A/N: slightly explicit content in this chapter – just a warning! Enjoy and thank you for your reviews!

Maria wasn't used to the grand and glorious luxury of five-star hotels, but when Alfred had insisted upon the two of them staying at the Goldener Hirsch during his visit to Salzburg, she'd been too polite to refuse him. They were staying in separate rooms of course, despite Alfred's teasing hints to the contrary - and she was grateful to him for respecting her wishes. They were courting yes, but she had no intention of jumping the gun, no matter how lovely his kisses sometimes made her feel. In truth, she hadn't had much choice in the matter anyway - there was nowhere else for her to go. It wasn't as though she could request a bed at the abbey of all places, no matter how close she still was with the reverend mother. Luckily though, Alfred was a perfect gentleman, and the Goldener Hirsch was a magnificent venue.

"Penny for your thoughts?" Alfred observed her playfully as he sank back into the cushions of the plush sofa next to her. The drinks lounge of the Goldener was his favourite place to unwind at the end of a long day, and Maria had to admit she loved it too, mostly for the relaxing ambience, the friendly staff and - perhaps most importantly - the gorgeous grand piano that sat in the far corner of the room. She didn't play the instrument well, but other guests with a talent for the keys would often take to the bench, filling the elegant room with all manner of wonderful melodies.

"I was just thinking about how long it's been since I was last in Salzburg.." she replied with a wistful smile, "I didn't realise just how much I missed it."

It wasn't exactly a lie, she reasoned with herself. She had been thinking about the last time she was in Salzburg - though more specifically, about seven mischievous children and their formidable father. Her stomach lurched once again at the memory of the luncheon earlier that day and the cold horror that had cloaked her body upon seeing him again. It had been almost too painful for her to endure, but she'd managed to grapple a stronghold on her composure just long enough to get through the meal with her dignity intact. Only once she was safely ensconced in her hotel room a few hours later had she allowed the desperate tears to flow freely.

Ten months ago - to the day, in fact - she'd vowed to leave the memory of captain Von Trapp behind her. And yet just one glimpse of him had brought it all rushing back. The intricate steps of the Laendler were as vivid in her memory now as if they had happened yesterday - the flow of music, the lightness of her spirit, the pounding of her heart, and then.. the look in his eyes...

But no - it didn't bear thinking about. And it hardly mattered now anyway. The Baroness had been right, he had gotten over it soon enough - their engagement announcement in the paper shortly after had been proof enough of that. The reminder however, did little to soften the haunting memory of the captain's face when he'd first recognised her at the restaurant. The look he'd given her! So tortured, so anguished, so angry. It'd filled her with incomprehensible guilt and shame - as though she was singlehandedly responsible for an unforgivable betrayal. But she was responsible, wasn't she? She'd left his vulnerable children in the dead of night with nought but a note, never to be seen again. No wonder he could barely stand the sight of her...

"Well I do hope you aren't thinking of returning to Austria permanently and leaving me to go back to London all on my lonesome!" Alfred chirped, sipping on a gin and tonic devilishly.

She rewarded him with a genuine smile then, despite the torment in her heart, and he took it as an invitation to lift a hand to her face and caress the length of one cheek. She stiffened against his touch only slightly, but it was enough for him to notice her discomfort.

"Are you alright darling?" He frowned, letting his arm drop back to his side, "you seem a little... out of sorts."

Maria recovered quickly, plastering a smile back on her face and reaching for her own drink, "I'm absolutely fine Alfred," she patted his hand affectionately. He really was a good man.

"Honestly. I'm just fine."

Later that evening Maria sat on the end of the plush bed in her hotel room, staring at the blank piece of writing paper and pen she'd placed atop the vanity some time earlier. She wasn't sure how long she'd been sitting there, twisting her hands restlessly in her lap, heart pounding rhythmically in her chest - but she knew she wouldn't be able to sleep until she'd done something to ease the guilt gnawing away at her insides.

He deserved an explanation. They all did. Even if it was ten months too late...

It was true that she'd fled the Von Trapp villa selfishly through fear and confusion that night - but she'd also done it to spare him further grievance. The Lord had had other plans for Captain Von Trapp in the form of Baroness Shraeder, and Maria wouldn't have been able to live with herself if she'd forsaken God's errand - the errand of preparing the children for a new mother. That, and she hadn't been able to bear the humiliation of admitting she was in love with a man who couldn't truly love her in return.

She wasn't naive enough to deny that there had been something happening between them all those months ago - something electric. It hadn't been entirely one-sided, she knew that deep down. The way they had sometimes looked at each other, the way he had held her in his arms - it had all been proof enough of something powerful stirring beneath the surface. But it had been wrong - nothing good could ever have come of it. There had no longer been a place for her at 53 Aigen after that - and neither had there been one at the abbey. And so she had left it all behind. For a new start. A new life. The details of which she was about to share with the last person on earth she thought she'd ever be telling her story to.

Launching from the bed before she lost her nerve entirely, Maria grabbed the pen from atop the vanity and - much like she had done all those months ago - she sat down, and began to write a letter.

It was with a particularly foggy head and no clothing that Georg woke up the following morning, the details of the night before somewhat hazy in his mind. If he didn't know any better, he'd have guessed he was twenty years younger again, nursing a hangover in a stranger's bed with little memory of the evening prior. But this time he was in his own bed - and he did remember certain things. He remembered blue eyes, a soft familiar voice, golden hair, intense pleasure... but a silk nightgown? And sickly perfume?

Quite without warning, he felt the bed shift as someone stirred to life beside him.

