A/N: here we go, the next instalment! I do hope you like it - things are starting to get interesting and I've got big plans for the next chapter! So enjoy

Max had been meaning to get the governess alone for some time now so that he could talk to her about the rather curious situation with Georg. He wasn't even sure there was a situation between the two of them anymore, particularly given the fact that Georg had reverted back to treating her with nothing but the utmost disdain. The only indication that anything more may have once existed between them was the sudden change in Fraulein Maria. The girl was suddenly subdued, forlorn, almost timid - not a pinch on the girl that had first turned up at the villa and given the mighty Captain von Trapp a piece of her mind. Max would openly admit he had a business interest in the girl - she was talented beyond question - and it simply wouldn't do if she were to continue being so melancholy that she failed to excel in her talents. What he wouldn't so openly admit however, was the simple fact that he was also worried about her.

Ever since the day of the attack she had appeared as though she was eaten up by something. Guilt? Remorse? Heartache? He wasn't sure. But it was beginning to affect the children too. Not only had their father reverted back to his distant ways, but their once vibrant, spritely governess was finding it difficult to keep their spirits up. They were saddened, confused - and he was beginning to see the first signs of their lashing out again. They were restless and seeking out attention, and it seemed that their biggest target this time round was not in fact their governess, but Elsa. He would've found it all rather amusing if it wasn't for the gravity of the situation. Over the last ten days, since the children had seen their father for the first time after the attack, Elsa had been victim to a beetle in her lemonade, her cigarette holder being used as a spitball shooter, and her make up bag being raided for a rather expensive game of dress up amongst the youngest girls. That last stunt had resulted in Elsa turning as white as her pearls and lashing out at the governess for her inability to control the little terrors. The old Fraulein Maria had almost made an appearance then, cracking an amused smile and attempting to explain that she was once a powerless victim to the children's pranks herself... But the icy glare that Elsa shot her had silenced the Fraulein abruptly and she had immediately reverted back to her newfound timidity, apologising and insisting that she would keep the children in check.

"Those little darlings will be shipped right off to boarding school as soon as I have any say in the matter," Elsa had sneered coolly to Max under her breath, "just wait until Georg hears about this."

"Oh Elsa, they're just harmless children," Max had laughed, dismissing her threats with a lazy wave of his hand.

"Nevertheless I'm sure Georg would wish to hear of their ill treatment towards me," she had insisted, "he wouldn't stand for this nonsense after we're married."

Max knew she was right. The new Georg would've favoured his children over Elsa without question but it seemed that his amnesia was proving to be quite convenient for the baroness. No doubt she had noticed prior to the party that Georg was slipping from her perfectly manicured clutches. He was no longer the man she had thought him to be. But now, given his memory loss, he was right back where she so desperately wanted him.

"Married?" Max had interjected, "do I hear wedding bells?"

"Oh yes, peeling madly," Elsa had smiled loquaciously, batting her thick lashes, "we have been discussing it rather a lot more since he's awoken. Just give me a few more days my darling Max, a few more days," she'd given him a playful wink and Max had suddenly felt rather ill at ease, much to his surprise. After all, hadn't he insisted on their betrothal for quite some time? It was his greatest aim to keep all that lovely money in the family! Only now, things were different. Georg had changed before his attack and Max couldn't help but wonder that perhaps this new Georg - the passionate and intense man who laughed and sang and gazed at his governess a little too long - perhaps he wouldn't have chosen to spend the rest of his life with the rather haughty Elsa Shraeder by his side, as mother to his children.

Since the day of Elsa's vicious outburst towards her, the governess had been sticking to the children like glue and when she wasn't tending to their needs, she was taking her shift in tending to Georg. It had been entirely impossible for Max to get her alone for questioning. He knew it would be difficult to feign a spontaneous conversation on the topic if she were always with the children or their father and so he resigned himself to the fact that he would need to ask her for a private word. No doubt it would alarm her but he believed it necessary. Something needed to be done.

