Chapter 64
2 May, 1942 The Knight Bus
Dorcas wondered as she passed Ernie the conductor if it was just her general paranoia getting the better of her, or if the Knight Bus employee was beginning to recognize her.
She paid her fare, trying not to look directly at the short man with soda-bottle glasses, but she detected an air of familiarity all the same; a nonchalant greeting that said "Good to see you again," with a nod of his head.
A club chair in a remote corner of the lower level caught her as she collapsed; the bus pulling recklessly away from the curb with absolutely no warning.
Dorcas nervously took Jack's last hurried note from her pocket and reread it for maybe the fifteenth time since receiving it only about twenty-eight hours ago.
My angel,
I'm beside myself with anticipation for your arrival. Do not worry about making plans for your stay. I have made accommodations for you. Look for me at the war memorial in Great Hangleton. I will meet your bus.
Love always,
Jack
She knew where the war memorial was. The Knight Bus had dropped her in an inconspicuous alley less than a block from there when she met Mrs. Wharton to interview for the serving position with the Riddles.
Stowing the note away in her pocket once again, Dorcas brought her school bag up to her lap and reached inside, feeling for a small pouch with a Cushioning Charm placed upon it. It held several potions; any one of which could land her before the Wizengamot to answer for charges of breaking the Statute of Secrecy with Muggles. She knew she wasn't supposed to give any magical products to a Muggle. She knew it intellectually. She understood all of the reasons for this. But none of those reasons seemed particularly important when Dorcas thought of the constant danger Jack was under on an active battlefront.
She was determined to deliver the Felix Felicis along with all of the Healing Potions, Sleeping Draughts, and Calming Tonics that she'd stolen from the Hogwarts infirmary. Hang the consequences.
Thinking about what to pack and how to get to Great Hangleton had given Dorcas the opportunity to push down the feelings of doubt that had crept in as the initial wave of shock and excitement had receded from her mind.
But now that she had no more practical tasks to keep her mind occupied, she was left to sit quietly and brood about her feelings and insecurities.
Jack had written to her countless letters assuring her how wonderful she was and how much he loved her. But the reality was, they'd spent the sum total of about thirty hours in each other's company in their entire lives. What did they truly know about one another? About love?
He'd written that he found her to be charming and beautiful, but what if that had suddenly (or gradually, even) changed for him? Would he be direct and tell her that he no longer felt the same way about her? Or would he spend the weekend pretending to have feelings and break things off once he was at a safe distance from her once more?
What if the only thing he'd ever found remotely interesting about her was her magic? It had been enough to captivate him in the short time they'd spent together. But what if the novelty of it had worn off for him and he discovered that the rest of Dorcas was just too mundane?
This was a mistake, Dorcas thought to herself, standing abruptly. If she went back now, she could make it to the Great Hall for dinner and no one would be the wiser about it.
She'd told Myrtle to cover for her in her absence. The younger Ravenclaw had agreed to sneak into the Third Year Girls' Dormitory and mess up Dorcas's bed covers so that it looked as if she'd slept there each night she was away.
Why had she thought that trusting Myrtle Warren was a sound idea? Had she lost her mind? Myrtle Warren was as discreet as an Erumpent during mating season.
"Great Hangleton!" Ernie's voice rang throughout the bus's cabins and straight into her spinal cord, stiffening it.
"Too late to turn back now, Clerey," she muttered to herself. "Best be getting on with it."
She lifted her bag to her shoulder and stepped out into the same alleyway as she'd done over a year ago. She smoothed her dress, a yellow cotton which felt summery and light when she'd selected it. Now, she self-consciously pulled at the bodice, hoping that it didn't appear as tight as it felt.
The town of Great Hangleton looked the same as she remembered it. A cluster of about a dozen buildings with a central roundabout that wasn't the slightest bit busy with automobile traffic.
A few pedestrians moved between the shops, some milled about on the pavement.
A gray horse whickered and stamped its back hoof impatiently, gentled by the hand of its owner on the nose.
Not the horse's owner, Dorcas corrected, but its caretaker. Jack stood in companionable conversation with an older man who leaned on a crutch. A cigarette hung from the older man's lips as he spoke to Jack. Their attitude suggested that they were old acquaintances catching up.
"Is this the lass now, then?" the man asked, taking the cigarette out of his mouth and tossing it away.
At the question, the broad back and relaxed shoulders that were facing her tensed as Jack turned to meet her. His mind was a flurry of emotions and thoughts, much the same as Dorcas's was in that moment. It was a bit of a comfort to see in the briefest of flashes all of the uncertainty and insecurity that had plagued her as she made her journey from school.
"Yes, this is her," Jack confirmed, smiling. The effect was similar to the moment the sun breaks through the clouds on an overcast day.
Dorcas felt a fluttering in her stomach like battling butterflies and she took this as a sign that, whatever he might feel about her after ten months apart, she still felt the same.
His hair was neatly combed and his trousers and shirt were clean and pressed. Dorcas had the impression that he'd made a special effort just for her arrival.
"Dorcas Clerey, this is my good friend Brian McGinn," Jack said, gesturing to his companion.
"Hello, Mr. McGinn," Dorcas greeted, offering her hand.
"A pleasure, Miss Clerey," Brian said, swiveling a little on his crutch to address Jack. "If I were a younger man, I'd give you some competition for the attention of this pretty girl!"