"Well good morning, Georg darling!" It was Elsa, sitting up in bed and patting her still perfect coiffure, looking rather pleased with herself, "I must admit I'm all out of sorts... I have absolutely no idea what came over you last night!"

Suddenly the day before came screaming back to him through the pounding in his head - the luncheon with Norden, the confrontation with Fraulein Maria, the copious amounts of whiskey afterwards.. and then- oh God.

"I apologise Elsa, I... I drank a little too much before coming to bed. Forgive me."

Lovemaking with Elsa had always been pleasant but somewhat... restrained throughout their marriage - much like everything else about her. It wasn't that Georg didn't enjoy being in bed with his wife, it was just that by her very nature she portrayed an unspoken need for grace, courtesy, decorum, ceremony - even in their most intimate moments. In other words, he never truly felt like he could relinquish control over the passions of his body.

But last night - oh last night he'd thrown caution to the wind and ravished her without thought or constraint. And suddenly he felt self-conscious, as though he'd revealed a part of himself to her that he'd endeavoured to keep hidden. He'd torn the nightgown from her body, he remembered now - he'd pinned her against the wall, he'd tasted every inch of her, he'd anchored her to the mattress with the rhythmic thrust of his hips. He'd channeled all of his frustration at life into the place they'd been joined. And all the while he'd been wishing hopelessly that she was more than a passive participant.

"Well I know it's been a little while since we... " Elsa simpered, placing a manicured hand on his forearm, "but honestly darling, you were a man possessed!"

Possessed indeed. Possessed by blue eyes and golden hair, he thought bitterly. And as wretched as he felt for his abhorrent behaviour, he couldn't deny that the pleasure had been more intense than he remembered experiencing in a very long time. Of that at least, he was certain.

"I'm going to take a shower," he grumbled, throwing the covers back and climbing out of bed. Though he was fully naked, Elsa was already adorned in another nightgown - one that wasn't torn - and by the looks of her face, she'd already applied some make up before he'd awoken. For a reason he couldn't quite fathom, the realisation saddened him.

Stepping into the bathroom and closing the door behind him, he sidled up to the mirror and gripped the edge of the sink, staring at his reflection. He felt sick and he looked haggard - but it was nothing less than he deserved. Not after he'd so recklessly relinquished all self-control. It certainly wasn't the first time he'd thought of her when he ought not to - but whenever it'd happened previously he'd been able to nip it in the bud and stifle his overactive imagination. Last night however, he hadn't even tried. He hadn't wanted to. Instead he'd given in to his intoxicated vision.

It was just that it had all seemed so real at the time - as though she really had been there with him. Skin to skin. Joined as one. He was so sure it was her lips he'd kissed, her breasts he'd caressed, her thighs he'd nestled between, her eyes he'd lost himself in when he'd eventually come apart..

"Pull yourself together," he growled at the man in the mirror, but much to his dismay, his body had other ideas. It appeared his behaviour the previous night had awoken a long dormant need that had yet to be fully satisfied. Cursing under his breath and ignoring his suddenly heavy arousal, he stepped under the spray of the shower, allowing the heat of the water to sooth his aching muscles. It wouldn't do to carry on this way, he knew. It would be utterly ridiculous to allow his run-in with Fraulein Maria to affect him so significantly. He was happy now, settled with a family. And she was happy too, by the looks of things - she had her damned lieutenant.

But would Norden love her the way she deserved, he wondered, as he shook his hair under the water stream. Would he be capable of eliciting the fierce passions that Georg knew she harboured within? She could love a man so completely, could drive him to the brink of madness if she was only given the chance. And her body and mind were capable of an ecstasy she most likely hadn't even experienced yet. An ecstasy he'd once longed to bestow upon her...

Impulsively, his hand moved of its own accord and followed the stream of water cascading down his body, until his soap-lathered fist closed around his aching arousal. Immediately his eyes fluttered closed against the slick sensation and he let out a whimper of pleasure. It felt good. Too good. And when his hand began to move in a steady rhythm against himself, it took all the willpower he possessed to halt his actions, spin round on the spot and turn the water temperate down - until the cold spray shocked his skin, forcing his mutinous body to relent.

Enough! He resolved, angrily, slapping an open palm against the tiles, breathing hard. Enough of this madness.

"Captain, sir?" Frau Schmidt approached some time later when the family were sitting down to lunch, "a letter has arrived for you."

"I thought all the post came this morning, Frau Schmidt?" Elsa interjected, a little too haughtily for Georg's liking.

"It did Baroness," Frau Schmidt smiled sweetly, "this letter was delivered just now by bicycle. By a young man from one of the hotels in town."

"What a shame it wasn't a telegram, ey Leisl?" Louisa giggled, glancing devilishly at her blushing sister before a sharp look from her father silenced her.

"A hotel, Georg?" Elsa needled as soon as Frau Schmidt had excused herself from the room.

He gave a bored shrug, taking a sip of his coffee, "It must be from an old acquaintance who just happens to be visiting the area."

But then he flipped the letter over, saw the scrawl of the handwritten address, and suddenly the coffee burned like acid in his throat. He knew that handwriting. He had seen it multiple times on the occasions that he would join the children in their lessons all those months ago, the gentle flick and feminine swirl of the letters commending or correcting their morning's work. He had often caught glimpses of it in her scrapbooks and journals, whenever he used to discover her sitting under a tree by the lake with a moment to herself, privately scribbling away with so much enthusiasm that he'd often ached to read whatever it was she couldn't quite keep locked inside. It was the same scrawl that was etched into the note she'd left behind the night of the party, the very same note that he still kept hidden away in the top drawer of his desk...

Yes. He knew that handwriting all too well.

A/N: as always your thoughts keep me going!