A/N: I am so sorry about the review reply situation. The holidays did a number on my mojo, and I'm trying to get back on track. I love and read every one of them. Thank you so much.

Special thanks to Twilight Mundi for stepping in to beta. Please send love and kind thoughts for a speedy recovery to my dear jadedandboring.

When Edward was twelve, nearly thirteen, he'd woken in the middle of the night, hearing something of a commotion. Opening his door just a crack, he recognized his parents, their forms bathed in the low lamplight of the hallway. To his great surprise, it appeared as though his father had a bundle in his arms. No, not a bundle, a girl. Though Edward couldn't see her face from his vantage point, he did see dainty feet dangling from his father's hold.

His mother was babbling, her tone, as always, gentle but nervous. "You'll be fine here, dear. The sheets are fresh, and I'll be sure to tell the maid not to bother you in the morning. You can sleep as long as you like."

Whatever else she might have said faded away as they moved off into the guest room, leaving Edward profoundly perplexed and curious. When his parents reemerged from the guest room, he watched them retreat to the master bedroom all the way down the hall.

Though he was old enough to know better than to eavesdrop, concern and curiosity got the better of him. He crept down the hallway quietly and knelt outside their door, glad they still left it open a crack, lest one of their children needed something.

"-so sorry to bring this on you unawares. I simply couldn't leave her there," his father was saying.

"Carlisle, of course I understand. What choice did you have? The poor dear has been through so much as it is." His mother's voice was teary, but that was not unusual. Though she was unquestionably a strong woman, she was also a sympathetic creature. Nothing pained her more than the suffering of others. "As always, my husband, I am proud of you. It is the right thing."

Edward listened as his parents talked about the situation at hand. It seemed that Carlisle, who hadn't been home for dinner that evening, had been at the Hale estate, tending to their eldest child and only daughter, Rosalie. From what Edward gathered, something terrible had happened to the girl, and her parents had not reacted well, prompting Carlisle to bring her back to the Cullen house to care for.

Eventually, the feeling that he was prying into matters that were none of his business got the better of Edward, and he returned to his room to wait for morning.

At breakfast he alone seemed aware of how tired his mother looked and that concern etched her normally serene features. Emmett, nearly seventeen and always more interested in food than just about anything else except girls, was tossing a biscuit he'd stolen fresh from the stove between his hands, wincing at the heat. Alice, only nine, was humming softly to herself, practicing her sewing as she mended a small tear on her doll's dress.

Edward watched, nervous as his mother helped the cook set breakfast on the table. She sat down across from them with a sigh, straightened up noticeably in her chair and called for their attention. "Children?"

When she was sure they were all looking at her, she put on a slight smile, trying to put them at ease. "Rosalie Hale has come to stay with us for the time being," she said gently. "She is very ill, so I expect you to be polite and quiet. She will need a great deal of rest to get better, and you are not to pester her, is that clear?"

The three of them looked at each other, shock evident on their faces. "Mummy, if she is ill, why is she here? Wouldn't being with her mummy and daddy make her feel better?" Alice asked, completely perplexed.

Esme's smile was tight and sad as she reached out to pat her daughter's cheek. "Her parents thought it best for her to stay with us," she said quietly.

"Because Papa is a doctor?" Alice inquired, brightening.

"Yes, poppet. That's exactly why."

Alice nodded, accepting that explanation easily, and returned her attention to her doll. "Papa will make her better," she said with the certainty of a child who still believed her father was an infallible hero.

Edward and Emmett were not so quickly put at ease. They tried to get more out of their mother until Esme put her foot down, directing them to eat their breakfast.

After breakfast though, Carlisle came downstairs and called both boys into his study. His posture automatically made Edward more anxious. It was only when his father was particularly disturbed or disappointed that he stood, his hands clasped behind his back as he stared out the window. Glancing at Emmett, he could see that his older brother was resisting the urge to squirm, his usually bright features tight with concern. It was difficult not to think that they were in trouble.

Sighing, Carlisle finally turned and sat in his customary chair. "What I am about to tell you is absolutely none of your business," he said, his voice unnaturally hard – almost rough. "I expect you to keep this to yourselves, and be tactful about what you know. You are to tell no one, particularly not your sister. Do you understand?"

