Chapter 20: Ten Days, Part Four

They were in the forest for ten days.

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

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Gradually, the world came back into focus. Outside, the pounding storm raged on, while inside, he felt Maria's body, warm and supple, shift uncomfortably under his. When Georg pulled away from her, he could see how their rough clothing, bunched between them in his haste to take her, had chafed at her soft skin.

"Hold on," he murmured, scrambling out of his clothes before stripping her of her dress and the notorious red knickers.

"No more," she moaned softly, "Please. I can't."

"Neither can I," he smiled, "not yet, anyway. But we ought to lie together properly." He took her in his arms and clasped her to him, skin to skin, and had very nearly fallen asleep when she caught his attention with a whisper.

"Cap – I mean-"

"M-hm?"

"I want to know if-"

"In the morning, darling," he said drowsily.

"No, no, now. If I wait till the morning, you won't want to talk about it."

"Then go ahead, Maria, if you must."

Wide awake now, he steeled himself for her question.

"Is it always – I mean, with those other women. Was it always like that?"

Relief washed over him. This, at least, he could give her. Even if for the rest of it, he couldn't quite-

"No," he said honestly. "It was never like this, Maria."

Maria held her breath, waiting for him to append a qualification, or a proviso of some sort, but none came, only the deep, even rumble of his breath in his chest as he descended into a sound sleep. She lay awake for quite some time, exultant, rejoicing in the way he lay, relaxed and trusting, against her.

He was hers!

Hers, in a way that he hadn't been with any of the others. Hers, at least in the only way that could ever mean anything to him. He had told her many times what he needed, and tonight, he had come to her to claim it. A little voice in the back of her mind piped up to ask if that was enough, but she turned away from it, because she loved him.

Maria was too restless, too elated, and too aware of his solid body next to her, to be able to relax into sleep. Instead, she turned the astonishing situation over and over again in her mind. Six months ago, she had been a postulant, promised to God, with no interest in the way of things between men and women. He had been an aloof and heartless tyrant on the verge of a loveless marriage.

Those two people had vanished into the past, and in their places were a man and a woman, stranded in precarious circumstances in the middle of nowhere, bound together in shocking intimacy. Stripped of the veneer of their lives in Austria, they lay curled together on a dirt floor, underfed, unwashed and sticky with grime and sweat and lust.

She had never been so happy in her life.

Tomorrow, they would resume their journey into France and on to Paris. The little voice broke in again, to ask what would happen after Paris, but Maria told herself to ignore it and rest up for another day's trek. She leaned over, switched off the lantern, and willed herself to sleep, but it was no use. Instead, she lay in the dark, listening to the sound of his heartbeat over the storm.

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Georg lingered warily at the edges of the sleep, hardly able to believe what was happening. For four long years, every day had begun the same way, with a sharp stab of realization that the love of his life was gone. Even as the months and years passed, and no matter how hardened he'd been to the reality of her loss when he retired the night before, the dawning of each new day brought a fresh surge of pain, as though Agathe had just now left him.

This morning, though, he seemed to have awakened only to feelings of peaceful contentment. As though poking at a sore tooth with his tongue, Georg probed his memories of Agathe and waited for the wave of grief to overtake him, but to his wistful surprise, he found mostly comfort.

A thin gray light barely filtered into the hut, and it was still raining, a hard, drenching rain. They wouldn't be going anywhere today, that was certain. Through half-open eyes, he spied Maria, dressed in his cast-off shirt. She was perched in the open doorway like a little sprite, arms wrapped around her knees, watching the storm.

When he rose and went to sit next to her, her head dropped to his shoulder and they sat in companionable silence for a little while, peering through the silver curtain of rain that tumbled off the roof, and out into the stormy morning beyond. Suddenly, he was as tongue tied as a schoolboy.

"Maria," he cleared his throat, "are you – ehrm – that is – well, is everything all right?"

"Oh, yes," she looked up at him with an incandescent smile. "It is now."

"Are you sure?"

"M-hm." She added with a laugh, "I can hardly believe it! To think that I almost went back to Austria instead of coming with you!"

"I knew you had a temper," he chuckled, "but I don't think I've ever seen you as angry as you were that morning in the hotel, when you left me. Not that I didn't deserve it."

