A/N: Firstly, a huge thank you for all your reviews - it's so interesting to hear everyone's different points of view! I have to admit I'm pretty torn myself, I absolutely abhor cheating! But on the other hand, I also believe it's not a simple case of black and white - particularly when two people may have been torn apart for all the wrong reasons. I also think in high society a lot of people married for station rather than love and so some people really would have found themselves in situations where their heart belonged to somebody else. I know it doesn't make it right – but yay for love.

All that being said, the night isn't over for Georg and Maria - but I hope you'll bear with me and not judge them too harshly just yet!

This chapter also contains M content. I'll get round to changing the rating.

Georg's heartbeat was still thundering with the aftermath of their passion, his body slick with perspiration and his head buried in his lover's chest as he fought to catch his breath. She'd been crying in his arms when they'd come apart together - and he understood why. It had been entirely overwhelming, even for him - a man who'd had more than his fair share of intimate encounters in the past.

True - he'd had a string of lovers in his youth followed by a very loving and fulfilling marriage - but never had he made love with such raw emotion, such sublime intensity, such open despair, driven solely by 10 long months of need and heartache. His whole body was still trembling from the force of it, his mind a sea of white noise - and he didn't think it was possible to love her anymore than he did right then and there, still buried inside her - as close as two people could be. The blood still pounded in his ears, the only sound his erratic breathing and her heartbeat soft in his ear, until-

"This was wrong..." she murmured into the silence, as though to herself - and suddenly he felt as though a bucket of ice had been thrown over him. The detached despondency in her words turned his blood cold with panic and instantly he lifted his head to look into her eyes - but she was staring absently at the ceiling, her face a pallid mask.

"No.. no, it wasn't wrong," he pleaded, his voice breaking with emotion, "it wasn't. This is right... " he held her closer, desperately, peppering her body with frantic kisses, "it's everything else that's wrong!"

"We shouldn't have done it..." she muttered, unresponsive to his affections - and his turmoil only intensified with the accuracy of her words. He could already feel her slipping through his fingers, and the realisation crushed him. Gathering her into his arms, he carried her on shaking legs to a nearby sofa and lay her upon it, covering her body gently with his own and stroking the hair from her face.

"Sometimes love makes you do absurd things, unthinkable things.." he implored, desperately trying to bring her back to him, "but that doesn't make us wrong, it makes us human."

"You can't love me.." she whispered, her voice so unlike her own.

"Oh but I do," he choked with feeling, stroking her face with gentle hands, "I do Maria. Please, don't push me away. Not again. Look at me."

She lifted her head and met his gaze, her eyes watery with the remnants of her tears - and he was relieved to see at least some emotion in them despite her sudden distance towards him.

"What I've done is unforgivable," she whispered, her face marred with anguish.

"What we've done.. " he corrected on a murmur, as though coaxing a startled lamb, "we did it together Maria. And what we did was make love - impulsively, wildly, passionately. But I don't regret it, not one bit. Perhaps I deserve to be punished for my actions but I can't bring myself to deny how I feel, not anymore," he kissed her hard on the mouth then, as though to assign conviction to his words, his hands threading through her hair. When he finally pulled away a few seconds later however, he was dismayed to see that she was turning listlessly away from him, her face a picture of guilt.

"Maria, I love you," he rasped, trying to make her understand, "I've wanted this since the day you walked through my door. I can't resist it and neither do I want to. I need you-"

"We can't be together..." she whispered, and he felt his heart turn over in his chest, "tonight is all there can be between us.."

"We can be together, we... it'll be hard, of course it will," he choked, "but we'll find a way..."

She wanted to give in. She wanted to turn back time and erase all the mistakes they'd made, to re-write history and start all over again. But she knew by now that life was no fairytale. They had chosen separate paths.

"I won't be anybody's mistress," she insisted, already wracked with guilt from their one impulsive encounter.

"I don't want you as my mistress Maria," he beseeched, "Just say the word and I will leave Elsa in a heartbeat-"

"That's insane!" she whimpered incredulously, squeezing her eyes shut in turmoil.

"No.. no it's not insane," he implored, "Insanity is letting the woman you love go for a second time and staying in a marriage of convenience for the sake of ease!"