Again glancing at each other with wide eyes, the boys looked to their father and nodded.

Carlisle's shoulders slumped and he bent forward slightly, a troubled expression coming over his face. "The only reason I choose to discuss this with you at all is because you are old enough to know when your mother and I keep secrets." He paused, looking above them for a moment, as if he were asking a higher power for help before he looked back to them steadily. "That, and it is my duty, as your father, to raise you to be good, honorable men."

He proceeded to explain that Rosalie, who had, till that summer, been Emmett's schoolmate, had been carnally and forcefully taken by her fiancé and his friends. At twelve, Edward knew very little about those kinds of relations between a man and a woman, but he knew enough to understand the basics of what had happened. It made his stomach twist in revulsion and an anger he didn't know what to do with boil in his veins. Glancing at his brother, he could see that his hands too were balled into fists.

"Many men would tell you that there is nothing wrong with what happened, that Royce, while perhaps being a bit impetuous, had the right to do as he pleased with his fiancée," Carlisle said, his voice harsh with disgust and disapproval. "I am not one of those men. What those boys did was unconscionable. It is my fervent hope that I've taught you both well enough to understand that."

"We understand, Father," Emmett said quickly, and Edward nodded his ardent agreement.

Carlisle nodded, a hint of relief in his features, and Edward remembered thinking he looked very tired. "Well, as I said, I believe you are old enough that I can be honest with you. I am sure you understand the stigma that follows a girl who does not make it to her marriage bed a virgin."

The subject was obviously difficult for Carlisle to talk about, so Edward tried not to let on how uncomfortable he was hearing such things. He resisted the urge to look about furtively, as if they might be overheard by his mother's more delicate ears. This was not something that was discussed out loud in polite society. He nodded again, trying to ignore the fact he was blushing furiously.

"Well," Carlisle continued. "Rosalie's parents have chosen to find her at fault for Royce's actions. It is a decision I could not abide by. As it is, the poor child will have a long recovery. It's my belief and experience that in a hostile environment, she might not recover at all. However, the Hales have agreed to let Rosalie stay here as my ward, for the time being." His expression softened slightly. "I know I can trust you both to treat her with respect and kindness. I have told you the full story because I know what you hear outside this house will, most likely, be only a shadow of the truth."

Finally, he leaned back in his chair, stroking his chin with a contemplative expression. "As a physician, I am well aware that there are many differing schools of thought about how men should treat women." In his naivety, it took Edward years to understand what his father meant by that. At the time, he didn't question, sickened and saddened as he was by the overwhelming information Carlisle was giving them. "I cannot fathom that Royce Senior would condone his son's actions, so though I hope I have provided you with a good example in the way I treat your mother and sister, I will not be remiss in my duties as your father."

Looking them both in the eye, he spoke with gentle authority. "I expect you to treat all people, but especially women, with respect and dignity. No woman is your plaything, but should be treated with delicacy, gentleness, and kindness." A small smile quirked the edge of his lips as he spoke the next. "Your mother, I feel, is my better in most every way. It is my belief that if you can look at a woman without feeling lucky that she chooses to look at you, then you are missing one of life's most beautiful facets. It is my hope that you will wait until you find that connection before you act on any carnal instinct."

~0~

Edward sat on his borrowed bed in this borrowed room staring down at the floor feeling guilty.

Mostly.

Actually, he felt a great many things, but he chose to concentrate on the guilt rather than the uncomfortable tightness in his trousers and the myriad of thoughts that went with it.

If there was one thing Edward had learned about the encroaching Texas summers, it was that there was no escaping the way the air grew thick and heavy with oppressive heat. Even without the storms, his skin had not been dry in days.

Rather than alleviate the humidity, the rolling monsoon clouds only brought thunder, rain, and lightening to the table, making it all the more impossible for Edward to sleep. Though he'd informed his rational mind repeatedly that the noise was no more than nature, he'd spent the last too many nights tense - waiting for a battle that didn't come.

The moments right after he was startled awake were spent in a muddy space, his body tensing for battle even as incapacitated as he was by his wounds. The only concrete thought in his head was the absolute need to be sure Bella and the baby were safe. His limbs would draw him forward before he could remember where he was and when.

