Warning: This chapter contains a graphic sexual encounter between two consenting, unmarried adults.

Chapter 85

March 1871 – Boston

Timothy stared at Sylvia, as she buried her face in her hands, trying not to sob, but failing miserably. She couldn't help it. Years of keeping the truth to herself had finally come down to this, and she couldn't look him in the eye.

"Sylvia, you can't mean…" He was at a loss for words. He'd just heard the words he'd never expected to hear, and he had not been prepared for them.

"It's true, Timothy. She's yours. Even my husband knew she wasn't truly his, but for her sake, we raised her together. We gave her a good life." Timothy stood slowly and moved to the window, watching the storm clouds rolling in. His lips were pursed firmly together, but his eyes were damp with tears. He couldn't believe it. A daughter. He had a daughter. A beautiful, blonde-haired, nine-year-old daughter.

"Nine years? You kept it secret for nine years? Even when I asked about her, you told me there was no way she was mine. How could you keep that from me?" Sylvia shook her head. He paced at the window, his hands clenched firmly in his pockets. Sylvia's saddened eyes followed his path.

"You know why! I told you, Timothy," she exclaimed in a hushed whisper. "You wanted to change. You told me you wanted out of that life. I knew I was going to have to go home soon, and you…you were wonderful to me. I wanted you to have a good life, and I didn't want you to be tied down with a wife and a child." Her hands knotted at the sheet, and her eyes pleaded with Timothy, though his gaze didn't look up to match hers.

"I would have gladly taken care of you, Sylvia!" She shook her head.

"My mother knew," she whispered. "She did. She told me that if I wanted to do the right thing, I'd marry as soon as possible, and I did. He was wonderful. I've never known a man to willingly raise another man's child, Timothy. He was…he was a wonderful father." The words cut Timothy deeper than he had expected, and he sucked in a sharp breath.

"Stop it," he insisted, turning from the window. "You lied to me. You kept my…my child away from me!"

"We would have ruined you!" Sylvia insisted, tears flowing from her face, her words no longer hushed. "If I had told you the truth, you wouldn't have gone to seminary school. You'd have continued stealing and gambling to provide for your burdens." Timothy shook his head, running his hand over his tired face.

"Don't you think that was my decision to make?" he asked desperately, stalking over toward her bed and sitting back down in the chair.

"Timothy," she whimpered, "I cared about you too much to let you give up your dreams! Can't you understand?" He took a deep breath.

"I have an almost ten-year-old daughter in there, Sylvia, who is a stranger to me just like I am to her." Sylvia shook her head, lost for words.

"I never meant for it to turn out this way."

"You mean ya never intended for me to find out," he replied. She shook her head desperately.

"It's why I asked you to come. Timothy, I told you I had done terrible things. But this was with good intentions. Even you should be able to see that! If I'd told you the truth, we would be in a completely different place right now…leading absurdly different lives." She swallowed hard. "By marrying my husband and coming to Boston, I was making sure that Gabby would have a bright future. Unfortunately, the last of our money is being spent on medical bills, even though Dr. Burke doesn't like my paying him. He was going to have me as one of his pro-bono patients, but since having Gabby, I swore that I'd never accept charity. It's almost gone, Timothy, and when I'm gone, she'll have nothing."

He heaved a heavy sigh, and he felt like getting up and walking out. But he couldn't do that. He knew in his heart he couldn't leave now. He had a daughter. A daughter! After all of those nights he'd lay in bed thinking about the 'what ifs,' he now had a daughter. His entire life and everything he had believed in had suddenly been turned upside down.

"I never meant to hurt you. I only wanted the best for all of us, Timothy," she offered, sitting up in bed a little. "I can't take it back. I know I can't. I don't expect you to forgive me, but don't let that little girl suffer for my choices." Timothy shook his head.

"This isn't fair. Not to her. Not to…"

"I know," Sylvia explained. "I know that you deserved to know the truth, but you know now, Timothy. I've had nine years with her. If you can…if you do this for me…you could have a lifetime. She's your daughter, Timothy. She…she needs you." Sylvia closed her eyes. "You don't have to forgive me. I've never forgiven myself. But I knew it was the right thing for everyone at the time. You just have to realize that…it's what I felt was right in my heart."

