Chapter 4

Connor had hidden his pain as well as he could from Ellen, seeing her to the door and stealthily using the frame to aid him in standing upright until she had tenderly kissed him goodnight and he had shut the door behind her. He walks bent partially over and it is a struggle for him to climb the stairs so he descends the three steps he had managed to ascend, goes to Achilles' room and falls weakly into the same bed he had begun his recovery in without bothering to take off more than his jacket. Bending to remove his boots is a near impossibility so he simply lies back and decides he will do it later after he has rested for a short time.

The morning isn't any better and brings him no relief to his discomfort. When Ellen comes by she finds Connor sitting at the kitchen table with a half full cup of room temperature water by his hand. There is no evidence of an attempt to make himself breakfast other than a sack of dry oats sitting on the counter, unopened, and an empty pot on top of the cold stove. His lips are dry and pale and he has rings of darkened skin under his eyes. His weakened state is a shocking sight and Ellen cannot help stepping close and reaching out to feel his forehead and cheek with her hand. He is indeed warm to the touch and her heart drops.

"Oh… Connor," she breathes. Connor allows her to guide him closer and he rests his head against Ellen's stomach, closing his eyes with a long sigh.

"Will you get the doctor for me? I do not think I can reach him on my own." His voice is soft and he is obviously reluctant to ask her to help him but after she had spent hours by his side just offering her companionship and not attempting to force him to open up more than he was ready to, he feels more comfortable with her than he has with anyone else outside his village that he has ever known. Ellen strokes his cheek with her fingers and bends down to peer into his eyes when he looks up at her with his dreadful words still hanging in the air between them and revealing the complete truth of his weakness.

"Will you be alright while I'm gone? It could be some time."

"I have survived this long. I will continue to do so until he arrives."

"Let me at least help you to bed."

"No, Ellen. I will stay here." Ellen stares at his face and softly touches his burning skin with her fingertips. He seems ready to fall over but he at least had the strength to get to the kitchen so she trusts him that he will stay put. Bending, she gives him a soft kiss on his cheek and hurries out the door.

Dr. White arrives and with Ellen's help, gets Connor back to bed and strips him of his boots. Ellen leaves them alone to gather some tomatoes from the overgrown and neglected garden behind the mansion. She heads back to her house briefly to collect some eggs and other ingredients but she can still hear the men talking when she returns to the manor's kitchen to prepare something for Connor to eat.

Dr. White lifts Connor's shirt and thoroughly examines him. He presses in several places on his abdomen, listens to his heart and how he breathes with his special device, taps a tuning fork and holds it to him in various places, smells his breath and examines his urine. When he has completed his assessment he gives his opinion to Connor with a stern, clipped tone to his voice.

"Your reckless behavior of leaving while still very unwell is to blame for this. You have excess fluid in your abdomen, caused by too much activity far too soon after your injury and you're feverish, just as Ellen had informed me. If you expect to make a full recovery, you'd best stop thinking you're impervious to harm and start listening to sense. Anything I do is for naught if you undo it all by gallivanting off into the woods to do God know what!" He flings his hands into the air as he finishes speaking and packs up his tools, making a lot of racket while doing so. Connor pulls his shirt down, properly subdued by Dr. White's irritated rebuke. The doctor leaves the bedroom and raises his eyebrows at Ellen in the kitchen.

"Good day, Ellen. Maybe he'll listen to us now when we tell him to stay in bed where he belongs!"

"Perhaps, doctor. Thank you for coming so speedily." The doctor nods and lets himself out. Ellen tucks a napkin and some silverware into her apron pocket, arranges some sliced tomatoes sprinkled with salt and a sizeable portion of eggs with some warm, buttered rolls onto a large plate and carries it on a tray along with a pot of strong black tea and a mug across the hall into the downstairs bedroom. Connor raises an eyebrow at her determined expression as she sets the tray down beside him on a small table.

"Are you going to feed me again?"

"Only if you won't feed yourself. One way or another, you're going to eat a proper breakfast. And then you're going to rest. You heard the good doctor." Connor frowns and stares at his hands in his lap stubbornly. Ellen knows he's thinking of a way to get around the doctor's orders so she quells it before he can give voice to it.

"If you put up a fight, I'll get Catherine. She'll make you eat and sit on you to keep you in bed if she has to. You don't want that!"