Dorcas blushed as she took her hand back.
"That you would!" Jack replied jovially. "Better for me then that you're an old man!"
"Better indeed!" Brian agreed. "Well, it was a good showing, it was! I'm glad to see you again, Jackie boy. Even under the circumstances. You keep yourself safe, you hear?"
"Yes, sir! I will!" Jack promised, taking Brian's hand before allowing him to depart.
When the older man strolled away, Dorcas and Jack were left in an awkward silence. Dorcas clutched her bag close and looked around, trying to think of something to say.
She was about to suggest visiting the inn across the street to see if they had a spare room for her, but Jack spoke first.
"How was your trip?" He clutched the horse's reins in both hands, his thumbnail absently scratching at the leather.
"Quick," Dorcas replied, astonished herself that she'd made it to the town in less than thirty minutes.
"Where is it you're coming from?" Jack asked.
Dorcas realized that of all the details that she'd written to him about Hogwarts, she'd never told him where it was.
"The Highlands, by way of London," she said.
Jack cocked his head and studied her. "I'm no geography whiz, but even I know that's a convoluted route. Quick, you say?"
He took her school bag from her and slung it over his own shoulder. The small amount of contact between his fingertips and her shoulder had left the skin under her dress sleeve tingling.
Dorcas made a little strangled laugh to cover for the thrill she'd felt at his touch.
"Well, when I make an unsanctioned trip away from school, I use a Vanishing Cabinet whose twin is in a shop in Knockturn Alley, you know, the dodgy street near where I took you in London?"
"Magic Town," Jack said, nodding. "I remember."
"Then I sneak out to Charing Cross and hail the Knight Bus. The whole trip took about thirty minutes."
Jack's eyes went wide. "Thirty minutes? From Scotland to London to Lincolnshire?"
"Just about."
"I'd say you were lying if you hadn't already shown me some truly unbelievable things!"
Dorcas returned his smile, feeling more at ease with every word exchanged between them.
"Speaking of unbelievable things," he continued, stroking the neck of the gray horse. "I received a letter two days ago from an actual owl."
Dorcas knew he would get a kick out of that.
"How long have you been in town?" It had just occurred to Dorcas that she still didn't know how long he'd been back in the country before his letter had reached her.
"About six days," answered Jack.
"Six?" Dorcas was disappointed that she hadn't known sooner. But, as she realized that she wouldn't have been able to do anything about it until the weekend, she was grateful that she hadn't gotten the news faster.
She suddenly remembered with a sinking feeling why Jack was here in the first place.
"How's your aunt?"
The smile slipped from Jack's face. "She passed five days ago. The funeral was this morning."
"Oh, Jack!" choked Dorcas.
Forgetting the remaining formality and stiffness between them, Dorcas threw her arms around him and squeezed. She remembered the conversation she'd had with Penny Hardin, difficult as it was due to her stroke. But Dorcas knew that she was a loving woman who adored her nephew.
"I'm so sorry!" she cried, burying her face against his chest.
She felt Jack's arms immediately wrap her up and hold onto her.
"Don't cry, angel. She lingered for a long while, for me I think. I'm glad she's not suffering anymore."
One of his hands moved from the back of her neck to her chin, tipping it up. He captured her lips in a tentative kiss.
"I don't want our time together to be sad. Aunt Penny would want us to be happy," Jack insisted, kissing her more thoroughly this time.
Forgetting where she was, Dorcas responded by pressing herself against him and parting her lips.
Jack groaned softly. "I've missed you, angel."
Dorcas was about to respond in kind, but was cut off by a loud wolf whistle.
"That's it, man! Give it to her!" a man shouted, one of a group lingering outside of a pub across the street.
"Yeah, alright, Eddie!" Jack called back, shifting to the side a little to shield Dorcas from the leering men.
"Sorry! I got a bit carried away," Jack apologized.
Dorcas's hand moved to his chest, which she noticed under his dress shirt, was solid with muscle. She remembered him being toned and masculine when she'd glimpsed his bare chest the night they'd slept in the same bed. She often dreamed she was beside him once again, her cheek pressed against that solid pectoral.
"Can we go somewhere?" Dorcas asked. She felt conspicuous on the street corner with the onlookers watching them.
"Let's go. Hop up." He gestured to the horse.
Dorcas balked and stepped back from the beast as if she'd forgotten its presence until just now.
"What?"
"Hop up," he repeated, bending and placing his laced fingers low in front of her.
"Up where?" Dorcas asked dimly.
"Onto the saddle," Jack laughed, straightening as he stared at her. "Have you ever ridden before?"
"No," Dorcas replied. "And I'm wearing a dress."
"Okay," he instructed. "You can put your foot in my hands and when I lift you, swing your leg over the saddle. Tuck your dress around your legs. It'll be fine."
She eyed him dubiously as he bent once again and laced his fingers.
"The other foot, beautiful!" he chuckled as Dorcas hitched her left foot into his grip. She realized belatedly that she was giving him the foot that was meant to swing over the saddle.
Inhaling sharply, Dorcas was tossed effortlessly onto the horse. The dapple gray creature was much taller from this vantage point than she was from the ground.
