Disclaimer: The characters are still not mine, sadly

Notes: I'm terribly sorry it's been almost a year since I updated this :S I hope the chapter makes up for the wait. Many thanks to Ballettmaus for help with the chapter.

I'd like to dedicate this to both cmaddict and Divinia Serit.

Reviews would be really welcome; I'd love to know if you're still out there!

Romance in the Afternoon

Stella:

Don't think I've ever realised just how cold it can get out in the snow. The moment Mac and I step outside, I feel how cold it is; a real sharp cold, knifin' through all the layers I'm wearin', almost to my bones. Though I ain't prepared to say it out loud, I'm grateful to Martha for insistin' on me wearin' all these scarves. Mac seems to realise how cold I am though and wraps his arm tighter round me, givin' me a smile as he does. That warms me up in no time, from the inside out and soon stops my shivers better than any number of scarves could.

As we're walking down Main Street, neither of us feel the need to say anythin'. It's enough just to be with each other for now. There ain't no rush, neither. I know I was real keen to be out seein' the saloon, but now it comes to it, well, maybe I ain't in such a hurry. I take a look back at the Hammerbacks' house just before we pass out of sight of it and see Miss Jessica watchin' us through the window, then she turns and disappears and we keep on walkin'.

The street sure ain't busy, and I'm grateful for that. Last thing I want right now is to answer questions. There ain't no folks like the folk of Hattanville for askin' questions. The few folks there are out don't say anythin' to me and Mac, just sort of glance at us mostly, raise their hats or nod and then hurry past. Likely they ain't sure what to say to us. However, what they don't say says plenty. And it's what I sure ain't wantin' to hear.

In all those voices that ain't speakin' and all those looks they're castin' at me as I'm walkin' along at Mac's side, keepin' my head held as high as possible, there's pity. Pity.

Damn, if there's one thing I hate, it's folk givin' me pity. 'Cause I don't need it. I don't need it and I don't want it, 'cause if they're givin' me pity, it's 'cause they're sorry for me...

"Stella, it's goin' to be all right, you remember me tellin' you that?" Mac's voice, real soft and gentle, only loud enough for me to hear stops my thoughts in their tracks. Meetin' his gaze, I manage a wry kinda' smile; seems even Mac is of the same way of thinkin'. So I tell him I remember him sayin' that. It's one of the few things I do remember about last night after watchin' the roof of the saloon fall in.

"I don't reckon it could be any worse than I've imagined it to be," I add and he nods, though his lips are pressed kinda' tightly together and he stops walkin', turnin' so he's starin' right at me.

"Your leg holdin' up all right?" I ask him, realisin' I was in danger of some self-pityin' there, which is somethin' I hate even worse than other folk's pity. Then feelin' sorta' light and silly for a moment, maybe 'cause I'm needin' to shake off some of this gloominess, I add, "You know, that cane really does look well with you. You ought to consider keepin' it."

Mac raises his eyebrows before replyin' real dryly, "I hope this ain't gonna disappoint you, Stella, but I sure ain't gonna be keepin' it after my leg's healed."

"Then that's a real shame," I say, adjustin' his collar for him, and hopin' he ain't gonna notice how my fingers are tremblin' as I do that. "Maybe you could keep it and use it just for special occasions, like when we go walkin' out together..." It's a strange sort of moment for light-hearted talk, but sometimes humour's exactly what you need in these moments.

Mac smiles, reachin' up and curlin' his fingers round mine, stoppin' them tremblin'. "I'll consider it," he says gently.

"I'm glad to hear it," I say, attemptin' to smile back at him, touched by him sayin' that.

We stand for another few moments, just takin' in each other, bein' safe and sound, and together, until I sigh and look down, before lookin' back up at Mac. "Well, I guess we ain't gonna do ourselves much good standin' out here in the cold, are we?" I say, tryin' my best to sound cheerful.

"Likely not," he replies in that real dry soundin' voice he's got at times. "I don't like to think about what Martha would have to say about that."