"Oh." Connor's eyebrows raise in a concerned way as he compliantly holds out his hands for the plate and Ellen gives it to him with the fork. She sits on the side of the bed, pours some of the tea into the mug and holds it on her lap. The contents are dark and a few flecks of tea leaves settle slowly, circling to the bottom as she sighs deeply with worry.

"Please do as Dr. White asks, Connor. It's alright to slow down, you know. The world won't end if you stop holding the weight of it on your shoulders all the time." She looks earnestly at him and he slowly chews a bite of bread while watching her. When he swallows he lowers the plate and fork down to his lap.

"I must keep working. It is not a choice I have the luxury of making." Ellen tilts her head with a concerned look on her face. Her shoulders slump downward and she opens her mouth to speak but Connor forestalls her by stretching out his hand toward her.

"I will not leave again until I am well. I had to do what I did, Ellen. There were certain… responsibilities I needed to see to but they are done… for now." He watches her carefully as her lips compress for a moment. Her eyes never leave his face.

"Connor… you could have died out there! Again! I had no idea you were so sick last night. Why did you hide it from me? I would have gone for the doctor then if I'd known." Connor shakes his head.

"I thought it would pass." Ellen pins him with her eyes, frustrated at him for deceiving her and uncaring that his motives were to keep her from worrying about him.

"Then you're a fool for thinking so!" Ellen spits out. She holds out the mug of tea for him, almost sloshing it over the sides onto the blankets, and he takes it cautiously. He watches her as he sips from it and answers her only after considering his words carefully.

"Perhaps I am a fool but I do what I must. It is not for idle entertainment that I do such things. It is for the sake of many and I believe that even with my missteps I have achieved more good than harm. I cannot explain further, Ellen. You must trust me." Ellen watches his face until she's satisfied that he isn't inhibited by fever or fits. He meets her gaze with equal determination and she realizes that he won't budge on his stance. He is a man of many deep secrets and she can't expect to learn all of them in only a matter of days. Ellen drops her gaze first and stares down at her hands resting on her lap. She nods and looks up at Connor.

"I do trust you. But please consider trusting me as well." She stands and Connor raises his head to watch her approach the head of the bed. She reaches out and runs her fingers over the short, dark, new growth of hair coming in where Connor had shaved off his locks weeks ago. Succumbing to a surge of affection for him, Ellen leans down to kiss his forehead but at the last moment Connor tips his head back and meets her lips with his. Their kiss is short but charged with powerful emotions. Though unable to touch Ellen because of holding the plate and cup in his hands, she knows he wants to. That knowledge causes her to draw back and look into his eyes. He stares back at her, unblinking, and Ellen is drawn closer by his soft, amber gaze until they kiss again, lingering, savoring the moment. When they part at last, Connor asks her a question in his usual straightforward manner that takes her by surprise.

"How long have you felt this way for me?" Ellen stands upright and presses her hands to her stomach, surprised at his query.

"I don't know. Maybe I always have, ever since you prevented Quincent from publicly beating me in the street. No one had ever stood up for me like that before and succeeded against his drunken rages. I would never have even considered revealing such feelings before – but then I thought I'd lose you forever."

"You will not lose me." Ellen smiles and drops her eyes from his at his confident words. Connor raises the teacup toward her and Ellen takes it from him with her left hand. She places it on the tray beside the bed and begins to turn away but Connor raises his now empty right hand to the inside of her right forearm. His fingers trail along her soft skin until his hand engulfs her slender wrist and he closes his fingers around it. Bringing her hand to his face, he touches the backs of her fingers to his cheek before moving them to his mouth and kissing the tips of them. Ellen wants to crawl onto the bed beside him and hold him until the end of time but it would be vastly inappropriate to do so. Anyone could walk in and see them. She is reminded of his weakened state by the dryness of his lips and the heat of his flesh and it gives her the strength to resist the fantasies of her mind.

"You must eat and get well first. Then we'll see about the rest." Connor compliantly relinquishes her hand and picks his fork up. Satisfied that he'll cooperate, Ellen leaves him to his breakfast and starts the task of cleaning up the kitchen.

Catherine comes by for a visit with her boys. The normally active children are surprisingly sedate while under their mother's sharp supervision.

"We hope you get better, Master Connor." They say with their hands clasped behind their backs like small gentlemen.

"I am working at it." He assures them warmly from his comfortable place on the bed. Catherine makes a loud scoffing sound from where she stands next to Ellen.

"I fine' tha' hard ta' believe after ya' ran off!" Connor's eyebrows rise up on his forehead at her scolding tone and he folds his hands over his stomach. Catherine shakes her finger accusingly at him and narrows her eyes.