She didn't refute him, nor make any indication that she'd even heard him. Instead she lay there, silent, as though trying to make sense of what he was offering her. Waiting patiently for her reply, he watched her as the silence stretched on, wanting more than anything to understand what was going through her mind. Was she caught, like him, in a relationship that her heart wasn't truly in? Was she torn between an old flame and a new love? Did she regret what they'd-

"Alfred and I are leaving for England next week," she murmured suddenly, so quietly that Georg barely heard her, "I... I won't be coming back."

It killed her to say those five simple words, so straightforward and yet so devastating in their meaning. She knew they would break her captain's heart - and the silence that followed was deafening, his dark eyes studying her with so much shock and despair that she felt her heart shatter. She'd been trying to stay strong, trying to mask her emotions in the aftermath of their passion - but one look at the hurt in his eyes and she felt the bitter sting of tears once again.

"No," he rasped in disbelief, his voice cracking, "please. Don't do this.. don't run from me again-"

"I have to," she pleaded, choking back a sob, "I have a life back there.. And you, you have a wife!"

"My wife," he scoffed bitterly, as though the word was poison, "Do you want to know where my wife is?! She's in Vienna. With her lover."

Maris at least had the good grace to look shocked.

"She doesn't know that I'm aware of it, but I've known for some time now," Georg sighed, "she goes to Vienna every so often. An old associate of mine saw them together in the city in an unguarded moment-"

"Georg, I'm so sorry-"

"I'm not," he said frankly, "I've never seen her so happy, to tell you the truth. And I'm at my happiest with the children when she's away. Our marriage is a charade Maria. We rarely touch, we don't laugh, we don't play..."

"Two wrongs still don't make a right..." Maria insisted, shaking her head in defeat, "you still have a family to think of."

"You are my family," his face was so torn and vulnerable that Maria could hardly bear it, "The children miss you everyday. I miss you everyday..."

"I'm leaving Georg.. " hot tears spilled from her eyes as the words left her lips, "It has to be this way.."

"But... but you don't love him," he replied incredulously, "I know you don't!"

His words were painfully accurate, she knew. But it didn't change anything.

"I may not love him the way I..." she trailed off hopelessly, unable to say the truth of what she felt, "but he is a good man. He doesn't deserve this," guilt surged through her veins once again, "I made a promise to him. And you made more than a promise to your wife. We're talking about unravelling people's lives!"

"Say it.." he requested softly, the gentle command taking her by surprise.

"Say what?"

"That you love me..."

Turmoil tore at her heart - but as much as she wanted to deny her feelings, she couldn't bear to lie to him - not when he was looking at her with such open distress.

"I do love you Georg..." she whispered as silent tears fell, the confession costing her a great deal more than just her heart, "But it's wrong.. what we've done is wrong."

The sound he made - somewhere between a sob and a whimper - made the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end.

"I... I can't bear to have found you at last only to lose you again," he begged, "this can't be how it ends."

She was shaking her head in desperate hopelessness, choking back tears, "It's just too late for us, Georg..."

Speechless with despair, Georg could find no more words of protest. He knew deep down that she was right - that they had done wrong, that they could not simply erase the decisions they had made. And in the face of such crushing devastation, when everything before him seemed utterly hopeless - he did something he hadn't done in five long years. He wept.

He wept for all that was, and for all that could never be. He wept for all the mistakes he'd made and the opportunities he'd let slip through his fingers. He wept for the loneliness, the longing, the hopelessness, the frustration. And all the while he clung to her like a small child, his face buried in her chest where the heat of his kisses still seared her skin. Stunned and devastated, she could do little else than bury her hands in his hair and hold him to her breast, moved to her core by his raw vulnerability.

"I'm sorry Georg, I'm sorry.." she pleaded over and over as she wept with him, feeling his body wrack with the force of his anguish. Never in her life had she seen a man cry - let alone a man of such stoic poise and austere command - and the vehement intimacy of the moment was almost too keen to bear. Long minutes passed where she held him close, absorbing his pain, soothing him with whispers and gentle hands - until eventually his body stilled and his ragged breathing calmed. He lay there with his head against her heart for so long then, that she thought he might've fallen asleep - until suddenly she heard his voice raised in whisper, "spend the night with me.."

Doubt instantly shrouded her.

"Georg, I.."

He lifted his head and looked at her with eyes dark with sorrow, "If tonight is all we can have.. " he murmured, "I'm not ready to say goodbye yet."

