Chapter 2: Forbidden Taste

I had no intention of continuing this story, but Georg overruled me, quite forcefully I might add. I don't know if he has any other 'forbidden' chapters left in him, but I'll be sure to ask him. :)

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Georg closed the ledger, sighing his relief at having completed his monthly review of the financial records. He leaned back in the brown leather chair, rolled his head gently from side to side and rubbed the back of his neck, trying to ease the tension that had worked its way into his muscles. Glancing out of the nearby window, he was surprised to see the long shadows cast by the trees outside. It was much later than he'd thought. Checking the clock on his desk, he realized that it was almost time for supper.

The task had taken twice as long as it usually did. He did not have to wonder at the cause of the delay in completing his work; he had been inordinately distracted by the relentlessly persistent image of Maria in the kitchen. His thoughts kept returning to that moment when she had licked the dough from the corner of her mouth, and to the moment when they had stared into each other's eyes, neither one able to look away. He was assaulted once again by the image of her flushed cheeks, her full lips, her breath coming faster…

Georg stood abruptly and began pacing briskly. No! He could not let himself lose control of his thoughts. Already he had unwittingly let her see too much; he could not risk doing so again. It would be unfair to Elsa, to whom he had an unconfirmed yet tacit commitment. Neither would it be fair to Maria. She was doing the family a service; she was a postulant, for heaven's sake! She could hardly have expected to see the look in his eyes, to hear the words he had spoken. Her reaction must have been more shock than anything else. What must she think of him? And when had he started thinking of her as Maria instead of Fraulein Maria?

Georg resolved to put the incident behind him; it would be better for all concerned. He put the ledger away in the top desk drawer, locked it securely, and switched off the lamp. The hour was growing long; he needed to head upstairs to wash up and dress for supper. But even as he left the den, he knew that putting the incident behind him would be easier said than done; already his traitorous thoughts were bedeviling him with the image of blue eyes and soft lips.

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Georg strode quickly toward the dining room, only slowing as he reached the doorway. Despite the fact that he was a few minutes late for supper, it would not do to appear to be rushing in his own home. The fault was his own, however, and he was annoyed with himself. He had decided at the last minute to shave, even though he had suspected that he would not have enough time. He refused to think about why he had felt the urge to shave in the first place; it would only make his temper flare, and he was already on edge.

With a display of calm he did not actually feel, Georg entered the dining room. He was the last to arrive, as he had known he would be. The others were all seated, their plates already set before them. Georg frowned, his aggravation with himself growing.

He glanced around the room. The children were looking at their plates, Kurt with an especially intense look that almost made him smile. The boy could eat a horse if he allowed it. Only Brigitta's eyes were not directed at the table; her eyes were on him, watching him closely. He stared back at her, wondering not for the first time at what went through her mind when she looked at him.

He braved a quick look at Maria; she was straightening Gretl's napkin. He was momentarily fascinated by the graceful movements of her hands before he realized that he was still standing, staring. He frowned again and pulled out his chair more forcefully than was necessary. As he sat down, he heard a muffled giggle. A stern look directed at the children silenced the culprit instantly. Much to his consternation, he was not even sure which of the children it had been. No matter; he would sit, eat his supper, and the evening would be over. He told himself that tomorrow things would be back to normal in the light of a new day. Georg picked up his fork and prepared to eat.

"Excuse me, Captain, but we haven't yet thanked the Lord."

Maria's firm voice cut through the silence quite effectively. It did not surprise him; he knew by now that she was never timid when she had something to say. He noticed, however, that she was looking in his direction but not actually at him. She was avoiding his eyes. He cursed himself for the hundredth time for his earlier impulse.

"For what we are about to receive, may we be truly grateful."

Simple, yet sincere, as always. A good description of her, he reflected.

Maria reached for her fork and began eating. Georg and the children followed suit. He decided to focus on the pork loin, mashed potatoes, and peas on his plate, avoiding all distractions. He ate studiously; he would get through this meal if it killed him.

For a while, the only sounds were the clinking of utensils and an occasional loud swallow from some of the children until a soft sigh followed by an almost moaned "Mmm…" drew Georg's attention away from his plate. Who had made that sound?

When he looked up, his eyes fell on Maria, seated directly across from him. Her eyes were half shut, and she was just pulling the fork away from her mouth. Clearly the sound had come from her; she was evidently savoring her mashed potatoes.

He stared as she took another bite, then another. Although she made no more sounds, her obvious enjoyment of the potatoes was one of the most…sensual things he had ever seen. Must she eat them with such intense pleasure? It was disconcerting; it was mesmerizing. Almost unaware of his reaction, he held himself tightly, every muscle in his body tensing.

