I don't own these characters and I make no money from my scribblings.

V

Bella's POV

I became conscious of my surroundings very slowly, as if delaying the pain of full awareness. In the distance, I could hear the steady tick-tick-tick of the old clock that had been in the Black family for three generations now. I heard the muffled voices of Mrs. Kendall and Mr. Masen in the hallway. I could even discern the subdued voices of my sons, asking about me with evident concern. Then I heard Mr. Masen's calm, reassuring voice soothing the fears of Alex and Aaron. I relaxed, knowing that he had them well in hand and would not let them worry overmuch. Mr. Masen had been a godsend for the boys.

However, I could only avoid the events of the morning for so long.

With agonizing clarity, the details of the day bloomed in my mind. Looking through the post, picking up the letter with an unfamiliar hand. I had known. I had known the moment I took that letter in my hand with its unknown handwriting but my hometown name scrawled in the corner.

Mrs. Jacob Black.

That was me. Wasn't it? Sometimes I was not sure. I did not feel like the wife – no, the widow – of Jacob Black. I felt as if he was a stranger to me, a figure in a story that had nothing to do with me. It seemed impossible that I had taken his name, lain beneath him in this very bed, and created two children with him. Because in this moment, Jake did not exist. I was merely Bella Swan again – a lonely, somewhat shy girl who had loved her parents no matter how little we had in common. And now they were gone. Forever.

Until I had read the words – a house fire…both of them tragically lost…the house destroyed…every effort was made…offer my sincere condolences for your terrible loss…settle their affairs at a later date – I had not realized how much I had been counting on them. It was finally clear to me that – somewhere deep in the most secret recesses of my mind – I had always thought that the boys and I would have a home to go back to if we lost everything here. My parents were not perfect, and they would not have been overly joyous to find themselves responsible for their daughter and grandsons, but they would have lived up to their familial obligations. Their position in society alone would have guaranteed that.

It was not that they did not love me. I knew they had. But I had recognized long ago that Renee was too caught up in her society commitments to do much more than make sure I was behaving properly, as a young lady should, to be too involved in the life of a daughter. I had been a disappointment since the day of my birth, after all. I was not the longed-for son, and my birth had ruined any chance of future children. Their bitterness always tainted their regard for me, but that was a pain I had long ago learned to endure. It had been especially hard for my mother, who had felt keenly her failure to provide my father with a son to carry on the name. He had been the last Swan. There would never be another.

My father… Oh, I would miss him. Or maybe I would miss the idea of him more since it was true that I had not actually seen my father since Jake died. They had shown up a week after the funeral, given me perfunctory expressions of sympathy and my mother had made it quite clear that I was on my own. I had a roof over my head and was in no danger of imminent starvation, so she considered the matter closed.

My father, however, had pressed a handful of bills into my hand one evening, leaning down to whisper, "Don't tell your mother." That was all. But it was much coming from Charles Swan. He never said five words when two would do, and his taciturn nature was practically the stuff of legends in the town where I had grown up. Somehow, merely knowing that he was there, I had found comfort and solace.

Now, however, even that fragile bit of peace was denied me and I was truly, for the first time in my life, alone.

Except for my boys. My beloved sons. Those holy terrors that I adored beyond all reason. Thoughts of my sons brought to mind their tutor. My cheeks flamed red as I recalled collapsing in his arms. I had been vaguely aware of the gentle motion of his body as he carried me effortlessly up the stairs.

I had not been so insensate that I had not been aware of the hard muscles that cradled me, or of the broad chest against which I rested. The coats and vests and shirts were hiding a very masculine form, slender and yet very well muscled. His strength was sleek and predatory, and –

What kind of woman was I?

My parents had just died and once more I found my thoughts wandering off in dangerous and forbidden directions. I could not completely banish the sensation of being in his arms, however briefly. Was it so wrong to want not to be lonely, if only for a moment?

I had felt…safe and cherished and cared for – and for once, not alone. Now, my loneliness became a living thing, a beast that ripped and tore at my flesh, my soul. I had visions of Mr. Masen, standing tall and proud before that beast, ready to conquer it in my name. A useless dream, it was just another way to hurt myself. I turned into my pillow and let the tears flow once more, uncertain for what I wept.

Edward's POV

The feel of her in my arms, the warm weight of her – I knew that feeling would haunt my dreams for the rest of my life. The moment of terror when she had fainted had made my heart race, but even that had been nothing to the sensation of my heart thundering against my ribs at feeling her fragile body in my arms as I raced up the stairs to her bedroom. Kicking the door open as I called for Mrs. Kendall, I mused with no little sense of irony that this was not exactly how I had envisioned taking Mrs. Black to her bedroom for the first time.

