1960

Felicity Dorr was sat in her bed, trembling with anxious anticipation. She'd taken a sleeping pill, but nothing would settle her nerves tonight. She had always dreamed that one day she might see Heinrich again, but now that it looked like she may have her wish she was terrified of the consequences. When James had told her about Philip's call, she broke down. Would this ruin her daughter's life? And even if Eugénie could accept the truth, would she ever forgive her mother for concealing her paternity? James had held Felicity as she fell completely to pieces; he was so good to her despite the circumstances. And yet, Felicity questioned herself, ashamed. Could she remain faithful to James if Heinrich were to re-enter their lives? She loved James and the new start they had made together. But Heinrich… a phantom lust seized her as she recalled the night she first waited for him to come to her bed.

flashback to 1940

It was a cool fall day and Felicity had walked to La Roche Noire to clear her mind. The waves ebbed and flowed against the pebbly beach and seemed to whisper to her I love you and I want you home soon- her last words to her husband before he was deported to a POW camp in France. She had come to the beach instead of her usual refuge- her orchard.

The day that Philip had been captured, she had been desperate to save him. Her undignified proposal to the Baron still stung. We can have sex, as much sex as you want. Though the Baron never sought to redeem that offer, he did take the liberty of joining her in the orchard as often as he pleased. 'Good evening, Mrs. Dorr,' he would say. She wouldn't tell him to leave, but she had nothing more to say in the way of small talk. What is there left to say after offering one's body to one's jailer? So, with a nod, she allowed him to sit on the bench beside her. She would continue to puff on her cigarette in silence. He didn't seem to mind, but to Felicity, it was damned awkward.

The Baron's visits to her in the orchard were taking their toll on her sanity. Every time she went to the orchard she wondered obsessively if or when he would join her- and more frighteningly, if she wanted him to. Yes, that was the problem. She was afraid that she did indeed want him.

The mere thought of it made her want to throw herself into the channel. Making an offer to save her son was one thing, but this was so much more. How could she desire an enemy thug? It was an existential crisis. The sea was getting rough and waves crashed violently across the rocks, inviting her to drown herself into the water. Suicide would be a release from her prison…

But if she ended it all, she would never know. She would never know if Philip would survive being caught as a spy; she would never know if James was coming back to her; she would never know the Baron's touch. By now she knew that she was quite mad, but for whichever of these three reasons that prevailed upon her, she turned around and headed back to Sous les Chênes.

A front was coming through. A storm front or a military front? she mused. Though it was still early afternoon, the sky darkened. Felicity barely noticed when the rain started beating against her face. When the winds picked up, however, a chill seized her. This autumn wind was the harbinger of winter, striping trees of their leaves that were swirling through the air. For a few moments she thought that she might freeze to death en route, but she dismissed that as nonsense. Just a few more miles, old girl. If if I was meant to die today, I would have thrown myself in the channel.

Fate intervened at that moment. She recognized the sound of the motor she heard roaring down the road. It was her husband's car- but she knew that her husband was not the driver, of course. The car came to a stop beside her on the side of the road. She held her hat in place on her head and looked up at the vehicle. Baron von Rheingarten opened the door and barked, "Get in, Mrs. Dorr. I'll have no argument from you."

She accepted her fate and climbed into the back seat with him.

"Quite a storm, wouldn't you say, Mrs. Dorr?"

She nodded, but it was hard to discern as she was shivering. The Baron unbuttoned his uniform and tried to drape the coat over her shoulders. She swatted his hand away and threw the coat down, the medals clanging as they went. "Never!" She cried through her chattering teeth.

"But surely you need something warm."

She folded her arms across herself to try to control the trembling. "I will not wear that even if my life depends on it!"

"If you will not have the coat, then perhaps the man? Come here, Mrs. Dorr." The Baron wrapped his arms around her and held her tightly, mostly because he expected her to resist. He was surprised to find that she did not struggle.