"I don't know what to realize anymore, Sylvia. I need to think." He took a deep breath and stood up.

"Where are you going?" she asked. He shook his head.

"I don't know. I need…I need to think."

"You're coming back, aren't you?" He could hear that she was terrified now. He had to give her some ounce of hope, because she was lying on her deathbed, simply wanting to give her daughter a better life and knowing that he was now her last resort. He couldn't stay angry with her, but he could stay angry at the fact that she had kept his child from him for nearly a decade.

"I'll be back," he assured her before ducking out of the room and heading down the hall, unaware of the little face that poked out from a bedroom door. Her green-blue eyes were filled with tears, and as the front door closed shut, she padded out into the hall and slid down the wall, burying her face in her hands. And she began to sob softly.

Long after Marjorie had left and lunch had been served, eaten, and cleaned up, Michaela stood looking out the window in the parlor, watching the rain sting the cobblestone streets. As thunder boomed overhead, lightning lit up the cloudy sky. Once in a while, she could hear the children running about upstairs, trying to keep themselves entertained, since they couldn't go out into the garden or exploring the busy streets of Boston.

Rebecca had gone to lie down, though Michaela refused to let her out of what they were supposed to speak about that afternoon before Marjorie arrived. She only hoped Rebecca didn't have bad news, though judging by the look in her eyes when she thought about what she had to say, Michaela had determined that it wasn't something bad, but it was something that was causing her to fret anyway.

With a sigh, she gently clicked her fingernails against the windowsill. Her breaths clouded the windows up like fog on a cool October morning, and she frowned, when the lightning flashed again.

Sully stepped into the parlor, seeing her standing at the window with her back to him. He smiled, taking in the sight of her from behind, and he grinned when she shifted her weight from foot to foot anxiously, as if she were a child waiting on Santa Claus at Christmastime.

"Expectin' somebody?" he asked, causing her to startle and turn quickly. She smiled, seeing him standing in the doorway of the parlor. She shook her head, breathing a sigh of relief that her intruder was simply Sully, a welcome distraction from her worries.

"Just you," she said softly, blushing shyly, as he slowly crossed the room. She shook her head, admiring the way he looked in a suit.

"What?"

"Nothing," Michaela giggled, as he pulled his arms around her, pulling her against him. She didn't resist at all, and she relished the feel of his broad chest against hers and his arms securely around her waist.

"Tell me?" he asked, as his lips rested against her forehead for a moment. She breathed him in, becoming intoxicated by his fragrance, shivering as his fingers gently massaged her waist and hips, as he pulled her closer.

"I was just thinking about how handsome you look," she revealed, wrapping her arms around his neck and staring up into his hypnotizing eyes. Sully's lips curled into a smile, and he leaned in, resting his cheek against hers as he whispered into her ear.

"Funny…I was just thinkin' about how beautiful you look when you're frettin'." Michaela pulled back, and she saw the twinkle in his eyes.

"I'm not fretting!" she insisted. Sully raised an eyebrow and tilted her chin up so he could look into her eyes.

"You're forgettin' how well I know ya, Michaela," he pointed out, leaning down to leave a light kiss upon her lips. She sighed softly and looked down.

"Where should I begin?" she asked with a lopsided smile, her eyes twinkling as Sully took her hand in his.

"Well, what's on your mind right now?" he asked. Michaela shrugged, as Sully motioned toward the fireplace. She watched him sit down in front of the burning flames, and he reached out his hand, daring her to join him. She quickly accepted and settled down on the rug, collapsing against him and resting her head on his chest. He gently caressed her back, sighing softly, as the flames cast dancing shadows upon the wall. They both knew they could easily be caught, but neither truly cared.

"I'm concerned about Rebecca," she finally admitted, taking a deep breath and pulling back to look in his eyes. "She has something on her mind, but I haven't the faintest clue. It isn't about Mother, I'm sure. I haven't seen her like this in a while, Sully. She's always been the levelheaded one of the family." She grinned, as a smile played over Sully's lips. "None of this has been easy on her. I know she and the Reverend were at odds when we left home, and she's been worrying about it. I think she was thinking about him the entire way to Boston."

