Chapter 4

It was on their second week in Ireland that Christian and Ana arrived in South Tipperary.

Each night had been increasingly less awkward than the one before, and in over a week, they had settled into a rhythm they were comfortable with.

For three days, Ana made Christian laugh. Beneath the veil of lust hiding both of their true selves, they really were the best of friends. If one were to dig away at the issues that had piled on top of the genuine affection they felt for each other, admiration and respect would be found. Christian was Ana's person, and Ana was Christian's best friend.

Even on nights when they shared a room, they were grow ups about it and didn't tease each other, or worse, lead each other on. They were sated, too. Too tired most days, they were barely alone in the bedroom for half an hour when Christian was asleep on top of the covers in his clothes. Twice, Ana had gently woken Christian with his pyjamas in her arms and a sweet smile gracing her lips. Each time he saw the pyjamas, he freaked a little at the thought that she had been in his suitcase. The ring was buried in the depths between underwear and socks, but each time she woke him he cursed himself for giving into tiredness at the thought she may discover her ring.

But in Cashel, Christian and Ana were granted a room of their own, Christian in the large attic room and Ana on the second floor by the staircase.

They had enquired if vacancies were available the same way they usually did. Not wanting to arrive and have the receptionist suspiciously enquire why a married couple would desire separate rooms, Christian called beforehand. Each day, Christian was given the opportunity to put his acting skills to use. Ana would giggle outside the phone box as she listened to Christian adopt a British, Australian or Italian accent. He would ask politely if there were vacancies. If so, when they arrived they would state they were just friends and needed separate rooms, which they would pay for. If there were not vacancies, they would arrive holding hands and issue terms of endearment to each other as Ana signed them in as Mr and Mrs Steele.

The wind pushed against Ana's chest, the coolness turning her pale cheeks a light shade of pink as she climbed the stairs to the chapel. Christian was steps behind her, camera hanging around his neck as he made sure to keep his footing on the narrow staircase.

The Rock of Cashel was remarkable. After walking the grounds and the site for a majority of the day, they were both exhausted. Ana couldn't remember taking in as much historic information since college, and Christian thrived on the atmosphere which surrounded him. The gothic cathedral was a sight for sore eyes.

Christian had wanted to stay until sunset, to watch the orange glow descend over the Tipperary hills as he snapped away at the Celtic architecture of his new favourite place.

While many tourists bent over to read inscriptions on tombstones on the grounds below, Ana and Christian were the only ones up high in the chapel.

It was nice to be alone in such a serene environment. They had visited the chapel earlier in the day on their first lap around the castle, but being inside the eroded room as the cooler wind enveloped their bodies was different.

They had stood in the exact location hours before. Christian leaning against the open stone window as Ana stood beside him with his camera in her cold, shaky hands. She had snapped away, understanding his infatuation with film, when a young boy offered in broken English if Ana would like him to take a photo of the two of them. Christian had waited by the window, watching for Ana's response. Waiting to see if she knew what she wanted.

Right away, Ana handed over the camera, moving to stand by the window. Christian grinned, Ana smiled. As she stepped nearer to Christian, the ground below seemed too far. Her eyes widened, Christian caught her forearm, and before she could determine what the safety risk of standing so near to the window was, she was flush against Christian's chest. Click. Her red curls were flying against Christian's scarf. Snap. Two poorly taken photos they would later find out. But sometimes a flash didn't matter.

"We've spent all day here," Ana observed with a yawn, inching her way toward the open stone window with caution.

She didn't see when he peered through the lens and adjusted the focus on her profile. She didn't notice how he would move the camera toward the ceiling when she glanced his way. The sun was setting, shinning upon her sweet features and lighting her red hair. The snap of the lens shutter didn't reach Ana's ears each time Christian zoomed in on her hand brushing the wall of the chapel.

He stepped closer to Ana. Her expression beamed with glee as she stood by the window, looking out to the beauty of the land. She was oblivious to his form hovering behind her, until Christian rested the nose of the camera between the crook of Ana's shoulder and neck.

She didn't move as he brought the camera to focus and breathed her perfume in. Nothing had ever felt more ideal.

"I'd spend every day of my life walking around this castle. It's one of the most special people I've ever met," Christian muttered as he pulled away, admiring his photography skills as he flicked through his previously taken photos. Ana stepped away from the window with dramatic caution. Christian looked up, watching as she tried desperately to balance on the flat floor beneath her feet.