That makes me smile for real; though Martha's one of the kindest-hearted people I've ever known, she's also one of the fussiest. When it comes to the health of those she cares about, there ain't no one more Mother Hen like.

Mac's lookin' at me real gently. "Do you want to go on?" he asks, rubbin' my fingers between his.

"Sure I do," I say, strong as I can manage, noddin' my head once to emphasise that. Before I can change my mind about that, I turn, and lead us on towards the saloon... Or rather, where the saloon used to be.

Oh my.

Though I'd prepared myself all the way we've been walkin' along, when I actually see it, see all the wreckage of my home, it hits me like a bullet in my chest. Have to stop and sort of heave a breath of air in because for a moment it feels like I ain't able to breathe.

But Mac's right there beside me, keepin' his arm real close round me, reassurin' me in the kindest of voices that it's all right and he's there and it's gonna be fine.

Things ain't fine, not by a real big stretch of the imagination. Maybe though, maybe they'll be all right though in time. So takin' another deep breath, I get control of myself again and walk forward. My eyes are fixed ahead of me, tryin' to avoid lookin' at all the folks I'm aware of who are watchin' me, all of them fallen silent. It's just Mac and me, together. No one else matters.

Right in front of the wreckage, we stop. It ain't possible to go any further, so we stop with the toes of my boots almost touchin' the burned timbers. There's a real rank sorta' smell in the air, still smoke driftin' up from the mess and the faintest sorta' hissin' sound. Guess right in the middle of it all, it's still gonna be real hot.

For a while, I simply ain't able to say a word. There ain't nothin' to be said. I'm still tryin' to take all of it in...

"Miss-Miss Stella?" A shy sorta voice speaks up from close by, and blinkin', I turn round to see Adam Ross standin, his hat clutched in his hands, lookin' real nervous.

"How are you, Mr Ross?" I ask, gatherin' myself together and even puttin' a smile on my face.

He nods vigorously. "Real good, thank you, Miss Stella. How are you?" If he ain't careful, he's gonna squeeze the life outta that hat of his. The thought of that makes me able to smile a little more and answer him more or less truthfully.

"I'm doin' pretty well, thank you, Mr Ross. It's kind of you to come and ask."

"You're welcome," he says. "And-and how are you, Mr Taylor? It's good to see you up and about..." His voice trails off and he looks kinda anxious about askin' the Sheriff about his well-bein'. Mac sure ain't takin' offence though and answers Mr Ross quite cheerfully.

"I'm pretty well, too. Mr Ross."

The young man bobs his head up and down again before shufflin' his feet in the snow and gesturin' backwards. "That's real good to hear. I better go though, 'cause Miss Novak has invited me to lunch with her parents and I don't want to be late."

"That you don't," Mac says, a smile curlin' up the edges of his mouth. "Please give our regards to Miss Novak and her family."

With a nervous smile and wave, Mr Ross says that he will, backs away and rushes off. Brief though it was that little encounter somehow has made me feel more cheerful. Despite what I was thinkin' earlier, it makes me feel better that someone weren't afraid to come and speak to me.

Well, I ain't gonna just stand here and look at things. Feels like I need to be doin' somethin'. Maybe there's even some things I can salvage from all this mess...

Or maybe that's just wishful thinkin'. This great heap of charred wood in front of me ain't recognisable as havin' been anythin', least of all my home and business.

I guess I've let a sigh escape from me as Mac's hand wraps round mine and he leans closer and kisses my cheek.

"Oh, Mac," I murmur, turnin' to look at him, knowin' he ain't gonna say anythin' about the trickle of water that's escaped from my eye. "What am I gonna do?"

He smiles, loosin' his fingers from mine and brushin' my cheek ever so softly.

"Stella, it ain't just a case of what you're goin' to do, it's what we're gonna do. This ain't somethin' you're gonna face on your own. You got me at your side, whatever happens."

Reachin' up, I place my hand over his and manage a watery sorta' smile. After lookin' down at the ground for a moment to compose myself, I meet his gaze again and give him a real determined look. Don't want to get all overcome with self-pityin' again...