"I was angry. About why you wouldn't – why you couldn't - well, you know."

"Hm. I suppose you understand it better now. How it is with me, I mean."

"I – I think I do. I mean, I know I do."

"Well, it's all settled then," he said expansively.

It was a relief to have gotten it all straightened out. Maria's smile, her voice, everything about her was different somehow, wide open and relaxed, and that made Georg relax too. Last night's urgency had been replaced by the rich luxury of time. They'd be stranded here for hours, so there would be plenty of time to talk, if they were so inclined.

For example, his sense of honor dictated that they confront, together, the consequences of the decision he'd made last night, not to pull out of her at the very last, critical moment. Another man might tell himself that, having already made that mistake with her once, it made no difference, but that, of course, was nonsense. Another man might try to make excuses about being swept away by passion, but Georg knew better: it had been a deliberate choice on his part, and furthermore, given another opportunity, he knew perfectly well he was going to do the same thing again. Even if he didn't quite know why.

Georg cast about in his mind for a topic that would preserve the peaceful mood between them. Suddenly, he remembered that after their disastrous night in the cave, Maria had complained that he had not kissed her properly. How could it be that in last night's chaos, he'd repeated that mistake? Well, today, there would be time for endless kissing, if that were her desire, time to make up for all the months during which they had never kissed at all. Turning toward her, he tucked a finger beneath her chin, drew her face to his and kissed her slowly, tenderly, until she melted into him and responded in full measure.

Soon enough, sweet kisses grew passionate, leaving him dizzy and breathless and aching with desire.

Soon enough, he swept the shirt from her shoulders so that his mouth could ravish her breasts.

Soon enough, he laid her out on her back, and commenced to kiss every square inch of her body, not relenting until it was impossible to hear the storm over her screams.

And when he couldn't possibly wait even a moment longer, he dragged his mouth up her body until it crashed into hers with bruising force. He gathered her wrists overhead in one hand, making it impossible for her to move, forcing her to absorb every last bit of pleasure. When he came into her hot and deep, and unleashed himself on her, it wasn't very long before the tremors shook them both, before the fiery rush poured through him and swept them both away.

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It continued to rain steadily, throughout the rest of the day and well into the night, and what happened between them during those hours was as raw and untamed as the storm that raged on around them. Georg took his time with her, especially now that she had apparently forgiven him and was holding nothing back.

There was time for him to teach her to call him by name, rather than as 'Captain,' a habit he broke her of by making her address him aloud in the most extreme of circumstances, rewarding her when she got it right, and chastising her in delicious ways when she got it wrong.

There was time for him to teach her all six verses of Leo's lewd sea chantey.

And there was time for this:

"Georg! What are you doing?"

"Expanding your horizons, darling."

"I'm not sure I want them expanded that – oh! – that way."

"How would you know? You need to give any new experience a chance. I'll make you a deal. I'll count to ten, while I do as I please. At ten, if you still want me to stop, I'll stop."

"Ehrm – wait a second, Georg! What about count of five and I do the counting?"

"You can do the counting, but count of seven," Georg said firmly. "Whenever you're ready."

"One," she called out, and then,

"T-Two."

There was a long silence.

"Maria?"

"Oh! Three!"

Another silence.

"Maria?"

"Oh – f-five?"

"What happened to four, Maria?"

…

"Maria?"

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The next morning, all evidence of the storm had vanished. The first golden spears of light found their way into the hut, accompanied by the chirp of birds and a soft, fresh breeze that seemed to blow away the sounds and scents of their shared passion.

While Georg slept on soundly, Maria eased herself out of his arms, wincing in the aftermath of hours of vigorous, if also very pleasurable, pursuits. For a man twice her age, who'd been living pampered in luxury, Georg was quite robust. A few vivid impressions in particular curved her lips in a smile, but by the time she'd hurried into her clothes and ventured out of the hut, her bright spirits began to fade.

Maria's heart and mind were crowded with memories she would cherish the rest of her life, and with the certain and joyful knowledge that he needed her. He needed her desperately, even she could see that. Now that they had taken possession of each other, nothing would ever be the same between them. Today, they would resume their journey to Paris. Paris, where, she reminded herself, he had nearly begged her to accompany him.

