I fall into your arms
I'll be safe in your sound til I come back around

"Is everything alright, darling?" Maria called out across the dimly lit room.

He answered her with a nod of his head, forgetting it would be lost somewhere between the dark corner of the room where he was standing and the distance separating them. But a nod was all he could manage. He stared blankly across the room. His eyes hadn't left her, they'd followed her every movement as she'd stood at the window watching the streets of Vienna below. Even as his hand searched for the telephone receiver on the table beside him, he couldn't look away from her.

"Georg, is something wrong?" Worried by his silence, Maria left her spot by the window and started moving across the room towards him.

He held his breath as she moved, the strange light from the windows behind her playing on her ivory skin. It was such a contrast to her dark, almost midnight blue evening gown. She looked like a vision…

"Has something happened to Max or the Baroness?"

"What?" he whispered, his fingers finally made contact the receiver. "No, no…" he wrapped his hand around it and tried to find the cradle. Swallowing hard, he couldn't look away from her, and after some fumbling, the receiver found its place on the cradle. She came to a stop in front on him and he could see the worry and concern in her eyes. "Elsa's butler didn't say much," he began, finally finding his voice. Honestly, the man spoke fewer words than Franz. He gave her a half-smile, partly to reassure her, but mostly at the sudden, unexpected touch of her hand on his arm. "I assume they're alright."

"But didn't he tell you?"

"No…" he answered softly. God, he loved the way she cocked her head ever so slightly to the side whenever she asked a question. "It seems Elsa arrived home some time ago."

"What about Max?"

"Who knows," he closed his eyes for the briefest of moments, savouring the feel of her hand moving gently up and down his forearm. "Elsa's butler never saw him."

"Oh…" Maria's hand had stopped moving on his arm as she paused to wonder what that meant. "But he hasn't returned to the hotel," she frowned, "otherwise the man at the desk would have said something."

"The butler checked with Elsa, but Max never went inside," Georg shrugged. "He must have gone back to the ball."

"But that means…"

"I know…" he sighed, trying to ignore the warmth of her hand, "I'll have to share a room with him after all." Her frown deepened, so he gave her a quick smile.

"I really wish you'd let Max sleep here," she squeezed his arm. He arched his brow at her, making her stop to wonder why. "With you, of course," she added quickly.

"I'm sure his room has a settee…"

"Oh, Georg, you can't sleep on a…"

"I've slept on worse!" His response was sharper than he'd intended. "I wasn't always a captain."

"Darling, I realise you weren't always a captain," Maria's tone was the one she usually saved for the children when they were being petulant. "It would just make more sense for you to share this suite with Max," her hand started moving on his arm again. "The sofa is enormous," she glanced sideways toward the sitting area before turning back to him. "You'd be much more comfortable."

"Maria…"

"I don't know why you're being so stubborn."

"Me? Stubborn?" he scoffed at her. "And what about you, darling?"

"You know I'm right, you just don't…"

But before she knew what was happening, his hands were suddenly in her hair, his lips on hers. She opened her mouth in surprise, but that was all the invitation he needed, as her gasp was swallowed by a deeper kiss. Rough, insistent, demanding. Trying to steady herself, she grabbed handfuls of his tailcoat as his searing kisses sent her head spinning. But suddenly, his lips left hers and it was over as quickly as it began. Trying to catch her breath, her head was spinning too much to decide whether she was more shocked or disappointed.

Georg smiled to himself, knowing his kisses had their desired impact. His fingers were still in her hair, raking gently back and forth, as he watched a smile spread across her face. "You need to stop putting yourself last," he whispered, one hand letting go of her hair and tenderly brushing her cheek. "You're spending the night in this room whether you like it or not. Let yourself be pampered," his eyes dropped to her lips, still only inches from his, "you deserve it, darling."

"Perhaps, but…"

"Ma-ri-a…" her name rolled off his lips in a low growl as he gently pressed his thumb against her luscious lips, stopping her protests. "Keep arguing and I'll keep kissing you," he watched a tiny smile grow against the soft pad of this thumb. God, he could read her mind! Was she seriously going to keep this argument going? He raised a brow at her as her lips parted against his thumb. "Oh-ho, no you don't!" He gave her a sly half-grin. "As much as I'd love to kiss you all night, I don't want to hear any more."

Finally admitting defeat, she nodded slowly. She may have lost the argument, but from the look in his eyes, she was certain there would be more kisses before the night was over. "Well, I guess a little pampering might be nice," she admitted grudgingly, not wanting to let him think he'd won so easily.

"Oh, trust me, darling," he narrowed his eyes, "it will be more than nice."

He wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her gently against him. Running the back of his fingers slowly, gently down the soft skin of her upper arm, something of a reward for letting him win. "You need to let me take care of you," his words were low, almost a purr. Continuing their slow, maddening path, his fingers brushed her skin until they were stopped by silken white gloves. His eyes had dropped to her arm, following his fingers, concentrating on the effect they were having.

He dragged his fingers back up her arm with what seemed like nonchalance, but it was really a selfish attempt to catch his breath, to slow things down. They were alone. For the first time in weeks, he had her all to himself. No children. No annoying chaperones. And all kinds of possibilities were filling his head. His fingers tracked a path down her arm for a second time, and he just knew it would be driving her wild.

"Erhm… arh, why, erhm…" he cleared his throat, his words sounding a little choked as he tried to clear his mind. "Why don't we get a little more comfortable?" His fingers stopped moving as his eyes shot up to hers.

"What do you have in mind, Captain?" Maria whispered, his dark look sucking the air from her lungs.

"Why don't you slip out of your dress?" Dear God, what did he just say? The words were out before he could stop them, before he realised he'd actually said them. Cursing his treacherous thoughts, he forced a reassuring smile that did little to betray the dangerous look in his eyes. God, why did she have to be such a temptation? He didn't want to take advantage of the situation but resisting her was impossible. It always had been. How was he going to stop himself now? "The bedroom is over there," he motioned with his head, his eyes never leaving hers.

Nodding slowly, Maria's heart was beating faster than she'd ever imagined it could. She had no idea how tonight was going to end, but she didn't care. She trusted Georg more than anyone, more than anything in the world. But when he looked at her with those dark eyes, when his voice was low and dangerous, the truth was, she didn't trust herself.

"I'll go draw the curtains," he whispered, unwrapping his arm from her waist.

Turning towards the bedroom, she'd barely taken a step before she felt his hand clutching at her wrist, pulling her up suddenly. Confused, she spun around, but before she could think, before she knew what was happening, he was tugging her body roughly towards him, and his mouth was on hers, devouring her with another searing kiss, and then another.

"Oh, Maria…" he sighed as he kissed her again, and again. Still holding her wrist, his other hand found her waist and pulled her closer. As her body fell against his, he heard her sigh. God, she felt it too! Relief. The relief of her body pressing into his, her mouth, her tongue, losing himself in her warmth, her scent. "Maria…" her name left his lips but was lost in their kisses.

His hand moved down, finding her waist, moving slowly over the curve of her hip, before clutching her thigh. She pushed her body against his, moaning her approval. He smiled against her mouth, pleased with her response. Oh, God, he was losing control. They both were. He was supposed to be slowing things down. He should be drawing those damn curtains. But her lips were so soft and inviting, her mouth so demanding. She'd spent so much time in a convent, how had she ever learned to kiss like this? It was a mystery. Have to stop. Her kisses were too delicious, she tasted so good. Just another kiss, just one more. Must stop. Have to stop.

Reluctantly, he dragged his mouth from hers. "Maria, darling…" Giving her a tight smile, he tried his best to ignore her body moving against his as she tried to catch her breath. He didn't need to drop his eyes, he could feel her chest pushing into him every time she filled her lungs. "The curtains…I really need to..."

She smiled back at him. But it wasn't the uncertain smile of an innocent young woman. He knew that kind of smile. Did she know? How could she? Surely, he was mistaken. Did she realise the power she had over him? Was he that obvious?

"Georg…"

"Mmmm?" Hearing her say his name always made his heart race, but his name on her swollen, breathless lips, sent his heart and mind spinning all over again.

Maria smiled at him and reached down to cover his hand that was still holding her leg. "You'd better let me go," her words a breathless whisper. Squeezing his hand, she wished for the hundredth time tonight she wasn't wearing gloves.

"Oh, yes, erhm…" thankfully it was too dark for her to see him blush, "of course." He lifted his hand and let go of her wrist. God, he'd completely lost his mind. "Well, I'd better… those curtains."

He stood, stuck to the spot, watching her turn towards the bedroom. His eyes raked slowly down her body, her evening gown hugged every curve, captured every movement of her body. He could admit it now. He'd been haunted for weeks. From the moment she'd emerged from the lake dripping wet and so delightfully worked up. He could admit that now. His fingers started moving as his mind busied itself with each of her soft curves, keen to the discover the tiniest freckles, desperate to learn the story behind every mark, every scar.

She stopped suddenly and turned to smile at him. He froze. Caught! Did she know what he was thinking? Of course, she did. Giving her an awkward smile, he reminded himself she'd had him worked out from the beginning. She knew him better than he knew himself. As she turned away, his eyes lingered on her narrow waist, her hips teasing him as they sashayed across the room. Weeks had passed since that day by the lake, but tonight, it felt like a lifetime ago.