She felt Jack settle in behind her and was surprised by her physical reaction to the feel of him behind her, nestling her back against him and wrapping one hand around her waist. The feeling of need had been an abstract one to her before this moment. But now, with the sensation of his thighs warm against each of her own, Dorcas experienced physical need for the first time.
Jack made a clicking sound to the horse and Dorcas startled when the creature moved beneath her. Jack's powerful legs nudged the horse every so often, driving that feeling of need deep into her every time he did it.
She wondered if the effect of his proximity to her was written all over her face. She cast about for a way to take her mind off of the feeling.
"Her name's Cressida, right?"
"You have a good memory," he said, giving her an affectionate squeeze on her side with his fingers.
Did he feel the way her muscles spasmed beneath his touch? She felt her face heat and she felt embarrassment at the idea of him knowing what she was thinking.
"There was another horse, too. Troilus?"
Jack was quiet for a moment, prompting Dorcas to inventory her position in the saddle. Had she done something wrong?
"Yes. Master Tom had two."
"Do you like Cressida better? Is that why you're riding her today? Or does Master Tom have the other just now?"
Jack cleared his throat, the sound reverberated in his chest and into her back. "Cressida is not as high-spirited. Toilus, a jumper, wouldn't have been safe for you."
"Do you enjoy working with horses?" Dorcas wanted to keep the conversation from dipping into a lull. She knew the answer to her question already. It was plain in the way he handled the creature beneath them. He loved horses.
"There's no better feeling in the world than to be so in sync with your animal that they obey your command at the slightest nudge. It's a powerful bond."
Dorcas squeezed the pommel of the saddle, resisting the urge to rest her hand on Jack's knee, or on top of the hand that held her to him.
"And you've missed them?" Dorcas stated.
"Aye. I've missed a great many things," he agreed, his thumb making a slow arc across the thin cotton of her dress, causing the skin along her ribs to tingle.
Her breath hitched involuntarily.
Blinking past the blurry sensation that his thumb was stirring inside of her, Dorcas noticed that they were not on the lane that led from Little Hangleton to the Riddle House. She'd never been on this particular path before.
The small village was just becoming visible as they crested a wide hill, the church's steeple like a lone pin in a pincushion. The Riddle House and stables could just be made out on the distant hill beyond that.
"We're not going to the house and stables?" Dorcas asked, a little confused.
She'd thought that if she hadn't booked a room at the inn in Great Hangleton, perhaps Jack knew of one closer by in the little village. Or, maybe he'd intended to take her back to the stables where his room had been before he left. She didn't think it would be appropriate, of course, to share his bed with him. But she imagined they might find moments here and there when the grooms and stable manager might not be around and they could steal away into the hayloft and be alone.
She had made a whole fantasy around the idea.
"No," Jack answered. There was a note of apprehension in his voice. Dorcas wondered if he had been avoiding the stables because he might run into his father there. All of a sudden, her silly idea of frolicking in the hayloft seemed childish and naïve. Jack's relationship with his remaining family was fraught with complication. Why hadn't she considered that?
"I'll bring you by later, that is if you want to see Mistress Mary. I know she would like to see you."
Dorcas realized that she would like to see Mary Riddle again. The woman had been very kind to her on her last visit. But she couldn't shake the image of the mistress of the house placing herself between Dorcas and the gun that her son had waved. She'd done it as if the weapon in her son's hand were no more than a toy. But, as the matriarch had requested, she never told Jack about the scene.
"I'd like that," she replied.
Jack's thoughts were guilty. He was considering turning Cressida in the lane and making the journey across the village to Riddle House.
Perhaps she doesn't want to be alone with me, Dorcas heard him consider. I should have thought more about her reputation. I'm a scoundrel like him.
Dorcas shifted in the saddle and felt Jack's arm tighten around her.
"I'll take you there now. My grandmother will have a room for you to stay in. She can be our chaperone, if you like," Jack said, a note of dejection clear in his voice.
"No," Dorcas said. The one syllable came out rather more forcefully than she'd intended. She didn't want a chaperone and she didn't care about her reputation. "I trust you, Jack. Take me where you want."
She blushed a little at the entendre of her statement, not meaning to give such a bold invitation, but wanting to communicate that she didn't think he was a scoundrel in the least.
"Do you think you're ready for a gallop?" Jack asked, his voice close to her right ear.
The fluttering, which hadn't abated, quickened in her stomach.
"I think you greatly overestimate my coordination, Jack."
"I won't let you fall, my love," he purred, squeezing her flank once again.
There was simply no way he couldn't have noticed how the muscles of her abdomen had responded to his words and touch.
"Take the reins," he instructed, holding out the two strips of leather to her.
The idea of controlling something so powerful, something that could toss the both of them to the ground startled her.
"Jack, I don't know what to do with those!"
"Just hold them," he coached, placing one strip in each of her hands. He let out a bit of slack in each, telling her that the horse wouldn't appreciate having her mouth pulled. "Like this."
She tried to concentrate on his instruction rather than his warm, strong hands, but it was hopeless.
"Are you ready?" Jack asked.
Dorcas swallowed down her objection and nodded.
She wasn't ready for the way Cressida's ears flattened to her head, or the way she shot up the lane at the slightest nudge of Jack's legs. Both of his arms were around her, securing them together to the saddle as the horse careened into the open pasture, shooting like a cannon toward a small opening in the tree cover ahead.