He watched, entranced, his own food forgotten, as the potatoes disappeared into her mouth, past those delectable lips. He watched as she swallowed, his eyes following the alluring curve of her neck. He continued watching, hoping she would make that sound again.

"Father, why are you looking at Fraulein Maria so strangely? Mashed potatoes are her favorite food, after all. Haven't you ever seen someone enjoying their potatoes?" Brigitta asked innocently.

Georg blinked, yanked abruptly from the very thoughts he had sworn to avoid. Maria, who had been completely unaware of his attentions, appeared startled by Brigitta's question. She paused with her fork halfway to her mouth and stared at her plate, her cheeks growing pink as she must have realized that he had been watching her. Georg cleared his throat, trying desperately to come up with a credible response to Brigitta's question.

"I heard a noise. I was merely making sure that Fraulein Maria was in no danger of choking."

Admittedly, it was a weak excuse, but it was all he could think to say. He cleared his throat again.

"That's enough talking at the table, Brigitta. Finish your supper." He ignored the stares of the other children and returned his attention to his food.

To his relief, the rest of the meal passed without incident. Georg thought he was past the danger of temptation when Frau Schmidt brought in dessert; it was the chocolate chip cookies Maria, Marta, and Gretl had baked that afternoon. With the new…distractions of the evening's meal, he had forgotten all about the cookies. As the children expressed their delight with barely suppressed squeals, Georg nearly groaned aloud. He looked over at Maria and saw that her cheeks were flushed again. He was certain she was remembering their afternoon encounter.

The children took a few cookies each, exhibiting an impressive restraint that Georg envied, as he seemed unable to impose any restraint on himself. He took two cookies but left them on his plate, untouched. Maria ate only one, chewing slowly and without the enthusiasm she had displayed earlier. Georg was grateful for one thing; cookies were a quick dessert.

"Father, may I be excused?" Liesl asked, always the first to want to leave the table. Usually Georg refused to allow her an early exit, but this time he agreed quickly. That prompted the other children to ask to be excused as well. Eager to end the evening before embarrassing himself and Maria further, he acquiesced. The children scrambled away hastily, perhaps seeking to escape before he changed his mind.

Maria rose from her chair, preparing to leave as well. Georg stood and watched her walk from her end of the table. When she was almost beside him, he suddenly did not want her to go. Although it was irrational and beyond all reason, he found that he could not let her leave without speaking to her.

"Fraulein…" he began, not having any idea of what to say.

Maria froze in place but did not turn to look at him. She waited for him to speak, but he remained silent, finding it impossible to organize a coherent thought.

"You wished to say something, Captain?"

He heard confusion in her voice and perhaps a little trepidation. It was no wonder; he felt as confused as she sounded. He grasped at his thoughts, searching for something to say. He caught sight of the cookies on his plate and, remembering Maria baking with his girls in the kitchen, picked one up.

"I wanted to thank you, Fraulein."

"Thank me? For what, Captain?" And, at last, Maria looked at him for the first time that evening. His breath caught as he looked into those bright blue eyes that so often exuded kindness. All at once he knew exactly what he wanted to say.

"Thank you for all you're doing with the children, for the children. They have been without a mother, or even an adequate governess, for so long. Seeing you with them, caring for them, teaching them, doing things that their mother would have done with them…I'm grateful, Fraulein."

He had not realized that he had noticed so much, but the images of Maria with the children were clear in his mind. He should have realized before now how extraordinary she was.

Maria's eyes softened as he spoke, and she smiled at him.

"I only want to help in any way I can, Captain."

Georg could hear the sincerity in her voice, could see it in her expression, and he smiled back at her. He suddenly remembered the cookie he still held in his hand and raised it.

"This is something their mother would have done with them, baking cookies. Thank you for that."

Not knowing what else to say, he finally bit into the cookie. To his surprise, Maria's gaze lowered, her eyes fixed on his mouth, watching him chew. He told himself it could not possibly mean what it looked like, she could not possibly be thinking thoughts similar to his, but his rapidly accelerating heartbeat betrayed his hopes.

He reached up to wipe a few crumbs from his lips and was astonished when he saw Maria's mouth open slightly, heard her quick intake of breath. His blood was racing now. Unexpectedly, Maria looked up. Her eyes were feverish, her breath unsteady. He knew she could see an answering heat in his own eyes. He tried to swallow and couldn't; his mouth was too dry.

One step. One step and she would be within his reach. One step and he could share the taste of that cookie with her. One step and he would finally know what she tasted like.

A step he was not free to take. Instead, he slowly took a step back. After a moment, she did the same, stepping away from him, lowering her eyes, the flush returning to her cheeks.

"If you'll excuse me, Captain." Maria rushed out of the room.

Georg watched her leave, then sat down hard in his chair and buried his head in his hands. This was going to be much more difficult than he had imagined.

He was in deep, deep trouble.

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