Disclaimer: The characters herewithin do not belong to either Kristen Elizabeth or Loyce. We clear?

Author's Notes: Appreciative we are for all the feedback. Hope we do that people still enjoy the story. Hard it is to talk like Yoda. Okay, forget that. I had a lot of fun writing this chapter, but I'll have even more fun lighing a fire under Loyce's feet so the next chapter won't be too far behind:) Hehehe...enjoy everyone!

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And He Walks With Me
by Kristen Elizabeth and Loyce

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Of all her chores, Relena's favorite by far was sewing. Not only did she have the nimble fingers and keen eye necessary to make a thousand delicate stitches, she also had the patience. It was well-known that the clothes she made were some of the best constructed in the village. But it wasn't a gown or a waistcoat that currently held her attention. With all of her skills, and more importantly, all of her heart, Relena sat in front of the hearth after the noon meal, piecing together impossibly tiny dressing gowns for her unborn niece or nephew.

She admired the pure white wool her brother's wife had spun early on in her pregnancy. It was so soft against her hands, the perfect texture for a newborn. Another four months seem so long to wait for the chance to hold the babe. Although, there was still much work to be done before it arrived. Not nearly enough nappies had been sewn yet, and Millardo wasn't anywhere near finished building the cradle in which his child would sleep. Blankets, Relena made a mental note. The baby would arrive in the dead of winter; it would not be possible to sew too many blankets.

A sudden flash of fear gripped her heart. Winter was a dangerous time for a woman to give birth, especially in the colonies. So many children and mothers died, their bodies kept frozen until they could be buried in the spring. Relena pushed aside her worries by making a series of perfect stitches down the arm of the dressing gown. Nothing was going to happen to Lucrezia. She was in perfect health according to Dr. J. More than that, they were lucky enough to live in a clean home with plenty of food and water and firewood. The birth wouldn't be easy, but there was no reason, save for the inexplicable hand of God, why both mother and child couldn't survive.

The heavy sound of a fist against the wood of the front door jolted Relena out of her thoughts and caused her to stab her thumb with her needle. Letting out a little cry of pain, she dropped the baby's gown before her blood could stain it. The knock came again, louder and more insistent. Relena waited patiently for Hilde to answer the door, but her friend never appeared. She frowned slightly; hopefully there was nothing wrong with her. Ever since the corn-husking almost three weeks past, Hilde's head had been lodged somewhere in the clouds, even during Meetings.

Relena stood up from her bench and crossed the parlor to answer the door before the knocking woke Lucrezia from her much-needed nap. Remembering that the temperature had taken a drastic drop in the past few days, she threw on her shawl before pulling the door open.

A smile of pure delight lit up her entire face. "Heero!"

He stood just outside the house, a thick cloak fastened up to his throat. His broad shoulders were dusted with the beginnings of powdery snow and his eyes shone dark river blue. "'Tis the first snow of the season," he said, thrilling her with his low, smooth voice. "Are you able to come share it with me?"

Biting into her lower lip, Relena glanced back into the house. Lucrezia was asleep, Hilde was nowhere to be found and Millardo was in his study, preparing for Sunday's Meeting. She would not be missed, at least for a short while. She looked back at Heero, her cheeks pink from cold and anticipation. "I shall need a heavier shawl. Wait a moment." Closing the door on him just a bit to keep the snow out of the house, Relena fumbled about the parlor, searching for the cloak she had worn out that morning. When she finally found it and had it on, she tried not to run back to the door.

He was still standing outside, rubbing his gloved hands together. She thought for a second about going back for her own, but by the time she had the door closed, Heero had already taken her free hand in his and raised it to his lips for a kiss.

She looked down at her shoes, to hide her smile. "Is that the only sort of kiss a girl should expect from thee this afternoon, Heero?"

"Ask and you shall receive," Heero replied, cupping her hands entirely within the warmth of his own. His words made her blush spread; it had been so long since they had been able to find a few moments alone. He wasn't about to rush things. Today would be a very important day in their lives and everything had to go absolutely perfectly.

Relena peered at him out of the corner of her eye as they started down the gentle slope to their tree. "Why are you not at lessons with the doctor? Has he given you leave for the day?"

"That could be said." Heero looked up at the overcast sky. "Winter comes without warning this year."

