I'm finally back with another update. I've been so insanely busy that I haven't had as much time as I want to focus on my fanfiction. So, thanks to everyone for sticking with me. Like all of the chapters for this story, this one is not beta-ed, so I apologize for any errors. If it's any consolation, I'm doing my best. Anyway, thanks for reading, and please, please leave a review!

BPOV:

I could not sleep that first night-knowing that in mere hours, I would see his face again. The face that is burned into my brain; the face that haunts me wherever I go. Sometimes, I feel like a woman obsessed, but even if I was, I was happy and that is all I care about.

Before dawn broke, I was out of bed and preparing myself to see him. I could not suppress my excitement as I snuck out of my bedroom window and headed to our private spot. The spot where we could be ourselves. The spot where nothing else in the world matter.

It was still dark by the time I reached our meadow that day. And I debated whether or not to strip down and wait for him completely nude. I wanted to be brazen. I wanted to delight him unlike any woman had before. I want him to remember me when I am no longer in his life and he has taken up with someone new. I want him to burn for me the way I burn so desperately for him.

It did not take long for him to come. He looked at me with such longing, I wondered if he was awake all night waiting for this moment, too. I would have pondered this thought, but Edward had not given me much time to think. He stripped down and joined me on the grass beside the waters. We made love until we were both covered in dirt. We bathed in the waters, and then made love again-that time, more desperately than the first. When it came time for us to part, I became melancholy. After a few days of our meetings at the break of dawn, I found that I would always feel melancholy when he left. Of course, he asked me to go back to the estate with him-probably intending to stash me away somewhere. But, I always had an excuse for why I could not join him. If he only knew that I was going to the estate as well…

On the fifth day, he asked me to come home with him-more persistent this time. He could be quite persuasive, the rogue that he is. He would kiss me until I was quite delirious and then ask me his questions. He probably hoped that I had lost my wits from his kiss, and would agree to become his mistress. But, despite his efforts, I kept my wits about me and denied him every time. I never realized I had such self-control. Every single time he asked, I wanted more than anything to say yes. I could pretend that I truly was a whore. I would be well hidden in his cottage on the edge of the estate… no one would know or recognize me. However, I have my parents to worry about. My father is always working and my mother has fallen ill. She has been bedridden for months, I cannot very well leave her. So, as much as I would love to forget my life-forget who I am-and leave with him-a thought is all that will ever be. No more than a dream.

"And why can you not stay with me? What keeps you, Bella? What do you have that is so good in town, that you cannot leave it behind?"

I lay naked on the grass underneath him. I know our time is almost up. We have been meeting every day for the past six days, and everyday around this time, we part ways. But not before Edward tries his best to convince me to remain at his side. We both know that our little dallience cannot last forever. I cannot very well expect him to give up every morning to come spend time with me. As much as we enjoy each other's bodies, we both knew that there would come a time where reality would hit.

"I have family I must look after." Like usual, this is not a complete lie. I do not want to lie to him; I do not want to hurt him. Not after the kindness he has shown me. He has illustrated a side of himself I never knew was there. A softer side-a side he never shows to anyone else.

"Well, bring your family here. I can give them shelter on my estate."

You already do give them shelter.

"That is not necessary. They are fine where they are."

"You always look as if something is troubling you, Bella. So, I conjecture that all is not well with them."

"They are fine." Lie. My parents are not fine. As much as I hate to admit it to myself, it is true. "Well, my mother… she is ill-has taken to her room these past few months."

"Is she all right? Are you able to care for her?"

I am surprised he cares at all about my problems. We do not discuss them. We usually just toy with each other and make love until the sun is high enough in the sky for us to know that we better get back.

"I do what I can," I softly reply.

"Well, I can help you. I can pay you-"

"You want to pay me for this?" I ask in shock, feeling my cheeks flush. Of course he does. He thinks you are a whore, Bella. I shoot up from the ground and grab my clothes.

"I did not mean to offend you. But you charge people for this, Bella. I do not want to take advantage."

I cannot blame him for this. I have played the role quite well-I reveled in it. I loved every second of it. Being his whore was so much more interesting than being his servant-so much more rewarding. I do not care what that says about me. Despite my rational thought-understanding that this conjecture is not truly his fault-I feel so numb and angry. I quickly put my dress on, not bothering to put anything on underneath. I am too embarrassed to take the extra time to do anything.

"Bella, please."

"I must be on my way," I curtly reply, stepping over his naked body to move toward the woods.

"Will I see you tomorrow?" A hopeful note in his voice.

I suppose I will not know how I feel about tomorrow, until tomorrow comes. So, I do not answer him and keep trudging forward instead. His words should not have offended me, but they did. I suppose they were the dose of reality that I needed. My head has been in the clouds, fantasizing about so many possibilities of a future with him, while his head has been in a completely different place. He has been thinking about my body… about what I can do for him. Once again, I cannot blame him for this, but that does not make it hurt any less.

I reach my cottage a half hour later and sneak quietly through my bedroom window. I feel disappointed… why, I don't know. I brought this on myself after all. I would give anything for things in my life to be different. My mother's coughing pulls me from the depressing direction of my thoughts. I quickly change and go to her-knowing that my father has already left for work. As I walk down the hall, I feel guilty for feeling any semblance of happiness while my mother is suffering. What I would not give for her to be happy. I cannot remember the last time she smiled, truly smiled at me. Sure, she will present me with a fictitious one-but it is nothing like the smile I have grown to love so dearly.

Mother tries to smile at me as I enter her bedroom. I cross the room to sit at her bedside, eager to do whatever I can to take her pain away. Her color has improved, but her cough is just as course and constant. Reaching forward, I take her hand in mine-running my finger over the protruding vein on the back of her hand and noticing how much skinner she feels. Perhaps I should bring her an early lunch? Although, I'm sure she will not eat much. I stare at her bony hand and sink in my chair.

"Are you feeling any better?" I whisper the question.

Please, please say yes.

She shrugs and tries to slide up the bed so she is in a better position. I stand and help pull her body up, astounded by how fragile she feels. Before she fell ill, she was lively, vibrant, and positive-despite our station and how poorly we have been fairing over these past few years. Now, she tries-heavens, does she try-but I am the strong one. I have quickly become the one who protects her.

"Do you want me to read to you again today, mother? I know how your headaches trouble you."

"Oh, Isabella. I would like that very much. But are they not expected you soon?"

Perhaps I can be a little late today. If I sneak in the back, I am quite certain I will go unnoticed. I have become far too used to sneaking around the estate. Perhaps my introversion helps me move about without detection. I barely talk to anyone else-keeping to myself the majority of the time-so, it is rather easy for me to get from one place to another without anyone worrying about where I went. Mainly, because they can rarely pinpoint where I am at any given moment.

"They are not expecting me for some time. I can read to you," I insist as I rise and cross the room to find a book from our meager selection on the small bookcase my father crafted himself for my mother two birthdays ago. I pick up her favorite volume and hold it up for her to see. She smiles in approval and almost looks like her old self again as I sit by her side and begin to read.