Chapter 19: TEN DAYS Part Three

When, exactly, did it happen? It was impossible to know.

There was no single moment of truth. It happened gradually, the way spring changes to summer, or day turns to night, or a boy becomes a man. It happened nearly imperceptibly, like the blink of an eye, a single breath, the beat of a heart.

FIVE

The next morning, they raided a local farmer's neatly organized storehouse, leaving behind some coins to pay for the stolen apples, cheese and sausages. It was a relief to have replenished their supplies, and also an occasion for them to share a laugh at the very idea of a decorated naval hero and a former postulant conspiring to commit a mild form of larceny.

Still, the Captain remained concerned about their progress. "I can't make sense of this map," he complained to Maria. "It was supposed to take a week for us to get over the border to France, and by the looks of things, we're nowhere close. And the longer it takes, the more likely the Germans will catch up to us."

As he'd promised, the terrain did become easier to navigate, now that they were inland. By late on the fifth day, mountain forests gave way to gentle foothills, and they crossed through pastoral valleys. Fields and farms had been stripped bare by the recent harvest, leaving behind the occasional temporary hut where the harvest workers had stopped to rest. Mindful of their precarious situation, they tried as much as possible to avoid the country lanes where an occasional truck or horse-drawn wagon could be seen.

Away from the coast, even the weak late-autumn sun was enough to turn the air warm and humid. Her face heated with exertion, Maria stopped to tie her jacket around her waist and wipe the sweat from her forehead. That was when she spotted the little pond, just off to the right. It lay nestled in a grove of birches, deep blue and nearly still, except for the few bubbles where it was apparently fed by an underground spring. It looked and even sounded refreshing.

"Oh, Captain, look! Can't we stop for a dip, just for a few minutes?"

"I don't know," he said, squinting at the sky. "I don't like those clouds over there. We ought to push on and find some shelter. Once the sun goes down, you'll cool off quickly enough."

"Oh, please," Maria begged. "I haven't had a bath in days!"

"All right, then, but be quick about it. I'll wait just over there."

As soon as the Captain had seated himself against a tree-trunk and begun to study the map, Maria sprinted to the pond, stripping off her dreadful high-waisted Nonnberg dress, worn shoes and a last few bits of clothing before stumble-sliding down the slippery bank into the cool water. It was complete and utter bliss.

"When I'm done, you really ought to take a turn," she called to him.

"I'll pass," he grunted, and she wondered if he was also thinking of the time she had come upon him under the waterfall. Before his desire for her had gone missing.

"Captain?"

"What is it, Fraulein?"

"Do you think you could come over here and give me a hand? The bank was awfully steep, and slippery, and I'm afraid it was easier getting in here than it's going to be getting out."

"Have you lost your mind?" he snapped.

"No, but the way you behave toward me, I'm beginning to think you've lost yours, Captain. You can't just leave me here, can you?"

Captain von Trapp came to stand at the edge of the pond, arms crossed against his chest, glowering at her. Maria had been submerged up to her chin, and as soon as she reached upward for his hand, he made a great show of looking away from her, back over his shoulder and off into the distance, even as he reached down to haul her from the water.

Maria would have been hurt, had she not been so irritated.

"Oh, for heaven's sake, Captain. You've already seen me without my-"

He dropped her hand as though it had burst into flame.

"What's that you've got over there?" he said sharply.

Maria followed his gaze to where her discarded clothes lay, topped off by a telltale flash of scarlet.

"Oh, that? That's – well, they're my knickers."

"They're red," he said faintly.

"Y-yes. They're the ones you bought for me. I took them from the valise the night we left the hotel," Maria confessed. "I know you said only to take what was necessary, but I couldn't bear to leave such lovely things behind, and I just thought – it's not like they took up a lot of space or anything!" she said defensively.

He turned to face her again, fingers twitching at his sides. Unshaven, blue eyes glittering, he was the picture of fearful temptation. Anger chased across his face, mixed with something else, something that flushed her skin with heat as his glance skated down her naked body and back up again.

"Is it only occasionally, Fraulein Maria, or are you continually in search of new and different ways to torment me?"

Maria began to scramble into her clothes. She was furious. Furious at him, for his cold-hearted cruelty. Furious at herself, for letting him affect her so.

"You think I'm the one tormenting you, Captain? I mean, if you don't want me anymore, at least be man enough to say so!"

"Don't want you? Don't want you?" he ran his hands through his hair, which only made him look more dangerously appealing. "Another trick like that and I'll have you on your back!" he said grimly.

"Is that your idea of a threat?" she said incredulously, and when he didn't answer, she stomped away from him, fuming, stopping only to throw one last barb over her shoulder.