"With you next to me, I don't reckon there's anythin' we can't tackle," I say and his smile gets wider.

"You got that right," he tells me. "So, where we gonna start? What do you want to do first?"

"Now there's a question," I say with a wry look at him as we start movin' round the perimeter of the site. Sorta' timidly, 'cause I ain't sure what he's gonna say, I continue, "Maybe there ain't much hope for anythin', but I'd like to take a look through round the edges, where it ain't gonna be too hot, just see if there's anythin' that survived."

Even standin' where we are it's real warm and I'm startin' to feel kinda' hot with all these scarves. And seein' as we're far enough away from the Hammerbacks' house for Martha not to see, I can risk unwindin' a few of them.

Already Mac's face has fallen into a frown, which ain't got nothin' to do with me removin' scarves. It ain't hard to guess he don't approve of my suggestion. He turns and studies me, still holdin' my hand.

"I ain't sure it's such a good idea," he says and I ain't able to stop a sharp sorta' laugh breakin' out of me.

When he frowns even more, I reassure him real quick, "Mac, I ain't teasin' you, but sometimes it's kinda' easy to predict what you're gonna say."

The frown on his face don't lessen. "Maybe so," he says. "But that aside, what you're suggestin', what good is that goin' to do? Surely it ain't gonna achieve anythin' but makin' you more upset when you don't find anythin' but embers." Wavin' his cane over the burned remains – which I'm findin' more and more difficult to look at, it's like some horrible nightmare you think is gonna disappear when you wake up, but it don't – he carries on, speakin' more gently, "Stella, you know how hot it was when we were inside there, how quick the fire took hold, what sorta damage fire's capable of..."

"Of course I know." I interrupt 'cause I'm feelin' tears wellin' up behind my eyes again and I'm determined I ain't gonna cry again. "But-but there's a chance that somethin' will have survived. Even if it's just a chance, Mac, I want to look. There's... there's almost everythin' I ever owned inside that saloon... Everythin' I ever used to own... " Breakin' off to dash my hand across my eyes, I clutch Mac's hand even harder as I continue speakin' quietly but real urgently, "I gotta at least try and look for somethin'."

"Stella..." he starts, lookin' at me concerned now and I shake my head.

"No, Mac, listen to me. I appreciate you're tryin' to protect me and-and I love you for that, but some things I don't want to be protected from. This ain't somethin' that's gonna hurt me physically."

"Maybe not," he says, "but hurts to your heart are worse than physical hurts." He sighs and looks down at the ground, pokin' the cane into the snow in a pattern.

"I've suffered, and survived, more than a few hurts," I tell him in a quiet voice. "Seein' the saloon burnin' down last night was one of the worst, I'll admit, but if I can face that, then I reckon I can face 'most anythin'."

He gives me a look that's more serious than I've seen for a long time on his face. "Maybe you could," he says. "But I don't want you to face anythin' worse, because I don't know if I could bear you havin' to suffer anythin' else."

Though he's spoken only a few words to me in that sentence, he's told me more about his feelings than he could have done in a whole speech. It leaves me without any sort of words to answer him, so I got to settle for holdin' him as close as I can when he slips his arm round my waist and hugs me, pressin' a kiss to my temple.

"I don't ever want to see you hurt either," I whisper, as memories from last night come rearin' up in my mind. "When I saw you bein' tormented by that son of a bitch, Baines, all I wanted to do was tear him to pieces for hurtin' you."

There's a dark sort of chuckle that comes rumblin' from Mac's chest when he hears me say that but it soon stops and there's a sudden darkness in his eyes. "That's nothin' compared to what I wanted to do to him when he hurt you and when he-when he threatened you," he tells me in a fierce whisper. My hand finds his and we stand there, holdin' each other, hearin' our hearts beat together, knowin' it's what we need to start healin' all the hurt we've suffered. The backs of Mac's fingers stroke my cheek and I let myself relax into his hold.

"I've been a coward," he murmurs and I'm that surprised to hear him say that, I pull away and look at him.