She burrowed her face in his undershirt and morbid thoughts came back to her as she took in his musky scent. If she was to take her own life, she should give herself a good reason. Give in to the temptation before ending it all. Her forehead made contact with his neck. She needed his warmth so desperately. He held her for a few moments there, but she craved more flesh to flesh contact. She tucked her head between his jaw and collarbone and her lips found his neck.

He exhaled and nuzzled his head against her in response. Coming to his senses, he righted himself. "I know that an offer was made, but I will remind you that you have no obligation to me, Mrs. Dorr. I shall not have you do anything against your will."

"No? Actually, you make a habit of it, Baron. The fortifications are a prime example. As an occupying force, you make the people of St. Gregory do things against their will every day."

The Baron smirked for that was the audacious Felicity Dorr that he knew. "Not sexually," he clarified.

"Good. Because I do not do things against my will, sexually or otherwise." She said, and pressed her lips to his. This time, he reciprocated passionately.

The Baron's driver, a German soldier following Wilf Jonas' betrayal, stared straight ahead and did his best to pretend he did not see what was happening through the rear-view mirror. He sat in the drive in front of the house and did not know what to do. He was wise enough to know that he should not go open the Baron's door.

"We're home, Mrs. Dorr." The Baron whispered.

"Felicity, please." She prompted.

"I would suggest that we meet in the orchard, Felicity, but it seems the weather has other plans for us. Later this evening, if I were to build a fire in the drawing room, I would be most edified if you were to come and sit with me. You may call me Heinrich, if it pleases you."

"It does, Heinrich."

"Very good. In the meantime, I have some business to attend to and you need some time to take care of yourself." He placed a kiss to her hand before helping her down from the car.

That evening after dinner Heinrich was building a fire in the drawing room. All he could think of was the day that he'd cruelly tricked Felicity into giving up her son. She was on her knees, cleaning a fireplace on her side of the house when he'd given her the news of Mr. Brotherson's arrest. Her reaction- gasping for air- was not what he expected. So he baited her.

He'd told her that Mr. Brotherson had implicated her and the senator when of course he had done no such thing. Then Felicity let the whole story come tumbling out- Mr. Brotherson was none other than her son, Philip Dorr. Heinrich had been clever, maliciously so. As the commandant he felt no remorse, though he couldn't quell that niggling feeling that he'd exploited someone he'd come to care for. To soothe his conscience, he'd kept Mr. Brotherson's identity a secret and traded execution for prison. But Philip and James Dorr would have to go, that was non-negotiable. He couldn't bring himself to accept Felicity's offer, no matter how many times he'd lay awake at night thinking of her, not when he had abused her trusting nature so.

And then Felicity had gone and kissed him. They both knew that it was the point of no return. He'd thought about the kiss and how he wanted to pursue her all afternoon through dinner. Muller had noted how distracted he was. Now he was on his knees, before the fireplace, just as she had been that day when he tricked her.

The kindling had spread its flames to the larger logs; he was satisfied with his work and turned around. There he found Felicity on the couch with her needlework. He hadn't heard her come in. She'd changed clothes and had had a bath; he could tell by the way her hair looked clean but un-styled.

"Felicity. How long have you been here?"

"A few minutes. You were intently gazing into the fire, so I thought I'd best leave you to it." He stared at her incredulously, still not believing that she had come to him. She thought she recognized a hint of lust in his eyes; she looked back down at her embroidery, suddenly unsure of herself again.

"Might I pour us a drink?" He ventured.

"Yes, Heinrich." She liked saying his name.

"I think I know how to make this easier, Felicity, bridging the gulf between us" he said as he sat next to her on the couch and handed her a drink. "You worry too much about symbolism."

"How do you mean?" She asked as she put down the embroidery hoop and raised the glass to her lips. She took a sip.

"My uniform bothers you, but you are happy to sit with me in my civilian clothes. I will remember that the next time I try to sit with you in the orchard."