It was Maria's turn to tend to the Captain again and she couldn't decide whether these regular meetings filled her with dread or a thrilling anticipation. It seemed to be a painful mixture of the two. While he was still very much the snide and sarcastic authoritarian, the initial shock of his situation had worn off and, depending on his mood, he was now more willing to at least treat her with some level of respect. Occasionally, when he was in one of his better moods he would let her tell him about the children's progress and she delighted in the fact that he took an interest in their development. She was careful to keep the topic of conversation to schooling and exercise rather than anything that would be deemed too fun for the von Trapp children. After all, as far as he was concerned his children did not play, they marched. But the fact that he listened to her, enquired about her charges, conversed with her in that way during these rare moments alone - she could almost try to forget he'd ever lost his way.

And then of course, there was the touching. Entirely one sided and unreciprocated, the sole purpose of her caresses was meant to be to clean his wounds. But the fact that she was allowed those few bittersweet moments of touching his face - healing him, soothing him, feeling the warmth of his skin - it was a reassurance that a soul still hid beneath the cold exterior. Once or twice he had held eye contact with her while she caressed his features with gentle but efficient hands and she had simply stopped breathing, unable to look away from his intense stare and feeling as though they were suddenly dancing the Laendler again. He had looked at her as if he'd seen her before but was struggling to place her.. And yet it also seemed as though he was seeing her for the very first time. Her breathing would quicken in those moments and she could've sworn she had seen his chest rise and fall more rapidly too. It had almost been enough to cause her to grip his hands and blurt out everything she felt, to tell him everything that had passed between them and to beg him to remember. But the doctor had said not to alarm him, and she was terrified that Georg would refuse to believe it, reverting even further into himself. She had no right to ask for his love - God had made that clear. So she said nothing.

"What is it you have the children reading this week Fraulein?" The Captain asked as she busied herself with tidying his bedside table.

"Oliver Twist sir," she muttered, avoiding his scrutinising gaze.

"A fine story," he nodded in satisfaction, "are they taking an interest?"

The truth was that the children had found the wording of the Dickens novel quite tedious and had soon grown restless. Maria's solution had been to stage a reenactment of the scene they were reading, with each of the children playing one of Fagin's boys. She had made a backhanded comment about Kurt clearly having been the Artful Dodger in a previous life and they had all fallen about laughing for the first time in two weeks. It had been a moment of solace for all of them. But she knew somehow that the Captain wouldn't quite appreciate the sentiment.

"Yes sir, they are quite taken with the book," she gave a week smile, "but... "

"But?" He pressed, when she said nothing.

"It's just.. The little ones struggle with the novels Captain, they're so desperate to hear a fairytale..."

"Insufferable drivel.." He muttered, rolling his eyes impatiently.

She felt the first real surge of anger towards him since he'd awoken - a burning frustration on behalf of her charges - and it made her want to shake some sense into him. Pushing others away from fear of being hurt was one thing, but being a stubborn pig-headed fool was another, and she was beginning to lose her patience. She made as if to speak, a protest waiting on her lips - but one look at his face reminded her that it was a lost cause. Clearly he needed more time - if time could even heal such a complicated mess.

Georg watched as the Fraulein battled with herself inwardly, clearly attempting to decide whether or not it was worth starting an argument with him. A week or two ago he would've found such insolence entirely unacceptable but he had to admit that he'd come to find these meetings with her rather entertaining. As an active man, being confined to his room was becoming exceedingly boring and he'd taken sport in trying to decipher the Fraulein. This woman seemed timid, reserved, quiet, submissive.. And yet very rarely he would see a glimpse of fire, a rare flash of anger, a sudden glimmer of righteous defiance that she would desperately try to suppress. In those moments he would watch her open her mouth as if to retort, only to think better of it and revert back into her shell. He found great entertainment in pushing her, to see whether or not she would finally give in to those curious flashes of rebellion.