She fought the scream that was bubbling up in her throat for as long as she could, but the very idea of controlling the direction of such a fast-moving creature unnerved her.
Jack laughed and then added his own carefree whoop to her racket.
At another subtle nudge from Jack, Cressida slowed to a canter again.
"I know you had control of her the entire time," Dorcas panted. "But I couldn't shake the feeling that I was about to kill the both of us."
His laugh continued as he took the reins back from her.
"I would never let anything happen to you, angel," he answered, kissing her ear lightly.
She needed to put some distance between herself and Jack before she lost all of her marbles and flung herself at him.
As if the forest had heard her request, a small cottage with smoke rising from its chimney came into view. There was a still pond partially obscured by the shadow of the house and the trees, but some sunlight spilled across the opposite bank where the tree cover was lighter. A wooden dock extended into the dark pool like an invitation.
Dorcas hadn't noticed Cressida come to a halt in the clearing of the little house. She only became aware of the termination of the journey by Jack standing in the stirrups and swinging himself down to the ground.
"Here we are," he announced, holding his hands out for Dorcas to swing down from the saddle.
"It's beautiful," she gasped. "You wrote to me about this place."
Jack's hands grasped her waist and pulled her from the saddle and down in front of him. It was only then that she registered the ache of her thighs, the skin burning where it had chafed the saddle. What had she been thinking to wear a dress?
He nodded with pride. "It was my mother's house. It's technically on Riddle land. But I own it now."
"Wow Jack!" Dorcas could only manage a slow circle to take in the idyllic scene, attempting to ignore the sting of her legs and bum.
She felt Jack take her hand and lead her to the cottage's door.
The smell of freshly baked bread wafted from the opening as Dorcas stepped into the cozy, single roomed home.
"There's rabbit stew warming in the oven if you're hungry," said Jack, dropping her bag on the bed in the corner.
Dorcas turned away from him and the sight of the bed, attempting to disguise the rising color in her neck and cheeks. Her expression must have been too obvious for Jack to miss, because he cleared his throat and added, "You can have the bed while you're staying here. I'm happy to sleep on the sofa."
"I don't want to put you out, Jack. I'll take the sofa."
The sofa that Dorcas found in the opposite corner of the room from the kitchen was a piece of furniture that could seat no more than three people on it. Not at all long enough to accommodate Jack's tall frame. She suspected there would be a gallant battle before he would allow her to sleep there, but she would put up her best fight.
Jack crossed the room once more, looking a bit frazzled, flashing her a tentative smile before retreating to the door.
"I've got to see to Cressida. Please make yourself at home. If you're not hungry, maybe you'll want a nap or something?"
And he was gone again in a blink.
All of Dorcas's doubts about seeing him again, how he might feel about her came back in a wave. He seemed less sure of himself than he was when he'd visited her in London. The thought that she'd dismissed earlier, about him feigning polite feelings only to let her down later in a carefully worded letter didn't seem that far-fetched.
She sat on the bed and toed her shoes off, bending to remove her socks. She wiggled her toes, thinking about the cool pond outside. More than rest or food, what she would like to do most was sit on the dock with her feet in the water, talking with Jack until the sun disappeared.
In answer to her thought, a mighty splash met her ears from beyond the still open door.
Dorcas crossed the room and peered outside. Perhaps Jack had fallen in?
There was a continuous set of rings on the water's surface beneath a piece of wood tied to a rope that sailed lazily five feet above. But there was no sign of Jack.
Only a trail of trousers and shirt and belt at the water's edge.
Then his dark head broke the surface, tossing back his thick fringe of waves.
Dorcas felt her stomach flip. She was caught between standing in the doorway to watch him without his knowledge and walking out to the dock and inviting a chat while he swam.
Deciding that watching him secretly was creepy, Dorcas set her bare feet on the cool dark path of packed earth that led to the dock.
She knew that Jack had seen her step out to the water's edge, but he didn't acknowledge her.
"Did you expect him to take you up in his arms and kiss you until your legs went mushy? His aunt was just buried this morning," Dorcas chided herself. "Letch!"
Sinking down at the edge of the dock, Dorcas dipped one toe in and then the other. The water was a little colder than what she would have deemed comfortable, but it was a nice feeling, a distraction from the loud voice in her mind.
Jack's head sank beneath the surface of the water and disappeared.
"So much for having a bit of a chat," Dorcas thought regrettably.
She jumped when something touched the submerged arch of her left foot. Startled, she jerked her foot out. She hadn't thought about creatures in the water, fish and eels and things. If this water was anything like the lake at school, she'd have to worry about giant squid as well.
A hand reached up and grabbed her right ankle.
Dorcas screamed in spite of herself.
"It's just me!" Jack laughed, placing his lips against her instep. "What did you think? I was a monster?" He playfully nibbled at her ankle.
"I'm still not so sure…" Dorcas teased, relief washing over her, detecting a lighter mood in him than she'd first suspected. She placed her left foot back into the cool pond, eased from her instinct to flee.
Jack's hands glided up her calves, as he looked up at her from the water below.
"Come in with me."
Dorcas shook her head quickly. "I can't swim."
"You can hold on to me," he enticed.
She felt her resolve melt as his fingers gently moved up and down the backs of her legs. The thought of being in his arms, alone in this pond caused her throat to tighten and her pulse to race.