She looked at him in his clean white shirt and suspenders clipped to his trousers and found no trace of rancor within her. "I suppose you're right."

He moved his hand to her knee. "Not here, where someone could come in," she whispered.

"Yes, of course, you are right." He answered, retracting his hand though he desired to touch her more than anything.

"Delphine, my maid, retires by ten o'clock without exception. If I were to leave my bedroom door unlocked tonight…"

He nodded. "You can rely on me to be discrete. Until then?"

"Until then, you can put a record on the gramophone and I will work on my embroidery as we enjoy the fire you've built."

"Right." He got up to put on some music. "Do you enjoy all types of needlework, Felicity? You could knit yourself a scarf to stay warm this winter."

"I'm afraid I'm not a very practical person, Heinrich."

"Then I shall have to build fires for you more often as the weather turns colder."

"I'd like that." The thought gave both of them something to live for, something that Felicity desperately needed.

Suddenly Muller appeared in the doorway. "Sir," he interrupted. "Obermeister Flach needs to speak with you."

"Tell Flach to wait in my office." The Baron snapped at Muller. "Please excuse me, Mrs. Dorr."

"Of course, Baron," Felicity said with icy formality. Felicity lowered her head to her needlework, scared of her growing affection for Heinrich and excited by the danger it would bring her.

That night Felicity waited, poised on her bed. Then she got up to sit at her vanity again to check her hair, loose and intentionally tousled. Then she paced the floor. At midnight, she resigned herself to the idea that Heinrich was not coming. Rejected, again.

She tried to sleep but was unable to anything but toss and turn. In the still of the night, she thought she heard a noise in front of the house- the slam of a car door. She got up from her bed and ran to the window in time to see a car driving away in the moonlight. Flach, perhaps? She was still in front of the window when she began to hear heavy, slow footsteps approach her door.

The door opened just wide enough for Heinrich to enter. "I was afraid that you weren't coming," she confessed, relieved to see him.

He came over to her at the window. "There were… things I had to attend to, and something that I had to find."

"Please, I'd rather not know. Let this space be a sanctuary from the war."

"Agreed." He took her in his arms and kissed her like a conqueror triumphant. As she pulled away from him, he was afraid for a moment that he had frightened her with his ardent desire. But then he realised that she was leading him to her bed.

He removed something from his pocket. "I was late in coming to you because I wanted to have this. Have you ever used one of these?" He asked, showing her a French letter.

"No," she whispered.

"Then it will be a first for both of us."

She smiled and caressed the front of his trousers. "Fortunately, I have acquired a supply." He said.

The knot of her dressing gown slid apart as she moved towards the bed, letting the robe fall open and exposing glimpses of her front. She sat on the bed in front of him; she helped him unhook his suspenders and belt as he unbuttoned his shirt. He swallowed and sat on the bed, methodically bending down to untie his shoes before removing them along with his trousers. Felicity reclined on the bed, watching him, taking deep breaths to try to calm her heart that was beating out of control.

He carefully folded his clothing and crossed the room again to put the garments on a chair. Naked, but without the slightest hesitation, he strode towards her. Moments later he was exactly where she wanted him to be and the two engaged in a timeless dance.

Some time later, Felicity's tears rolled down to Heinrich's chest. "Did I hurt you, Felicity?"

"No, Heinrich. This war… nothing has made sense since it began. Now, finally something feels right. Is that horrible of me?"

"If it is, then it is horrible of both of us, because I too feel that it is right to be here with you."

They slept entwined until just before the break of dawn. As Heinrich dressed, he asked, "may I come to you again tonight?"

"Yes, Heinrich. But please be careful."

"You have my word. And you mustn't come to me. If I am caught here, my men will know that I am… how would you say it? A randy old man." She couldn't help but grin at his expression despite his serious tone. "But if you are caught going to my room, on the other hand, the consequences could be far worse." He kissed her one last time before slinking away into the darkness. "Until tonight, liebe Felicity."