A/N: As always, thank you for the comments. You guys are the real stars here.

A/N2:Also I got the day off because of the snow storm so here's a long chapter for you!

The next morning, Darcy woke in better spirits. Today, Bucky and Steve would return to her father's holding and let her be for the rest of the summer. Without them constantly trying to change her mind, perhaps she would able to think a little more clearly. Stretching and yawning, she snuggled into the blankets, closing her eyes and thinking on all the things she would do in the next few months. In a little over a week, they would attend a market a few villages away. She always accompanied grandmother to sell herbs and healing tonics. It was also fun to see what all the other vendors had to offer. Within the next week, Darcy would help her grandmother collect herbs in the forest. It was a job that Darcy enjoyed.

With that to look forward to, Darcy got up and changed into a kirtle she kept at grandmother's. Darcy fell asleep wearing the one she had traveled in. Although it was the plainest one she owned from home, it was rather lavish for these small villages and drew attention she didn't want. Picking out an olive kirtle that laced in the front, Darcy felt a little more at ease. In this, no one else really questioned her presence. She could go about her day without being harangued. Given that she intended to wander through the forests, she probably wouldn't be bothered much to begin with. It suited her just fine.

When she walked out into the house's main space, she found Bucky and Steve sitting with half finished bowls of porridge. Grandmother sat by the hearth, stirring a pot and humming. At her appearance, both men looked up, their faces marred by guilt and relief. It pacified her somewhat.

"You had a good night's sleep, I take it," grandmother asked with a kind smile, waiting for Darcy to kiss her on the cheek in greeting. Once Darcy did so, grandmother handed her a bowl of porridge. Since she had no choice, she sat next to Bucky at the table.

"It was decent enough," Darcy said, mouth already full. The night had been full of dreams. Generally pleasant but she didn't remember many details. Still, she remembered enough to cause her face to heat. The blacksmith had certainly made an appearance but Darcy wouldn't admit that out loud. She reached over and plucked a few currants from the middle of the table and hummed at their sweetness. Taking a small handful of them, she dropped them into her porridge.

"Darcy," Steve began tentatively, waiting for Darcy's eyes to slowly move towards him. "I want to apologize for last night. It was never my intention to upset you."

"What was your intention?" Darcy asked and noticed his skin grow just a tad paler.

"He simply wanted you to consider your options. All of them," Bucky intervened and Darcy's narrowed eyes moved from one man to the other.

"Come now, it is silly to repeat this," grandmother said, slowly standing up and walking towards the table. Her hands sat on her hips and she sent reprimanding glares to everyone, causing all the occupants at the table to shift and look away. "These two men have a long morning of travel and Darcy needs to collect more herbs for me. Let us all end on pleasant terms. We all care for one another and that is what is most important."

"You are right, Lady Banner," Steve nodded enthusiastically and grandmother's eyes twinkled at the high title bestowed onto her. "I will miss your stories and sage words."

"And you are a charmer when it suits you," grandmother laughed.

"He's only a charmer by accident. Believe me, he doesn't have a poetic bone in his body," Bucky chuckled, scooping up the last bit of food in his bowl then standing up. "I shall finish saddling the horses and we will soon be on our way. I would hate to overstay our welcome."

"You are always welcome here," Darcy sighed, unable to hold her grudge much longer. While she was still irritated with the two men, she still cared for them like brothers. Besides, their sad, pitiful faces were difficult to stay angry with.

"I am glad to hear it," Bucky smiled, reaching out to ruffle the top of Darcy's head. She swatted him away because her already tangled hair did not need much help to look chaotic.

"Oh, save that for the horses," Darcy huffed, digging into her porridge once her coif was safe. Within the half hour, both men were ready to ride and Darcy found herself a little sad at their departure. She watched the men check their mounts one last time. Grandmother reappeared from the house with a bundle of food. As she explained the contents to Steve, Bucky pulled Darcy aside.

"You know that I only wish for the best for you," Bucky started sincerely and Darcy did her best not to roll her eyes. It didn't escape him. "Whether or not you believe that marriage to Boothby is the best or not. I trust that you have a good enough head on your shoulders to make the right decision. Also, I am aware that marriage may not be the best path for you."