The fingers on both hands started moving again. Still holding his breath, he watched her walk down the short hallway towards the bedroom. He continued staring, long after she'd disappeared from sight. A soft glow suddenly appeared from the hallway. She must have turned on a light. He took a step towards the bedroom but stopped. The curtains! Reluctantly, he turned towards the windows and slowly made his way across the room.

Reaching out, he released the cord holding back the first curtain. Watching it fall and cover half the window, he reached for the chord of the next curtain. Finally, no chaperones, no children demanding her attention, stealing her away from him. And thankfully, no smug interruptions or disapproving looks from Max, who had developed an unnerving ability to read his every corrupt thought these days. He swore the man was part blood hound when it suited him. But there'd be none of that tonight. Tonight, they were alone. Just the two of them. And no one else knew. He felt a surge of anticipation and excitement. He couldn't rush things, he had to take things slowly. And he certainly couldn't take things too far. Reaching the last of the four windows, he stopped for a moment to take one final look at Vienna's skyline.

If Max returned to the ball, it would be hours before he made it back to the hotel. He'd probably spend the early hours of the morning at a bar with old navy mates. Ordinarily, if his life hadn't taken such a delightfully unexpected turn, he'd be joining them. Drinking himself to oblivion for a navy consigned to history, with nothing but the memories of old men to keep it alive.

Over the years, they'd always asked him along, but it had only been these past few years that he'd actually joined them. He cringed, remembering his relief at closing the taxi door on Elsa as he sent her home, using his old navy friends as a convenient excuse. He sighed, running his hand through his hair. As much as he'd tried to fall in love, looking back now, his time with Elsa had been endless excuses and compromise. Those nights churning over past glories and painful memories had always left him dark and melancholy. Still, they'd been preferable to spending a night with Elsa. He shifted his guilty. Thank God, he no longer recognised that man. So much had changed over the summer. Thankfully, he'd changed.

Staring out at the night sky, he felt the familiar pang. Vienna's night sky was beautiful, but there really was no match for the beauty of the inky ocean stretching out forever under a starry night. Thankfully, he wouldn't have to endure a mournful night with old mates.

Instinctively, his trained eyes searched out the North Star. Tonight, was different. He'd trade all those drunken, desolate nights for just one night with Maria. It had been the same with Agathe. How was it possible to be blessed twice over? Two women, both so very different, yet very much the same. And him, so utterly lost without them…

"Georg?"

His head spun around at the muffled sound of his name.

"Coming!" he called out, hurriedly releasing the chord holding back the last curtain. He stopped, making sure they met in the middle of the window, before turning to quickly make his way across the room towards the bedroom. Before he was even halfway across the sitting room, his fingers were moving. What did she need? For a few stray moments, all kind of unruly images flashed through his mind.

Stopping, he held onto the back of one of the armchairs close to the doorway leading to the hall. He closed his eyes, taking a few deep, calming breaths. It didn't work. His heart was still beating hard, pounding against his ribs.

His feet began to move, taking him along the hallway, passing the doorways halfway along. On his left was the door that led to the walk-in robe and dressing room, while directly opposite was the door that led to the bathroom. Not wanting to look like he was rushing, he forced his feet to slow down, the soft light growing brighter as he approached the end of the dimly lit hallway.

"What is…" he stopped suddenly. He'd barely entered the bedroom, and the air was ripped from his lungs. She was a vision in the soft warm light from the lamp on the bedside table.

"Oh, Georg," Maria turned towards his voice, her arms contorted behind her back. "Can you help?"

"Help?" He looked at her blankly.

"I can't undo this hook, not in these gloves," she exhaled in a huff, her fringe moving in a puff of frustration. "And I can't get these gloves off."

He smiled at her. "Let me have a look," he began walking across to where she was standing next to the enormous bed with its plush pillows and soft cover. His fingers started moving slowly, burning to touch her again. It had been far too long since he'd undressed a woman. He'd missed the thrill of unwrapping the layers of silk, cotton and lace. Even years later, long after unravelling the mystery of what lay underneath, he never grew tired of the slow, seductive ritual.

As he came to a stop in front of her, he reminded himself he was just helping her remove her gloves and unhook at the back of her dress. That's all. Nothing more. Don't get carried away, man.

"Hold out your arm, darling," the tenderness of his words masked his selfish demand. She held out an arm towards him, and with both hands, he started rolling the hem of the glove slowly, carefully down her arm.

Watching him expertly remove her glove, Maria's eyes never left her arm, enjoying the feel of his fingers brushing her skin as he rolled the glove over her elbow and gradually down her forearm. "This bedroom is enormous, Georg," she whispered.

"Mmmm…" he replied nonchalantly, trying to appear unaffected. With one glove removed and discarded on the bed, he moved onto the next one. "Is it?" he asked absentmindedly, pretending he hadn't noticed they were in the bedroom.

