Just a warning -- this has a slightly scandalous implication, and if you can't take certain religious things in good humor, I don't suggest reading this. Other than that, enjoy! :) Reviews would be lovely if you can spare a moment.

Part Two: Mischievous

Georg glanced over at his wife; she had been relatively silent over their drive through Innsbruck, and through the entire of Tyrol, for that matter. They had circled through the entire Austrian state that day, enjoying together the sights and sounds—or so he presumed. At first, Maria had been mildly excited, but the closer they came toward Innsbruck, the quieter she became. He wasn't quite sure if she was enjoying the trip internally, or if perhaps she was simply pondering things that remained quite a mystery to him.

Just as they passed a small inn, Maria came to life, pointing at it. "Park there," she requested. "I want to take a walk; my legs are cramped."

"Your wish is my command," Georg joked as he pulled into the parking lot of the inn. "Shall I reserve a room?"

Maria's brows knit together in concentration. Finally, she answered, "No. There are always vacancies here. Let's wait and see how late we return. I want to show you the village I lived in until my parents died."

Georg was rather surprised at this; while his wife had told him long ago that her roots began in a small Tyrolean village, she had always explained that she didn't remember much before the age of five, and had gone to live with her wealthy aunt during the school year in Vienna. She spent her summers in the Alps of Salzburg and working on an uncle's farm.

"While I was grateful for the care and education I received at my aunt Madeline's expense, I always felt like Salzburg was where I really wanted to be," she'd explained. "It felt like home, and yet it wasn't home. It made me feel safe. I was away from memories, but close to something I have always been familiar with."

That simple explanation had opened the floodgates to Maria's whole being, and Georg knew he would be a fool to deny that it made him love her all the more. She was clever, smart, beautiful, loving; and yet, she only ever asked for the simple things in life, and with no case of pretentiousness to her name.

"I felt oddly out of place in the schools my aunt chose for me, and for years I was the rebel child—I only began to behave myself in my teen years, having realized it would cause everyone—though the boys especially—to leave me alone if I closed myself in. To this day, I still find myself wholly comfortable with children only."

"And what of me?" Georg had teased her.

"Let's just say that you are very much an exception, as I seem to have borne you two more children," she had countered, laughing.

It was Maria that shook Georg from his thoughts with a call for him to follow her. She was already headed behind the inn, treading on an old dirt path that appeared to lead towards the mountain range. He hurried to catch up with her, snatching one of her hands in his grasp as they walked. Already, her countenance had changed drastically: she began whistling a quarter mile down the path, her eyes were shining, and she had a smile on her face. "A friend and I used to race every day down this path to and from school," she said. "His name was Ralph. I wonder if he still lives here."

"It's a small village," Georg reasoned. "I wouldn't be surprised if he does."

Some twenty minutes later, they reached the little village, which rested at the base of the mountains. "You ran this whole way?" Georg questioned.

Maria turned around, pointing out the forks in the path a slight ways behind them now. "His house led off to the left, and mine to the right. We met there every day in the mornings and said goodbye in the afternoons."

"So you're accustomed to long-distance running?"

Maria laughed, asking, "Was there ever a doubt?"

"No," Georg answered, taking the opportunity to kiss his wife's nose.

"There isn't much to see," Maria admitted as she looked around at the buildings of necessity. She laughed, pointing out a doctor's office next to the mercantile. "That wasn't there when I was a child."

Georg wandered over towards the blacksmith, musing, "I should get the horses re-shod this weekend." He turned to his wife. "Was there anything in particular you were hoping to do while we're here?"

"I thought since there are still a few hours of daylight left, we could go for a hike in the mountains," Maria answered, entirely without hesitation. "We could go on horseback, if you like."

Feeling somewhat skeptical, Georg asked, "And how long exactly has it been since you've scaled these mountains?"

"Only nineteen years or so," Maria wheedled.

"Only?"

"And when, in nearly five years of marriage, have I gotten us lost in a mountain range?" There was a wicked sparkle in her eye as she pointed this out.

"Never," Georg sighed. A glance up at the sky confirmed that the sun would hold off any impending rain. "We'll go on foot."

Maria was laughing at the sight of her husband sprawled against a tree, glaring at her. Not feeling the least bit chastised, she teased, "We should have come on horseback after all, Captain. It seems to me that you are exhausted."

"How much further were you intending to take me, Fräulein?" huffed Georg.

"That depends," Maria trailed, kneeling between his legs and grasping his face in her hands as she kissed him. She couldn't remember the last time they'd had a chance quite like this. It was in the moment that she meshed her body closer to his that the thunder crashed above them and rain came pouring down in sheets. She made a move to scramble to her feet, but Georg's hands snatched at her waist and held her body close against his; Maria's desire to avoid the rain dissolved the moment his lips met hers again.

Georg ran his hands along Maria's wet sides, appreciating and loathing the fabric that molded to her skin all at once, and slipped his fingers under her waterlogged skirt, taking the opportunity to run his fingers along the soft, dry flesh of her inner thighs. The trail his fingers left on her skin raised gooseflesh, quickly countered by a flush of heat as his fingers teased closer toward the apex of her legs.

Maria broke the passionate tango their tongues were engaged in to remove Georg's belt, causing him to relinquish his teasing and lower her panties to her knees; getting to his own knees, Georg allowed Maria to shove away his inhibiting clothing, and they tumbled to the ground in a heap, him taking her immediately.

Maria was pushing against his shoulders and engaging in another passionate kiss simultaneously, one that teased and played, a kiss she gave and took repeatedly in efforts to assist his balance on the slick, lush grass and the natural rhythm they were creating.

