the theatre's lobby.

"They are," Sully murmured, studying them for a moment before turning his gaze to her profile. She blushed a little, smiling shyly up at him.

"Dr. Quinn! Mr. Sully! What a pleasure to see you here!"

The couple turned to find Dr. David Lewis and another colleague of Michaela's whom Sully hadn't met before, Dr. William Burke, approaching them. Sully bristled, recognizing the starry look in David's eyes, and a nearly identical expression in the other man's.

"David. William. What a surprise," Michaela greeted them warmly. "Sully, this is Dr. William Burke. He has partnered with me on several of my pro bono cases. William, I don't believe you've met my husband, Sully."

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Sully," William greeted him warmly, extending his hand. "Michaela speaks quite highly of your work."

"Thank you," Sully replied stiffly, disliking the familiarity with which they addressed one another.

Michaela, slightly embarrassed by Sully's brevity, smiled warmly at the men. "What brings the two of you here tonight?"

David chuckled. "Politics, Michaela. There are certain hospital donors here tonight who are considering significant contributions to our surgical facilities, and the chief asked us to romance them, so to speak. Perhaps you should join us, Michaela. You have quite a way with words," David coaxed.

"Yes, David is right," William encouraged. "You are incredibly persuasive."

Sully gritted his teeth, knowing they were right, but preferring to keep her to himself tonight. Unconsciously, he balled his hand into a fist, defensive of their limited time together, defensive of their privacy, frustrated with they way they were admiring her in her black sequined gown.

Michaela blushed, flattered, as she felt Sully's arm tense under her fingers. She cast him a sideways glance, seeing his jaw clench as he eyed her colleagues warily.

"Thank you, gentlemen. You're both very kind. But I am sure the chief's confidence in you is well-founded." The men smiled accommodatingly, pleased. "Sully and I were just getting some punch, if you would excuse us." The men moved aside to allow them to pass. "Good evening, David. William."

"Good evening," they murmured, longingly watching her move away.

Sully placed his hand at her waist, guiding her through the crowd.

"You didn't have to do that," he spoke into her ear. "You could've talked to 'em."

She turned to him as they stopped in line, looking into his eyes, now grey with guilt. "I know. But it's my birthday," she murmured, a compelling lilt in her voice. "And I want to enjoy the opera. With you." One corner of her mouth rose in a smile, and her eyes sparkled becomingly.

Something swelled inside him in response to her sentiment, so overpowering that he might have made a spectacle of them had the concessioner not asked for their order at that moment. He grinned, holding her more securely, and ordered their punch.

He wanted nothing more than to be alone with her at home in his room at this moment, to kiss her and hold her and push out of his mind the way David and William had looked at her, to prove to himself that she didn't care.

Michaela padded down the hall in her robe and slippers, having slipped out of her corset and let down her hair. She had been about ready to slip under the covers when she heard music playing, a waltz. She neared Sully's room, seeing lamplight glowing beneath his door, accompanying the quiet strains of the waltz.

She knocked, slowly opening the door before her.

"Sully?" she whispered.

He stood in his pajamas next to the gramophone, which he'd apparently brought up from the parlor, which they rarely used. His hands were behind his back, and his head was cocked at an angle that told her he was pleased with himself, a satisfied smile upon his face.

She grinned, closing the door behind her and leaning against it.

"What are you doing?" she laughed, her bottom lip caught between her teeth.

"Thought you might want to dance," he murmured.

"How did you know I'd come?" she put him off.

"I know you. Curiosity gets the best of you sometimes."

She shook her head, dropping her eyes in an attempt to hide her smile. He approached her, and offered her his hand, leading her before the fire. They were silent for some time as they danced, absorbed as they were in the moment and memories of their evening together.

"Thank you for tonight. The opera. It was beautiful."

He gazed into her eyes, finding himself somewhat lost in her beauty in that moment. Her hair was so rarely down, but now it glowed about her. He swallowed. "It was," he whispered hoarsely, his eyes raking her face.

Her gaze faltered self-consciously, and she moved closer to him, turning her head to rest her cheek on his shoulder. He leant his head against hers and closed his eyes, their waltz easing into a gentle swaying motion before the flames. He drew her hand against his heart, nuzzling against her hair. David and this William guy were nothing. This, this was perfect. She was perfect. And he knew in that moment no one else would ever know her like this.