She knew she shouldn't, she knew she needed to forget this night had ever happened. No good could possibly come of torturing herself with any more of him. But as it was, she found herself nodding in wordless acquiescence - the thought of leaving him too difficult to contemplate just yet. Once she said goodbye, they would most likely never see each other again, and the thought terrified her. To spend the rest of the night with him would be to go against everything she'd just avowed, she knew - and it would pull on the tattered strands of her heart more than she could probably bear. But there would be plenty of time for guilt, for heartache, for repentance tomorrow... With sunrise would come lifelong separation - and so she would allow tonight to be theirs.

Never taking his eyes off her, he stood and took her hand wordlessly, leading her back to the piano and dressing her with gentle, patient movements that made her feel utterly cherished. His fingers skimmed her skin like hot velvet as he pulled the fabric into place, his gaze so penetrating that she felt as though he was taking her clothes off rather than helping her back into them. Once he'd adorned his own trousers and shirt, he kissed the remnants of her tears from her cheeks, brushing his lips across her skin until she felt her blood begin to turn hot again.

"Come.." he whispered affectionately, and within ten minutes she found herself in his hotel room, her mind a storm of uncertainty and confusion. Her body too was sore and aching from their lovemaking - and he had insisted on running her a bath to help soothe the tenderness left behind by their passion. When the water was hot and bubbles filled the tub, he undressed her again - slowly, lovingly - as though he wanted to commit every curve, every freckle to memory. The pace of his movements was so different to their frantic undressing earlier that evening that she found herself blushing under his awed gaze, wondering why on earth he found a girl like her so-

"Beautiful," he muttered, his hands tracing her skin and making her breath hitch, "just beautiful."

She couldn't ever remember feeling more so - and not for the first time she questioned how something so sinful in its entirety could feel so wonderful as loving this man.

As though he was handling priceless porcelain, Georg gathered her into his arms and lowered her into the tub, the heat of the water an instant balm for her body and soul. She expected that he would leave her to her own company then, but instead he sank down on to his haunches and began rolling his sleeves.

"What are you doing?" She breathed, unable to take her eyes off him.

"I'm looking after you," he whispered, taking a flannel and beginning to bathe her with such care and devotion that her throat entirely constricted. No one had ever treated her so gently, so lovingly before. And all the while she was tearing his heart out.

"But why?" She rasped, entirely convinced that she wasn't worthy of his affections. But he only frowned slightly at the question, as though the answer was the most obvious thing in the world.

"Because I love you."

His kindness so stunned her, so floored her, that she could do little else than stare at him, her heart flooding with a sudden and intense longing. She'd always known that beneath his stoic exterior hid a man who harboured fierce and passionate emotion, visible only to those he chose to reveal it to. But never had she anticipated just how wonderful it would feel to be loved by him, protected by him, cherished by him. This man - this brave, stoic, passionate, broken man crouched before her, this man who had lost so much, this man who had shown her his heart, this man who had demanded nothing from her in return - this man was being so wonderful to her simply because he loved her. And the realisation was so moving, so overwhelming, that suddenly she couldn't bear another second without being in his arms.

"Make love to me," she blurted before she could stop herself, the words coming out with such conviction that she hardly recognised her own voice. Instantly his hand stilled in the water, his wide eyes boring into her face in utter astonishment. When he'd asked her to spend the rest of the night with him he'd been content with the idea of simply holding her, cradling her, talking to her the way they used to. Not once did he assume she would want to lie with him again, not after the things she'd said in the lounge - and he'd certainly had no intention of demanding it from her. But despite his trepidation, there was no mistaking the certainty in her eyes, nor the need he saw burning in them.

"Maria.. are you sure?" He rasped - but she said nothing, instead reaching for his hand in the water, dragging it boldly up her slick body and placing it frankly on her breast, her eyes never leaving his face. Her nipple was taught and wet beneath his palm, and his eyes fluttered closed on a shudder that wracked through his body. When she whimpered under his forbidden touch, his blood surged hotly in his veins and he felt the last of his resolve crumble.

"Just once more," he croaked hurriedly, plunging his arms into the bubbles and lifting her out of the tub, heedless of the water soaking through his shirt. In a few easy strides he'd crossed the bedroom and laid her on the bed, his mouth finding hers effortlessly with long, drugging kisses that set her body aflame. His newly sodden shirt clung to the planes of his chest and the sight was doing strange things to Maria's body as she watched him strip himself out of it.