"I'll just watch," Dorcas insisted.
"Suit yourself," he said, abruptly pushing off the dock and sailing away from her with a graceful backstroke.
Her eyes moved over his tanned torso, the wake ruffling the light blue material of his shorts.
"But I'm counting on you to jump in and rescue me if I'm in any distress," he added, shouting at a distance of about twenty feet.
She kicked up a spray of water at him. He didn't need her to save him. He was clearly a strong swimmer. He displayed his prowess by elegantly breast-stroking to the water's edge and the makeshift swing that hung out over the water.
He reached out for the small rope that towed the swing to the shore. She noticed every drop of water that dripped in rivulets off of his muscular back, the way that his thin cotton boxer shorts clung to his backside, the powerful muscles of his thighs working as he picked his way over rocks and tree roots to the shore.
Like a child showing off, he chanced a glance over his shoulder to make sure that Dorcas was watching him.
She smiled and waved. "Be careful! Your lifeguard is a crap swimmer!" she reminded him.
Holding onto the rope, Jack took a running leap and hopped lightly onto the branch, his feet, like an acrobat's, curled expertly around the wood, gripping it.
Dorcas's heart leapt into her throat as he backflipped off at the precise moment the swing arced out over the center of the pool. A tremendous splash met his cannonball into the surface, the ripples taking no time at all to lap at her ankles.
But he didn't surface. She wondered how deep the pool was at its center.
She waited for about thirty seconds. He was showing off. She decided that when his head broke the surface, she wasn't going to give him the applause he was seeking.
The ripples receded and the water became calm once again.
"Jack?" Dorcas called hesitantly.
The only sound that Dorcas could detect was the birdsong in the trees above her and the whinny of Cressida who was hobbled next to the house munching meadow grass.
She withdrew her feet and stood at the terminus of the dock. "Jack!" she called in earnest.
Her eyes scanned the pool. It was too dark to see his form under the surface of the water anywhere.
"JACK!"
Her hands flew to the buttons at the front of her dress. Swimming was no big deal, right? At some point instinct had to kick in. She thought her body might have some sort of innate ability to keep her from drowning.
She tore the dress off over her head, followed by her slip. Sitting back down on the dock, she eased her feet into the pool once again, willing her hands to let go so that she could drop into the water.
Hands grasped her knees from behind and tugged quickly, causing her grip on the dock to falter.
With a scream, Dorcas was plunged into the cold water, her hands flailing to either side of her. She screwed her eyes shut and waited for her head to go under.
But she didn't sink to the bottom of the pond like she thought she would. Jack's hands caught her under the arms and held her up.
"You are an absolute arse, Jack Hardin!" she raged, once the air had returned to her lungs after the cold had stolen it briefly.
They were in the shadow of the dock, apparently Jack's preferred place to hide when he was faking his own death.
"I can hold my breath for a long time," he confirmed.
"Jerk! I meant it when I said I couldn't swim!"
In spite of her anger, she reached out and wrapped her hands around his neck to keep herself afloat.
"It was a mean trick, I'm sorry! I was touched that you would jump in after me and save me, though."
Dorcas didn't want to smile, but she did. "You scared me."
"It won't happen again," he promised, kissing her nose lightly. His arms left her as he used them to row the two of them out to the pool's center.
Dorcas could no longer feel the bottom underneath her feet and she gasped. "Don't let go of me, Jack," she begged, pressing herself close to him, shivering at the idea of being left adrift.
"I never will, my love!" he assured her, wrapping his arms around her tightly.
He leaned down and kissed her deeply, parting her lips with his tongue. Dorcas's reaction was strong, wrapping her legs around his waist and answering his tongue with her own.
"I'm so glad you're here," he panted against her lips. His hands moved from her back to her bum, spreading one hand along each cheek.
"Are you, really?" Dorcas asked, pulling away. She wanted to be sure that his earlier aloofness when they first entered the cottage was just something she'd imagined and not real.
He smiled brightly at her. "Of course I am. I've been dreaming about this reunion for ten months!"
"Then why didn't you seem like you wanted me here earlier?" She played with the damp curls at his neck and studied him.
His brows furrowed together in confusion. "When?"
"You seemed to be in a hurry to get out of the cottage as fast as possible. Is it sleeping in the same room with me that bothers you? I can get a room at the inn, it's not a–"
Jack quietened her by kissing her again and laughing.
"What's funny?" Dorcas asked, bewildered.
He squeezed her bum, but shook his head.
"Tell me!" she insisted, pressing her thighs together, compressing his bulk between them. She ignored the rashes from the saddle which ached dully but were soothed by the water.
"Alright, but I don't think it's appropriate for a lady to hear…"
Dorcas wanted to understand him. She didn't want there to be anything between them, least of all secrets, or unspoken reservations.
"I needed a moment to myself," he said cryptically.
She rolled her eyes. "You could have told me that. Why did you need a moment to yourself? Did I say something wrong?"
He laughed again. "No, you didn't. I was concentrating so hard on not having a cockstand that I thought I would pass out right there on the floor, if you must know."
Dorcas must have looked baffled. Jack cleared his throat and explained further.
"I didn't anticipate that having you in the saddle, with that perfectly round bum between my legs would make it so difficult to control myself." He gave her backside another squeeze to emphasize his point.