"Could be," Sully said with a nod. "Maybe she just couldn't get him off her mind." He brushed a few strands of hair from Michaela's face, smiling, as her cheek flushed pink against his gentle touch. "It's hard to stop thinkin' 'bout the one ya love…'specially when you're apart." Michaela raised her eyebrows.

"You think they're in love?" Sully shrugged his shoulders.

"Ya saw the way they were together before…" Michaela nodded and thought for a moment.

"I don't want to be the reason they're having problems. I know she's upset with him for not speaking up on our behalf, Sully," Michaela pointed out. Sully quieted her with a kiss, before he pulled back.

"She's your sister, Michaela. She's always gonna stick up for you no matter what."

"I know. You're right, Sully," she said with a nod. "I just want her to be happy."

"Want who to be happy?" Rebecca asked, poking her head into the parlor. She grinned bashfully. "I didn't mean to interrupt." Michaela blushed, and she and Sully stood quickly, though there was nothing that could be hidden judging from the grins on both of their faces, and the way they stood so close together despite just having been caught in such a compromising embrace. "Don't worry. I won't say a word." Michaela smiled and cleared her throat.

"Are you ready to talk, Rebecca?" Rebecca shook her head, her eyes filled with exhaustion and stress.

"I'm very tired tonight, Michaela, but I promise we'll speak tomorrow." Michaela nodded.

"I suppose that would be alright," Michaela replied. "Are you going to bed already?" Rebecca shook her head a little.

"I'd like to lay down for a while. You wouldn't mind putting Mary to bed would you?" Sully and Michaela both shook their heads.

"We'll take care of everything," Sully assured her. "You go on up." Just as Rebecca was about to turn, Michaela called out to her again.

"Oh! Wait!" Rebecca turned and stepped back into the parlor.

"Was there something else, Michaela?" Michaela nodded and picked up their mother's journal from the inn table.

"I want you to read it first," she said softly. "I don't know what it is, but…something tells me you need to read it first." Rebecca frowned a little, and she took the book gingerly into her hands.

"Alright," she said gently. "If you're sure?" Michaela smiled.

"Go on. Perhaps something in that journal will put your mind at ease." Rebecca smiled.

"Who says it isn't?" she asked with a teasing grin. "Thank you, Michaela. I'll get started on this right away, and as soon as I'm finished, it'll be yours to read." Michaela nodded. "Good night."

"Good night, Rebecca."

"Night," Sully offered, as Rebecca left, shutting the parlor doors, as thunder rumbled, and the rain began to pick up outside. Sully turned back to Michaela, and he watched her tremble for a moment.

"Ya okay?" She nodded.

"Yes…I'm just thinking."

"'Bout what?"

"The journal," Michaela answered, slowly biting her bottom lip. Sully frowned and took her hands in his.

"I'm sure it's gonna be alright, Michaela."

"I don't know. The things Marjorie said…"

"Marjorie's real upset right now," Sully pointed out. "Maybe the things she was upset about won't be upsettin' to you."

"Maybe," Michaela wondered, "but I can't shake the feeling that that journal is going to open up some…door…that wasn't supposed to be opened in the first place." Sully shook his head and drew her in close, brining his lips to her ear to whisper softly. Telling her that she worried too much would only make her worry more, so he decided on another approach.

"That's another worry for another day," he assured her. "Right now…" Michaela smiled, as his warm breath made the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end and her heart begin to pound. Those familiar feelings began to course through her veins again, and she heard a squeal of laughter come from upstairs, shattering the moment. Sully leaned his forehead against hers in defeat.

With a smile, she gently pushed him away.

"Right now, Mr. Sully," she explained, "we have children to attend to." She leaned in, giving him a soft kiss upon the lips, lingering there long enough to leave him wanting more. When she pulled back, the flicker in her eyes and the blush on her cheeks gave him promise that tonight, they would continue where they left off.

After having a relaxing bath, it was growing late, and Rebecca settled into bed, exhaustion seeping in, as she pulled the journal into her lap. She smiled, gently running her fingers over the leather binding, her eyes filling with tears at the thought of reading her mother's most private thoughts. But she'd wanted her to read it, so this was what she was going to do.

Slowly, she opened up the cover, seeing the words inscribed on the dedication.

For my girls. It's time you knew the kind of woman your mother truly was.