Her eyes were riveted to the ground and Christian looked away, not wanting to tease her for not feeling safe. Still, it was mildly amusing.

"People?" Ana enquired.

Christian nodded as he stepped up to the window. The breeze was only getting cooler. He hoped the snow would hold off until they were on a flight back to America, because they hadn't packed for temperatures below zero.

"It has more character than some of my manuscripts." He chuckled. "And that's saying a lot." Ana smiled widely, licking her lips. "This building is a person by very definition."

She watched the lines in his forehead crease as he admired the sunset through the lens of his camera. "Christian, if you could, would you really stay here every day?" Ana queried. "Would you walk the halls and climb the stairs?" Christian looked her way, the lines in his soft skin disappearing as he listened to Ana. "Or are you just saying that you would?"

His features ghosted over with certainty.

"Miss Steele, I would most definitely spend the rest of my life here if I didn't have responsibilities and children who needed me."

"Will you come back?" Ana asked as she adjusted her white scarf, stepping closer to find the sun having almost set.

"Will you?" Christian whispered. A plan almost read in his eyes. If the universe ever pulls us apart, meet me here in ten years because all I've ever wanted is to be yours, even if it's only for one night.

Her green pea coat felt too heavy. "It's getting late." They needed to leave. "We don't want to get locked in."

Christian lowered his camera, content with the images he already had for memories sake.

"Would that be so bad?" he challenged, turning his body completely to give Ana his undivided attention.

She nodded, casting her gaze out to the grounds below where Celtic crosses marked ancient graves. "Yes. It's freezing."

He shrugged, looking down. "I could warm you up..."

His comment hit Ana by surprise, and she giggled. "That's so cheesy."

When Christian raised his glance, his face was etched with seriousness. He was dark, mysterious, and utterly handsome. He made her want in a way she never knew existed. He was the one she had waited all her life for, dreamt about when she had said no to all of the strangers who were mildly interested in her. Suddenly, Ana didn't fathom the notion of getting locked in as entirely horrible. In fact, it was rather perfect. He'd lay his coat down in the warmest corner, she'd lie upon it, and he'd rest above her. Maybe he'd press her against stone and reach between her legs with hunger in his eyes. It wasn't ridiculous; for a brief eternity in only four seconds, Ana wanted to lose her virginity at the cold, gothic Rock of Cashel.

Instead, Christian left her confused gaze, led the way to the entrance and drove them home.

They ate in the small dining room for dinner, and quietly ascended the stairs of the homey cottage to Christian's room. They were glad not to run into any couples or families on the way upstairs that night, but the air around them was less tense. The home seemed more like an escape than the few convent-style homes they had stayed in the previous week.

The night was still young. Without the Seattle news to send Ana into a frenzy each evening, Ana was suffocated by boredom by the Irish Weather channel, and so they often slipped into each other's rooms to share their appreciated company.

Christian's room was cosier than Ana's, and she enjoyed the warmth the flames of the fire threw as Christian settled next to her on the rug.

"I don't have a fire at home," Ana casually noted as he stretched his long legs out next to her.

"No?"

She shook her head. "No. I've always dreamt of having a fire to sit by."

Christian brushed his shoulder against hers for a moment. "Well, it's no fun if you're sitting alone." He glanced into the flickering red light. "I rarely light mine."

They sat by each other for a long while, and Ana imagined what it would be like to curl up in his arms and feel true warmth. Perhaps he could just stand nearby. As long as he was near.

Christian seemed restless, and so Ana offered a suggestion. "It's only early. We should go for a walk."

They walked around their bed and breakfast, and on a whim, decided to keep going. They walked for half an hour until they reached the small Village of Cashel, a main street alive with culture that Saturday evening.

They stood amongst a large group of town folk, listening to the laughter and joy of families and friends as a folk band played an instrumental tune which brought a smile to Christian's lips. Ana watched Christian. His eyelashes were long, his lips so dreamily perfect. He was almost hers. He could be hers.

"It's so different to be surrounded by culture every waking minute. Ireland is just all around us," Christian commented as he shoved his cold hands into the pockets of his coat.

Christian nodded. "It's an experience of a lifetime, that's for sure."

The next string of words that tumbled from her lips came out of nowhere, and wanted to catch them before they reached Christian's ears, but she couldn't.

"José wanted to take me to Italy after our wedding. But I was too stubborn to let him pay and I'd just put everything I had into our savings account for a tract house."

His eyes glazed over with shame as she watched the lump in his throat bob up and down again. He could never give Ana what José could, he was realising as she witnessed pain flicker in his eyes.