"It's even bigger than the sitting room," she glanced around at the sumptuous king-sized bed, the chairs and settee scattered around the edges of the room, and the ceiling to floor curtains covering the windows along one of the walls. But the gentle scraping of his fingers on her forearm quickly brought her attention back to her glove.

"It's all yours tonight, darling," he smiled as he pulled the glove over her fingers and draped it on bed next to its mate. "Now, turn around and I'll see if I can work out how to undo this hook," he flexed his fingers at the thought.

"It's hidden right at the top, there's a bit of a trick to it," she offered over her shoulder as she turned. "And then there's an invisible zipper."

Zipper? He looked up at her soft hair, still a little messed from their kisses. She hadn't said anything about unzipping her dress. Reaching up, tentatively, he found the hook at the neckline. "You looked beautiful tonight, Maria," he whispered against her neck, his voice a soft whisper. Taking his eyes away from the hook for a moment, he smiled as she shivered. He wondered if it was his touch, or his warm breath on her skin. Remember, don't get too carried away, man! "You were a vision…"

"Oh, Georg, don't be silly," Maria closed her eyes at his hot breath tickling her skin, "I was just hoping and praying I wouldn't trip over my new shoes."

"Really, I didn't notice," he stopped wrestling with the hook to run a forefinger along the curve of her neck. He smiled as her head moved instinctively to the side, but he quickly dropped his eyes back to the hook before he let himself get carried away. "I kept telling myself," his voice dropped to a low purr, "I was the luckiest man in the room." His fingers suddenly stopped wrestling with her dress as he recalled the looks from the other men. Remembering himself, he returned his attention to the hook. "What is wrong with these damn dressmakers?"

"What's wrong, darling?" Maria smiled at his outburst.

"Why do they insist on making these things so damn difficult for a man?" he mumbled under his breath.

"Don't be in such a rush!" she soothed him gently. "We've got all night."

His fingers stopped fumbling with the hook for a moment. All night? Was she teasing him? Was she trying to seduce him? Surely, not. Was it just his imagination, or had something shifted? The air around them seemed suddenly heavy, suddenly it seemed harder to breathe. His heart was certainly beating faster. Was hers? His eyes narrowed, finding her neck, searching for her pulse. Was it racing like his? Swallowing hard, he took a deep breath and turned back to the hook.

"Ah, finally!" With the hook now released, the neckline came apart to reveal the top of the zipper. Holding his breath, he grasped the slider between his thumb and forefinger, and slowly pulled it down. Taking his time, he savoured the slow reveal of the soft skin on her back. In all likelihood, he was the first man to set eyes on the skin that lay hidden under the dark blue silk. Stirred by the thought, he stopped to brush her skin with his fingers. He glanced up. Perhaps it was his imagination, but he was sure there'd been a change.

Moving the slider, he reminded himself, there was no need to hurry. She was right. They had all night. Oh God, he couldn't think. He was holding the slider so tightly, it was surely going to leave marks in his skin. He tried to slow his breathing, tried to push away all the stray thoughts, all the…

The zipper came to a sudden stop.

It had caught on something. It must be her undergarment. He slipped a forefinger under the closed part of the zipper, freeing it from whatever lay underneath, and carefully inched the slider down.

"What on Earth?" his words were barely audible. He sucked in a breath, letting go of the zipper as if he'd been burned. God, there must be some mistake…

"Is everything alright?" Maria's eyes shot open, her head spun around, as she asked the question over her shoulder. "What's wrong?"

"Black lace…?" the words were choked. The edges of the dress had fallen back in place, covering her back again. He must be seeing things. His pulse was racing, he couldn't think above the sound of blood pounding in his head. With his thumbs, he carefully, tentatively separated the unzipped opening at the back of the dress. He swallowed hard. There was no mistaking the black lace at the top of her undergarment. What had he been expecting? Sensible white cotton. Something resembling one of her night gowns. He wasn't sure. All he knew, he hadn't been prepared for black lace…

"I hope you don't mind, Georg," Maria had turned away and was staring back across the bed toward the curtains covering the large windows. "Everything I had was white and poked out from under my dress."

"No, no… I don't mind." What was wrong with his voice? Why was it so high-pitched?

"I went shopping earlier in the week with Liesl, and we…"

"With Liesl…?" His fingers suddenly let go of her dress.

"Well, I really had no one else, and she didn't…"

"You took Liesl shopping for lingerie?" What was she thinking?

"I know you keep thinking of Liesl as your little girl…"

"She's only sixteen," he answered defensively, his hand moving beside his leg.

"She's almost seventeen, darling," Maria gently reminded him.