"I suppose you believe fairytales to be a solid foundation of a child's education," he smirked, watching her bite her lip in an attempt to prevent an argument.

"You are quite right sir," she responded coolly, fixating on her task of rearranging the bed covers, "when children so young are in the first stages of reading I think it's important to find a story they can truly immerse themselves in."

"Tales of handsome princes and evil dragons and princesses locked in towers?" He continued to smirk in that entirely infuriating way.

Maria gritted her teeth, "otherwise known as insufferable drivel..."

There it was - another small glimpse of her repressed fire. It almost made Georg's smirk widen.

He allowed a short silence to pass between them before speaking again.

"Well I can certainly relate to the princesses locked in towers right now, being cooped up in here," he grumbled, the infamous scowl replacing his smirk, "it's maddening."

She said nothing and avoided his eyes, causing his frustration to flicker in his chest.

"Would you stop fussing with the bed covers, they're perfectly fine!" He snapped, agitated.

She left the bed alone and he could've sworn he saw her roll her eyes as she made her way to the chair by his bedside.

"I'm going outside today Fraulein, I've had quite enough of this nonsense," he barked. He was readying himself to give a lengthy speech about the fact that he was perfectly well, that some fresh air would do him good and that nobody had the right to stop him. But the Fraulein simply shrugged and nodded her complicity.

He had expected a protest of some kind, a hand pushing him further into the pillows and insisting he rest, but instead she said, "I quite agree, it seems pointless to be bedridden when you have perfect use of your arms and legs."

"Quite," he nodded in satisfaction, a little taken aback, "would you please lay out a suit for me to change into? You have permission to go in my armoire to retrieve one."

He watched as she complied, making her way to the wardrobe at the further end of the room.

"Do you have a preference sir?" Maria was sifting through the various suits in the armoire when her eyes fell upon his navy uniform. She felt her pulse quicken as a forbidden image of a devilishly handsome Captain wearing the attire forced itself to the forefront of her mind.

"There's a dark navy one I'd like to wear.."

Maria's thoughts wandered back to their conversation weeks ago in the tree when they'd spoken about that very same suit.

"Ah yes, Agathe's favourite.." She replied without thinking.

The silence that followed was palpable and the atmosphere hung thick with a newfound tension.

"What did you say?" His voice was low, icy, dangerous and she felt his eyes burning into her back.

She froze, inwardly cursing her stupidity and her running mouth. Slowly she turned to face him, dreading what she would see.

"How do you know that.." He murmured coldly, his eyes glazing over with silent anger. Maria's heart broke as she watched him struggle to conceal his pain.

"You.. You told me sir," she whispered.

"I would never have told you that!" He growled.

"You.. You were wearing the suit a few weeks ago and you told me that it.."

"I haven't worn it in years!"

"Captain, you were..."

"Enough!" He lunged forward in his sitting position on the bed in an attempt to intimidate her into silence, but the movement caused him pain and he suddenly grabbed at his chest, wincing and cursing with a shout.

"Captain!" Maria hurried to him, their conversation forgotten as she made to unbutton his pyjamas and uncover whatever was causing his suffering.

"What are you doing?" he grimaced, alarmed by her advances and attempting to swat her hands away - but she simply slapped at his fingers and resumed her task, "it's nothing," he insisted, "it's just a bruise!"

But she wouldn't listen and he tried and failed to scramble away from her as she hurriedly undid each button. A sudden and unexpected heat began to unfurl in the pit of his stomach as he watched her delicate hands undress him, too absorbed in her task to notice his discomfort. Oblivious to the effect she was having on her patient, she shoved the silk material aside to reveal a violent blackened bruise across his sternum. She gasped and ran her fingers featherlight over the expansive mark, a vicious reminder of the way Zeller had stamped on him in his attack.