"And another thing. Would you stop calling me Fraulein Maria? I am not your governess! Keep your distance from me if you must, but it's ridiculous, coming from the very same man I allowed to-"

"Maria."

Had he issued a typical imperious command, Maria would just have kept going, blindly, in what she hoped was the general direction of France. But the sound of her name on his lips, unadorned by any title, and his soft, deep tone, stopped her cold. When she turned, he had extended his hand to her, as though he meant to shake it.

"Truce?" he wheedled.

She heaved a sigh and began to retrace her steps.

"Truce, Captain."

As she slid her hand into his, it occurred to her that if she objected to being addressed as a governess, perhaps she ought to return the favor and call him by name. "I mean- ehrm-" Maria began, but she could tell he wasn't listening to her.

He wouldn't let go of her hand, either. A tremor ran down his throat before he lifted her hand to brush it with his lips. It was a curiously formal gesture for the setting, one that made her want to giggle. But the sound died in her mouth when he turned her hand over and pressed a kiss into her palm.

There was the prickle of his chin on her skin before he lifted his eyes to hers, just long enough for her to see the twinkle there and hear him chuckle, "don't want you?" before he slid his mouth to the inside of her wrist, where she knew he would be able to feel her pulse thunder.

When he laid the flat of his tongue just there, after five days of yearning for his touch, she couldn't hold back a low moan.

But a muffled boom in the distance distracted them both. When her eyes followed his to the horizon, she saw them too: thick black clouds, rolling toward them at an alarming rate. Maria was suddenly aware that the wind had set the nearby trees swaying, and the chirp of birds and buzz of insects had vanished.

"We'll have to run for it," he ordered, scooping the knapsack from the ground. "I think we passed one of those harvester's huts a little ways back."

As they sprinted for cover, the sky grew dark. The rain began, first as big, fat drops pattering lazily on the ground, and had just begun to intensify into sharp needles when the rough structure appeared ahead. A thatched-roof wooden hut, with a rough opening for a door, dirt-floored and unfurnished but for a pile of sleeping pallets in the corner. It would be shelter enough.

Once they were safely inside, a wave of shyness rolled over her, one she covered over with a burst of nervous chatter.

"Well!" Maria said brightly, "it's quite a bit of luck, finding shelter this way. It is a bit chilly in here, isn't it? Pity we won't be able to have a fire, but my clothes are barely damp. What about yours? And we've got plenty to eat, thank heaven. Shall we have our supper now?"

She might have babbled on for an hour if the Captain hadn't sent a jaunty grin her way, one that made her bones turn to water.

"Very well, Maria," he said pointedly, and then left her to her work.

Georg went to stand in the open doorway, whose overhanging roof barely protected him from the raging storm. By now, the little hut was an island in the middle of a tumultuous sea. He watched the rain and wind lash the trees that lined the fields and send every loose bit of the harvest's last gleanings whirling into the air. The wild weather was nothing, he thought, next to his savage hunger for Maria, an urge that had flickered to life by the pond and, he knew, could not be restrained much longer.

Five days. It had been five days, five days that felt more like a century. He was keyed-up and on edge, undeniably aroused by their encounter by the pond, but exhausted, too, physically and mentally, discouraged by their slow progress and tired of the struggle to keep his hands off of her. In fact, he could no longer remember why he'd stayed away from her for as long as he had.

Was Maria still bearing the burden of anger and humiliation she'd carried away from the hotel? He turned to watch her lay out their simple meal, trying to focus on the way her hands moved with graceful economy. The ghost of a smile curved her lips, and he wondered if she was thinking of that charged interlude by the pond. Had she really needed help in getting out of the water, or was it meant to be an invitation? There had been no missing her rosy cheeks or the sparkle in her eyes when she'd summoned him, and no missing the curve of her breasts just at the water's surface, either. The memory of her scampering away from the pond, naked, pink-skinned and damp, was beyond tantalizing. Although still so innocent, she knew perfectly well that he wanted her. Could it be-

She was charming. Enchanting. Utterly captivating, and not only on the outside. She was a tough one, his brave little governess, and if he hadn't known it that long-ago day when she'd lectured him by the lake, calling him to task for his failures as a father, he certainly knew it now. In five long, hard days of slogging through the woods, conquering her fears, sleeping on the ground and surviving on limited rations, she hadn't complained or whined even once. If she still wore a youthful coat of idealism, she had, in her short life, developed a certain wisdom as well.