Her heart in her mouth, she let her mutinous gaze travel down his body - the bands of muscle on his chest, the smattering of dark hair that threaded down his stomach and disappeared into his waistband - coming to rest on the unmistakable evidence of his thoughts straining hard against the black material of his trousers. In the frantic blur of their previous encounter she hadn't had the chance to truly study him - and now that she did, she could hardly breathe.

Never taking his eyes off her, he made short work of the button at his waist, and she watched, mesmerised, the only sound her ragged breathing and the metallic scrape of his zip as he slowly dragged it downwards. The material eventually hung open at his hips and he stood momentarily still, watching her closely, as though giving her a moment to reconsider. The look in his eyes turned her blood hot and when she made no protest, his long fingers slipped into the edge of his waistband until - with a sharp intake of breath and a shift of fabric - he pushed the garments from his hips and freed himself for her hungry gaze.

Now that she was seeing him - really seeing him - in all his masculine severity, she couldn't quite believe that something so imposing could possibly have felt so wonderful inside her. Soft yet hard, enticing yet menacing, pure and yet sinful, straining towards the path of hair on his stomach in such a blatant display of arousal that a newly familiar ache began pounding in her pelvis.

"We're going to take our time," he rasped, his eyes black with desire, "I want to remember every inch of you - the way you taste, the way you cry out my name, the way your legs feel wrapped around me..."

His words were driving her to the brink of insanity and a fire raged in her stomach as she watched him crawl up the end of the bed, pressing languid kisses to her ankles, her calves, her knees, her thighs - sending her breathing ragged. It wasn't until he nudged her long legs over his shoulders that she realised where his kisses were leading and she bit down on her fist to stifle a cry when she felt the unbearable wet heat of his tongue sliding along the place where she burned most for him. She heard his deep moan of appreciation, felt the vibration of his hum all the way inside her, turning her blood to liquid fire.

"Oh God," he shuddered, his voice muffled against her, "I've wanted to do this for so long. To taste you right here." And just when she thought the pleasure couldn't get any more intense, he blazed a fiery trail upwards until his open mouth massaged a tender place made of pure molten. His name tore from her lips instantly and she anchored her fingers in his hair, the firm but gentle tongue making her writhe in desperation, all thoughts of their sins momentarily forgotten.

His ministrations began gently, languidly, lovingly, but soon became more insistent and, instead of shrinking away from the blinding intensity, she found that she was opening herself to his beautiful mouth, frantic for more of him. He'd evidently meant what he'd said when he promised to take his time, for he was prolonging her pleasure to the point of torment.

"Georg, please!" she mewled in desperation, and he immediately showed her mercy, hurriedly moving up her body and sidling between her thighs, capturing her mouth with swollen lips. Within seconds she was writhing beneath him, trembling from the force of her need — and with a low groan he finally sank into the depths of her body, gathering her to him and holding her as close as space and time would allow.

She could see it once again, the raw turmoil playing out across his face as he lay himself bare to her, losing himself in her body and revelling in such overwhelming intimacy with another human being. And as she arched into his movements, she could tell that he was holding back, that he was attempting to make their intimacy last lest it be the final time they ever made love. But the more fervently she responded to his thrusts and the more she cried out her pleasure, the more his iron control seemed to slip - and before long his languid movements gave way to a primal urgency that had him driving all of his need relentlessly into the place where their bodies were joined.

It was frantic and chaotic and entirely intoxicating, his eyes burning into hers with such raw passion that she felt as though the wind had been knocked out of her. Within minutes she found her wrists were pinned to the sheets under his strong hands and she was welcoming his frantic urgency as he lost himself to her entirely. Nothing else seemed to exist then, apart from the desperate movement of their bodies as they worked in harmony to find relief. And it could have been mere seconds or long hours later when she finally felt him stiffen between her thighs, the muscles of his torso pulled taught across his chest as he threw his head back and cried out her name in ecstasy, the strangled plea sending her soaring into the heights of rapture on a wave of sensation right there with him.

A/N: I know, I know – they're a pair of sinners but I promise it's all going somewhere! And a little more M never hurt anybody!