Then she moaned a little and I settled her carefully on the bed, taking in the contrast of her dark blue dress against the seemingly endless expanse of pristine white of the bed covers. Because she was still unaware and because I was alone with her, I took the unforgiveable liberty of letting my hand run over the dark silk of her hair. Even tortured into a tight bun, it was breathtaking to behold. But the feel of it! It was silk and fire and temptation. I longed to pull every single pin from her hair and watch it tumble over her shoulders, creating a dark curtain to shelter us as we kissed.

I heard Mrs. Kendall in the hallway and took a step back, my hand still tingling from the exquisite feeling of Mrs. Black's hair. Then Mrs. Kendall was sitting on the edge of the bed, rubbing Mrs. Black's hands in her own. "Mrs. Black," she whispered urgently. There was no response and I felt my breath lodge in my throat. "Isabella," Mrs. Kendall finally said with more force and volume.

I looked at Mrs. Kendall in surprise. She looked over her shoulder at me, her expression somewhat embarrassed at the impropriety, but no apology in her face. "I've been with Mrs. Black since she was a girl," she explained simply.

Suddenly her care and affection for Bella and the boys made much more sense. She truly loved Mrs. Black. "I didn't know," I murmured, but Mrs. Kendall's eyes were already back on Mrs. Black.

"Isabella," Mrs. Kendall leaned down and whispered in her ear. "I'm here, my darling. You're safe." Bella moaned and stirred just a bit, her eyelids fluttering open for a moment and then closing again. Mrs. Kendall heaved a sigh of relief. "She'll be fine, just swooned, I imagine."

I nodded, clearing my throat uncomfortably. "She got bad news…from home."

Mrs. Kendall closed her eyes briefly, her lips moving swiftly. It seemed to me that she was praying, and knowing how devout she was that would be a most logical conclusion. "Her father?" she finally asked.

"I'm not quite certain, though from what I could understand both of her parents…died."

Mrs. Kendall gave a small moan and shook her head. "The poor lamb," she muttered and then her hands were dexterously moving through Bella's lovely hair, pulling the pins from it as I had longed to do. My fingers twitched at my sides and I had to restrain the impulse to push Mrs. Kendall aside and take over the task myself.

The sight of all that dark hair spread out on the pale backdrop of the pillow made me swallow hard and I had to turn away. No man but her husband should see Mrs. Black in such an personal way, but I knew the memory of it was seared into my head, no matter how little right I had to it. I could only imagine the lurid fantasies that such an intimate sight would inspire and I knew I had to excuse myself before I did something of which I would forever be ashamed. Clearly, I was an animal who should not be admitted to decent company.

"I must go tend to the boys," I muttered and turned on my heel. I was almost to the door when Mrs. Kendall's voice stopped me.

"Thank you, Mr. Masen," she said quietly. I nodded without looking at her, because if I did I was quite sure that all of the pent up longings I harbored for Mrs. Black would be quite evident in my eyes and she would see me for the low, pathetic creature that I was. "What will you tell the boys?" she asked.

I barely looked over my shoulder, studiously avoiding the sight of that dark cloud of silk on the pillow. Swallowing hard yet again, I noticed that I could see the embroidery at the neckline of the chemise that Mrs. Black wore. Perhaps her own slender hands had wrought the design. I could picture her sitting by the fire, the fine lawn of the chemise clutched in her hands, the clever wink of the needle as her skilled fingers moved the needle in and out of the fabric. All the bright colors taking form as delicate buds and blooms, the soft green of leaves twined about the neck, giving a frame to the perfect ivory flesh above.

My own fingers twitched yet again as I forced down the temptation to trace the lines of the delicate flowers and then up to the delicate collarbones... "I will just tell them that their mother is tired and resting now." I shrugged. "It's not my place to tell them anything else."

Mrs. Kendall paused for a moment and then sighed. "Yes, I suppose that is for the best. I'm sure that Isa – Mrs. Black will want to tell them about their grandparents herself." She gave a small humph that was most unexpected. "Not that they had much to do with the boys anyway. They haven't seen them since just after their father died."

A million questions clamored within me, pressing against my lips as I remained quiet only by sheer will. I wanted to know everything about Mrs. Black. Had she loved Jacob Black? Why was she not closer to her parents? Why had they not helped her after her husband died? These were things of which one did not speak with the hired help so I had no way of knowing what had led Mrs. Black to her current situation.

And that was what I was, merely a man hired to educate her sons.

I had no right to hope for anything else. I nodded once more at Mrs. Kendall and excused myself, trying to ignore the pain in my chest as I considered all of the things I must never, ever dream of again.