He supposed he should have been glad to see a measurable improvement in how he moved. He still leaned against the wall for support, but he made it all the way to the door to Bella's room before his thoughts solidified.

It took him too many eons to understand what he was looking at, all of the energy he normally used to think having been allocated elsewhere on his body.

The door to Bella's room was slightly ajar - enough that, when he paused in front of it, he could see she was also awake on this restless night, standing at her window, staring out at the rain and lightning. Edward wanted to believe that if she hadn't done what she did next, he would have turned straight around and gone back to his room. It was rude, no question about it, but he was caught unawares. That was the excuse he made for himself to explain why he lingered long, long after he should have.

Just as he glanced in her room, Bella pulled her nightgown over her head, revealing nothing but bare skin underneath. It took only an instant for him to be entirely captivated. It wasn't just her nudity, though that definitely caught his attention. It was the lithe grace of her beauty as seen through flashes of lightening. The curve of her neck as she piled her hair on top of her head, letting what little coolness the night air provided chill her skin. She was facing to the side so only the small curve of one breast was visible to him.

She was beautiful, and in that instant, Edward's mind was inundated with thousands of ways he wanted to touch her.

He imagined how easy it would be to push the door open and stride up behind her. He wanted to run the pads of his fingers along the curves of her side, feel her shiver underneath his touch and hear her breath catch. He could almost feel exactly how her moist skin would be beneath his fingertips as he moved his hands to her wrists, watching as her dark hair fell down along her back. And then...

Shaking his head hard to dispel his desires, Edward forced himself to turn away. He couldn't ignore the tightness in his throat or the sudden, screaming need between his legs. Quickly, Edward had made his way back down the hallway, leaning more heavily against the wall than before, his breath slightly more labored. His eyes, more accustomed to the darkness now, spotted Jasper's form on the sofa as he passed, and Edward couldn't help but be thankful his former friend hadn't awakened.

He could only imagine that the other man would not have reacted well to his voyeurism.

Now, Edward sat on the edge of his bed, trying to calm the lust that had risen like a flame from a mere ember to a burning, insistent fire.

Like any well-bred young man, Edward had come to understand what should and should not be expected of the fairer sex. When they reached a certain age, his childhood friends had begun sowing their wild oats with shopkeepers' daughters and young servants. Though it was impossible not to be curious, Edward couldn't help but notice the disproving look on his father's face when they heard gossip of this or that young man who'd gotten a girl in trouble.

As long as the girl was beneath his station, it was permissible, providing the young man in question was not so crassly blatant about his conquests. The girls and children produced from these trysts were quietly provided for and summarily dismissed and forgotten as follies of youth.

It wasn't exactly difficult to understand the pervasive mentality. Boys of his breeding were brought up to understand that they would eventually take wives, and while it was expected such marriages would produce heirs, beyond what trouble it took to conceive a child, many men didn't bother their wives with the pleasure they craved. Sex, they learned, was somehow different for women. Distasteful to a first class girl to say the least.

However, Edward was Carlisle Cullen's son, and he had never known his father to 'bother' anyone but his mother. In private, he'd often stumbled up on them, his mother in his father's lap, and their kisses much more ardent than politeness dictated.

Edward had reached West Point without any first hand knowledge of exactly what went on behind closed doors. Once he got there, he had no intention of changing that fact. Oh, it was true enough that one could get just as thorough an education in the bodies of women folk as they could in the art of war at West Point. There were several laundresses that he knew for fact some of his classmates visited, coming back dirtier than when they'd left.

The war changed much.

'Laundresses' followed the armies and charged a nickel for half an hour worth of laundering. He wasn't proud of it, but in four years, Edward had spent approximately 25 cents getting his clothes clean.

Suffice to say, the pressures and horrors of war were not something he could ever have hoped to be prepared for. Occasionally, the only thing that kept him sane was just a few minutes of escape, a few minutes to think about anything else but the endless blood and death that surrounded him.

The war was over, and there was no excuse for his being so uncivilized. He'd been raised better than to gawk at a lady so, and imagining that Bella might actually welcome his touch was not a thought he should have ever entertained. Upper class women such as herself viewed sex as distasteful - a chore that they performed weekly as duty to their husbands required. Like doing the dusting, only less enjoyable.