Georg gritted his teeth and attempted to breathe through the alarming sensation of her touch on his naked torso, entirely bewildered by his body's reaction to what should've been nothing more than a clinical examination. She was the governess and a postulant for goodness sake - it was entirely inappropriate. But her fingertips were searing his skin where they brushed against flesh and hair as she checked for any signs of something more sinister, and he was overwhelmed by a scent he felt he recognised - a heady combination of roses, lavender and something he couldn't quite place. She was bent over him, the curve of her neck and the milky skin of her collarbone within inches of his lips and he felt his mouth water at the thought. With careful precision, she traced the outline of the bruise, her nimble fingers causing his flesh to tighten with need. She was examining him so closely that he could feel her breath against his flesh and it made his head reel, thoughts of her lips following the same path as her fingers edging into his mind. Unkowingly, she grazed a nipple and he felt the pull all the way to his groin. The entire scene was painstakingly, erotically intimate and she had no idea.

His heart thudded in his throat and amidst the lustful stupor, despite his better judgement, he felt oddly moved by her concern. Elsa had seen the bruise when changing his nightclothes and had enquired about it but had soon dismissed the topic when he'd insisted it was nothing. And he'd told the governess about Agathe? The knowledge deeply unsettled him. Why would he have told her something so personal, so intimate?

She continued to gently prod and graze at his chest and he was grateful that she wasn't looking at his face, for he feared his eyes would betray his absurd lust. He felt his control slipping, his mind wandering in arousing directions he didn't want it to, and the realisation made the frustration bubble in his veins again. This was entirely ludicrous.

He suddenly grabbed her wrist to still her movements and her head snapped up with eyes blown wide, meeting his intense stare for the first time since she began her explorations of his body.

A surge of adrenaline coursed through her and she suddenly realised the implications of her actions when she saw his eyes darkened with heavy frustration, his lips pressed together as if fighting for control, his chest rising and falling rapidly - and she realised she'd seen that look before. He'd looked at her that way when they'd been in the tree and he'd almost kissed her. He'd looked at her that way when they'd danced the Laendler. And she found herself frozen to the spot, drowning in the intensity of it as her stomach turned to liquid fire. Never taking his eyes off hers, he slowly lowered her hand to rest on his chest and she dared to splay her fingers against the warm skin and muscle and hair, to really feel him. Was her Georg in there?

A knock at the door startled her into reality and she leapt up from the bed and rushed to the window in an effort to put some distance between them, while Georg made hasty work of his buttons.

Max entered the room to find his friend half clothed on the bed and a very flustered Fraulein staring a little too intently out the window.

"Er... Is this a bad time?" He smirked, finding great amusement in the fact that his suspicions about the two of them seemed to be correct.

"For goodness sake Max, it's not what it looks like," Georg snapped, finishing with his buttons, "Fraulein Maria was inspecting a nasty bruise on my chest."

"Mm.." Max teased, "well I do hope for your sake that she was.. thorough."

Georg's eyebrows shot up to his hairline but before he had time to retort, Max was turning his attentions to the Fraulein.

"It's actually you I've come in search of my dear," he said, noting the look of alarm on her face, "I just wondered if I could possibly speak with you in the drawing room when convenient?"

An eerie silence engulfed the room and Max looked from the governess, to Georg,back to the governess again - perplexed by their expressions. The girl looked positively terrified and Georg's jaw was set heavily in silent discomfort as if he wished to protest.

"Was it something I said?" Max asked, baffled.

"No, no.. That's fine Her Detweiler," the Fraulein finally found her voice, "I will come down with you now."

"Excellent," Max grinned, delighting in Georg's obvious distaste for being left ill-informed, "Georg, do excuse us."

They made to leave but Georg stopped them.

"Fraulein."

She turned to face him, her eyes betraying a mixture of heat and confusion.

"No fairytales," he remarked coolly, "have I made myself clear?"

Her heart sank. The mask was back.