"Aye." She shivered slightly, despite the heat from his body. "Tis good that all was prepared in time."

They stopped once they were beneath their tree, hidden from view of the house by the wide trunk. "Twas not for talk of the weather that I came calling, Relena." Heero paused for a second as he watched her eyes. The cool blue he had come to love so much watched him right back, innocent and hopeful. Beautiful. "In truth, I was given leave by the doctor. But not from the day's lessons. From the lessons themselves." He took a breath. "My apprenticeship with the doctor has ended. By his own admission, he has taught me all I need to know."

Relena drew in a little breath. "Heero..."

"Tis free I am, to tend to the village's medicinal needs myself. I shall leave the doctor's home to make one of my own." He released his hands to cup her lovely face. "With you, Relena. I have no other wish than to spend my life with you."

"Oh..." She pressed her bare, cold hand to her trembling lips.

"Be my wife," Heero whispered, his breath hot against her mouth. "I...I need you."

"Heero," she repeated. Her tears almost froze on her cheeks as she began to nod. "I shall marry you. I love you so."

A happy cry went up from her when Heero wrapped his arms around her cinched waist and lifted her off the ground. Laughing, she looked down at him. The sad eyes of the boy she had fallen in love with years earlier had been replaced by the happy ones of a content man. On impulse, she dipped her head and took his lips in a soft kiss.

Eventually, her feet touched the ground again, but she wasn't quite sure when. Heero turned the gentle kiss into something much deeper, heating her entire body with his lean, strong frame and burning tongue. Nothing could take away the joy of kissing Heero, not even a thousand damning passages from the Bible.

He pulled back and stroked her cheek with his index finger. "I want us to marry here. When the snow melts and spring comes."

"Millardo will have objections; he shall want us to marry at the Meeting House," she said quietly. What she didn't add was that Millardo would have objections to them marrying anywhere.

"Twill not be an easy battle to sway his thinking." Heero smiled at her, his rare, private look that only she was fortunate enough to be given. "But I shall prevail."

Relena closed her eyes and tilted her face up. "Tis a lifetime away, spring."

Without warning, he planted a hot kiss on the smooth column of her throat. Her eyes flew open at the sudden, shocking sensation. Warmth bubbled up in the center of her body. As she stared at the bare branches above them, Heero showed no signs of stopping what he was doing. And to her own surprise, she made no motion to stop him.

Her skin felt like velvet under his lips. He'd imagined doing this for so long, kissing places other than her lips. Her neck, her ears, the sinfully pert breasts she naively pressed against his chest when they embraced in secret. He would have to wait for that until spring came and they were joined before God, but for now, he had her throat bared in front of him. And he wasn't one to waste an opportunity.

His tongue darted out and danced across her flesh. Her velvet skin...it tasted sweeter than fresh raspberries. He heard it then, the tiniest moan coming from his Relena. A whisper of a gasp. Her hands grasped his cloak, pulling at the material. He smiled against her skin and snaked the tip of his tongue up and down.

Whatever it was that he was doing, it was little wonder if it was sinful. Certainly the feelings it elicited within her had to be. Her entire lower body felt like liquid; it was all she could do to hold onto him for support. Was this the fornication Millardo rallied so hard against? Her heart pounded beneath her breast. "Heero..." she moaned.

When his mouth moved from her neck, the cold bit into the moist patch of skin he left behind. He kissed her and she felt it all throughout her body, from her toes to the hard tips of her breasts. His breath came faster and harder. "Twould not be right for us to do more," he said, the words sticking in his dry throat.

"'There's more?"

He wanted to laugh, but she said it with such virginal surprise, that he just couldn't. His betrothed, she was wholly and entirely innocent. It was going to be painfully difficult, but he would wait to show her everything that came afterwards. Everything they could do together. Every comfort and every pleasure. "Aye, that there is." Her forehead crinkled slightly. "Did you enjoy it not?"

"Nay!" she said a little too forcefully. This time, he had to smile. "Nay, Heero." She licked her lips, tasting his. "I only wondered. Tis true...I know...very little about such things."

"I must think, how God-graced am I to be chosen to show thee." Heero kissed her forehead. "When we marry, Relena. I promise. Not until we marry."

