"Goodnight Connor," says Mahayla, hesitating at the door. Grab her! growls the voice inside me. Make her yours! It's getting harder and harder to quiet him these days, the Mohawk warrior that lives just beneath the surface of my skin. I realize that's just another part of me, but it's one I've always been able to keep firmly on the battlefield, and away from my life on the homestead.

It's been three weeks that I've been courting Mahayla Waltson, and two and a half since I started finding my own release by hand after I escort her home each night. I find I've never been more desperate for anything in my entire life than I am for her. Patience, I caution the voice. Norris courted Miriam for years before anything came of it. Though even as I try to calm that part of me I wonder how it could be possible to wait that long when my whole body burns for her. If you rush her you'll lose her, shouts the only part of my brain not consumed with lust. I take a deep breath.

"Good night, Mahayla," I say, taking a step back. She gives me a smile before going inside, but her eyes are tinged with disappointment. Could it be she dreads our parting each night as well? Perhaps it won't take years. Perhaps I can ask for her hand in six months time. The voice inside me growls. Too long. I sigh as I head into the woods, planning to take the long way home. I hope the fresh air will clear my head, and if that fails I can always do a bit of hunting to placate my more savage side.

I've been in the woods less than ten minutes when I hear a twig snap behind me. Before my foolish follower can even blink, I have them up against a tree with my dagger to their throat. I feel the blood run hot through my veins and allow all the anger and frustration I've been feeling to show. The sight that greets me, however, isn't a scowl to match my own. It's a pair of big blue eyes, staring up at me in a widened state of shock. Mahayla.

I quickly lower my dagger and take a step back, cursing myself silently. Any hope I had of six months is extinguished. I'll be lucky if all it takes is a few years after this incident.

"Mahayla?" I ask, trying not to panic. "What are you doing here?"

"I was... I was following you," she says, though the look on her face now is more nervous than fearful.

"Why?" I ask, confused. She bites her lip, hesitating for a moment, before stepping towards me, wrapping her arms around my neck, and pressing her lips to mine.

I freeze for a moment, unsure of what to do, of how to react, before the thin thread I had on my control snaps. I pull her hard against my body and step forward so she's pinned against the tree once again. I groan as she opens her mouth beneath me and slips her tongue into mine. My hands run down past her breasts to her hips, holding them in place while I press my aching cock against her. I break from her lips and press rough kisses across her jaw and down her throat, pausing when I reach her neckline.

"Hayla, is this your first time?" I manage to ask through my gasping breaths. She hesitates for a moment before meeting my gaze, her delicate chin raised in defiance.

"No," she says without shame, "it isn't." I let out a sigh of relief.

"Good, because it is mine and I don't think I can be gentle," I say, lowering my head to the small amount of breast she has exposed in this dress. She gasps as I run my tongue along them.

"You-you don't care?" she stammers out. I look up at her and can feel the fire sparking in my eyes.

"At this moment I am grateful for your past, though it would be safer for whoever was involved if you did not tell me his name."

"Right," she says, closing her eyes and dropping her head back against the trees as I drag my lips along her collar bone. "That's... probably a good idea," she breathes, arching her back. I waste no time in wrapping my arms around her and feeling for the laces on the back of her dress, returning my lips to her neck as I do. I'm so wrapped up with trying to untie them, I barely notice her undoing the clasps on my assassin's robe. She unfastens the last one, then runs her soft hands up my stomach, past my chest, and over my shoulders, attempting to slide the leather off. I don't help. I have a job for my hidden blades first.

"How attached to this dress are you?" I ask her, a desperate undercurrent to my voice. She looks confused.

"Not very."

"Good," I say, releasing the spring on my hidden blade and slitting the back of her dress open. She inhales a sharp breath, but doesn't seem afraid.

"That seems like a useful tool to have," she says, a touch of curiosity in her voice.

"It is," I say, capturing her mouth roughly with mine once more. I shrug off my leathers, letting them fall to the ground behind me, then pull her body flush against mine. I'm hoping to feel her warm skin next to mine, but feel only cloth. If my hidden blades weren't already on the ground I'd cut that damn dress to shreds, but I settle for pulling it down to her waist and pushing it over her hips. I'm nearly salivating at the thoughts of finally being able to caress her breasts, only to find she's still as covered as she was with her dress on.