"Really?" Darcy asked, standing up straighter as her eyes widened. She allowed herself to feel just an ounce of hope.

"Yes," nodded Bucky. "As you know, I have a younger sister. She should be just about your age, actually."

"You've told stories before. She lives a few days ride from my father, yes?"

"Just recently married to a kind young man, relatively well off. I am sure the town could use another healer or even simply a companion to my sister," Bucky explained and Darcy practically hopped up with excitement. Raising a hand, he willed her to keep calm. "It is not certain for now. Please just consider what you truly want for your future. Peggy wishes to visit you in a month's time and I can escort her. We will discuss it further then."

"Thank you," Darcy swore, wrapping her arms around his waist for a tight hug. "You know, I always saw you as a brother. More so than little Godfrey."

"Come now, Godfrey adores you. And you him."

That brought a bit of guilt pooling in Darcy's stomach. Godfrey was 13 but still a sweet little boy at heart. He was always getting into scrapes then running to Darcy to offer a hug and tell her all about his adventures. Despite father reprimanding the boy for his 'tender' disposition or Darcy's unladylike behavior, Godfrey always snuck off to try and drag Darcy onto their own little adventures. In fact, she was quite sure she'd be getting letters from him throughout the summer and he'd be begging their father to let him visit. "Yes but father hardly ever lets me near him now. I think he believes I will corrupt him."

"I do not blame him," chuckled Bucky, pulling away from Darcy's grip. He stepped back and pulled out a dagger from his waist belt. "Here, I want you to have this. Keep it with you always when you leave the cottage."

"I will be perfectly safe-" Darcy insisted but Bucky cut her off with a sharp shake of his head.

"The worst you can let happen is to fall into security and then face danger unprepared."

"Is this because of that blacksmith? I assure you, I have no intention of getting near him," Darcy insisted even if she knew the words weren't completely true. Well, they were the exact opposite of what she intended. When she woke up this morning, she'd decided to not let the surly man bring her down. In fact, she would annoy him more just to get back at him. There was nothing more than that, especially not the fact that she'd woken up flushed after dreams of amber eyes and rumbling voices.

The raised eyebrow from Bucky showed that he clearly did not believe her. "Really? What about the stares the two of you were sharing yesterday?"

"Well, things have changed and I've decided he's even worse than Sir Renauld," Darcy said haughtily.

"Sir Renauld? What has he ever done to you?" Bucky frowned and Darcy forgot that she'd never told him about the advances of Sir Renauld.

"Nothing and nor will Brock," stated Darcy, tone not leaving any room for argument. Although Bucky let it go, his eyes were narrowed and his brow furrowed. Certainly, he'd have a talk with Sir Renauld once he returned to the keep. To distract him again, Darcy took the dagger from Bucky and examined it. The blade was the length of her hand with a round dark wooden handle, carved with the design of a twisting branch. Both the silver pommel and crossguard were small and circular. The blade itself was small and thinned to a sharp point at the end. Small and easily hidden up a sleeve if she needed it.

"I promise to keep it with me at all times," Darcy said and tension eased from Bucky's shoulders. "If anything, I can use it to cut herbs while I have my adventures."

"At least it will be put to use, I suppose," sighed Bucky, not at all impressed that the trusty weapon once used to maim enemies was now a gardening tool. To ease his annoyance, Darcy wrapped her arms around him again for another tight hug. He leaned into it, body relaxing and he held her in his arms.

"Where is my hug?" Steve called out, breaking the two out of their tender moment.

"You don't get one," Bucky replied, causing Darcy to giggle. Tucking her dagger into the belt at her waist, she ran over to Steve and jumped into his arms. He caught her but let out a sharp exhalation when her knee accidentally jabbed him.

"Stay out of trouble," Steve pleaded.

"You never stay out of trouble. How can you ask others to?" Darcy pointed out and Steve huffed.