When Georg came, his body relaxed and he allowed Maria to bear the entirety of his weight in the moments he needed to regain his senses. Maria lay silently, threading her fingers through her husband's mat of wet hair, breathing heavily with her eyes closed, concentrating on the sensation of rain pelting onto her skin. There was something clever and luscious in what they had just done; she was hungry for more of it. But the desire that coursed through her veins like electricity in that moment was hungry for something entirely foreign—she wanted to be reckless and daring. Even in all of their creativity, she wanted to do something that didn't match anything they'd ever done before and never would again.

"Maria," Georg's voice finally interrupted, "I think we should head back to the inn."

She groaned, muttering, "But that's entirely boring."

Nevertheless, they straightened themselves accordingly; when Georg made a move towards the direction of the village, his wife pulled him in the opposite direction. "I know a shortcut," she explained.

Georg was entirely confused at her logic, but followed her lead nonetheless. Finally, after nearly a half an hour of searching for—well, Georg wasn't entirely sure what—he shouted to Maria, "Was there somewhere you were hoping to go? We should be going in the other direction!"

"Yes, I know!" Maria responded. "I was hoping we'd find this little shack…"

Georg stopped full in his tracks. "Are you admitting to me," he said with relish, "that we are lost?"

"Y—no!" Maria snapped defensively. "Come this way!"

"Oh, but I think we are lost, my love!" He jogged after her, breezing right into a small clearing. Pulling Maria so that they were hip-to-hip, he commented, "That doesn't look like much of a shack to me. We're lost."

There was a gleam in Maria's eye, however, as she pushed her wet bangs out of her eyes and stared at the small church in front of them, blinking furiously. "At least it's somewhere to stay so we won't catch our death of a cold."

"Maria, it's a church."

Rolling her eyes, she picked up several branches and shoved them unceremoniously into her husband's arms. "Would you rather stay here until the storm blows over or walk two hours down the mountain in pouring rain?"

Georg didn't answer.

Inside, the church was dark, and cobwebs suggested years of abandonment, but Georg was pleased to see a potbellied stove in a far corner where they could attempt to light a fire with wet wood. He had to chuckle at the absurdity of the idea, for they had no matches, but he stopped abruptly when Maria's ice-cold hands touched his neck and she turned him around slowly, backing him up against the wall and kissing him.

"Maria, what if someone—"

"No one ever comes here," she muttered breathlessly, unbuttoning his shirt.

"What—wait. You do know where we are!"

"Oh, no, of course not," she said earnestly. "I've gotten lost up here… at one point."

"You little devil," Georg accused, suckling at his wife's lips. "I suppose you've got a bundle of matches hidden away in your skirts?"

"Find them yourself," Maria dared, unbuckling her husband's belt.

Georg groaned at the unmistakable feeling of Maria's hands removing his clothing from the torso down and then proceeding to aid his arousal. Her movements were bold, they were controlling, and they were final. It was all too clear she wouldn't leave this abandoned building until she had things her way.

"Sit," she commanded, turning Georg so that he could back onto a bench. He did as she asked, watching her silently as she reached behind and pulled the corset of her dirndl loose, lifting it over her head and tossing it to the floor. Next was her skirt and extra petticoat, which she tossed at him. "They may not be where you'd expect," she offered by way of aid.

Georg bit his lip; the matches certainly weren't in her skirts. Hell, he didn't even know if she really had any. But he didn't care. The blood was already coursing through his veins as he watched her undress in a way that promised he would be drenched in sweat within seconds of her skin touching his again.

With only her muslin shirt, brassiere, and panties clinging to her wet skin now, Maria sauntered towards Georg, coming to a stop directly in front of him. Fixing a calculating gaze on him, she rolled the wet fabric of her panties down her hips and kicked them off to the side. Her striptease continued as she unbuttoned her shirt button by button and let the fabric hang lazily from her upper arms; without a word, she unhooked her brassiere and straddled her husband skillfully. Her intent gaze still burned into his, but she broke it when she simply hugged him tight, resting her head on his shoulder in an almost moody, dark fashion.

She let Georg push away her shirt and remove her brassiere entirely. She let him respond to her disposition in turn: lovingly but urgently, he fondled and massaged her breasts, trailed kisses from her neck to the cleft between her breasts; he dragged his tongue over her chest, tasting the unique scent that was his wife. She was sweet as vanilla, with the tang of rain and pine on her skin also.

"We should roll around in the rain on a bunch of pine needles more often," he murmured huskily.

"Mmm," Maria responded in agreement, placing her hands on the back of the bench before kissing Georg quickly and bucking into him.

Having anticipated such a move, Georg grasped her hips and aided her movements, placing small kisses over her skin as she ground her lower body entirely against his again and again, gasping for breath in effort to keep her momentum at such a pace. With a final thrust, she climaxed, and subsequently, Georg did also.

With her head resting on his shoulder again, Maria mused, "I can't help but wonder if we've created a situation for ourselves."

Clutching Maria tightly, Georg chuckled faintly. "You're only wondering now?"

"No," Maria answered. "I wonder that every time we make love. Just that small wonder is enough to be sure the magic will always be there."

"You always were a glutton for punishment, Maria."

Laughter hummed in her throat. "You'll find that that there's a little shed directly adjacent to that door in the corner. Blankets, firewood, and a box of matches, as well as a flint stone and other necessities, are on a shelf in there." She lifted her head and met her husband's gaze. "This is an old school house."

Georg stared. "This isn't… we didn't…?"

"Oh, from time to time there was the odd service in here."

"Maria, where are we?"

Glint in her eye, Maria pointed to the door on the left. "Follow that path for five minutes and you'll end up at Ziegler's Inn. Right where we started."

Georg simply stared, lost for words. And then simply kissed her nose.