"Sacred Spirits, how many layers are you wearing?" I ask in frustration. She's biting her lip to hold back a smile.

"Only four more."

"Four?" I ask in disbelief.

"My undergarment, my shift, my petticoat, and my stays." I move to pull my dagger out of my breeches, but she stops me. "Don't even think about cutting the stays. I only have two pair."

"I promise to buy you a new one," I say, swallowing her protests and slitting the uncomfortable looking garment up the front. I push her shift off first one shoulder and then the other, and she assists by slipping her arms out of it, letting it fall to her waist. Her breasts are high and firm, and I want to drop to my knees and bury my face in them. I settle for taking them in my hands, weighing them and running my thumbs over her nipples.

Mahayla closes her eyes and moans, the sound of which has the blood racing even faster through my veins. Take her now! the voice yells, and for once the rest of me doesn't object. I make a promise to myself to make love to her slowly later, but at this moment I need to be inside her. I slit one side of her petticoat's waist, causing the garment to join her dress and stays in a pool at her feet.

"Connor," she says with a breathless laugh, "you really must stop cutting my clothes or I won't have any left." I don't respond, but slide her shift over her hips to the ground instead of destroying it. She smiles. "How civilized of you."

"Civilized is not in my vocabulary tonight," I say in a low voice. She pushes off her underwear, taking a step out the stack of garments at her feet and into me. Her arms go around my neck, her bare chest pressing into mine, and a shiver runs through my body.

"Promise?" she whispers. Before she can take another breath I have her laid out on the forest floor, my soft leathers forming a blanket beneath her. I drop to my knees, planning to quickly cover her body with mine, but before I can she's on her knees as well, reaching for my breeches.

"Hayla," I say, warningly, but she just gives me a wicked smile before popping open the button and wrapping her hand around my hard as iron cock. I throw my head back and groan as she works her hand firmly up and down. When I feel her plump, soft lips wrapped around the head I nearly plunge myself into her mouth. Instead I have her on her hands and knees in front of me with my cock positioned at her wet opening before I realize what I'm doing.

"Mahayla," I say, hesitantly, "is this-"

"Connor, if you don't take me now I think I'm going to die." I pull her back against me and push forward at the same time, sheathing myself completely. Her head drops to the ground and she whimpers my name. I pull my shaft almost completely out of her before pressing back into her, over and over again until I feel her inner muscles start to clench, increasing the friction between us.

"Connor," she manages to say through her heavy breathing. I slip a hand around to where we're joined, looking for a small nub and putting pressure on it once I find it. "Connor!" she screams as she comes apart around me. I feel myself tipping over the edge, pressing into her harder and faster. I lean over her until my mouth is at her ear.

"Mine," I growl at her in my native tongue. "You are mine." I spill myself into her and fall to the ground next to her, exhausted. She turns into me, placing a hand on my chest and her head on my shoulder. I wrap my arms around her and stare up at the stars, feeling completely content for the first time since my mother died.

"Marry me, Hayla," I say, running my fingers through her hair. She's silent for a minute or two before propping her head up on my chest with her arm.

"What's your real name, Connor?" she asks. I smile at her.

"Ratonhnhake:ton," I say. She pauses for another moment before responding.

"Hake:ton and Hayla Kenway," she says, a smile forming at the edges of her mouth. "Sounds like a perfect match to me." I pull her down to

me and kiss her fiercely. Mine. "Now then," she says when we finally come up for air, "since you shredded all but my shift we need to figure out how to get me back to Uncle Dave's house unseen."

"Why do you need to go back to Dave's house?" I ask, confused. "Come back to the manor with me. We can be married in the morning." She laughs.

"Slow down, Connor. We can't get married tomorrow."

"Why not?"

"I think my parents might at least want an invitation to their only daughter's wedding." I take a deep breath and let it out. Right. Parents. Waiting. More waiting. "Although," she continues, pressing a kiss beneath my ear, "I think I will take you up on that night in the manor." I have my pants on and fastened, Mahayla's shift over her head, and her in my arms, walking towards the manor in under 30 seconds.

"I love you Connor," she says with a laugh.

"And I love you, Mahayla."