Those words made her shiver. What kind of a dedication was that, anyway? It was something that made Rebecca wonder if her mother's past held more than what they'd thought.

When she flipped open to the first page, she smelled the familiar scent of her mother's perfume waft off of the pages. It filled her heart with so many memories—good and bad—and she took a deep breath, ready to relive the childhood she remembered so well. She was ready to delve into the mysteries of her mother's heart and soul, and she wasn't certain what she would find. Perhaps she would find answers that would help her be a better mother. Perhaps she would find what she needed to help her figure out how to deal with Timothy.

Taking a deep breath and shaking her head, she settled down under her covers and listened to the crackling of the fire in her hearth. Then she began to read.

"Good night, sweetheart," Michaela said, as Mary giggled, kicking her feet under the covers.

"Good night, Aunt Michaela," the little girl said with a mighty yawn. "What time is it?"

"It's well past eight," she replied mildly. Mary frowned, and Michaela pushed the hair away from her face.

"Aunt Michaela?"

"Yes, Mary?"

"Is eight o'clock a good hour for ghosts to come out?" Michaela sat up a little, surprised at the little girl's questions. She shook her head.

"Well, if there were such things as ghosts, I don't think they'd dare bother a little girl as pretty as you." Mary grinned, and Michaela kissed her forehead. "Sweet dreams."

"Good night," Mary said softly. Michaela grinned and got up, walking across the room and shutting the door quietly behind her. Just then, Sully walked out of Johnny's room, shutting the door slowly behind him.

"I'd like to say goodnight to Johnny," Michaela said softly.

"No need," Sully chuckled. "He was practically out 'fore his head hit the pillow." Michaela grinned. "Guess he's just as tired as I am." Michaela raised an eyebrow.

"You're tired, Sully?" she asked. When he didn't respond, she grinned. "Well, if you're that tired, you should probably go to bed. I don't want you exhausting yourself since we have to—" but before she could finish her sentence, he pulled her to him in a burning kiss, taking her breath away. She quickly pressed her body against his, feeling his heart beating wildly in his chest, matching the rhythm of her own. And when he pulled back to breathe, Michaela ran her fingers across his cheek and his stubble-covered chin.

"Now that you mention it, I'm rather tired myself," she giggled, as he pulled her close, claiming her lips in another need-filled kiss. Hearing a noise from one of the children's rooms, they quickly parted, and Michaela's cheeks flushed. "Nine o'clock," she whispered. Sully's breath caught in his chest at her words. "I want to be certain the children are sleeping." Knowing those children, within an hour, they would be in a deep sleep, and not even an earthquake could wake them. Sully's lips were slightly swollen from that kiss, and as he looked at the hall clock, he wondered if he could wait fifty-six more minutes. But before he had the chance to answer her or find out who was supposed to come to whom, Michaela was slipping into her bedroom and closing the door firmly in place behind her.

He sighed heavily and retreated to his room to prepare for bed.

Several minutes passed, and Mary sat up in bed, squinting into the darkness. She slowly peeled back the covers and frowned. With a heavy yawn, she pulled her robe on, tying it snugly around her tiny frame, and she pulled on her slippers.

Listening for signs of life from anywhere down the hall, she smiled at the silence and crept over to the door that connected her room with Johnny's. After a soft tap, she heard him scurrying about the room, trying to be quiet. She stepped back and waited.

Finally, the door opened, and he came out in his pajamas and no robe.

"Aren't you cold?" she asked.

"Nah. C'mon."

"But the attic's cold," Mary pointed out. "You could get sick." Johnny sighed heavily and decided to stop Mary from fretting. So, he pulled his robe off of the back of the door and grabbed his lantern. He motioned for her to get hers, and after she did, they found the matches and crept out into the hall.

All rooms were dark now except for her mother's at the end of the hall, and Mary nodded to Johnny. She was certain it was safe to go, but she put her finger to her lips to indicate that they still needed to be silent. So, silently they crept through the dark with their cold lanterns, and when they reached the end of the hall, they took the creaky steps upward, trying to avoid as much noise as possible. When they reached their destination, Mary's hand gently turned the knob to the old attic door. She looked back and Johnny, and he nodded to her, urging her forward.

They slipped inside, closing the door behind them and quickly lighting their lanterns. It was so cold they could see their breaths, and Mary shivered.