"Don' ya' give me those innocen' puppy eyes! Yer a stubborn man, ya' are! If ya' were my own, I'd give ya' some whacks jus' fer tryin' ta' charm me! Hmmm." Connor's mouth opens and closes and a look of confused worry changes his face from surprise to open bemusement mixed with a real fear of Catherine's retribution. His shoulders hunch slightly as he leans back against the headboard and turns his palms upwards in a sign of deference, unable to even speak in response to her. Ellen quickly turns to her sewing basket and stifles a silent laugh, rifling through her scraps and projects in an effort to conceal the mirthful shaking of her shoulders. Connor's expressions had been quite entertaining and Ellen could almost hear the thoughts that had likely been whirling inside his head. After Catherine had clearly shown no compunction over slapping his exposed backside, no doubt Connor is worried that she'll actually give him a sound beating if she feels it's necessary. Maybe after receiving so many words of genuine concern from those around him, Connor is finally taking his health seriously.

After only two days, Connor becomes too restless to be contained in a bed. He attempts to resume some of the more menial tasks he used to care for around the manor but Ellen stops him every time she catches him doing them. She outright denies him the use of the scythe to cut the grass, taking it to her house and forbidding Maria to release it to him, even if he comes asking for it. She makes a habit of spending several hours each day at the manor to tend to the unruly kitchen garden and clean the rooms before Connor gets any ideas to do it himself. The rest of the time she does her mending on the upper balcony where she has a view of the harbor.

"Ellen, you are making unnecessary work for yourself. I can take care of this place." Connor protests some days later from where he stands watching her pulling up new weeds in the garden. He approaches and crouches down on one knee beside her but she sits up on her heels and shakes her head.

"I happen to enjoy gardening. I find it a nice break from my needlework." Connor tilts his head and sighs at her, brushing aside a stray lock of hair that had fallen down onto her sweaty cheek.

"Fine. I am going hunting. Is that acceptable? Or will you make me beg Myriam to hunt for me?" He fondles the lock of hair between his fingers, seemingly unaware of his action.

"Maybe I should, just for your impudence!" Ellen can't hide her smile and a small one even forms on Connor's face, just for a moment. She sighs indulgently.

"Go. Or I'll never hear the end of it from you! Please, no large game?"

"I promise." Ellen leans close and touches her nose to his, holding her dirty hands out to the sides so she won't get anything on Connor's coat. She kisses him softly and Connor slides his fingers into her hair between her scalp and loose bun, drawing her into another, far more passionate kiss. They are very well hidden behind the manor, so they're surprised when they hear someone clearing their throat nearby. Like young teenagers caught stealing kisses in church, they separate quickly. It's Faulkner. Connor stands to walk over to him but Ellen drops her head, a deep scarlet blush suffusing her skin from the neckline of her dress upwards to her hairline. She can hear the men's conversation from where she kneels in the garden with her back to them, utterly embarrassed at their behavior being observed. At least it wasn't Father Timothy.

"I didn' think I'd see th' day when ya'd be kissin' anyone, boy! Maybe yer more of a man than ya' let on, aye!" Faulkner's laugh rings out loudly and Ellen presses the backs of her dirty hands to her forehead in utter embarrassment. She gathers her skirts and her dignity and stands up. Faulkner sees her stormy face and manages to quell his laughter down to a wry smile on his weathered face.

"You'll be keeping what you've seen to yourself, I imagine, Mr. Faulkner." Ellen levels her eyes at him and he stands straighter with his hands behind his back formally.

"Beggin' yer' pardon, Ellen, but it's no secret that ya' two're friendlier than friends, if ya' know what I mean. I'm not here t' see Connor. I was told ya'd be here if I needed any mendin'." Ellen's eyebrows raise on her head and she lifts her chin slightly, eyeing Faulkner with skepticism. The older man moves his hands out from behind his back, holding his palms upward out to the sides in a weighing motion.

"It's common knowledge at the inn." Ellen presses her lips together and then approaches him, dusting her hands on her apron. She glances at Connor and he meets her eyes with one of his brows raised questioningly. Closing her eyes, she shakes her head and sighs.

"I suppose it was only inevitable. What do you need mended, then?" Faulkner lifts his arm to reveal a tear in the seam of his jacket under his armpit.
"It's me coat." Ellen takes a quick look at it and then gestures toward the manor.