"It was safe with José, wasn't it?" Christian whispered as he stepped away from the group.

She wanted to apologise, but her regret was caught between not understanding Christian's comment and taking back her own words. "Sorry?"

"You had security."

Her limbs seemed to go numb.

"I know how important it is to you to feel safe, Ana."

His eyes screamed that he wanted to be the one to make her feel safe. Her heart fluttered, yet she read his knowledge as a sign of truth. Was he pushing her away, insisting she go back to everything José offered her? Christian's expression shouted the opposite. I'll hold you at night and give you everything I possibly can. The way he straightened his back conveyed that he believed that he didn't deserve her; that he had nothing else to give.

"That's not the only thing that's important to me," Ana insisted softly. "Money isn't the kind of security I'm looking for."

"Really?" Christian asked, continuing calmly down the main street as the sounds of the band floated behind them. "Then why did you marry him?"

She felt stupid. "Because he loved me." Her cheeks were on fire. "And I loved him."

Christian stopped, his eyes dark and etched with sorrow as their eyes locked. "You loved me."

Ana gulped, uncrossing her arms and stuffing her hands into her pockets. "You were already married." She didn't consider how hurtful her next words would be, how he would replay them in his mind for the next three years. "And when you weren't, you never whisked me away to Vegas."

She began to walk again, but Christian stopped her, curling his fingers around her wrist. "No, I wouldn't dream of it. Because I respect you."

She pulled her arm away, his grip too gentle to keep her mind where it needed to be- protecting her heart. "So you respected me when you slept with Susannah?" He watched her, his expression unreadable. "I'm a woman, too, Christian." Her mouth was dry, but Ana was fierce. "I may not be as beautiful as Leila or have the charm of Susannah, but I have feelings, too."

He shook his head. "You're stunning."

She scoffed. "Don't stand here and tell me how beautiful I am when you've upset me." Tears sprang to her eyes. "I know who I am and who I'm not. I know I'm not desirable and oozing with sex-appeal, but I'm bright and I will go to my grave trying not to hurt those who I love."

His heart ached for her. Did she really think that of herself? She needed to know how elegant and divine she was. He had never met a person with such self-respect and defined values. And she made his body ache with need.

"I didn't mean to offend you, Ana." He could see the tears pooling in her eyes. "You're worth more than a thousand Susannahs."

Her voice was hoarse. "I don't need you to tell me that." She closed her eyes tightly, tears slipping down her cheeks. "Everyone thinks I haven't got confidence, but I have. I'm strong."

Christian swallowed and nodded. "Why don't you let your confidence show more often?"

Her eyes were bleak when she opened them. She gazed at Christian with shock, like he has just asked the most insensitive question in the history of admiration. He knew the answer; she had so many problems, that's why she was insecure. But she's working on it. Can't he see that?

His eyes were wide, waiting for her answer. She felt small. He had made her feel insignificant.

"Falling in love with you was the stupidest thing I've ever let happen."

Was she drunk? Was she crazy? Was she hallucinating?

"You don't mean that."

The next words tasted violent on her tongue.

"I do."

He tilted his head at her answer, disbelieving and hurt.

She looked down t her feet, the rocky gravel beneath her feet. "I used to be put together and-"

"You used to be a mess."

Ana's voice shook. "I knew what I wanted."

And she began walking. He let her walk for a long time before he stepped beside her. They were only metres away from their Bed and Breakfast when she sensed him steps behind.

She waited for his apology. He waited for hers.

And then he challenged softly in the most passionately raspy tone she had ever heard, "You wanted antiseptic and latex gloves. I'm the one that let your heart breathe."

She turned quickly, tears stains drying on her cheeks in the moonlight. "Don't try to sway me with your poetic tongue, Christian! I care about things just as much as you do! I'm every bit as passionate!"

"Then why won't you let us try, Ana?" he begged.

"Because I don't even know if I want you in my life!"

Her eyes were regretful. She silently pleaded for him to forget her ridiculous words. He took a step backwards, as though he had once again been wounded. He licked his gorgeous lips, stepped around her, and she didn't see him again that night.

She was speaking with the hostess at reception the next morning when he leaned over her shoulder.

When she turned, his features looked drained.

"Maybe we should spend the day alone, cool down."

"I am cool," Ana remarked.

"Yeah, but I'm not."

Neither of them drove that day, but they both walked to Cashel Village. It was surprising that they didn't see each other, because they both walked the main street three times before giving up and heading in different directions.