"You warm enough?" Johnny wondered. She only nodded, more concerned about his warmth than her own.

"Let's explore some more," she offered.

"I thought ya wanted to wait for the ghost," Johnny teased. She rolled her eyes.

"We can still look around while we're waiting, Johnny," she pointed out, matter-of-factly. Johnny grinned, and he nodded. They decided to stick together so they wouldn't cover anything twice, and the first thing Mary spotted was a crate wedged underneath an old china cabinet. It was dusted with age, and it seemed to be hidden away like a dirty secret.

"Wonder what that is," Johnny said with a frown, kneeling down to try to wedge it out from under the old furniture.

"Be careful, Johnny!" she hissed, noticing the old cabinet's instability.

"I'm always careful," he promised. Mary giggled, as he continued to struggle with the crate.

"Don't be so loud," she warned. Johnny mumbled something about the Cheyenne being able to stay completely silent, but before he could finish, the crate came sliding out from under the china cabinet. Mary quickly moved to her knees to take the cover off the crate. Johnny helped her, and when the lid was finally resting on the floor, they looked down into it, surprised with their findings.

"Baby clothes," Mary said softly, with a hint of disappointment in her voice.

"They look like boy's clothes," Johnny said matter-of-factly. "But ya never know. Some of these fancy clothes here in Boston look like girl's clothes even when they ain't." Mary made a face at him but took one of the garments from the box. Underneath the clothes were a few toys.

"Well, didn't Aunt Michaela said they expected her to be a boy?" Mary asked. Johnny nodded.

"Yeah. I bet that's why they got all these boy clothes up here. They probably stored 'em up here when they found out she was a girl." Mary nodded.

"Too bad there's no way people can find out what the baby is before it's born. It would be easier!" Johnny nodded in agreement. Mary pulled a soft, white blanket out of the crate, and she frowned. "Who's Robert?"

"What?"

"It's embroidered…right here. Robert Quinn." Johnny frowned.

"You got any Roberts in your family?" Mary shook her head.

"I don't think so. I could ask Mother tomorrow, but I've never heard of a Robert Quinn." Her tongue jutted out to stick from the corner of her mouth, and Johnny delved back into the box, pulling out a few toys. "Maybe that was going to be Aunt Michaela's name."

"Nah, she was gonna be Michael," Johnny said with a shrug. "Well, whoever he was, he sure has a lot of toys he's missin'." Mary grinned, and her gaze fell upon something wedged in the side of the crate. Frowning, she gently tugged it out, and it was an envelope. "What's in it?"

"I don't know," Mary said softly, turning it over in her hands. Her eyes went wide. "It has my mother's name on it!"

"Let me see." Johnny took the envelope from her hands and examined it.

"Maybe we should read it," he suggested.

"No!" she exclaimed, yanking it back into her own hands. "It's not ours!"

"But it's been up here for years. Your ma probably already read it."

"But that doesn't mean it's our business, Johnny!" she scolded. She shook her head. "Maybe I should give this to her."

"Why?"

"'Cause it's hers!" Mary pointed out, rolling her eyes. Johnny shrugged.

"I guess you're right. Still don't see what's so private about a letter that's probably been up here for years." Mary looked at the back of the envelope.

"The seal isn't broken."

"Maybe it just stuck like that after all these years. I've seen it happen with envelopes in boxes at my Grandpa's," Johnny pointed out, fondly remembering going through some of Loren's old picture boxes long before he ever grew sick.

"I'll give it to Mother tomorrow morning," she said with a definite nod. She placed the envelope upon a flat rail and continued searching through other boxes. After a little while, Mary looked around. "I don't think there are any ghosts up here." Johnny rolled his eyes.

"Told ya," he laughed. "There's no such thing as ghosts." Mary shrugged her shoulders.

"Maybe we just don't have them here," she pointed out. A loud breeze whistled through the wall vents, and Mary jumped. "We should go back down to bed." Johnny grinned and nodded his head.

"Sounds like a good idea to me." With that, they grabbed their lanterns and hurried downstairs, completely forgetting the envelope that had Rebecca's name scrawled across the front.

Her eyes scanned over the words before her, and her heart skipped a beat. She gasped, putting her hand to her mouth, as tears came to her eyes.