"Well, since everyone seems to know I spend a significant amount of time here, you'll also know that my things are here. If Connor doesn't mind, I'll take you inside and see about repairing your sleeve." Connor nods his head at her.

"You know I do not mind. I will go on my way now." Ellen gives him a stern look.

"Remember, no large game. Come in, Mr. Faulkner. This will only take a moment to repair." Ellen walks stiffly toward the manor and Faulkner follows in her wake.

As Faulkner takes off his coat in the kitchen Ellen collects the things she'll need to mend it. She returns to find him sitting down at the table with his jacket over his legs looking off towards the open door of the house. He has a strange expression on his face.

"Mr. Faulkner?" Ellen says softly. He seems to start out of his thoughts and he lifts the jacket to give it to her. She takes it from him, watching his face as he looks carefully at her.

"Forgive me, Ellen, this ol' man gets a bit reminiscent at times. I was jus'… never mind."

"Please. You may speak your mind with me. I'm sorry I was so irate with you. It's just that I like my privacy."

"Of course. Ellen, I've known Connor since he was jus' a boy. I care fer him like a son. I guess I jus' ferget sometimes that he's a man grown… Ya' should know that there ain' a better woman in the world fer him than ya'. It's as plain as the sea out there that he loves ya'. " Ellen feels her face flushing in embarrassment once again.

"Thank you, Mr. Faulkner."

"That's nothin' t' be ashamed of! Take advantage a' love when it comes yer way! I lost the woman I cared fer most and I regret it t' this day."

"I'm sorry for your loss."

"She's still alive, Amanda is. She lives on Martha's Vineyard is all. Too much time has pass'd fer us t' start over now." Faulkner rubs his beard absently as he thinks on his past. Ellen rests her hand on his arm.

"Don't say that!"

"Aye, but it's true. We've gone our ways… Ya' and Connor still have yer youth."

"I'm not so young anymore, Mr. Faulkner. I've got a daughter who's old enough to marry."

"Yer young, Ellen. Maria's but a child yet. Fifteen ain't nearly old enough t' call a woman. That's about how old Connor was when I met 'im! I was swimmin' in me drink then but I remember him all the same. Greener'n the leaves on the trees, that boy!" Faulkner and Ellen share a smile at his description. Ellen sits down beside him at the table and turns his coat inside out. She takes up her needle and thread to begin repairing the seam.

"Tell me more about him when he was young. I've only known him for a short time compared to you."

"Ah! A rash, opinionated boy, he was! An' didn' know the first thing about sailin'! Why, he even tried to step onto the Aquila with his left foot first! Aye! What a fool boy he was!"

"Are you so superstitious about all that?"

"Ya may call it superstition but it's not somethin' t'be scoffed at."

"As you say, Mr. Faulkner." Ellen considers bringing up his reaction to Maria on board but refrains. He is a man with his own scruples and they have served him well over the years. Who is she to question them when she barely knows what she's doing with her life?

The jacket is soon mended and Ellen refuses any compensation from Faulkner.

"The pleasure was mine, Mr. Faulkner. Perhaps you can thank me by paying a recreational visit to Martha's Vineyard some time." Faulkner squints at her and then a small smile forms on his face.
"Maybe I will. Someday, maybe I will."

As Connor gets stronger and his wound heals, his interactions with Ellen become more intimate. They kiss often and frequently share Connor's large bed upstairs on nights that Ellen stays late working on her sewing. Maria never asks questions when her mother comes home early in the morning. At first Ellen would try to pretend she had simply come home late but after Maria caught her walking back from the manor in the twilight of dawn Ellen stopped making the effort. Though she and Connor had never gone beyond sleeping in each other's arms or even undressed, she still feels guilt at their behavior.

One night, long after Ellen had accepted that everyone in the town had already begun treating her as the lady of the manor and speaking of them as an established couple, Ellen finds herself emboldened. Connor is washing his face and Ellen steps up behind him and sniffs him jokingly. He turns and faces her, his face still dripping. A few drops run down his bare chest.

"Do I smell bad?" He asks her and she laughs softly, shaking her head.

"Just checking." She reaches for the towel to dry his face and he takes the cloth from her when she's done, placing it down beside the basin. He puts his hands on the sides of her hips, pulls her to his body and kisses her sweetly. When they break away, Ellen rests her hand on his chest and presses her face into his skin.