Again, Edward shook his head, trying to quell the thirst of desire that pulled at him. The image of Bella's half nude form was burned behind his eyelids, and he couldn't deny he wanted her. Badly.

And he felt like a cad for even thinking it.

Sighing, Edward lay back in his bed, trying to find the will to sleep again. It was early yet, the dawn having not broken, and days were long and tiring, with much work to be completed.

"Dammit," he muttered to himself.

It was too damn hot to sleep.

Propping his hands behind his head, Edward let his thoughts wander. No matter how he tried, they always came back to Bella. He comforted himself with the fact that not all of his idle thoughts were perverse. No, a great many of them hearkened back to a time, before his innocence was robbed by battle and gore, when he knew exactly what he wanted in life.

He would grow up to be a fine soldier, perhaps go on to be a politician or something like that. When the time came, he would take a wife - a beautiful, well bred, intelligent woman who would be to him what his mother was to his father: a true partner. He'd pictured himself, proud and handsome in his uniform, with his bride at his arm and a family of his own.

Edward chuffed to himself when he remembered that, however briefly, when he looked to the future, there was a time he'd imagined Bella there at his side. She was still the only woman he'd kissed because he wanted her and her specifically – not the physical pleasure or the bragging rights, but the intimate knowledge of Bella alone.

Sometimes he wondered how different things might have turned out if he'd been brave enough to follow the impulse he'd had when he was 17. If he'd sought her father's permission to court her, perhaps he would have been one of those soldiers who escaped the atrocities all around them by writing to their betrothed back home, dreaming of the life they would eventually return to.

Though the war had made him unquestionably jaded, some part of Edward was still that young boy who believed in beautiful ideas. In the darkness of night, he allowed himself to imagine that amidst all this destruction, pain, and shattered lives, maybe, just maybe, he and Bella were meant to find a new life together. Could there be some greater purpose to the fact they'd both been travelling that same road alone and happened to save each other?

But if there was anything Edward had learned over the last four years, it was that reality was not as beautiful as daydreams. There were many complications, not the least of which was that she had a life here, where his life - whatever that might consist of now - was in Chicago. He worried for her, being a woman alone in the world. He wondered how she would manage, but he also had no idea what she wanted.

Grumbling again at the sticky, humid heat, Edward carefully turned over on his good side, trying to ignore the pain and the persistent craving for friction at his core. He closed his eyes, trying to clear his thoughts as he waited for morning.

~0~

As early as was reasonable, Edward got up and went to the kitchen. He thought surely he was capable of putting together breakfast.

His biscuits weren't so bad... if one peeled off the blackened bottoms.

As he moved around the kitchen, a nagging thought occurred to him.

Bella's cupboards were running dangerously close to bare. He thought to check the smokehouse, but there had been no meat on the table for days now.

Deep in thought, Edward wandered outside, leaning heavily on the cane Bella had provided him. The branches of the orange tree closest to the house were just low enough that he could pick a few without much effort.

When he went back inside, Jasper was at the table, examining the breakfast he'd managed to cobble together.

"These are the worst damn biscuits I've ever seen," he muttered, tapping the hard, black side with his fingernail.

"They've got to be better than johnnycakes," Edward said coolly, hobbling to the counter to select a knife. He sat across from Jasper, beginning to cut the oranges into quarters.

Jasper snorted lightly. "Could do with some jerky about now, though," he mumbled, biting into the top of the biscuit experimentally. He chewed slowly, quirking one eyebrow as he stared at the bread. "Guess it ain't half bad if you eat around the burn," he said grudgingly.

"Thank you," Edward answered dryly.

They sat in silence for a few minutes as Edward cut and Jasper ate. "The shelves are fairly sparse," Edward said after a moment, trying to keep his tone light and unassuming. "I'd say Bella's in need of supplies. And she could stand to have a pig or two butchered."

Even out of the corner of his eye, Edward could see Jasper's body stiffen. "Now, what business of yours is that?" he asked.

"It's just a simple observation," Edward answered evenly.

"Well, don't you worry your pretty little head about it," Jasper said sarcastically. "I'm sure she just didn't figure what taking on another mouth to feed would do to her stores. She'll adjust accordingly."

Edward breathed in and out through his nose to keep from snapping at Jasper. "Well, I figure fair is fair. If you're amenable to lending me a horse, I can get to a market in Houston and be back by nightfall."