But still. Alone with her thoughts for the first time in hours, and with no wicked distractions, it was impossible not to wonder about what lay on the other side of Paris. And for that little voice in her head to inquire, politely, if someone needing her was the same as loving her. What was it he had told her, that morning in the hotel? Something about not being able to make any promises, or to love her the way she deserved. Maria wasn't sure what she deserved, but, she told herself, she was quite certain that he was loving her, in the only way he knew how.

"Maria?"

She heard him call to her, and as though she had no choice in the matter, her feet carried her back into the hut, where Georg stood, yawning widely, arms stretched over his head. The sight of him made her heart flutter like a caged bird, but when his eyes met hers, they were warm with concern.

"What is it, darling?"

"Nothing!" she said with a cheerful shake of her head. "It's a beautiful morning. We ought to be on our way, hadn't we?"

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The next few days piled up like bright beads on a string: crisp autumn days where they tramped hand-in-hand through the countryside, and chilly nights where they took comfort in each other's arms. Although their progress remained slow, and the risk of German pursuit still remained, Georg found that the sense of urgency behind their journey had somehow abated. Leo's map, once his constant companion, was consulted only once or twice daily.

For the first time since leaving the hotel, they talked of the children, with Georg sharing long-ago memories of their younger years, and unraveling for her – and for himself, truth to be told - the mystery of how they'd ended up with whistles and uniforms. He normally found this kind of confiding disclosure uncomfortable, but somehow, the words came easily to him as they rambled through the woods.

But it was the nights, especially, when they lay wrapped around each other in a campfire's soft glow, that wove a tight bond between them. With each passing night, Georg felt the surge of emotion when they joined together grow stronger, clearer and more powerful.

Georg quickly came to accept that when it came to his bride, his famous self-control had vanished for good, and that his hunger for her would never be slaked. What he was still struggling to understand was how a postulant from Nonnberg Abbey had so quickly became an eager, almost voracious, lover. It was a delightful - but somewhat unnerving - circumstance. Maria was wildly innocent in so many ways, but she mastered everything he showed her with whole-hearted enthusiasm that left him feeling weak and stupid. As though, he thought wryly, she had penetrated him, rather than the other way around.

About the fact that he never pulled out of her, he preferred not to think at all. He didn't need to, not really. Her shining eyes and bright smile were all the reassurance that he needed.

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The tenth day dawned bone-chilling and damp.

"We can't possibly be that far from the border," he shook his head and tucked the map into the knapsack. "And the weather's only going to get worse. We're going to try something else today. I think it's worth the small risk of discovery."

It was late morning, and they were crouched in the underbrush by the side of the road, just outside a small town, watching trucks and horse-drawn wagons return from the last market day of the season.

"That one," Georg announced suddenly. "Ready?" and with no further explanation, he flung the knapsack over his shoulder, grabbed her hand and pulled her into a sprint toward the final wagon in the procession. They hoisted themselves into the back, empty except for some scattered straw.

"But Georg!" she gestured frantically. "The driver-"

Georg laid a finger to her lips.

"The fellow's nearly asleep up there," he said quietly. "Or drunk, more likely. I'm guessing that his horses know their way home without any direction from him. We'll be fine if we keep our voices down."

Maria peeked over the side of the wagon, watching the trees and fields flash by at what seemed, after ten days on foot, like a very rapid pace. She shivered, as a chilly breeze found its way under her jacket. Or maybe it was the thought of how much more quickly they were moving now, the distance shrinking by the minute between them and Paris. And whatever was to come after.

"Poor darling," Georg winked, beckoning her closer, "come here and let's see if we can get you warm."

Maria glanced anxiously toward the driver, who sat slumped sideways in his seat, oblivious to the horses' gentle plodding

"Come here, Maria," he gave an exasperated sigh. "I told you, you needn't worry about him. Why must you always fight me when I know what you need?"

Even as she resented his imperious directive, Maria found herself obeying, scrambling awkwardly into his lap. His solid warmth was delicious.

"I know a little bit about what you need, too, you know," she said crossly.

"You do, do you? And what, exactly, is that?"