"Then don't get into too much trouble. And I am sorry for upsetting you. I promise, we will find an answer that makes both parties pleased," promised Steve and although Darcy wasn't sure there was one, she decided she would be better off letting Steve believe that he had some ability to solve it. It was better to be in the hands of Sir Steven Rogers and Sir Bucky Barnes than to be in her father's hands, Darcy was certain. If given the opportunity, Steve and Bucky would be able to come up with a solution. She felt foolish to ever think Steve would ever betray her. But just to be safe, Darcy would have to write letters to Jane and Peggy. They may have ideas that were a little more sly. Steve often took the blunder-headed approach and ran towards danger without a second thought. Normally effective in battle but it may cause more trouble than needed in this situation.

As Darcy watched the two knights ride off, she felt a little more at ease. It was only the beginning of her visit and if she truly needed it, there were resources she could tap into. Still, she would only do so if she were in dire need of help. Darcy was determined to figure this out herself. It was her future and no matter what, she would have to displease her father. She might as well take most of his anger instead of involving anyone else.

The next few days, Darcy lived in absolute paradise, dancing through the forests, napping in fields and pampering her horse. She walked through the forest, finding herbs and mushrooms and flowers. All she placed in her basket so that she could make salves, poultices, healing draughts and soaps for the market. Out of amusement and to not break her word to Bucky, she kept his gifted dagger at the bottom of the basket but she only ever used it to occasionally cut the roots off whatever plants she found. It was a simple life but she truly enjoyed it. Grandmother had a rather calming way about her that always made the world feel like a wonderful place and that no bad could happen. When she was at her father's holding, she would need to sneak and scheme in order to live as she wished. Even if her father wasn't paying much attention to her these days (unless it was to ensure she was still capable of selling off), he'd made sure that she was surrounded by constricting ladies companions or chaperones that ensured she lived 'life as expected for a baron's daughter'.

It was horrid. Although her sisters had always encouraged Darcy's 'eccentricities', they were no longer living at the holding. Only on visits now did Darcy see them but they wrote one another dutifully. Jane was the one to suggest to Darcy that she should become a healer in an effort to stave off an unwanted marriage. So, Darcy was planning to put herself wholeheartedly into learning more from Grandmother this summer.

During one of these lessons of how to best dry and air herbs, Darcy was enjoying the earthy smell permeating the cottage. While Darcy knew most of the names from summers spent with her grandparents, she sometimes had trouble remembering what the useful ones were best used for. Knowing all the uses of yarrow was different from simply knowing what plants were edible or not. So far, they'd gone over the best for fevers and aches. She was doing passable and was determined to do better. Still, as she tied bundles of herbs to the hooks hanging down from the rafters, Darcy's mind began to wander.

"Grandmother, what do you know of the blacksmith?" asked Darcy, doing her best to sound uninterested. Earlier that day, Darcy had walked past his cottage but it had been boarded up. She'd been saddened by the prospect that he'd decided to leave but his tools were still outside and she thought she heard shuffling behind the door. It was more likely that he was just avoiding her but she'd been put to ease knowing that he'd not disappeared without a farewell. On the rest of the walk back to her grandmother's, Darcy scolded herself at her tender feelings over a man she shouldn't care a wit about.

"I'm afraid I know very little. Why the curiosity? Should I be sending a letter requesting the return of your knights. They did tell me that if I ever thought you were in danger by the gentleman, I should send word straight away," grandmother said with a mischievous smile. Setting Darcy with her ever warm eyes, she waited for the inevitable chagrined reaction. Which was a scoff.

"Did they now?" Darcy wrinkled her nose in disgust. She could take care of herself. "Surely those two toads have better things to do."

"Come now, they worry for you like brothers should," said grandmother, gathering fresh peppermint leaves and tossing them into a small, palm sized pouch she'd been preparing. From what Darcy could tell, she'd ground dried yarrow, boneset and skullcap before scooping it up into the pouch. Most of the ingredients were for fever and pain but she wasn't sure what use the skullcap held. In the back of her mind, she recalled the healer visiting her father's keep and asking for the herb to aid a maid who had fallen into hysterics.

"Overbearing brothers," Darcy said after a pause, trying to peek at what else grandmother was going to add into her concoction. It was tied off before she could get a good look.

"Sometimes, those are the most caring kind."