"Oh," Dorcas gasped, her cheeks heated furiously as she realized that he'd been trying to control an erection and had only become terse because he was physically uncomfortable.
"The cold water helped," he added.
Dorcas nodded, her lips trembling a bit. The water was, in fact, cold.
"You wrote to me about how you and Verity used to float on the surface here and listen to the birds," she offered, changing the subject. "It's very peaceful. I would enjoy that too, I think."
Jack lifted one hand, supporting her weight in one, while the other stroked back her wet hair from her shoulder.
"Do you want me to show you how?" His legs were kicking under the water, pulling them away from the deepest part of the pond. He found a spot where he could stand easily, still holding her close to him.
"Oh, I don't think I can…" protested Dorcas.
"Nonsense," he barked, tugging her legs away from him.
Without warning, Dorcas was on her back, one of Jack's warm hands supporting her under the spine and the other beneath her left thigh.
"Relax, push your chest and your stomach out, let your arms dangle. I won't drop you."
Dorcas could see the clouds moving past the opening in the tree canopy, the sounds of the water, birds singing, and her own heartbeat magnified.
She closed her eyes and felt as if she could drift off in peace like this for hours.
Jack's thoughts kept her company as he studied her face, the way her hair fanned out in the water around her. His eyes and his thoughts rested finally on her pale breasts, clad in sodden cotton, the cold causing her nipples to stand erect.
Knowing that his eyes were on her, Dorcas could feel the tightening of the nubs as they pressed against the cotton even more. She concentrated on keeping her breathing steady and watched him in his mind as he watched her.
"How does that feel?" Jack asked, muffled by the water that insulated her hearing.
"Mmmm…" Dorcas replied, too caught up in the shared voyeurism to bother with a more lengthy response.
The light dimmed behind her eyelids and Dorcas opened her eyes. The sun had disappeared completely and the wind had begun to whistle through the trees more earnestly.
"Are you cold?" Jack asked.
Dorcas thought the answer to that was rather obvious.
Without waiting for her to respond, Jack scooped her up into his arms and carried her to shore, not stopping until he'd seated her in a chair by the fire with a blanket wrapped around her. He ducked back out to retrieve their clothes.
"Would you like some tea or perhaps supper?" he asked, handing her dress and slip over.
"Now that you mention it, I am a bit hungry," she replied, turning away from the fire to watch him, naked to the waist, bustle about the kitchen. His sodden underwear had been replaced by the trousers he'd worn earlier, slung low on his hips without a belt. Dorcas thrilled at seeing the taut muscles move beneath his bronzed skin.
"You can change in the loo," Jack said over his shoulder as he put the kettle on to boil. He indicated a door on the far side of the room near the bed.
Dorcas snaked a hand out of the blanket to grab her dress and retreated to the bathroom with her bag. She dropped the blanket and then scurried out of her wet undergarments. Ordinarily, she would have dried them with her wand, but she couldn't perform magic while away from school grounds underage.
For a brief moment, she was tempted to toss them wet into her bag. But then she decided to hang her bra and panties over the tub to dry. If Jack happened to walk in and see them, she reasoned, it would be no more scandalous than seeing her in them. And he'd done that already!
She smirked. Consider this training for married life, Jack. My knickers will be all over this place. Deal with it!
Dorcas brought out a fresh pair of panties and stepped into them. What to wear over top of them was the real question. It was dark outside, but not early enough to go to bed. So she thought she might slip her dress back on. But then she would just be changing into her nightgown in a couple of hours anyway to go to bed. Would eating dinner in a nightgown be weird?
Don't overthink it, Dorcas!
In any case, she didn't have an extra bra with her, so she would probably be better served by wearing a loose nightgown than the tight-bodice dress she'd worn earlier.
She settled on the nightgown after more deliberation than necessary and combed out the tangles in her hair. She arranged it with her tortoiseshell comb and hiked the blanket up around her shoulders once again.
"Tell me about Egypt," Dorcas asked as she watched Jack prepare their meal, marveling at how confident he seemed in the kitchen. "You appear to get a lot of sun."
She curled up in the chair by the fire once again and enjoyed the show.
"You know what?" he responded, handing her a steaming cup of tea.
Taking it with a murmured thanks, Dorcas blew on the surface, displacing the steam and replied. "What?"
"I did get to ride a camel."
Dorcas's eyes flew wide with excitement. "Really? What's the verdict then?"
He ladeled stew into two bowls and placed them on the table. "Absolutely nothing like riding a horse. Much more swaying involved. And they smell!"
Joining him at the table, Dorcas was put at ease by her choice of garment when she noticed that Jack never put his shirt back on. The dinner was to be a very informal one this evening it seemed.
"So what do you think of the place?" Jack asked.
"It's wonderful! I've never been in a place quite this peaceful before. And you said you own it?" Dorcas's mouth watered as she lifted the spoon to her lips.
"Yes, my father gave this place to my mother. It used to be a gamekeeper's cabin. But there hasn't been one on the estate for decades. When she became pregnant with me, he gave her this house to live in." He snorted a little, grabbing his water and taking a sip.
It seemed as if he had more to say on the subject, but stopped himself.
"What, Jack?"
Dorcas waited patiently for him to open up to her, turning her attention to her food.
"I was just about to say that he'd ruined her and gave her a house instead of an honest life."