She turned her face into his neck, her breath soft against his skin. He kissed her temple and she tilted her head up, her nose brushing his jaw as she breathed him in. His lips brushed over her cheek, then the softness of her lips, brushing together again and again. Her breath caught, and her head fell back a little, overwhelmed by him. There lips met again, softly, passionately, and he released her hand to support her neck beneath the fall of her hair, smooth and warm. Her palm opened over his heart, and he held her close, savoring this moment.

"Happy birthday," he whispered. She only melted further into him, and they sank to the floor, falling asleep curled together before the fire.

"Evening, Cummings."

"Good evening, Mr. Sully.'

Glancing back toward the study as he turned out of his coat, he noticed Michaela standing quietly in the doorway, shy, expectant, pleased he was home. Her eyes alone beckoned him to join her, and had he not bad news to give her, he would have exulted in the opportunity to explore this greater closeness for a few moments before dinner. As it was, his heart was pounding for an altogether different reason.

A small smile blossomed on her lips as he approached, but doubt replaced the pleasure in her eyes as he drew near, recognizing his troubled expression. Touching her arm, he greeted her quietly as he guided her back into the room. Perhaps it was all in her head.

She turned questioning eyes upon him as he closed the door behind them.

"You're just in time, Jane promised dinner within the hour."

Smiling obligingly, he placed his hand over her lower arm, the warmth and intimacy of it thrilling her.

"Sounds good. I was hoping we could talk some before supper."

Concern etched her brow. "Is everything alright?"

His other hand came up to cover her other arm, and his eyes focused pensively on the crewelwork at her shoulder. Finally, he met her concerned gaze. "James wants me to go back, soon as the lines are clear."

"So soon? I thought he was going to let you stay for a while, since you'd been gone so long—"

"It's been a long time already." He took in a deep breath. "There's trouble brewing between the army and the Indians, and he wants me to go try and smooth it out before too many are killed."

She looked down. "I suppose we knew this was how it would be."

His hands moved higher up her arms, caressing her as his gaze turned deep and tender. He stepped fractionally closer, enough to cause her breath to hitch in her throat.

"I was hoping for more time with you, now that things are… different… between us."

She blushed, her eyes wide and hesitating under his steady gaze.

"So was I," she whispered, surprising herself with her boldness.

A corner of his mouth rose in a slight smile, and he watched his thumb graze the crook of her neck, brushing a wisp of hair away. Until last night, he'd never touched her neck before. Raising his eyes back to hers, he found she was still watching his face, jade and amber at once lustrous and timid. Love swelled thick and consuming in his chest, and he lightly touched her chin with his thumb, tilting her face to meet his as his lips brushed hers, lightly, sweetly.

Eyes wide with anxious anticipation fluttered closed at the touch of his mouth, her heart beating at an alarming speed in response. His other hand slid from her shoulder down the length of her back, settling low on her back. He didn't pull her toward him, but the intimacy of his touch sent her reeling just the same. When she opened her eyes again, he was regarding her with so much tenderness, and she felt his thumb brush over her cheek, her eyes to fluttering once more at the sensation.

The sheer volume of emotions coursing through her were beginning to frighten her, and with an effort, she composed herself, afraid to yield to them. He saw the change, and released her from his embrace, remembering they needed to take things one step at a time. Stepping back a little, he cleared his throat.

"I put in a request to delay my departure, but even if they grant it, it might not be more than a week."

Michaela nodded, dropping her gaze absently to the carpet and turned to the fire, still reeling from his kiss and trying to bring herself together. "How long?"

"I don't know. Probably another six months… maybe more." Silence met his answer, and he moved to stand next to her, so he could see her face. He swallowed hard. "I was thinkin'," Michaela smiled a little at his relaxed dialect, which still only surfaced occasionally, though more and more often, "maybe you could come along. You'd love Colorado, and where we'd be going, they don't have a doctor…"

She shook her head, turning to face him. "I can't leave my practice for that long, Sully. You know how hard it's been to keep it afloat with Father gone, but to take such a prolonged leave of absence—"

"They'd understand. You can tell them in advance, and refer them to someone else while you're gone. You did it before—"

"And they'll never come back to me. Not after such an absence. Don't you see, Sully? Such a trip could effectively end my career."

"I see what you're saying, but I don't know if I agree. I do know I'll miss you," he caressed her arm, and she cut her eyes away, blushing. He withdrew, knowing he shouldn't push her too much now. "Listen, just… think about it. I've got to go down to Washington for a few days. We'll talk about it when I get back."