"You know, you never told me what you know of the blacksmith," Darcy pointed out as grandmother walked to her locked trunk. It was an ornate piece with painted scenes of love and battles that were now fading. According to grandmother, it was the only thing she had left from France. It also housed her most dangerous herbs and mixes. Taking out the key hidden underneath her apron, grandmother unlocked the trunk but used her body to block what she was searching for from Darcy's view. Darcy had never actually been allowed to see what was inside the trunk. Though she remembered seeing a flash of metal and heard chainmail once many years ago.

"He's a misunderstood man but appreciates the old ways. Been through difficulty and pain enough for a lifetime. Searching for his purpose, as you are," said grandmother, still riffling around the trunk. Once she was finished, she stood up, closed and locked the trunk before turning towards Darcy with another small pouch in her palm. "Though, I fear he is quite content to ignore it, even if it stops right in front of him."

"That really doesn't tell me much," Darcy pouted but then raised her brow when grandmother placed both pouches into Darcy's hands.

"Perhaps when he is feeling better, he will tell you himself. He shall not harm you, that I am certain. Fear not on that though I doubt you ever did. But, I have the feeling your Knights' concern is misplaced and they should be worried about you putting the poor blacksmith in danger," grandmother said with a wink.

"And how would I do that?" asked Darcy, lifting the mystery pouch to her nose and taking a sniff. It was very light, almost as if nothing was in it but she could just catch an earthy, green scent. It didn't tell her much.

"You're a mischievous little sprite and he is quite content with a boring, simple life. You could wreak complete havoc on him," grandmother said, eyes twinkling with plans that she'd very likely never tell Darcy of. "Much like I did to your grandfather. Now go take this to the blacksmith. The herbs should be mixed with hot water and let to cool until tepid. One thumbs worth. He can chew on the fresh peppermint if he so wishes. No more than three glasses in a day's time."

"And the...whatever this is?" Darcy asked while trying to undo the knot on the second pouch but got a sharp pinch to her side for her troubles. "Ow!"

"That, he can have if the tea doesn't work. Last resort. Crush half a leaf in warm water and swallow. No more than one full leaf a month and he is not getting any more from me than this."

"What is it? And why only once a month?"

"That is a lesson you will learn another day," grandmother said with finality before turning back to the hearth where she was preparing a mixture of soap. "Now off with you and any more questions you can ask him."

With that, grandmother turned her attention back to the soap, humming a warm tune and sniffing various flowers and herbs as she decided on combinations. Obviously, if there was anything else that Darcy wanted to know, she'd have to badger it out of Brock. Easy enough, Darcy supposed, as she walked out of her grandmother's home. When she was out of sight, she opened the pouch that she wasn't meant to know the contents of. In the end, it was a bit of a let down. Darcy's shoulders slumped as she took in 5 dried leaves. Each was about the length of her little finger and had the shape of fern leaves. Since she didn't remember what it was, she would have to commit the leaves to memory and search for it on her own. Slumping her shoulders, Darcy tied the string in a pretty bow and continued on her way.

Soon enough, she was knocking quite incessantly on Brock's door. The first couple of neat knocks earned her nothing but silence. A few more got her a grunt that sounded like a command to leave. Instead of listening, she kept knocking until after a snarl, the door swung open. At the sight before her, Darcy took a step back. Brock's hair was lank and damp, a mixture of feral anger and pain within his eyes. Face unshaven for enough days that a beard now grew. He only wore braies. A sheen of sweat covered any bit of pale skin she saw peeking through the hairs of his large chest. Brock's arms and shoulders were taut as he took in deep breaths. She could see each of his defined muscles move and shift under his skin.

One of his hands clamped on the edge of the door threatened to crack the wood as Brock's brow furrowed. His eyes searched her and it was almost as if he were trying to remember who she was. Taking a deep inhale of air through his nose, Brock held it in his chest. It took a moment before his shoulders eased and he let out a long exhale. The anger eased from his face, softening the harsh lines with contrition. A little bit of color bloomed on his chiseled cheeks.