"Alright, alright…" he sighed, "and before you say it, yes she's no longer a child, she's a young woman." He reached up and slowly, tentatively peeled open her dress. His voice dropped, "but, darling, lacy black lingerie?"

"Georg, I'm not sure what you were expecting," her voice was soft and sweetly innocent, "but it really was the most practical we could…"

But he'd stopped listening. Practical? From the little he'd seen, it was anything but practical. Sensual, seductive, alluring and far too tempting. But not practical. He needed to see more. He grasped the slider and slowly began unzipping her dress again. Holding his breath, he watched as more black lace appeared. What had started as a distant stirring, now had a life of its own. Arousal was coursing through his body. What had happened to his innocent, young fiancé?

She'd always been clever and wise, but when did she become so sophisticated and seductive? There'd been so many chaperones and children over the past weeks, perhaps he'd missed something. He'd hoped, he'd imagined, God knows he'd dreamed, but only now was he starting to realise. The zipper continued its slow path down her back over the lace to reveal a layer of black silk. A chemise, or perhaps a slip? His pulse was racing, his primal instincts had kicked in, taking over as discovering exactly where the black silk ended became the only thing that mattered.

"…so, you see, I really had no choice but to take Liesl with me."

He looked up, suddenly realising she'd been talking all this time. He hadn't a clue what about. Right now, he couldn't care less about a shopping trip to Salzburg. All he could think about was revealing more of his beautiful bride-to-be. Especially now that the zipper had passed down the length of her back, over her waist and partway down her gorgeous, round behind. His mouth was dry. He had to think, but his mind was spinning.

He took a deep breath. Gently taking hold of the dress' shoulder straps, he lingered for a selfish moment before inching them off her shoulders. Finally letting them go, he watched the straps slide slowly down her arms. Was there anything more exciting or erotic than undressing a woman? With the dress hanging around her hips, she was the perfect contradiction of soft, pure skin and forbidden lacy silk. He couldn't breathe, his fingers were moving against his legs, burning to touch her, burning to feel her soft skin. But he was afraid to move, unable to trust what he might do. A few moments passed before she moved her hips from side to side. Shocked, his wide eyes followed the dress as it slipped over her hips and fell in a pool around her feet, raking over her body, taking in every detail.

His eyes shot up from the floor. It was a silk slip. The wide hem of fine black lace finished just above her knees. His eyes followed her toned calves, resting on the soft, sensitive skin at the back of her knees. They were still covered in silk stockings, but it was much more than he'd seen before. So much more. True, during frantic, stolen moments in his study, his fingers had traced her calves as his hand had disappeared under her skirts and skated to mysterious, hidden places. But this was the first time he'd seen so much of her.

He watched, barely blinking, as she leaned forward and placed a hand on the bed, steadying herself so she could step over the pooled dress. As she bent over, the lace hem of the slip moved up the back of her legs, revealing black suspenders holding her stockings in place. His mouth opened, but there was no sound. His eyes moved to her backside, moving and teasing as she stepped over her dress. She was killing him.

Forcing himself not to reach out for her, his hands were fisted into tight balls, nails digging into his palms. But he didn't feel a thing. All he felt was the next surge of desire, the burning need to make love to this woman who he loved with all his heart. She was barely dressed, while he was still wearing his tailcoat, and the urge to take her here and now was overpowering. God, it was almost impossible! Without even trying, she was seducing him, bringing him undone without any effort.

"Can I get you to undo this chain?" With the dress now draped over the edge of the bed, she straightened up, her back still turned to him.

Dumbfounded, he reached up and fumbled with the latch on the chain at the back of her neck. Right now, she could ask him to anything, and he would. Gladly. Finally, he released the hook from its catch, and she caught the chain in her hand. The chain had slipped from his fingers, but they didn't leave her neck. He leaned forward and breathed in her familiar, heavenly perfume, his head spinning as he drowned in that unmistakable scent of a woman. His fingers followed the curve of her neck to her shoulders, stopping at the thin black straps. He resisted the temptation to slide them off her shoulders too.

She slowly turned to face him. God, she was beautiful! In the soft light of the bedside lamp, his fingers traced along her collarbone, meeting in the middle and continuing a slow, lazy path down the valley between her breasts, his hands rising and falling with her chest, in perfect time to her rapid, shallow breaths. But their path was stopped by black lace. His eyes narrowed, discovering more black lace and silk under the slip. He felt a new surge of excitement course through his body. He had to touch. Just the smallest of touches, he promised himself, nothing more.

One of his thumbs moved, gently tracing the soft mound of her breast, hidden from him under layers of silk. The palm of his other hand moved slowly down her stomach, stopping at her waist before finding her lower back. Instinctively, it moved lower. Claiming, kneading. Her breathing had changed, and was now coming faster, but he was too distracted to notice. He was far too busy concentrating on the slow, steady exploration of his thumb. Moving back, then forth, a little further this time, only to retreat and give up some ground. He knew only too well his teasing would be driving her wild.