The extra days they usually had in towns were spent together, finding different things to look at and admiring the culture. They would often separate for hours sometimes. Christian would stand outside and listen to folk singers while Ana would glance in tiny stores for souvenirs. Not that day. Completely apart was decidedly boring.

Christian spent the afternoon by the lake close to their Bed and Breakfast. He hadn't meant to waste time just sitting there; he had been heading home to get the recharged battery for his camera. But then he had seen the lake, and he couldn't keep walking. He sat for a while, and then lay down to rest for a minute, and sooner than later, Christian was asleep.

He awoke as the sun was setting. There was no point in walking all the way back, so he decided to head inside. He showered, dressed, slipped a note under Ana's door, and headed to the dining room downstairs.

It was drizzling with rain when Ana finally arrived at the bed and breakfast that same night. She had made a detour past the Rock of Cashel to see it lit up at night, and only wished Christian could have seen such a scarily profound Cathedral in all its illuminated glory.

It was late when Ana arrived home, but she didn't feel like eating dinner. Guilt continued to claw at her lungs, and her stolen breath left her without an appetite. She went straight to her bedroom. Slipped under her door she found a note in Christian's handwriting, asking her if she would like to join him for dinner and if she would, he would be in the dining room until eight.

She'd missed the opportunity to apologise. It was nine o'clock.

She contemplated going up to his room, but she couldn't bring herself to do it. They'd speak in the morning, have breakfast together before they left for their next stop.

She was content with her plan to see him in the morning. She changed into her pyjamas and settled beneath the covers with the only book she had brought along. A romance. An erotic romance. Her very first sexy novel.

At page six, there was a knock at her bedroom door.

When she turned the handle, Christian was leaning against the deep doorframe.

"I just came to make sure you got home okay."

He looked different. Older, darker. Dangerous.

Ana looked down to make sure all of the buttons of her pyjamas were buttoned. "I'm fine."

He was watching her again, as he had at the Rock of Cashel as the sun set. She searched for words. "I need you to know that I didn't mean what I said."

He nodded. The argument was over. "Did you have a good day?"

She grinned, leaning against the opposite doorframe. "No."

His features remained blank, refusing to match her grin. She lost her own. "Me either."

The longest moment passed. He stared. Her eyes widened. She didn't know what to say. His lips parted. She bit her lip. He choked on his words. "I couldn't stop thinking about you."

Her breathing quickened. "Christian."

He payed no attention to her whisper of his name. He moved closer, closer. His hip bones rubbed against hers and their chests met as he trapped her against the doorframe.

He craned his neck as her eyelids slipped closed.

"Christian...I never want to stop thinking of you."

Her heart raced. Her pelvis pushed forward without permission.

Christian kissed her. His bottom lip settled between hers and she quivered. She parted her flesh and Christian moaned softly.

He caressed her lips with gentle ease, but their lower halves enjoyed the friction they allowed themselves. He pressed her harder against the doorframe. His hands found her sides and he lifted her small body against his. Her legs wrapped tightly around his waist. Their bodies pressed together. They rocked together. Grinded. Writhed in the hallway of the darkened cottage. And still, he kissed her ever so slowly. Her hands tangled in his curls as he held her steady above the ground. When she felt his arousal press between her legs, Ana pulled back in delight.

He mistook her shock for regret, and lowered her immediately.

"Wait." Christian whispered, looking around to make sure the hall was as quiet as it had been when he initially knocked on her door. "I can't do this...not again." Ana licked her lips. They tingled from his kiss. "You need to figure out what it is you want." Their gazes locked. "I'm sorry I kissed you." No, Christian. Don't be sorry. "We should forget this happened."

She nodded in agreement. "Tomorrow's a new day."

"Right." Christian leant against the doorframe, his palm resting upon the wood above Ana's head. "I'm going now." They both looked down to the bulge in Chriatian's jeans.

Ana swallowed. "Are you okay?"

"Yep." Christian released a deep breath. "Just give me a minute."

"I guess it's a good thing we have separate rooms tonight..." Ana whispered softly.

Christian turned his neck to look at Ana, a bright light shining from darkness of her eyes.

His expression questioned her. Is it? Is that what you really want? I wouldn't be able to control myself if we were sharing a bed. Ana, tell me you wouldn't want to control yourself either.

Her eyes were wide, and his were on fire.

AN: Thank you for reading! And clicking on favorite and follow!