Georg hadn't quite figured things out for himself. He still missed Agathe dreadfully, and he shrank from the possibility that it might do Maria further harm if he were truly honest with her on that count. But if he was going to approach her again, honor demanded he first try to explain what was in his heart. Surely, he could manage to muster a scrap of courage to do so. And, remembering how Maria had loved his nightly poetry recitations to his family, he knew just how to go about it.

With my heart as with a hand, he thought, tugging absently at his ear.

Outside, the storm raged on. Inside the hut, the last trace of daylight faded away. They ate their simple meal by lantern-light, and then, almost by habit, they dragged their pallets to opposite ends of the little hut. Before curling up at his end, Georg switched off the lantern: conversation came easier in the dark, he knew.

"Maria," he began, "Do you have a favorite poet?"

"Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why do you want to know about my favorite poet? And for that matter, why are you asking me so many questions lately? It seems like every night, you have new questions for me. Why I entered the Abbey. About my parents."

"Well," Georg said carefully, "Being the person who was responsible for turning our temporary marriage into a permanent one, I'm just trying to get to know you better. Or differently. Weren't you the person who said that there are different ways for people to become close to one another?"

"Yes, but now I know more about you as well, Captain. Enough to know that this is not how you go about it."

"I've just been expanding my horizons," Georg laughed. "And while we're at it, if we're renegotiating terms, you might call me by my name."

"Well, whatever your name is, I wish you would stop it," she said with surprising sharpness.

"I beg your pardon?"

"I said, you can stop. Stop trying to make up for it. Stop feeling guilty for having corrupted me. Because you sound like you think we made a mistake. Like you regret it."

"But Maria, that's not so! I told you, there is nothing to regret, nothing to be ashamed of. At least not on my part."

"Nor on mine. I'm not ashamed of what I did. What we did. Maybe I'm not supposed to feel this way, but I'm not sorry, not one bit," she said, her voice low but fierce. "The truth is, I liked it."

At that moment, Georg's well-intentioned plans for a sober discussion vanished, blown away into the stormy night. Maria had laid down the first card in a game, a dangerous and tempting game he found impossible to resist.

"And what, exactly, did you like about it?" he said, as lightly as he could, while he felt his body commence a steady throb of arousal.

"Ehrm-" she hesitated, and the moment stretched out between them in the dark, full of promise, while Georg wondered what modest and maidenly response she would manage to stammer out.

"Well," she said at last, "There's this little noise you make, just at the last, before you are lost. It's more like a whimper, really, and then you go very still, and-"

Georg found himself rendered speechless, nearly choking on shock, desire and perhaps the smallest bit of embarrassment.

"That little sound, coming from someone who is usually in control of things," she continued, "it's just very affecting. You know?" Her matter-of-fact tone smacked of an arithmetic lesson, which somehow made it even more provocative. Without waiting for him to comment, she added, "Now it's your turn."

With the little ability to think he had left, Georg pondered his tactical choices. He briefly considered taking a gentlemanly approach, emphasizing the great honor she'd done him by giving him her innocence, but he did not want to do anything to send her wild streak back into hiding.

"What I liked? Well," he said slowly, "to begin with, when I came into you, you felt like heaven around me. Soft and wet and hot and tight. So tight! Your turn, Maria."

"I liked your mouth on me. Everywhere," she shot back, as though the answer had been prancing on the tip of her tongue. "Your turn."

By now, Georg was as hard as stone. He swallowed back the first response that rose to his lips, which was really too obscene to be spoken aloud.

"I'd rather show you than tell you," he said instead.

The earthy crudeness of this exchange would have left the old Maria shocked and ashamed, but somewhere along the way, that girl had vanished, and his warm voice, all velvet and silk, made the new Maria ache with wanting. Heart slamming against her ribs, she considered his offer, and the promise shimmering behind his words. She had told herself the next step was his to take, and now he had issued an invitation. She could go to him, and he would have her. Was this the next step she'd hoped for? Another disappointment would be too much to bear. Better to take a cautious approach.

"If that's so, Captain, then why are you all the way over there?"

"Because you're going to have to come to me, Maria, darling. I've already taken far too much advantage of you."

This wouldn't do, not at all. The next step had to be his!

"I'm sorry, but you're going to have to come over here, Captain."

"No. I need you to come to me."

"I'm sorry, but you've got to come to me."

"I don't think that's a good idea, Maria."

"I know you don't," she said desperately, "but you've got to!"

He was silent for so long that Maria felt a cold stab of disappointment. But then-

"Have it your way, darling."

He covered the short distance between them in a few steps, a predator's pounce, really, and then he was curled around her back, his hot breath tickling her ear, unashamed of his obvious arousal. Excitement skittered across her skin. She had longed for his touch for so long, she could hardly believe it was finally happening.