"I love how you smell. Whether you need a bath or not." They kiss again and Connor raises his left hand to slip his fingers into her hair at the base of her head. His thumb slides along her jaw and with gentle pressure, he pulls her more deeply into the kiss as Ellen rests her palms on Connor's waist. Connor tugs at the knot of her shawl with his right hand, loosening it until he can draw it off her shoulders. He drops it beside the towel and mirrors his left hand on Ellen's neck and cheek for a moment before running his fingers along the side of her neck, down over her chest and onto her left breast. Ellen looks up at him when he takes a step back and moves his hands to the first button of her dress and stops. His eyes silently ask her permission and when she breathlessly gives him a nod of assent he begins to unbutton her dress.

She's nervous about how she'll appear to him unclothed. She's no virgin, as he is. Her breasts aren't quite as perfect as they had been before she became a mother. Her stomach, though fairly flat, carries faint marks from being pregnant with Maria and there is a softness to her figure that has never quite gone away but has been hidden by her corset. She keeps her eyes trained on Connor's face and stands very still as he deftly makes quick work of the multitude of small green buttons. He licks the inside of his bottom lip ever so slightly; if she hadn't been watching him so carefully she may have missed the momentary indication of his apprehension. He is so good at hiding his emotions behind a flat mask of quiet confidence but when he is around her he lets her see into his soul. To witness such an open sign of uncertainty in him humanizes him even further and exposes just how young and raw he really is beneath the surface of his hardened exterior.

His eyes meet hers once again as he slowly reaches to the neckline of her opened dress and hesitates for a moment before pushing it off her shoulders and sliding it down her arms. Ellen pulls her arms out of the sleeves and lets the dress drop to the floor. Connor cups her face again and kisses her deeply, meeting her tongue with his eagerly until she is forced to separate from him and take a deep breath. The moment she does he moves his mouth to her cheek and neck, bending to kiss down her exposed skin, trailing his fingers over the length of her bare arms and taking her hands in his. He stands upright and his eyes move over her as he raises her hands up to his mouth so he can kiss the tops of her fingers.

When she looks at Connor and sees the way he is looking at her, some of her self doubt falls away. He is breathing quickly and he seems to be drinking her in.

"Untie me?" She asks softly, and he silently nods so she takes her hands from his and turns her back to Connor to present the laces of her corset to him. He unties them slowly, pausing from time to time to kiss her neck or shoulder, letting his lips linger on her skin as he breathes out his warm breath against it only to drag them softly from one place to another in a way that only intensifies her already unreserved arousal. Connor finally loosens her corset enough for Ellen to pull it over her head, and the moment she does he returns his lips to her skin. Ellen had intended to place her corset on the chair but Connor's insistent desire causes her to simply drop her undergarment onto the floor with her dress. He turns her around with his hands on her shoulders. The weight of them is heavy and Ellen reaches up to his hands and slowly pulls them down over her breasts. They warm her skin through the thin fabric of her shift and he gently touches her as if she would break under his touch. Ellen breathes in quickly at her body's response to him. She reaches up to his neck and he takes her mouth in another kiss.

Ellen knows it hurts him to stay bent over slightly so she walks backwards toward the bed. She leads him to sit down and then steps between his knees. He holds her hips and kisses her body through her shift almost reverently. Ellen pushes on his shoulders and he moves backwards on the bed until he's resting with his back propped up by the pillows and headboard. Ellen crawls onto the bed and up along the left side of his body, softly kissing his stomach and chest as she does. Her knee rubs up the inside of his leg and she settles it against him. Connor's head falls back against the headboard and his anticipation is clear to see. With her left hand, she caresses his neck and chest, sliding downward to his pants, making him exhale in a rush.

It has been so long, so long since she has felt the excitement of arousal, the flutter of her heart in anticipation and the drag of skin on skin. The early days of her marriage had been heated and lusty, the tumble of two lovers in the flush of youth. Everything had been new then, thrilling. Every touch and kiss, every caress had scored her body with fire and ice. All too soon the gentleness had turned to rough handling and the sweet whispers and kind words to shouting and cursing. Ellen feels the burgeoning expectation of pleasure filling her body and renewing the happy fever she thought had been lost long ago. Connor's hands touch her everywhere and his soft lips follow them wherever he can reach. He pulls on the strings of her shift and Ellen does the same to his pants, freeing him from the confines of his clothing. Connor lowers her straps down her arms and Ellen helps him by sitting back taking her arms out of them the rest of the way, baring her breasts to his sight for the first time. His eyes sparkle with lust as he looks at her and runs his hands down her shoulders and arms to hold her forearms in his hands.