Her hesitations assuaged, Relena melted back into Heero's embrace, barely noticing when he angled his lower body away from her. Had she felt how ready he was to show her right then, her shock would have been much greater.

They walked back to the house together, hand in hand. Heero came in for a moment at her invitation, to warm his hands before the long walk back into the village. But the imposing figure of Millardo Peacecraft sat in the parlor, waiting for them. And it was clear that Heero wouldn't be going anywhere for awhile.

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The first snow of the season. Treize watched the whispers of white fall to the ground from his large window. Another year come and gone and winter was upon them again. How many would be lost to the cold this year? And what of the Indians? Winter was as hard on them as it was on the villagers; even if they did provide well for themselves, it was not unheard of for a village to be attacked, raided for its supplies.

It wouldn't happen to his town. With every able man between sixteen and fifty enlisted in the militia, Sanq Village was quite safe from whatever might happen. At least, he told himself, safe from the dangers of man. It was still too soon after the incident in the square for him to forget what ungodly things could happen to his village.

"Father." Mariemaia came up behind him, her hands clasped neatly in front of her. "Will thou read to us tonight?" Turning his head, he looked past his daughter. Dorothy lounged on a settee in front of the fire in a dress meant for dancing and frivolity; she looked thoroughly bored with the entire world.

"Ask thy cousin to read to thee," Treize replied, patting Mariemaia's red head as he moved past her. "I have things to which I must attend." He missed the crestfallen look on her face as he advanced up the stairs. There were three doors on the second floor of his expensive home; one led to the bedroom shared by his daughter and his cousin, and one opened into his own bed chamber. But the third was rarely opened as it was heavily locked and only he held the key.

He used it now to disappear through the third door and lock it behind him. Replacing the key in his pocket, he climbed the dusty steps to the third level of the house, the attic no one entered but him.

There were no windows, but light peeked through the boards and thatch that made up the roof. It was horrifically cold, and at the far corner of the wide space, dark. It was in that darkness that he sensed motion.

"Anne," he said lowly. "Tis only me."

A face emerged from the shadows, the delicate nose and lips he knew so well. "Cold," she whispered.

"I shall bring you more blankets." He moved towards her, and her face disappeared back into the shadows. "Come out of there, Anne. I wish to see thee."

It took a moment, but finally, with the rustling and clanking of the chains that kept her safe from the world, she stood up and moved into the light. He released a breathless sigh. She was still so beautiful, even with her hair matted and her clothes in rags from her own nails. And even in the depths of her insanity, she was still so quiet...he had lusted after her ability to be so perfectly silent in public, yet so passionate in his bed. Her body was still something to behold, and he felt the tug of desire below his belt.

"You have not eaten," Treize said, indicating the plate of food he had brought her that morning.

She shook her head. "The snow sang a song to me and I could only listen to it."

He lowered his chin. The crazy words, the jumbled speeches, they were what had started it all. And when had they begun? The first year of their marriage. She'd wanted to bear him a child so much, but after a year, no babe had been conceived. After the crazy words came the suicide attempts. And then the day she nearly pushed five year-old Mariemaia into the fire, convinced that the sacrifice would please God, and that he would make her pregnant.

It was only after this that he'd made the decision to lock her up here. Truthfully, it was just easier to tell the village that she had died of the fever and hold a funeral with an empty coffin. Now, he had her entirely to himself when he wanted her. And he didn't have to be bothered with her when he didn't.

Right then, he wanted her. Raising his head, Treize looked straight into her vacant brown eyes. "Lay down, Anne."

She did as she was told; she always did. He felt those eyes on him as he advanced, unbuttoning the flap on his dark breeches and pulling his shirt up and out. Her stare never wavered as he knelt down, unlocked her shackles, lifted her skirts and crawled between her legs. On the outside, she was frigid, but inside, she was hot and moist. He held himself up over her as he thrust, frowning when she winced.

"Touch me, Anne," he ordered. "Touch me like you once did."

Her fingers felt like icicles on his back when she slid them underneath his shirt. He closed his eyes as the pleasure doubled. No woman, not his first wife, not the whoring widows who were more than happy to couple with the supposed widower magistrate, not the savage women he'd loved to take in his youth, none of them could ever come close to Anne. Two minutes into her and he was ready.