"Coward? Mac Taylor, if there's any man less cowardly than you, I've yet to meet him," I tell him, feelin' real fierce at the accusation he's made against himself. A rueful sort of smile appears for a moment on his face, before he catches hold of my hand.

"There are all kinds of ways a man can be a coward," he says. "Especially when it comes to sayin' certain things; even admittin' certain things to himself."

Tiltin' my head to one side, I study him, before askin, "What exactly do you mean, Mac?"

Droppin' his gaze for a moment, he reaches for my hand, enclosin' my fingers within his. "What I mean is that there's somethin' I should have said to you a long time ago. It shouldn't have taken the two of us survivin' a fall, a blizzard and a fire for me to say it." Wrappin' his hand round mine even more tightly, he looks up and the look he gives me is so intense I ain't able to look away, even if I wanted to which I don't and his voice, low and soft, holds me captive, too as he says, "I love you, Stella. I've loved you for a long time, even though I ain't told you..."

"Oh, Mac," I breathe, leanin' forward and kissin' him. Ever so gentle, he pulls me closer, his hands caressin' the back of my neck, and not carin' if anyone's lookin' at us or thinkin' it ain't decent for the Sheriff and the Saloon Owner to be kissin' in the middle of the street, we let ourselves sink real deeply into the kiss.

Drawin' apart finally, our foreheads are touchin' and Mac cups my face in his hands. "I'm sorry it's taken such a real long time," he murmurs and I smile.

"You ain't got any need to apologise to me, Mac. There are some things a girl knows without bein' told them. Which ain't to say that she don't want to hear them sometime," I add, not wantin' to tease him too much even though I'm feelin' sort of giddy at the moment. Reckon my head's had too many emotions these last couple of days and it's startin' to spin with them. Slidin' his arm round me, Mac holds onto me and I breathe in the real comfortin' scene of him, rememberin' in that flash how he put his coat around me last night. He's shown me how much he loves me in more ways than I can count. It strikes me then, that I ain't actually told him out loud, when he's been conscious to hear it, that I love him, too. So I put that right and tell him and the glow that appears in his eyes and the way he clasps me to him is all I needed to know.

"I'd realised that, too," he murmurs in my ear.

"Reckon we're kind of even though, don't you?" I say, "I rode through a blizzard, you came walkin' through fire."

After all we've survived the last few days, we're in need of somethin' to take a little more light-heartedly. Mac though still ain't quite lost that serious look from his face, and so I'm quick to tell him that I weren't makin' light of his feelings. "Likely the rest of our days are goin' to be real dull after this," I say, restin' my palm against his cheek for a moment. It breaks a smile from him, which I'm real glad to see.

"Likely they will be," he says, coverin' my hand with his. "But that ain't somethin' I'll complain about. Guess I'd rather be dull and alive than anythin' else. And," he continues, meetin' my gaze again with an intensity that makes me feel my heart almost beatin' against my ribs. "If the rest of our days are spent together, then I'll have nothin' else to complain about at all."

We're both silent, breathin in rhythm with each other, hands held real tight. I got a feelin' like stars burstin' in my chest, guessin' that there's more he's got to say to me.

"Would you be willin... I mean to say, would you be happy spending the rest of our days together?" Mac asks me then, soundin' almost timid.

I ain't able to speak. All the breath's been taken right out of me. All I can do is nod and let him draw me even closer to him, wrap my arms round him and just stand there, holdin' him as he holds me.

His voice real soft, Mac murmurs to me, "I know ain't got a ring, yet, but will you do me the honour of becomin' my wife, Stella?"

Findin' tears in my eyes, I gaze up at him, the happiest smile I've been able to give in days breakin' through some of my grief at losin' the saloon. "Mac, there ain't nothin' in the world I'd like more."

I'm seein' now what I never expected to see; tears shinin' in Mac's eyes as he hugs me, whisperin' to me how much he loves me. With my head nestled against his chest; I know there ain't been a time I've felt safer and more loved. And I know that the rest of our days together is what we both want, and maybe what we both need, more than anythin' else in the world.

Thank you for reading! Reviews would be really welcome :) Lily x