Finally, after teasing both of them, his thumb found what it was looking for. Her obvious excitement, her arousal, sent white, hot desire surging through his veins. Her breathing was coming much harder, faster, somewhere in the fog, he was sure she grabbed at his jacket. All the time, his thumb kept drawing lazy circles, while the rest of his hand held her in its palm. Under the soft pad of his thumb, she'd been growing harder. Knowing exactly what she needed, he increased the pressure, before slowing his movement. Forgetting himself for a moment, his touch became a little rougher, before returning to a maddening, gentle pace. He didn't want to take her too far, too soon. A drawn out, leisurely pace, was always more satisfying. All the while, he concentrated on the feel of her in his hand, under his thumb. The thought of his tongue dragging back and forth, his mouth nipping and tugging, set off a new wave of desire.

She moaned…

His eyes shot up. Her eyes were closed, her lips parted, her head thrown back. His eyes widened as the image of her in the throes of ecstasy filled his head. Just wait until he took her completely, wait until she was truly his. But right now, he had to take control. He was on the edge of going too far, much further than he'd planned. He bent down, his lips brushed hers. She opened her mouth against his, rewarding him with a deep, hungry kiss. He shivered, letting his mouth sink into hers. His hand had stilled, pressed between their bodies, but still wrapped around her breast.

There was a hand in his hair. She moaned again. She kissed him. A desperate, sensual kiss. He had to stop, but her hips were pressing into his, her insistent mouth, those delightful moans filled his head. He fought the urge to push her back, to gently fall with her onto the bed, to sink into her soft body, to make love to her. He tried to think. He had to stop. Instinctively, she was pushing her hips against him, her body telling her exactly what she needed. His hand was splayed across her backside, holding her to him. Could she feel how much he needed her? He was aching for her. Have to stop. He was drowning in her, losing the battle. Losing himself.

"Darling…" the word was swallowed by one of their desperate kisses. Losing control, have to stop. Summoning all his strength, he forced his mouth from hers. "Maria…" he whispered, barely an inch from her, "I…" Words escaped him as he watched her open her eyes, lids heavy, pupils wide and dark with desire. "We can't…" he tried to fill his lungs, but they were sharing the same air. "We can't… get carried away." He extracted his hand from between their bodies and was now cupping her cheek. "As much as I want to… I would love to," he added with a dangerous smile. Did she know just how much?

Breathing hard, Maria nodded quickly. He was right. As much as she craved his touch and kisses, they had to wait. Otherwise, they'd be the couple everyone was gossiping about. She'd all but forgotten about them, but suddenly she could hear their spiteful comments and snide laughter from earlier in the evening. "You're right," she whispered, trying to catch her breath. Smiling, she smoothed his hair, pushing his fringe back from his forehead. Still wearing his formal suit and medals, he looked uncharacteristically dishevelled, despite her best efforts.

He needed to think, needed to clear the fog in his head. Distance! He needed to put some distance between them. He couldn't think with her standing here in nothing but black lace and soft silk, looking so utterly adorable. Some time alone, that's what he needed. Some time to get his raging desire under control. "Why don't…" he drew in a deep breath, "…I go get changed?" He brushed her cheek and placed a chaste kiss on her forehead. What was he doing? Why was he touching her, kissing her? Walk away, man! "Wait here. I'll be back shortly."

Reluctantly, he turned away, forcing one unsteady foot in front of the other. After a few steps, his fingers were moving again. His burning need to touch her. Still there, worse than ever. Somehow, he made it to the doorway.

But, like a fool, he couldn't resist. He turned back for one last look.

Oh, God…

She was sitting on the edge of her bed, slowly lifting the skirt of her slip to reveal her suspenders. Concentrating hard, she didn't even notice he was standing in the doorway, holding onto its frame. Releasing the first of her stockings from its clips, she carefully rolled it down her thigh, slowing as she eased the silk over her knee. She continued rolling it down the length of her calf, then slowed again to gently release her foot. With one leg free, she moved her attention to the other one. Removing it with as much care, and just as captivating as the first. Of course, like everything she did, she was adorably unaware just how seductive her movements were. She always was.

With both legs released from their silk, she closed her eyes and stretched them out, arching her aching feet. She must have sensed she wasn't alone because her eyes flew open as she turned towards the door. Oh God, caught again! He was staring at her wide-eyed but forced an awkward half-grin. She smiled at him, that beautiful, gorgeous smile of hers. Forcing himself to keep moving, he quickly turned and disappeared through the doorway.