After that, things happened fast. His mouth teased a spot on her neck, nipping and sucking, stinging and smoothing, in a way that made an astonished and mystified Maria somehow want to bite him back. But he wouldn't let her turn to face him, not yet. With one hand, he gripped her firmly by the hip, while the other drifted up her leg and under her dress, around the curve of her waist and across her belly. There was the pressure of his hand between her thighs, and when his fingers found the lacy knickers, he gathered the fabric in his hand and tugged them against her body, hard, so that the rub of rough lace sent ripples of pleasure all over her body.

"Oh, please," she cried, and he gave a satisfied little chuckle. In the next moment, she felt the gentle invasion of a long finger.

"You are splendid. So sweet," he murmured. "Just feel how badly you want me! I have been burning for you, you know. Ever since our night together. "

His tone – warm with wonder and appreciation - inspired a little burst of courage.

"You said," Maria felt her voice shake with embarrassment and anticipation, "you said that when we were together again, I could – ehrm – be in charge."

"When it comes to who's in charge, Maria, may I remind you that you demanded my presence here, and I submitted to your demand. So I'm afraid you've had your turn to take charge, and now," his thumb fluttered idly against a tender place made of fire, "it's my turn."

When he found another, inner soft spot, the blissful sensation was so exquisite, so intense, that she jerked away from him.

"Just wait," he said, drawing away from her to rise onto his knees. "I'm going to give you so much pleasure you'll want to die from it."

Outside the hut, the wind howled and lightning forked the sky. Georg got only a glimpse of her face, flushed and wide-eyed, before darkness returned.

"Hold on."

"What is it now?" she whimpered. "You're not going to change your mind again, are you?"

"No," he growled, reaching to switch on the lantern. "I just need to be able to watch you come apart."

When Georg lowered himself on top of her, she dug her fingers into his arms as though she was afraid he would disappear. That needful gesture sparked a last, fleeting qualm: he had meant to - hadn't he had meant to tell her –

"Maria-" he choked, "listen, before we – I think -"

"No more thinking," she said firmly, and sealed her mouth to his. She kissed him with clumsy but surprising ferocity until she dragged her mouth from his and gasped,

"Just do it, will you? Please. I need you to. I can't bear it anymore."

Georg had planned to take his time with her, but once again, his good intentions flew out into the night, vanquished by her pleas, leaving behind only bottomless lust. That they were both still dressed didn't matter. Whatever he had anticipated by way of preliminaries, whatever attention he had hoped to pay to her lush mouth, her soft skin and lovely breasts, didn't matter either. He was so desperate, nearly overwhelmed by desire, that his hands shook with the force of it.

Heart racing and fingers trembling, he fumbled at the opening to his trousers, pushed her lacy knickers aside, and pressed himself, hard, straight into her luscious warmth.

With the last vestiges of self-control, Georg managed to grit out two syllables: "all right?"

"Oh, yes," she gasped, "I feel so full of you," words that sent hot blood surging through his veins. He immediately set a frenzied pace, knowing that even if he hurt or frightened her, the shameful truth was that he probably could not have restrained himself. But Maria had taken him into her body readily, flowing around him like silk, lifting up again and again as though she couldn't get close enough to him. Her hands scrabbled for purchase against his back, fingertips scraping and clawing. He heard himself grunting with effort, going harder and deeper with each stroke.

She thrashed against him with joyful abandon, as he drove them both onward, together, feeling that he could go on this way forever. When she cried out, when she shuddered and tightened around him, Georg did not relent until he had pushed her through her climax, watching the pleasure chase across her face until her mouth went slack and her eyes fluttered closed.

And then he began again. He was like an untamed animal now, a pagan, rutting god.

"I can't," she mumbled, tossing her golden-curled head from side to side.

"You can. And you will," his words came on ragged gasps. "Just hold on to me. Maria. Hold on tight. Ready?"

With a shuddering moan, she gave herself up to him, burying her face in his neck and wrapping him in her arms and legs as he began to rock frantically against her.

His mind had gone blank, all knowledge and sensation focused on the place where their bodies had melted together, fused by wet heat. The fire swelled and rose all around them, an inferno both tempting and terrifying. At the edge of his consciousness, Georg was dimly aware of a sound: a sound that was no longer the sweet cry of an angel, not anymore, but a woman's groan, raw with passion.

Then the fire came crashing down around them, and consumed them both.

When, exactly, did it happen? It was impossible to know.

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO

This journey is taking forever! Isn't it? Don't worry I WILL finish this story; I have it all figured out, but the steamy bits take a long time to write. Thanks lemacd for your help. Don't own, all for love.