"What are you doing here?" Brock asked, irritated voice rough as sand but he tried to force it down to only a mildly vexed tone. Letting go of the door, he dropped his hands to his sides and they clenched into fists. Although Darcy knew he was a fearsome sight to behold, she couldn't help but feel comforted by her grandmother's words: Brock would never harm her. Holding out the two pouches, Darcy waited but Brock's eyebrow only rose in question.

"It's from my grandmother," Darcy stated, repeating the instructions. With a single nod, Brock unclenched his hands and gently took the two pouches, doing his best to not touch her skin with slow, calculated movements. A slew of questions flew to the tip of Darcy's tongue but she held herself back. It didn't seem the best time to bother a man who was obviously on the edge of his own control. As curious as Darcy was to see what exactly would be unleashed, she decided that Brock would probably regret whatever he did and didn't want to spend the rest of the summer reaping whatever the outcome would bring. Not quite yet, at least, a small voice in the back of her head whispered. A shiver ran down Darcy's spine at the thought and she looked away, shaking off the flutter in her stomach. What sounded like a whine escaped from Brock and Darcy's head snapped back towards him. One hand was back to clutching the door and his muscles jumped the moment her eyes gazed on his skin and bulging veins.

"Tell your grandmother that I shall cart her and her wares to the village next week. As payment," Brock said, voice such a low rumble that Darcy had to lean her body closer to hear it clearly. The offer sent a rush of differing emotions through her. While she was excited at the prospect of bothering him for an entire day, there was something different intermingled in the normal joy being a lovable pest caused. It sat deeper in her gut, foreign at first but perhaps actually only deeply buried. An anticipation that she did not yet want to explore but waited patiently and hungrily at the thought of the man in front of her.

"Well, if that's all then," Darcy said with false brevity after an audible gulp. Brock's eyes followed the movement of her throat as she swallowed. If it had been any other man watching so intently, she'd be offended. She didn't know why she wasn't now but didn't intend to find out. Without another word, Darcy turned on her heel and made her way back to grandmothers. She was likely going to stop by the creek on her way back. She could do with dipping her toes in the water and tickling fish.

"Stay inside tonight," Brock called after her. Stopping as if a rope around her waist had just given her a sharp tug, Darcy felt her brow furrow as she tried to make sense of Brock's warning. "Tis a full moon."

"What difference does that make?" Darcy asked, indignation at him telling her what to do though she supposed she shouldn't be all that surprised by now. All men ever seem to know was to make commands towards her. Turning her head to look at him, she found him sweating and swaying in his doorway. He did look quite sickly. Maybe she shall come back tomorrow morning to check on him.

"You never know what faries will be waiting in the shadows for unsuspecting beautiful maidens. Some of them may be wanting wives. I know how opposed to that notion you are," said Brock, the usual smug and roguish manner that she'd come to expect from him a little clearer now. Instead of being ruffled at his teasing of her belief in fairies, Darcy couldn't help the little thrum of pleasure at something else.

"You think I'm beautiful?" Darcy called back to him. The way he stood up straight, entire body stiffening, caused the hidden feeling of hers to swell until it seemed to hum happily in the back of her head. Instead of recanting his compliment, Brock grumbled.

"Stay inside with your grandmother," Brock barked, face darkening with something that made Darcy's knees knock together before shutting the door loudly. With a snort, Darcy quelled the excitement beginning to build inside her. She tried to focus on the anger at him telling her what to do but she couldn't hold onto it for very long. Instead, she walked back and tried to think about the last time she wandered alone during a full moon. She couldn't even remember when she'd walked outside on a full moon's night.

Although she never really thought much on the moon and her adventures, she couldn't help but remember the evenings that she did take the moon into account. Normally, she fell asleep quite early. She wasn't allowed to leave at night in her father's holdings so there really wasn't much else to do. Though her stepmother always reserved those evenings for stories and warm sweet drinks, even now. The stories had turned into lessons in needlepoint that had Darcy nodding off very early. They were similar to the nights with her grandmother. Her grandmother always liked to wrap Darcy in her red cloak and ply her with stories and sweet snacks until Darcy fell into a deep asleep in front of the fire.

Surely, there was nothing of importance to that. Brock was just trying to upset her somehow.