Disclaimer: I own no one.

Mail Order Bride
Chapter Four: Emergence of a Plot
By: omni82


Daylight spread over the prairie, its delicate rays opening the eyes of Kaoru. But for once, the early-riser didn't welcome the sun. Instead, she flung her arm over her eyes and groaned. The self-imposed darkness, however, could not erase the events of last night. She had been a wanton, wild woman who had undoubtedly disgusted her husband who had been a saint of a man so far. But what was even worse than her behavior was that she wanted to do it again.

A proper lady wouldn't have reacted so...passionately. A proper lady would have denied her urges and served her husband. But instead of doing what was expected of a Boston-bred miss, Kaoru had denied Kenshin access to her body for thirty days. And since the rancher was a man of honor, he felt compelled to uphold her edict even though she no longer wished to wait. What had she done?

Kenshin's eyes fluttered open when he heard Kaoru's low moan. Immediately, shame rolled over him. He had acted like an animal last night, forcing his attentions on his delicate bride in the middle of a field for God's sake. If she could look him in the eye today, it'd be a miracle. Rolling to his feet, Kenshin shook out his bedroll while trying to covertly study his bride. The youthful beauty was barely looking at him and she hadn't spoken two words to him. It was worse than he thought.

This was unbearable, Kaoru thought. Kenshin hadn't said a word to her and was shaking his blankets like it was the most important thing in the world to him. Was he horrified by her behavior as well?

"Kenshin, I..." She began.

"Kaoru-" Kenshin uttered simultaneously. They both laughed despite of the tension and smiled a bit.

"Go on," Kaoru encouraged.

"I . . ." His bedding hung, half-rolled, in his hand, and his eyes sought a spot far in the distance. "Sometimes . . . we do things that we wish we hadn't. Certain . . . urges, natural urges control us, and take over everything we feel, everything we are . . ." Oh God, he could feel the satin of her skin, like sun-warmed silk slipping through his fingers; his mouth still burned with the salty-sweet sweat of her skin, the soft scent of roses from her hair . . .

Kaoru ducked her head, and began methodically pulling up fistfuls of grass, the back of her neck burning. She willed the knot in her throat not to be tears, compressing all of her sorrow into a hard tangle in her stomach. He wouldn't even look at her; after all those years of loneliness, those empty nights spent in a too-big bed, and now, finally, when she found someone who could take her into his arms, and make the whole world disappear, she had ruined it. Her fingers clawed convulsively at the dark earth, like worms seeking to escape the harsh sun and hide themselves forever away form the light.

"I understand," she whispered, willing her hands to relax.

Kenshin's eyes finally focused on her. "Do you?" he asked quietly. "Because I never will."

Kaoru bowed her head, diamond tear drops quivering on her lashes, but when she raised it again, her eyes were dry. She gave him a long, inscrutable look, and nodded once. But all she said was, "May we look for my brother now?"

He shook his head in assent, thinking he should be elated, but all he could do was wonder why her liquid eyes had looked so lost.

***
By the time they returned home, the endless expanse of rippling grass had faded from deep gold, to a dark amber tinted by the rose hues of the setting sun, until it was lost all together into the purple twilight, and finally, ebony night. Kenshin's breath shattered in white clouds against the night sky, and Kaoru, sitting silently in the saddle, beside him, merely shivered.

She hadn't said anything all day, merely clung to the saddle of her horse, with grim determination, determined to keep up, no matter how sore she was. When he had once, tentatively suggested that she return home, she had simply given a look through lowered lids. He didn't suggest it again.

He tried a tentative remark, hoping to get her to open up.

"We're almost home."

"Uh-huh."

Kenshin tried again. "He's bound to be there. He probably got scared and came back, as soon as it got dark."

"Hmm."

"You didn't have to cook tonight." Could she cook? Probably; she was so damnably perfect at anything else. He stifled a wave of frustration.

"Uh."

He started to get the distinct feeling she wasn't listening to him anymore. "I once had sex with a ferret."

"That's good."

He gave up.

It was easy to tell when they approached the ranch; light poured from every open crevice, like a single, live ember, poised against the black coal. As they approached, a small figure darted inside; a moment later, light flooded out as a tall, indistinct figure appeared, leaning against the open door frame.

Kenshin frowned, urging his horse into a tired trot, heading it around back to the stable. If it was really urgent, they would have sent someone out to get him, instead of waiting up. Whatever the crisis was, they could spare a few moments for him to unsaddle his horse.

He swung off of its back, as soon as they entered the stable, his boots making a dull thud as he hit the ground. The clip-clop of the two horses echoed eerily in the empty building, lit only by a single suspended lantern.

Kaoru paused, perched in her saddle; she looked longingly at Kenshin, his red hair dulled to a deep auburn in the light, and sighed. He turned at the sigh, a single hand stretched out.

"Need help down?"

She was about to say no, but frowned, realizing she literally could not get down on her own. It wasn't that she didn't want to; her thigh muscles were too cramped to do anything but laugh at the thought. So instead, she nodded, placing her small white hand in his warm, calloused one.