He thrust one more time and collapsed onto her with heavy groan, flooding her with wet warmth. When they were first married, before intercourse became a means to a baby and nothing else, she would have come with him, clasping his sex with hers, clinging to his body, gasping for breath, crying out his name.

A loud curse escaped his lips when he felt her razor sharp nail slice into the flesh of his chest. Still buried within her, he looked down at his stomach. Blood dripped down to the place where they were joined from a deep gash she had made. Horrified, he watched her suck her bloody finger into her mouth with a smile.

Treize couldn't pull out of her fast enough. He backed away, ignoring the cold on his wet flesh. She lifted herself up on one elbow and withdrew her finger from her mouth. Her hand drifted down to the heated place between her legs, displayed so indecently. "There are no more songs here," she said. After a moment, she rolled to her side and curled herself into a ball. "And I no longer listen to you."

He wasted little time fixing his clothes and securing her shackles. She'd be fine without the blankets for one night, he told himself, as he thundered down the hidden staircase. Locked inside of her insanity, she'd keep herself warm. When he reached his room, Treize ran all ten fingers through his hair. Blood spotted his shirt, blood she had tasted! Like some savage, pagan whore! His Anne was slipping away, his pure, passionate angel. The day might come when he would have to end her suffering. He could do it, it would be hard, but not impossible.

After he washed up and changed his clothes, he came downstairs. He could hear a hushed conversation taking place between Mariemaia and Dorothy, but he cared not what two twittering girls had to talk about. As long as Dorothy's wayward nature didn't rub off on his daughter, it didn't do his daughter any harm to have another woman in the house.

He returned to his window to watch the snow, unaware that well out of his sight, Anne watched it as well. Watched it and laughed.

****

His dreams were shot through with green, the clean grass color of that man's eyes. Quatre woke in a cold sweat, his nightshirt sticking to his chest. He sat up quickly in the dark. How many more times would this happen? How many more ways would he be plagued by this unnatural obsession? In the short time since he had arrived in the colonies, he'd only seen Trowa Barton three times, and the last two were only as he passed by the house he shared with his sister on his long rides through the countryside.

It wasn't normal, the rush of blood that went to his head when the Puritan man would tip his hat at him. Barton was only being neighborly, surprising since Quatre was not only a member of the Church of England, but technically owned the land on which both of their houses stood.

That was a piece of information he'd only recently discovered, and one he wasn't likely to share with Trowa Barton. He wouldn't be exercising any of his rights as the landowner and demanding taxes or anything any other English proprietor might have done. His only interest in the Barton's property was in seeing them continue to work it and live off of it as they were doing so successfully on their own.

He supposed it wasn't odd to consider the man an acquaintance. They appeared to be about the same age, after all, and their religious beliefs aside, seemed to have a few things in common. Farming, riding, living a peaceful life on their own terms. Given time, they might even become friends.

Which was why the dreams had to stop. Not only were they an abomination in any religion, but it was too much for him to take, carrying around lust in his heart for someone he could never have. The weight of his secret life was hard enough to bear in London, where at least he had an outlet for it. The whores on the other side of the Thames weren't all women, after all. But here in the pure virginity of the New World, that sort of release could find you hanging by the end of a rope. Or worse, flat on your back with rocks piled onto your chest.

Quatre lay back down with a loud sigh. It was only in the light of day that his sexuality tortured him. At night when he fell into his cold, lonely bed, he couldn't help wanting someone there to share it with him. And he couldn't help imagining that Trowa Barton was there and that he had his tall, muscular body to warm him up. It never even occurred to him to wish for Catherine's small, curvy body.

He fell asleep with one arm draped across the empty side of the bed, green eyes still haunting his dreams.

****

"Lucy...may I ask thee a question?"

Lucrezia looked at Relena as she started a fire in the bedroom's small hearth. The sheets she had just eased her body into were still cold and she was grateful for the younger girl's help and thoughtfulness. Millardo would likely not come to bed until well after she was asleep. And even if she were to seek the heat of his body in the night, he would keep his distance. He had a fear of harming their child; after she had begun to show, he refused to make love, and as her stomach grew bigger, his resolve grew stronger.

"Of course you may, Relena."

Her husband's sister was quiet for a long moment. "'Tis a rather...shocking question."