His mind reeling, he stumbled down the hall. Turning into the bathroom, he flicked on the light switch just inside the door. He walked straight to the vanity and turned on a tap. Bending down, he splashed his face with cold water, his eyes closed, his hand fumbled, finding the towel hanging neatly on the rail nearby. Wiping his face dry, he caught his reflection in the mirror. He was still out of breath, and his heart was beating so hard, he could see his chest heaving in the mirror. You're supposed to be pampering her, not taking advantage of her. Disgusted, he went to turn away, but his eyes fell on the reflection of the large, claw-foot bath. A chance to redeem himself.

"Darling, would you like me to run you a bath?" he stuck his head around the door and called out from the hallway. God knows, he could do with a cold shower.

"Oh, that would be lovely!" Maria answered from the bedroom.

He crossed the room to the enormous claw-foot bath, which stretched out along the length of the wall opposite the doorway. Placing the plug in the drain, he turned on the taps and held his hand under the hot water tap, waiting for the water to heat up. Testing the water in the bath, he adjusted the cold water tap a little, then busied himself getting towels and a robe from one of the cupboards.

He picked up one of the bottles arranged neatly on the vanity near one of the hand basins. Reading the label, he put it back and picked up another of the bottles. Roses. He smiled wickedly to himself as an image of Maria lying on a bed of rose petals suddenly found its way to the front of his mind. Cursing his stray thoughts away, he turned and dropped some of the rose-scented oil into the bath.

Turning his back on the bath, he made his way back to the hallway. "Don't be too long," he called out to the bedroom, "I've left the water running."

Walking across the hallway and into the large dressing room lined with robes, he kicked off his boots. Stooping to pick them up by the heels, he walked across to where his clothes had been hung and laid out perfectly since his arrival. Always a navy man, he thought to himself, even in a hotel room. Feeling like he'd wrestled back some control, he busied himself with changing out of his formal clothes and did his best to ignore everything else.

Taking off his tailcoat, he hung it carefully on an empty clothes hanger, brushing impatiently at a piece of fluff before returning it to the wardrobe. He unclipped and removed his cufflinks, placing them in their jeweller's box, before removing his bowtie. Undoing his Maria Theresa medal, he laid it carefully in its velvet-lined box. He smiled as he unbuttoned his waistcoat. This is exactly what he needed. The mundane ritual of undressing. He hung his waistcoat on a hanger and placed it next to his tailcoat.

Unbuttoning his starched white shirt, he stopped. He strained his ears. He no longer heard the sound of running water from the bathroom. For God's sake, just ignore it! Forcing his feet to stay exactly where they were, he impatiently tugged the tail of his shirt from his trousers and undid the last of the buttons. His mutinous ears, instinctively tuned to every sound coming from the bathroom, heard running water again. He stopped and hesitated for a moment. Don't do it, man! But as much as he tried, he couldn't stop himself. Turning, his feet moved quickly to the end of the room, slowing as he reached the doorway. He stepped quietly, slowly across the hallway to the bathroom door.

He pulled up suddenly.

Grasping for the doorframe, he found Maria in her black silk and lace, her back to him. Bending down, she skated her fingers across the top of the water, testing the temperature. Satisfied this time, she stood up, sliding the thin straps of her silk slip off her shoulders, letting it fall to the floor and pool around her feet. He let out a gasp and quickly ducked out of sight. Holding his breath, he peered around the doorframe. She hadn't heard him over the running water.

Biting his lower lip, he watched on as she reached across the bath to turn off the taps, the muscles tightening across her back. Easing out of her undergarments, they found their way onto the floor with her slip. She stretched out a long leg to kick them away from the bath.

Oh, dear Lord... she was a gift from heaven…

His eyes moved lower, raking over her naked body. Down to her waist, over her hips, that pert, round bottom, and along those legs that had teased him all night underneath a layer of blue silk. She was perfect. Biting his lower lip harder, he watched her carefully step over the bath's edge, sighing with relief as she slowly lowered herself into the water. She'd rolled up one of the towels he'd left out for her, and now she was slowly leaning back, stretching her long legs out in front of her. With the rolled towel under her head, she eased back, closing her eyes.

He held his breath, watching her. Running an unsteady hand through his hair, he wondered what she was dreaming about. Was she thinking of him? Was her body aching for his touch? He hoped so. Did she know how much he wanted her? Did he leave her in any doubt? He could feel the familiar tug.