"No," she breathed, feeling as if the air was being constricted from her lungs. Her chest tightened, and she swallowed hard. Her hands began to tremble, and the book fell into her lap. She closed her eyes. Perhaps she was dreaming. She was exhausted. Maybe she had misread the words.

From the first night, I felt such guilt clutching at my heart. I would be lying to my children forever about their real father. I didn't know how I could ever face them as adults and see their father in their eyes, while they had another man in mind in that role. But when I looked into my little Rebecca's eyes, I saw such strength, courage, and life there that I knew that I had made the right decision. My union with Josef was going to take her places. Perhaps they wouldn't be the places she had expected all of her life, but she would be happy. I would raise her and her brother to be good people, just as Stephen would have wanted, but Josef would be their father. There was no turning back.

I was surprised at how few people turned their noses up at me for not mourning Stephen's death the proper amount of time. But then again, my family didn't particularly enjoy talking about that marriage, so very few people knew to begin with. Marry Josef so soon after Stephen's passing broke my heart, but I knew that in time, I would learn to accept it, and we would learn to live together as husband and wife.

She shook her head. A twin brother who died? A different father? How could this be? How was she supposed to accept such a horrible truth?

Tears flooded forth, and she shook her head. This wasn't happening. She couldn't believe it. All of these years? All of these years had been a lie. Her entire life could have turned out differently.

She roughly closed the book and tossed it to the end of her bed. She couldn't think. She couldn't breathe. She didn't know how to react, but the only thing that she could do was cry.

Sully sat up in bed for the sixth time in ten minutes, thinking he'd heard something in the hall. But the only noise was that from the clock, and it was five minutes 'til nine. What was he supposed to do? He was afraid that if he didn't go to her, she'd be upset, but if he went, she would be on her way, and they'd startle one another, causing a commotion. Either way didn't seem good enough, so he pulled himself out of bed and started a fire in the hearth, causing the cold room to begin to warm quickly.

He stood there, staring into the glowing flames, listening to the minutes tick away. He found that his hands were beginning to perspire, and he quickly wiped them on his pant legs. He wore a pair of pants that Martha had fixed up for him. They weren't uncomfortable at all, and they were easy to sleep in. However, he still wasn't quite accustomed to the Boston garb, and he preferred to dress in his own clothes. But, he knew it made things easier for everyone, and it was only a small price to pay to make sure Michaela didn't have to explain him to people. He didn't mind the stares, but he didn't want to give anybody more ammunition to throw insults Michaela's way.

With a frown, he moved to the window and pressed his hand against the glass. He could feel the coolness of the night brushing up against the glass, begging for entrance into the quickly warming room. He shivered, every nerve in his body on edge as he waited.

Out in the hall, Michaela's breath caught, and she stared at Sully's door, seeing the faint glow of a fire burning in the hearth along the crack under his door. She bit her bottom lip nervously. Should she go to him or wait for him to come to her? She didn't want to be terribly bold, but then again, he'd always assured her that he didn't mind. Each time she'd dared to be bold with him, it had made their time together so much more passionate.

She gently traced her fingers over a pattern on her white nightgown, feeling the swell of her belly under her hand. She shivered, the sleeveless gown clinging to her form. She felt a bit embarrassed coming to him in this way, but then again, she had to remind herself that this wasn't the first time she'd acted boldly with him. Initiating their passion was much more difficult than she had ever imagined, because she was always afraid of going too far for his liking or making him wonder what he even saw in her. She knew those were pointless worries that she would never have to see made reality, but they were still there in the back of her mind.

She swallowed hard, knowing she needed to put Boston's rules of propriety a million miles away from her current thoughts and focus on the present…on her and Sully.

After taking a deep breath, Michaela reached out and slowly turned the knob to Sully's door. She held her breath, pushing the door open gently, hoping he hadn't already fallen asleep. She smiled, seeing him standing at the window, his body bathed in moon and firelight. Trembling, she let herself in and slowly closed the door, being careful not to make a sound.

She felt the warmth of the room surround her, and she relaxed, her bare feet slowly sliding against the floor. She saw him freeze for a moment, and she knew he knew she was there. But she continued to creep up behind him. As she eased toward him, she could hear his breath quicken, and she smiled, finally reaching her destination and wrapping her arms around his waist, leaning her head against his back.