She chewed slowly, wondering if he would say more. When he didn't, she asked another question.
"Do you think he ruined her life?"
"I want to be furious with him. With the way he used her. He uses everyone. But he didn't have to do anything, I suppose. He could have had Master Thomas dismiss her and abandon his duty to her altogether. Many men wonder in that situation if the child is really theirs. At least he made sure she had a roof over her head."
Dorcas sipped her tea thoughtfully.
"Your mother must have seen something different in him. After all, she had another child with him after you. So there was something there. Even if he didn't marry her."
"I suppose," he said, finishing his supper, leaving the spoon clattering in the bowl. "But the place is mine now, whatever he feels about it."
Dorcas was curious about this statement but wondered how far she should push the topic of Jack's father. This was one area in which he and Tom seemed eerily similar. Tom Riddle, Sr. was a trigger for both of them.
"How does he feel about it?"
She remembered the last time she saw Tom, Sr. He'd flown into the main house in a rage, waving a gun. Mary tried to be polite and introduce Dorcas as Jack's friend.
"Hang Jack's friend! Hang Jack!" he'd shouted, eyes wild with anger.
"I imagine he hates that my mother left it to me."
"You imagine? You mean you don't know? Did he say anything to you at the funeral?"
Jack looked up from his hands clasped in front of him, surprised.
"He wasn't there. He wouldn't bother himself with a servant's funeral. I think my grandmother must have arranged some holiday for him in order to keep him away while I'm here."
Dorcas nodded. She realized that it was exactly what she would do in Mary Riddle's position.
"Do you think you'll keep this place?" she continued. As she asked the question, she realized that she was hopeful. She could already picture their tranquil life here in this little wood.
Jack's blue eyes looked into her own, searching. "That depends, I guess."
"Depends on what?"
He shrugged, standing to clear their empty dishes away. "On if my wife wants to live here."
Heat rose to her cheeks suddenly. She pictured them spending endless summer evenings sitting on the dock and even floating on the pond's glassy surface, warming themselves by the fire, spending their nights curled up in each other's arms in the bed.
"That's presumptuous, I know. But I really want to know how you feel about it," he hurried on, coming to stand before her, staring at her expectantly.
They'd written letters to one another about their hopes for a shared future. Dorcas was so used to seeing them with their own child in the reflection of the magical mirror at Hogwarts, it seemed like a foregone conclusion.
But to hear him say the word "wife" and speak about this house as their shared home, it sent a shockwave right through her.
"I couldn't imagine a more perfect place in the whole of Britain," she replied.
The cloudiness of his dark mood at the mention of his father broke on a sunny smile. "Truly?"
Dorcas felt her own cheeks pulling up into a wide grin.
"Then that settles it. I'll keep the house and we'll be happy here forever."
"And I can put up a Notice-Me-Not Ward that will keep your father from entering our perfect little paradise."
Jack pulled her to her feet, the action causing the blanket to fall from Dorcas's shoulders. "The serpent will be forbidden to enter our Eden!"
He captured her lips in a fervent kiss, pressing her body against his. Her hands went reflexively around his neck as he caressed the thin cotton of her nightdress along the planes of her back. There was a small moan that escaped his throat when his fingertips detected the absence of her bra, but he didn't make a remark about it.
"I love you, beautiful enchantress!" he finally proclaimed, pulling away from her.
Dorcas rocked back on her heels, her hands falling to his bare chest. "I love you, you Muggle!"
Jack laughed at the term he found so ridiculous. Stooping to pick up her blanket, he led her to the sofa. They sat close. Dorcas's cheek against Jack's shoulder and his arm around her. He tucked the blanket around both of them and settled in for a long catching up.
"Tell me about the friends you've made since you left," Dorcas asked, stroking her fingertips along the skin of his chest and abdomen. She stifled a wicked grin when a peek into his mind told her that he was struggling once again to control the physical reaction he was having at her touch.
:::
Dorcas woke disoriented, her lungs filled with acrid smoke and the sound of screaming. Someone was in pain.
As she blinked through the haze, the sharp smell of diesel and burning flesh invaded her nostrils.
The searing orange flames licked high into the sky and Dorcas struggled with the handle of the door to the lorry she was trapped in. The palm of her hand was bloody where glass from the shattered windscreen bit into it when she'd placed it on the seat beside her to brace her body.
Angling herself, she aimed her feet at the jammed frame of the lorry's door and kicked as hard as she could.
"ROGER!"
Her own vocal chords shredded with the desperate cry, choking on the force of it and the thick black smoke pouring from the vehicle ahead of her.
"ROGER!"
This time the voice was not her own, but Jack's. The sound rattled her in a way that was different from the previous cry that had come from her own throat. It tore at her heart painfully.
Dorcas sat up with a startling jolt. The smoke and flames were gone.
She wasn't in a smashed and battered lorry. She was underneath a quilt, braced against a soft mattress.
Extricating herself from the tangle of blankets seemed more impossible than fighting her way from the mangled vehicle, but the fight to get to the struggling body across the room was as real as it had been in her dream.
"Jack?" she croaked, her voice hoarse from screaming.
Finally pulling the covers away from her limbs, Dorcas crashed painfully to the floor, unfamiliar with the way this room was arranged, feeling blindly in the near darkness.
Jack's screams were what she used to guide herself to his side.