"Well, for one thing, you need to control me. Why, you've been ordering me around since the moment you met me!"

He raised an eyebrow.

"That, Fraulein, is only because you need a firm hand."

"I hate when you say that," she burst out, "In case you hadn't noticed, I am not a child!" But when she tried to wriggle off of his lap, his arm held her in place like an iron bar.

"O-ho, but when you were a child, no one looked out for you, and you learned not to rely on anyone except yourself. And God, of course. That's why you were ready to lock yourself away in that Abbey, isn't it?"

While his one hand continued to hold her firmly in place, the other idly brushed her knee.

"And tell me, Maria," he continued, his voice low but rough, "has it so terrible, doing as I please?"

His words sent a prickle of arousal down her spine, even as she offered a last faint protest.

"N-no," she shrugged. "I mean yes. I mean-"

When she'd first known her Captain, Maria found his domineering behavior nearly intolerable. But in their more recent, treacherous circumstances, when it was apparent that he was doing enough worrying for both of them, she had to admit that it had also made her feel safe.

And as for what happened when they lay together, for every time that Georg took her with forceful urgency, there was another when he treated her with nearly unbearable tenderness. No, the truth was she liked the rough and the gentle of it. Their most intimate moments gave Maria the reassurance she craved, silencing the little doubtful voice that still plagued her, revealing the depth of his ferocious need for her in the only way he could express it.

Now his fingers slid under her skirt and began to creep upward. When Maria gave an experimental wriggle, there was the shape of him, hard and demanding, through his trousers. She heard his breath turn ragged, felt his caresses grow more frantic. Smiling to herself at this reminder of their shared passion, she turned to press her face into his neck.

"No. Your mouth," he growled, "give me your mouth," and he took it just in time to capture her first helpless cries, as he found her center. Again and again, his knowing fingers sent blinding pulses of pleasure through her, until her mind dissolved and her body went limp with bliss.

Then there were only the gentle jostling rhythm of the wagon, the jingle of the horses' harnesses, the driver's soft snores. Secure in Georg's arms, with his lips brushing her forehead, at that moment, Maria could not possibly have wished for more than what he had to give her.

"You were right. That was just what I needed," she sighed.

"Maria."

"Hm?"

"You like to joke about it, but what I must have from you, it's-"

"My complete and unquestioning obedience?" she smiled. At this particular moment, anyhow, she could enjoy the game.

"Freely given, yes," he said with surprising, and somewhat unnerving, gravity. "But not only that."

He anchored her head in his big hands, turning her to face him and smoothing the hair from her forehead, stroking his thumb across her swollen lips until she opened to him.

"There's something else, Maria."

The frightening look in his eyes, sharp and black, was so intense she was forced to look away.

"Don't look away from me, Maria. Look deeper, and perhaps you will see what I need."

Her fingers knew what to do before she could will it, brushing across his trousers, finding the buttons. He rose in her hand, thick and hard and hot.

"Don't worry," she murmured, "You don't have to say it. I know."

"Wait. Maria," he strangled, "What I-" But his eyes had gone blurry with desire.

Suddenly, the wagon jerked to a stop, and the driver let loose a loud string of curses.

"Go," Georg hissed, nearly shoving her away. "Now."

Maria leapt from the wagon and raced to hide behind a ramshackle chicken-coop, smothering her laughter at the sight of her Captain, stumbling toward her, knapsack in one hand and buttoning his trousers with the other.

"Bit of a close one," he grunted when he joined her, but his eyes sparkled with glee.

They watched the farmer unhitch the horses and send them with a slap toward the barn before he disappeared into a decrepit farmhouse.

After that, they tramped companionably through the forest for another several hours, Georg stopping occasionally to consult the map and peer at the sky, although the sun remained hidden behind iron-gray clouds.

"We'll find the border tomorrow, for sure. Or I hope so, anyway. But for tonight – it looks like rain, so let's find some shelter. Quickly," he added, and Maria knew from the gleam in his eyes that the weather was not the reason for his sense of urgency. Although they had not spoken of their escapade in the wagon, the air between them still crackled with intensity.