"Nine o'clock," he breathed, his hands finding hers and holding them for a moment, feeling her heart beat against his back. He smiled, as her hands moved from his and gently moved up his chest, stroking him. His bare chest immediately felt aflame, as her fingertips scorched him just enough to leave him needing more of her touch.

She could see the passion ignite in his eyes, and in their silence, she could hear the familiar rhythm of his heart, as her head lay against his back. He closed his eyes, his body reacting to every touch. It was all he could do to stop from turning around and pulling her into his arms.

Boldly, she pressed a kiss to his back, causing him to suck in a breath, holding it, as she continued to kiss him, and her hands moved lower. When he couldn't take it any longer, he turned, and her hands moved up his chest, as her eyes stared deeply into his.

"I'm right on time?" she asked. He nodded, grinning down at her and gently running his fingers through her long, soft hair, as she bit her bottom lip in anticipation.

"Kids asleep?"

"I didn't hear a peep from either of them," she replied, relief flooding through both of them. He bent down to kiss her before pulling back again for a moment.

"What about Rebecca?" he asked, as she leaned forward, pressing a kiss to his chest and then tracing her finger over the spot she'd just kissed. She could feel his skin react again, and she smiled, looking up at him. Seeing the desire in his eyes warmed her heart and caused her own desire to rise.

"She's down the hall, and I just saw her light go out." Sully had never seen Michaela quite like this before, but when he gazed into her eyes, he knew that things were changing, and they were growing more accustomed to being like this with one another. He could still see the blush in her cheeks, and he smiled, tracing his thumb along her jaw, as she tilted her head back and let him bring his lips to hers in a soft kiss. She moaned softly, opening up to him immediately, letting the kiss deepen. His hands rounded her shoulders, and she sighed softly, disappointed when he pulled back again.

"The door," Sully mumbled, running his hands down her shoulders and pulling her close against his body. He felt her shudder, and he smiled, caressing her back.

"It's a good thing Mother had locks installed," she giggled, as his lips found her neck, causing her to close her eyes and moan softly. He could feel her body reacting now, and he smiled, pulling her closer and drawing her gown up, revealing her bare thigh. Michaela flushed, as she lifted her arms, letting him lift her gown off of her. Her eyes stared into his, as she exposed her body to him, and the gown easily floated to the floor like a feather.

Michaela instantly shivered, but she snaked her arms around his neck, standing on her tiptoes to kiss him, feeling his lips move over hers lovingly. She smiled against his lips, when his hand moved down her body, sending a trail of chills down her spine. Her hands moved to the waistband of his pants, and his hands covered hers. He noticed her starting to tremble again.

"You cold?" he asked. She didn't answer, as she helped him slip out of his pants. "Michaela?" She nodded her head.

"A little." She started to cross her arms across her chest, but he stopped her, pulling her in again and walking her backward toward the fireplace. Michaela grinned, and she jumped with surprise, when her back gently hit the wall by the mantle. She moaned softly, as his tongue begged for entrance into her mouth, and she opened up to him, shivering, as their kiss deepened. She could feel his desire growing by the second, and her hands gently moved down his body and toward his hips, slowly rubbing circles there, as his arms held her close.

"Better?" he asked, as his mouth trailed wet kisses down her neck and toward her breasts. She arched her back, bringing her fingers to tangle in his hair, when his mouth enclosed over her nipple. She gasped and smiled a little.

"Much," she whispered. Before she could speak again, he picked her up into his arms, holding her close. He knelt down in front of the fireplace with her in his arms. Michaela moaned softly, as the warmth of the fire hit her back, and Sully lay her down, crawling over her and placing kisses from her throat to her belly. She grinned, as his stubble tickled her, and she giggled.

"Ya laughin' at me?" he asked slowly, his hand trailing up her thigh, causing her to squirm and blush at the same time.

"Of course not, Mr. Sully. I would never laugh at you," she grinned. Her fingers traced the outline of his lips, and he kissed her fingertips, causing her to sigh softly, feeling more content than she had in a while.

"Uh huh," he said, pretending to be unconvinced. She smiled, as he dipped down to kiss her belly, and she sighed, closing her eyes and arching back again.