"Jack! My love!" Dorcas called, stroking his hair back from his sweat drenched brow. "It's just a dream, my love. You're safe."
The muscles of Jack's bare arms were rigid with fear and his feet struggled wildly against the blanket they were tangled in.
His fingers clawed at the front of her nightgown, jerking her from one direction to another.
"Wake up, Jack! It's all a dream!"
When his eyes snapped open, his stare was terror-stricken. Dorcas remembered the letter he'd written to her after the incident with the Italian landmines along the Libyan border. What she'd imagined of the encounter was enough to cause her worry. But her imagination had never come close to the reality that she'd seen inside of Jack's unconscious mind.
"It's me, my love. You're safe," she cooed, grasping his shoulders and holding him close.
As his breathing calmed and his legs stopped thrashing, Dorcas felt him release his grip on the front of her nightgown incrementally.
"Dorcas?"
The sound was no more than a whisper, an exhale shaped like her name, but Dorcas knew he was finally fully awake.
"Yes, it's Dorcas. Are you okay, Jack?"
He'd rolled nearly off of the sofa and onto Dorcas's lap. She was striving to keep his weight from crashing to the ground.
"Dorcas, I'm sorry that I disturbed you," he mumbled, pulling himself out of her grip and leaning back onto the cushions.
The tension in her ankles and knees as she'd attempted to support his upper body abated as he pulled away. His fingers released her nightgown and flew to his face, wiping away the perspiration that had beaded there.
"Jack, you were screaming a name–"
"I'm alright now. Please, go back to bed," he commanded tersely.
Dorcas sat heavily on her left bum cheek and curled her legs beneath her, leaning against the sofa. She lifted a hand to his cheek to soothe him, but he roughly batted her away.
"Leave me in peace! I said I'm alright!" The response was growled with impatience.
She knew their time together had been brief, and she really couldn't know all that much about the boy in front of her. But she didn't think it possible for him to take that tone with her, or shove her hand away with such hostility.
He'd turned onto his side, away from her, facing the back of the sofa.
"Please, Jack, won't you come to bed with me? I want to hold you and make you feel safe again."
She placed a tentative hand on his bare back and felt him flinch under her touch.
Jack sat up stolidly and pushed past her, jostling her to the side as he strode to the door.
"If I'm not to have any peace in here, I'll go and see to the horse then," he spat, slamming the door to the cottage behind him.
Dorcas was paralyzed for a moment, left alone in the dark on the cold wooden floor. She thought that maybe once Jack had come to the realization that she only wanted to help him, he might come back inside.
She was unsure what to do. Should she unbank the fire and add another log to warm the place? Perhaps make some tea? He might be cold when he came in from tending to Cressida.
But she found that the idea of being rejected in any of these attempts to give him comfort was too painful. Maybe it was best to let him deal with these memories in the way that he knew how and stay out of it.
That was what he had repeatedly asked her to do anyway. Leave him alone.
Dorcas pulled herself up slowly from the floor and shuffled her bare feet along the hardwood, finding her way blindly back into bed.
She lay completely still under the quilt and tried to make as little noise as possible. In her desperation to keep herself calm, she began to tremble. She couldn't be sure if the trembling was because of the nightmare that she'd been privy to, or the fear of not knowing what Jack might do next.
No, she decided that she was not afraid of him, but for him. But she didn't know how she might be able to get past his considerable defenses in order to help him.
Her frustration manifested itself in violent sobs that she tried to muffle by turning to the wall and holding the quilt up to her mouth.
There was no way of knowing how much time had passed since Jack had shoved past her and left her in the house alone. But when the door finally opened slowly, she held her breath to keep her cries silent.
She listened carefully for the sounds of him on the sofa or in the kitchen. But she was astonished to hear his footsteps move in her direction instead. The quilt shifted and the mattress sunk with the weight of him.
"Dorcas," he murmured, hands taking her firmly by the shoulder and hip and turning her to face him. "I'm sorry that I yelled at you–"
He paused when Dorcas brought the quilt away from her face to look at him.
"Have you been crying, my love?"
Dorcas released the breath that she'd been holding but couldn't manage an answer past the knot in her throat so she settled for a nod.
"I'm sorry to have frightened you, angel. I will never hurt you, I promise."
He swiped the back of his knuckles against Dorcas's cheek, catching the moisture there.
Dorcas knew that her tears were tormenting him further, but she couldn't manage to stop. It seemed to her that all of her doubts and insecurities and fears had finally found an outlet and she had no way to stem the flood.
"Won't you speak to me? Tell me what I might do? Are you mad at me, or scared of me?"
Dorcas swallowed.
"I'm scared for you, Jack. And I just want to hold you and keep you safe. Because I love you."
She saw in the small amount of moonlight that shone through the window, relief wash over Jack's features.
He kissed her and then buried his face in the front of her nightgown. "Then hold me and tell me again how much you love me."
Dorcas wrapped her arms around him, and stroked his hair. Despite having a weight advantage of over three stone on her, she cradled him to her like a little boy.
"I love you, Jack Hardin. I will always love you."
Author's Note: Volume 1 of this story will end on Chapter 66. Volume 2 is already underway and will be updated following the end of Chapter 66. I plan to follow the same update schedule, usually every Saturday.
I would love to hear what you think about the story so far.
