A/N: THIRD CHAPTER TODAY, BEGINNING WITH SIXTEEN. CONTINUING FLASHBACK…

"Checkmate."

"Again!?" she cried, flapping her arms. "Damn! I was so close-"

He laughed, leaning on his elbow, his belly shaking.

"Och, very funny," she pursed her lips, getting up from her seated position to kneel over the coffee table in front of the fire. "I think we need to play 5-card draw."

"You only want to play that because you won the last time," he chortled, holding his sides. "No, thank you." She raised her eyebrows.

"Are you afraid of a game of poker?"

"No, I'm afraid of losing what little money I have left to you."

She laughed heartily. "It's not my fault, Mr. Carson, that you are a hopeless at poker." She got up and headed to the kitchen. "More to eat?"

"I think I've had enough, thank you," he said, following her swaying hips with his eyes. He shook his head. Don't get started on that again, Charlie. Not when you're finally friends again.

"Are you sure?" she called. "You ate a lot earlier, but that was hours ago."

"I've been eating for hours," he reminded her. "I'd best stop before I make myself ill." He was grateful that his appetite had returned. With a vengeance.

She came back into the living room and stopped, staring at the mantle clock above the fireplace. "Is it really almost nine o'clock? I thought it was closer to seven," She frowned. He glanced back at it to confirm the time.

"I suppose it's the time change. It gets dark so early, every hour past sunset could be seven or midnight. Or three," he said. He paused. He had a crazy wish to ask her to stay.

But that would not be the right thing to do.

With a sigh, he got up. "I should get you back home."

"Yes," she said slowly. "I'm sorry to make you drive me, I should have left while it was still light."

He waved his hand. "Don't trouble yourself. You already hiked up a mountain and back down today. I don't mind."

"Well," she bent over and picked up her backpack. "Thank you. For the afternoon. For the meal." She bit her lip. "And for forgiving me."

"You're welcome. Thank you for forgiving me as well," he picked up his keys to the truck. They felt heavy in his hand. "But let's put it behind us, like you said. Tomorrow is a new day."

"Indeed," she agreed quietly.

They walked to the door, her in front of him. She turned.

"I'm very glad we're friends again."

"Yes. Friends," he muttered, trying to breathe normally. When she looked at him like that, he found it difficult. Her dark blue eyes gentle, her hair a warm red like the fire and old lamps that lit the room. He couldn't stop looking at her lips.

Dancing on a knife's edge.

She told herself to either, turn and open the door or to look away from his face. She couldn't do either. She couldn't make herself move at all. His scent was in her nostrils. He smelled of the woods, of fire and fallen leaves. A hint of winter honeysuckle.

They leaned closer, until she could see the individual bits of stubble on his chin. Their lips touched. The straps of her backpack slid from her fingers and the heavy bag dropped onto the floor.

Well, you did want to be honest.

"This is wrong," he whispered. She nodded.

"I know."

Their lips pressed together again, more insistent but still cautious. Exploring. She hummed without realizing she did so. Tasting the ham and cornbread they'd eaten for supper, as well as a hint of apple pie, he opened his mouth further, searching. He savored the familiar taste which was Elsie.

"Wrong," she breathed. He reached out tentatively, his hand on the side of her face.

"Yes, we shouldn't," he murmured. They were so close he could feel the warmth of her body. They eyed each other for several moments, having a wordless conversation.

"Wait," she breathed, pulling back from him. He felt the loss immediately. She peered at him from beneath her eyelashes. "I want you to know," she said quietly, "it-, I-I-, this isn't pity." She bit her lip, her eyes dark. She stepped forward again and put her hands on his strong chest, over his rapidly beating heart. He covered her hands with his own, understanding.

They were both lonely, that was true. But both had lived with it for years.

They knew going further was wrong. That it broke the fundamental rules that they both held dear.

She could not deny to herself what she felt. She could see that he could see it.

If he didn't want her, she would walk out and never say another word about it. She didn't know how, but she knew she couldn't - and wouldn't - force him to break his vows.

"Are you sure?" he had to ask, feeling her small hands beneath his. It wasn't fair the way the world worked. If they crossed the barrier, and anyone found out, her reputation would suffer more than his.

In a strange way, it felt as though every person who had ever mattered to him was watching them. He was no longer denying what he felt. He knew it was wrong. But after their argument, she hadn't shut him out. She had come back. And here she was. Open, not hiding.

A woman who saw him as himself. After a lifetime of submerging his inner self, he was ready to live a little.

But if she wasn't sure, he would take her home and bury his feelings. He wasn't sure if he would be able to, but he could never push her to ignore her own principles.

Looking up into his eyes, her heart melted. Part of her wondered why now, why in these circumstances, this man had entered her life. As angry as she had been earlier, she never feared that he would lose his temper and hit her. And even now, he did not take advantage of her. He asked.

She took a deep breath and stepped off of the cliff into midair.

"I have never been so sure," she whispered.

The earth tilted on its axis.

"I've been so worn down these past months. I can't fight myself anymore," he whispered, his thumb rubbing her cheek. She smiled. Her eyes were soft. He shuddered, feeling as though a colossal weight had been lifted off of him. He tucked a stray hair over her ear, his finger lingering on the creamy skin of her neck. He could feel her pulse. Kissing her gently on her forehead, he enveloped her in a hug. "I know my word means less than nothing, but please believe me, Elsie. Ever since that day, I haven't stopped thinking about you." He stood up straight, gazing down at her again. "I can still taste you, feel you. I've barely slept. When I do, you haunt my dreams."

She put a hand over his mouth, the memory of his spoken dreams ringing in her mind. He pressed his lips softly against her fingers, relishing the sound she made. She gasped, a soft "oh".

She felt dizzy, as if the room had closed around them. The fire snapped. He leaned closer, and their mouths touched again, soft and languid. She reached up and curled her fingers into his wild black hair.

I have never wanted anyone as much as I want him.

Their kiss ended slowly. With a gentle caress, she sucked his lower lip, making him sigh. He slid his hands down her body, his thumbs tracing circles into her hips. She felt the heat of him as she gripped him tighter. He grunted when her breasts pressed into his chest.

"I want you, Elsie," he murmured, as her fingers caressed the back of his neck. His eyes were alight, and he twisted his hips so that every part of him was touching her. "I want you." He bent his head and ghosted his lips down her cheek, below her ear, down her neck. "I want you." She moaned, her fingers digging into his skin. His heart leaped at the recognition that she felt the same.

"Charles," she breathed shakily, "If you want me, you can have me."

TBC…