At that, Lucrezia knew what she was about to be asked. The corners of her lips turned up. Despite Millardo's protests, Heero and Relena had made their hidden affections official that very day. It was only a matter of time, she had figured, before she would get to play the part of the older sister and answer Relena's questions about marriage and what exactly in entailed.

"I shall still answer it," she assured her.

With the fire crackling merrily, Relena crossed to the wide bed Lucrezia and her brother shared. Her hands shook; she threaded her fingers to hide her nervousness. "Tis about..." She stopped, her cheeks absolutely painted scarlet. "I cannot even say the words."

Lucrezia reached for Relena's hand, urging the girl to sit on the edge of the bed where she could see her better. "Come now, Relena. We are sisters."

Relena's eyes were troubled. "Tis about..." she began again. "Tis about Heero. And I. And..."

When she failed to continue, Lucrezia took pity on her. "Ah. I believe I understand. 'Tis lovemaking you wish to know about."

"Lucy!"

"Tis not a sinful word, Relena, anymore than it 'tis a sinful act." She rubbed her hand over the mound of her stomach. "How think you this baby came to be? Surely not out of sin."

The blond girl swallowed. "Then out of what, sister?"

"Love," was her simple reply. "The love your brother and I share. When that sort of love exists between a man and a woman, it must be expressed. That 'tis lovemaking. And there's naught in this world that 'tis more beautiful."

She could see a frown on Relena's smooth brow. "But...what exactly is it?"

Thirty minutes later, Lucrezia had outlined the basics as best she could. She'd tried to be delicate, but it was obvious that the facts of life were shocking to Relena, as they had been to her. But she'd had no older sister or mother willing to explain it all to her. She'd gone to Millardo's bed without any knowledge. And it had taken a long time for her to enjoy anything that happened there. If she could spare Relena the pain of ignorance, she would.

"'Tis a lot to learn in one night, Relena." The girl nodded. "Does it scare thee?"

"A bit," Relena said truthfully. "Twill hurt. Will it not?"

"Aye. 'Tis unavoidable. But I swear, it shall become pleasurable with time." Lucrezia smiled. "Heero will know what to do, but you should never be feared to tell him what it 'tis that you are feeling. Lovemaking is for two people, not one."

Relena nodded again. After a moment, her first smile since Heero had departed appeared. "Would thou think me wanton if I said I look forward to it?" When Lucrezia shook her head, Relena relaxed. "I love Heero with all of my heart; I want to bear him children. If...this be what it takes, I shall not dread it." A peaceful moment passed between them before Relena lowered her head to kiss her sister's cheek. "Pleasant sleep, Lucy." She rose to go, but paused at the door. "And...thank you."

When she was gone, Lucrezia settled back into her down pillow, still smiling. Within her body, the baby kicked several times. She longed for Millardo to be there, to feel it. But his half of the bed was cold and empty. Willing back her tears, she fell asleep to the cheerful snap of the fire.

Much later, after the fire had died almost entirely down, Millardo slipped into bed beside his sleeping wife. He watched her for a long time, the rise and fall of her chest below the thick quilts, her breath visible in the cold air, her lovely face so serene. And the swelling in her belly...he reached out to touch it. His child, growing within the woman he loved with his entire heart.

Guilt crept up over him. Sometimes, he thought he might just love Lucrezia more than he loved God.

He withdrew his hand and after a moment, turned to his other side. When she reached out to him in her sleep, lightly touching his back, he pushed her hands away. His restraint hung by a thread. When she touched him too much, he wanted her too badly. One day, he might not be able to stop himself from taking her. And he'd rather die than hurt her or their child with his own weakness.

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Millardo was not the only member of the household plagued with guilt that night. In the bed she shared with Relena, Hilde lay awake long after her mistress had fallen asleep with a happy smile on her face. She wanted to be jealous of Relena. Relena and Heero were to be married in a matter of months; she had every reason to be happy. Hilde pinched herself. Any happiness Miss Relena had was well-deserved. She had done nothing to upset God. She had not sinned.

Hilde closed her eyes in sheer agony. Admittedly, she did not know much about what she and Duo had shared in the woods beyond how the pleasure he'd given her had erased the pain, but what she did know was enough. Her monthly flow had been missed twice now and there was little doubt in her mind what it meant.

She was being punished.

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To Be Continued