If he was at all revolted by touching her, he hid it admirably well; he wrapped his other arm around her waist and pulled him toward him. She didn't slide down, so much as have her legs give out underneath her. He held her against his chest, for a moment, as the room steadied. Kaoru buried her fingers in the soft folds of the fabric, pooling around his waist. She could feel the heat radiating from his body, and warming her chilled fingers. The scent of open sky and sun-warmed earth filled her nostrils; for a brief moment she rested her forehead against his chest, feeling his heart beat.

They were so close, she thought drowsily, lulled into a deceptive peace. He still held her hand, and she noted, close enough that she could feel the blood racing through his wrist, where their arms touched. Or was it her blood? There was so little keeping them apart - a thin wall of skin, a few layers of clothing. That was all. Get rid of them and there would be nothing to stop her from sliding into his bones, becoming his air, until they were one person, and it was her streaming through his veins. The essence of Kaoru, safe, where she would never be alone again. That was all that stopped them - and his disgust of her.

She sighed and pulled back, remembering the flash of pain and repulsion his eyes had held when he reprimanded her this morning.

"We should go in."

For his part Kenshin sighed as she pulled away, nodding at her statement. For an instant he had felt her relax, with warm puffs of her breath bursting against his chest.

"Kenshin!"

The small form of Kaoru's little brother burst into the room, shattering their solitude.

"Kenshin!" he repeated, panting. "Kaoru! Come quick. There's a big guy - angry -"

Kenshin was off at a dead run, pelting toward the house, as fast as his feet could take him. He heard the harsh sobs of Kaoru's breath, and the thud of her feet as she followed, half of a heartbeat behind him. He burst into the room, his hand on his revolver, and stopped dead.

Standing in his living room was the last man he ever expected to see.

He was tall - much taller than Kenshin. Jet black hair was pulled back in a long ponytail, with three strands escaping to slash across his forehead. His golden eyes were narrowed, and his large cowboy hat was tilted arrogantly against his forehead. His entire posture portrayed an icy indifference; all of his weight rested on one foot, with the other pushed against the wall, its spur scraping the unvarnished wood. He was slouched casually against the wall - too casually, in fact, like he was at once capable of leaping and ripping Kenshin's throat out with his bare hands, or simultaneously going to sleep right there. Everything portrayed absolute, utter calm, except for the rapid puffs of smoke coming from the cigarette dangling between his lips.

"Hajime Saitou," Kenshin breathed, his hand resting warily on his own revolver.

Hajime Saitou. Kenshin's oldest and most respected adversary, from the civil war. Time after time, the two men had clashed, with, nothing but smoke and a litter of young, broken bodies in their wake. An implacable Confederate, treating the union with all of the scorn due for traitors; traitors to liberty, rolling meekly over to let the government rob them of their freedoms. Kenshin hadn't even known he had settled out here.

"Kenshin." He raised one eyebrow. "These morons didn't know where you had gone. If I had realized this hole belonged to you, I might have kept going."

"What do you want?"

"Bandits attacked my home. I need help burying the bodies."

A soft moan echoed from the adjoining room, their bedroom. The cigar he was holding collapsed under the pressure of Saitou's finger at the sound. It was hoarse and low, carrying with a sense of animal pain.

"What was that?" His eyes never left Saitou.

"My wife was injured in the raid," he responded, the white strain about his eyes betraying how much it cost him to say that statement.

"Someone actually married you?!"

"Oh you men, honestly."

Kaoru pushed past the pair giving them each a glare, hurrying toward the source of the sound. A strong hand shot out, capturing her wrist. She turned and glared at the man in outrage.

"What are you doing?" he growled.

"Going to help her, obviously." She jerked her hand free. The whimpers of pain grew louder as she approached the source. She pushed open the door, aware that this Saitou was right behind her. It took a moment for her eyes to adjust to the dim lighting, but when they did, she gasped and rocked back on her heels.

Looking tiny against their massive bed, a small woman rested, enshrouded in makeshift bandages. Her mid-section was wrapped tightly with white linen, but a large crimson stain was spreading, and the air rattled in the woman's chest. Her dark eyes looked black against the pallor of her face, and it was almost as if she had collapsed in on herself.

"Tokio," Saitou whispered from behind her, reaching out to capture a bandaged hand.

Kaoru approached the bedside with brisk efficiency, remembering all of the hours spent at her fiancé's side, as he worked in the hospital. She pulled back the covers and began unwrapping the bandage. The wound was hot to her touch, burning and crusty, yet the woman could not stop shivering.

"Boil me some water," she snapped. "I need clean bandages, a needle, thread, and a damp rag of cool water to go with the boiled."

"Can you help her?" Saitou asked, oddly respectful.

"If you boil me some water," she replied impatiently, kneeling at the bedside and checking her vitals.

Far longer than she would have liked, the men were back with everything she requested. Saitou hovered at her back, his nervous hovering cracking her nerves. Far more gently than she would have liked, she shooed him out and shut the door behind him. She needed all of the calm she could get, as she worked frantically into the night, battling fever and infection, but finally, blissfully able to put her own troubles aside . . .

TBC