His fingers were moving, burning. He wanted to touch her. Wanted to reach out and cup her perfect breasts, to watch her harden as the water lapped at them. He had to feel them, wanted to trace them again with his fingers, run his thumb across them. But this time, he wanted to explore more, there was so much to discover. As she leaned against the bath and arched her back, he imagined a hand leaving her breast, moving down over her stomach. Fingers dipping lower, gently searching, playing. Teasing, tormenting, driving her mad… He pushed himself off the doorframe. He had to touch her, had to…

She started humming, breaking his thoughts, stopping him in his tracks. God, what was he doing? He turned quickly and fled from the bathroom, hoping she hadn't noticed him. As he hid in the hall, back pressed into the wall beside the doorway, her humming became soft singing. An Austrian folk song about love. She had to be thinking about him. His excitement was growing, his burning desire was stirring back to life. He couldn't stay here, he had to move. Instead of walking across the hall to the dressing room, he walked down the hallway towards the sitting room. His open shirt flapped around him as he ran an unsteady hand through his hair, but he didn't notice.

His chest was heaving as he tried to catch his breath. He was supposed to be getting control of this thing. Instead, he was more aroused than ever. He flopped onto the middle of the sofa, filling his lungs with air. Inhaling, exhaling. He closed his eyes, concentrating on her sweet, innocent voice. How far away was the damn wedding? Too far. Much too far for him to take advantage of her. Not tonight.

She was singing Edelweiss now. He smiled, his mind drifting back to the villa, to a warm summer evening in the sitting room. The evening when he'd first dared to believe she might feel something, even just a hint of something.

Blossom of snow, may you bloom and grow
Bloom and grow forever

He pictured that look of hers, the one he would never forget. He smiled. Her and the children had banded together and forced him to sing, but she always sang so much better than him. Like an angel. His angel.

Edelweiss, Edelweiss
Bless my homeland forever

Their homeland. His mind drifted back to earlier in the evening. For a dark moment, he wondered what was to become of their homeland, the home they loved…

I need somebody to heal
Somebody to know
Somebody to have
Somebody to hold…
I fall into your arms
I'll be safe in your sound til I come back around

It was dark. Pitch dark. He tried to move, tried to lift his arm. It was heavy, heavy like lead. Something was holding it down. But what? He looked down. Everything was black. He couldn't see a thing. His chest was tight, something was suffocating him. But what?

He shivered. His body was cold. He heard something. Was that his name? Where did it come from? His head spun around. The heat hit him. Hit him hard. He tried to fill his lungs. But the air was hot. Burning hot. His throat was on fire, his lungs felt like they were going to explode. He tried to move his arms. Have to get away. He called out. Still no answer. Need to get their attention. Need help. Still couldn't lift his arm. Where were they? Why didn't they come? Call out again. This time louder. Don't panic, they'll come. Keep yelling. Hope they find him. Where were they? Pray they find him…

"Georg! Georg!"

His eyes flew open. Where was he?

"I'm here, Georg…" Already kneeling on the floor, Maria wrapped him in her arms and cradled him against her. "Shhh, I've got you, darling…" she soothed as she kissed his forehead and smoothed his damp hair. "It's alright, sshh…"

"Maria?" Relieved, he closed his eyes, but quickly opened them. They were still there. An ocean on fire, faceless men, skin dripping into the boiling water...

"You were having a bad dream," she whispered, rocking him gently. "It's over now."

"Where are we?" he whispered, trying to lift his head, but she held him tight against her chest.

"The hotel," she reminded him softly, "the sitting room."

"The sitting room?" He tried to sit up.

"It's alright, darling," she kissed his forehead, "you fell asleep while I was having a bath." She could still feel the tension in his body. "I'm sorry, I didn't want to wake you," she whispered against his ear, "I covered you with a blanket and thought…"

"What time is it?"

"I'm not sure," his shouting had woken her from a dead sleep, so she guessed it was late. "I'm sorry I left you here…"

"Stay with me…?" It was more a plea than a question. "Please…"

"I'm here, darling, I'm not going anywhere," she whispered into his hair.

"Don't leave me," he'd freed an arm from the blanket and his hand clutched at her arm.

"Never, Georg," she brushed his hair from his forehead before leaving another kiss. "I'll never leave."

His angel of mercy had arrived. Again…

Thank you everyone for continuing to read and review. Special thanks to the guest reviewers, who I can't thank personally.

I hope everyone, including your family and friends, are safe and well. Hopefully, lockdown restrictions in your part of the world have been eased a little, or at least will be soon. Praying that things are finally improving. I'm sure we'll never take those silly little, everyday things for granted again.

Still struggling with this corona-fog, so I probably shouldn't be surprised that I started this chapter with a plan in mind, but it ended up somewhere a little different. It was one of those chapters where my characters took control... So, of course, I'm holding them responsible for everything, including the chapter being so bloody long!

This chapter is a birthday gift for a dear friend - huge hugs, and sorry I'm a little late (that damn corona-fog).

As you know, I don't own TSOM, just having a little lend.

"Immerse your soul in love"