There was an hour left before nightfall when they found an empty barn which smelled strongly of its former inhabitants. They fell easily into their routine: Maria cut up apples and sausage, two things she swore she would not eat again for a year, at least, if they ever got out of this forest, while Georg did what he could to arrange some bedding.

"You never complain, do you?" he said admiringly. "But I can see it's been a strain on you. If we're lucky, it's just one more day, Maria. One more day to a comfortable bed, and a proper meal, and a hot bath."

Maria was suddenly and uncomfortably aware of herself: still wearing that high-waisted girlish dress from Nonnberg, hair wild and tangled, five days since her dip in the pond. While Georg was more attractive than ever: his stubble had become a slightly unkempt beard, threaded with silver, his frame even leaner and more powerful.

Maria studied his face, looking for reassurance.

"Why do you stare at me that way?"

"A bath?" She bowed her head. "I suppose I am a bit ripe."

"That is not what I meant, Maria, and you know it. We're both a bit ripe, come to that."

He sighed and went to gather her in his arms.

"You're lovely. Every single inch of you. But we're in a barn, for heaven's sake. For tonight, anyway," he buried his face in her neck and nipped gently at her shoulder, "we are just another pair of animals, aren't we?"

She didn't wait for him, lifting her dress over her head while he was hurrying out of his own clothes. But when she went to wind her arms around his neck, he turned her around and gently urged her to the ground.

"Georg!" she gasped, shocked to find herself on all-fours.

"Animals, Maria," he purred.

He was behind her, reaching underneath until his fingers found her breasts and dragged against them, hard, sending sensation streaking across her skin. The rough brush of his thumbs on the tips of her breasts was unbearably arousing.

One hand remained, kneading her breast, while the other slid between her legs.

"Ripe," Georg murmured, his voice felt like liquid heat on her skin. "Whenever I touch you, you are ripe here, like a perfect peach. You will always be ripe for me, won't you, darling?" He swept her hair off her neck and wrapped it around his fingers, tugging her gently downward. "Curl over your knees," he directed.

Then he wrapped himself around her and sank into her, deep, possessing her entirely. Time after time, with exquisite care, he sent her soaring toward the heavens, urging her upward and upward, before pulling her back, only to loft her even higher the next time. Without his hands and body to anchor her, Maria would surely have flown straight into the sun. The relentless push of his body continued until his harsh cry broke her open and she was flooded with his heat.

When he slumped over her, gasping for air, she could hear the thundering of his heart gradually slow, feel the sweat on their skin cool. Much as Maria craved their passion, she cherished these moments, too, when his feelings for her rose closest to the surface and his weight on her a reassuring comfort.

Without separating, they fell into a light slumber, until from close by came a skittering, shuffling sort of noise. When she opened her eyes, she was staring at something, not more than six inches from her nose: the toe of a boot, muddy and scuffed, half-covered by a torn trouser cuff, all of it connected to a man who stood towering over them. She squeezed her eyes closed in terror and humiliation as the man began to shout. She felt Georg rise and toss his shirt over her before replying to the man, his voice composed and confident.

She couldn't make much sense of what they were saying, of course. Maria was used to that after two months away from Austria, but there was something different this time, something she couldn't quite-.

The man was still shouting, and she heard Georg speak, heard "l'Autriche" and "Allemagne" and "Italie" and "femme" and "argent" and "echaper," and then the man was calmer now, asking questions. When she peeked through her lashes, Georg, still shamelessly naked, was smiling broadly, while the man enthusiastically shook his hand.

"Georg?" She lifted up on her elbows, taking care to remain huddled under his shirt.

"Maria, darling," his face broke into an elated grin. "Do you understand? We must have gotten ourselves across the border today. We made it, darling! We're in France!"

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They were in the forest for ten days.

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.

Only afterward did it become apparent to Georg von Trapp that he had fallen in love with his wife.

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A/N: I am sorry for the pace of these updates and thank you for the messages expressing your continued interest and support. It's just that I am very slow at the steamy parts, and ICYMI this had a lot of steamy parts. Please stick with me. I do have a lot of the rest of the story planned out and bits written already! You are still welcome to enjoy the review holiday (but be warned, there's only a couple of chapters left, and I will beg for one last review when it's over). Don't own, all for love.