The blond man looked up, eyeing Edward carefully. "We don't need any help from you," he said shortly.

"We?" Edward asked, meeting Jasper's gaze. "I didn't know you had that kind of relationship with Bella."

"She doesn't need your help," Jasper amended. "She's got what she needs right here."

"She's also got ears." Bella's irritated voice made them both turn. She was standing in the doorway entryway with Peter on her hip and a slight glower as she stared at them both. "Jasper, I'm sure you know I can speak for myself. I've already told you, Edward, while I appreciate your offer, I'll make it down to the market when I need to."

Before he could protest - again - Bella changed the subject, smiling as she sat at the table. "Well, look at this. This is a mighty fine spread. Thank you."

Deciding to let the matter drop for the time being, Edward put two of his orange quarters in front of Bella and Peter. He spared a wink for the little boy when Jasper wasn't looking, holding one of the quarters between his teeth so that his grin was full of rind. Peter giggled and tried to imitate him. Edward chuckled lightly when the little boy accidentally bit into the rind and screwed up his face in disgust, picking the bitten pieces out of his teeth. Again glancing to make sure Jasper wasn't looking, Edward repeated his little trick, this time putting the orange quarter in his mouth with deliberate slowness so Peter saw how he did it.

"What are you giggling at, Petey?" Bella asked, looking down at the toddler on her lap.

Peter looked up at her with a mouth full of orange - half of it sticking out - and grinned.

Bella laughed, and leaned down to kiss his forehead. As she did, Edward felt an odd familiarity spark a comforting warmth in the pit of his belly. It would be nice, he realized, if this was his. His wife. His baby.

Remembering his rude intrusion the night before, Edward quickly looked away, feeling his cheeks grow hot.

If she was his wife, seeing her that way would not be improper or unseemly. In fact, it would be his right, and he would see much more of her than her bare back and the curve of a single breast.

Sitting back in his chair as he worried a piece of biscuit around his mouth, Edward tried to sort through his confusion.

He hadn't the right to think of such things in the state he was in. A man ought to have his life in order before he thought of taking a wife. She was the first taste of a normal life he'd had in four years, that was all. That and he doubtlessly wanted to alleviate some of the guilt he felt for having spied on her as he had. He might be able to write that kind of thing off as permissible if he wanted to marry the girl.

Edward sighed, wishing again that his father were still alive to guide him.

About half an hour later, Jasper had gone out to his fields and Bella was washing the dishes before she began her work for the day.

"Bella..." Edward began, considering his words carefully. "When I happened across you and those men, you were on the way to the market, weren't you?"

She glanced at him, studying his face as if she expected he was trying to lead her into a trap of some sort. "Yes, I was," she finally answered.

"Well, you haven't been to the market, nor sent someone in your stead since I've been here. It's been weeks."

She pursed her lips. "I suspect you're going to get to the point soon?" she said with a slight smirk.

"My Lieutenant sent word to my family when I was first injured, but I suspect if I don't update them on my condition soon, they'll be on their way here before I can stop them." He smiled fondly, missing his mother terribly at that moment. Looking at Bella, he held her gaze. "I need to get toward Houston and a telegraph service anyhow. If you won't allow me to pay my way, will you at least allow me to be your escort there?"

Bella turned back to the sink too quickly for him to see her reaction. She cleared her throat as she put the last dish to the side. "Jasper won't be pleased," she said, her voice musing.

"Well, he isn't your husband," Edward pointed out. "You don't have to ask his leave to go. If we leave right after he's gone out to the fields, he won't know until past lunch time, and it'll be too late by then."

She laughed. "How very devious." She turned, folding her arms across her chest as she looked on him. "He means well, you know. He's just concerned for me."

"I know," he said gently, meaning it. "As I've said, I'm not sure I would be much different in his place. However, your opinion is the only one I care about, at least in this matter."

Bella's smile was soft, almost shy as she looked on him. "Alright, Edward. You may accompany me to the market if it pleases you."

He grinned back. "It pleases me," he murmured, surprised at just how much the prospect of spending a day alone with her pleased him indeed.

A/N: Soooo seeing as it's the 1800's... will the market count as a hot date? ;)