Ellen raises his hands to her breasts, lowering her body down to meet his touch. The roughness of his callused hands on her delicate skin is a heady contrast and a soft sound escapes her throat at the contact. Connor's eyes are locked onto her in his hands and he guides her upwards so he can use his mouth, making Ellen cry out softly.

He continues stroking her skin lightly, covering every inch of her exposed flesh with painstaking deliberation. It drives Ellen wild with desire and she makes increasingly louder cries of over-stimulated need. Even his warm breath is a wonderful agony as he kisses up her chest and settles into the corner of her neck and jaw with his lips and tongue.

"Please, Connor… Please." Ellen sits back and Connor releases his exquisite hold on her. She moves to the side and pushes her shift the rest of the way off. Connor sighs at the sight of her kneeling on his left side on the bed; his eyes are dark with desire in the warm candle light that fills the room as they roam over her nakedness. Ellen reaches for his opened pants and he lifts his hips as she pulls them down and off of his legs. Her hand follows the muscular line of his left leg back up, over the inside of his knee and along his thigh. She runs her fingers over the skin of his pelvis and back down to his right thigh before moving in to touch him. Connor shifts his hips and breathes so rapidly that he presses his right palm to the healing wound on his side unconsciously. Ellen moves so she is next to his hips on his left side.

She takes his left wrist and moves his hand between her legs and rises up slightly, inviting him. Her head falls backwards as he touches her. Ellen moves him to the right place, showing him what feels good with subtle directions; a tilt of her pelvis or a tightening of her fingers on his wrist when he touches a sensitive spot, a slight repositioning of his hand. After only moments, he doesn't need her guidance; her reactions are his road map and he discovers her secret, hidden places that yield the most pleasure from his touch. He is rewarded by her breathless whimpers and the attractive way she closes her eyes, parts her lips and lets her head tip back, exposing her slender neck to him, adorned with the dark ribbon tied around it, that draws his eyes over her body.

Ellen's enjoyment mounts quickly and she allows it to continue unchecked. Connor is watching her with partly lidded eyes of lusty gratification but they open wide with a look of wonderment on his face as she is gasps and cries out with pleasure. A barrage of sensations wash over her and remind her how good it feels to have a man's loving touch. Connor has made her body weak with his careful attention. Ellen tips her body forward over Connor's chest, breathing heavily, and he gently pulls her up so he can kiss her. She carefully crosses her left leg over his body and shifts so she is straddling him; they move slowly together.

It's been years since Ellen has had intercourse, and even longer since she has enjoyed it. She feels as if she has opened the greatest gift possible and to share it with Connor… her joy is boundless. Connor's hands shift down her body and along her legs, his movements sporadic and distracted yet he still wants to give to her. He has given so much of himself that Ellen takes his hands in hers, linking their fingers, and brings his hands up over his head. She kisses him and whispers,

"Let me do this for you…" Connor's eyebrows move together and Ellen shakes her head. When he opens his mouth to speak, she quickly stops him with another kiss, moving her hips slowly until Connor's head falls back on the bed with a moan and he squeezes her hands with his. Ellen moves steadily, sitting up and dragging her hands along his arms until she rests them on his shoulders so she can use her legs more. Connor makes low sounds deep in his throat and chest and he bends his knees up and covers his scar with his right hand again. He lets out a hoarse cry and his body bucks under her and then he collapses back. Nothing has ever felt more right than this. Connor opens his eyes and they smile at each other. He slides his hands up her legs and over her sides, pulling her down onto him as he moves them up onto her back. His fingers tangle in her hair as they kiss and when they have filled themselves up with their love, Ellen turns and rests her cheek on his shoulder.

Connor trails his fingers lightly from the side of her jaw, down her neck and shoulder and along her arm or down her back in a soothing, repetitive motion that lulls Ellen almost to sleep. She fights slipping into the shadowy world of slumber, desperate to soak up every moment she possibly can of their intimacy and act of love they had at last shared. Her efforts to resist such tranquility are fruitless and only when Connor moves to carefully lay her beside him and pull the blankets over them does she wake, surprised that she had drifted off. Stroking her cheek, he kisses her softly and whispers to her.

"I will return in a moment." He gets up and snuffs the candles, which had burned low as the hours had passed and they had enjoyed their lovemaking and restful dénouement. He quickly returns to her and takes her in his arms as they settle in for the rest of the night, satisfied and content.