"You don't believe me?" she asked, as his hands gripped her hips to steady them. When he looked up into her eyes, he chuckled and shook his head.

"Sure I do," he replied. "Why wouldn't I, Dr. Quinn?" She raised an eyebrow.

"Don't call me that. It sounds like you're speaking to my father," she laughed. Sully laughed a little, and he laced his fingers with hers.

"My mistake." All of this time, his lips had been lingering dangerously close to hers, and she finally leaned up, crushing her mouth against his and pulling him down over her. Their kisses grew urgent, and Michaela felt her heart beating so fast that she felt that at any second it might stop forever. But she didn't mind.

Sully groaned, as her hand brushed against his lower abdomen, causing his hips to jump forward in response. He settled between her legs, letting her legs hook around his, and he looked into her eyes, seeing such pure love and devotion that his heart skipped a beat.

Kisses and labored breaths turned to sensuous strokes and whispers of longing, and finally they joined together, their passion and love for one another bringing them over wave after wave. For an instant, they cried out together, and they came crashing down together, holding each other until time started again.

Michaela smiled in his arms, as he held her body against his, not willing to let her go just yet. She kissed his chest, running her fingers over his nipple and then down further before moving that torturous journey North again, knowing that in this moment, she could touch him, and only they would know. Outside of those doors was a different story. They had a lifetime of battles to fight, but when they were together, it seemed as if all was well with the world. This was natural.

"Think it'll always be like this?" Sully asked quietly, playing with a strand of her hair. Michaela turned in his arms, running her hand across his bicep.

"There's no way of knowing that, Sully," she reminded him, kissing his chin and then his soft lips. "I wish we knew for certain, but…I'm not going anywhere." He shook his head.

"Me either," he swore. "Just a couple more months, and we'll be married." He took her hand in his, running his thumb carefully over her engagement ring. "Can't wait to make ya my wife." She smiled, as he kissed her shoulder, gently nipping at it with his teeth.

He smiled down at her, as she lay back on the floor, and she blushed, as his eyes roamed over her body.

"Sully," she blushed.

"Hmm?"

"I…" He knew she was embarrassed by her expanding figure.

"You're beautiful," he assured her. His hand gently brushed across her breast, and she shook her head. Her new figure was obviously pleasing to Sully, but she was still apprehensive. As her body changed, she simply appreciated still seeing the desire in his eyes when he looked at her. She knew that wouldn't change, but it was nice to be reminded of how much he wanted her.

"You may not think so a few months from now." He shook his head.

"We already talked about it, Michaela. Ya know I'm gonna love ya no matter what. You're still gonna be the most beautiful woman I ever saw." He kissed her softly to assure her, and she smiled against his lips, wanting to stay there forever.

But before either of them could speak again, a scream from down the hall sounded, and they both got up quickly, pulling on their clothes and rushing to the door. Michaela was the first to leave, and when she nodded to Sully, he followed behind her. Michaela moved toward Mary's room, running her fingers through her hair, and when Rebecca poked her head out of her daughter's room, she smiled weakly. Michaela saw a sadness there that hadn't been there before.

"I…I'm sorry if she woke you, Michaela." She noticed Sully and smiled. "Mary had a nightmare…something about ghosts."

"Is she alright? Should I get her something?" Michaela asked worriedly. Rebecca shook her head, her eyes slightly bloodshot. Had she been crying?

"No, that's alright. Go back to bed." Michaela smiled awkwardly, wanting to ask her sister what was wrong, but Rebecca quickly disappeared back into the room. Deciding that she'd speak with Rebecca in the morning, Michaela turned back to Sully. Hand-in-hand, Michaela and Sully started back down the hall, and when they reached Michaela's door, she turned toward him, smiling sheepishly.

"We had better get some sleep," she said quietly. She wanted to stay with him all night, but they both knew that probably wasn't the best idea. So, Sully reluctantly nodded his head, trying to hide his disappointment.

"Yeah. You're right," he replied. He brought her hand to his lips and kissed her there. She smiled and closed her eyes, relishing the moment. Finally, he leaned in, gently touching her chin and kissing her lovingly before letting go of her and watching her walk into her room. Before she closed her door, she flashed him a smile and whispered goodnight.

"Night," he answered, watching the door shut, before he slowly retreated back into his room.