chapter 1: shiny toy with a price
Disclaimer: I couldn't help myself; this is all good fun. Based on "Cruel Summer" by Taylor Swift. I own nothing.
"Fever dream high in the quiet of the night
You know that I caught it
Bad, bad boy
Shiny toy with a price
You know that I bought it"
"Fraulein, I wanted to inform you that the Captain will be returning to the villa this week," Frau Schmidt announced one morning after breakfast.
Maria's eyes widened in surprise. "He will?"
It had been one month since she arrived at the von Trapp home and subsequently, one month since the Captain had left. She barely spent more than a few minutes with the man on her first day and had no contact with him since he left for Vienna, despite being responsible for his children. Frau Schmidt oversaw communications with the Captain and relayed any critical information to Maria and the rest of the staff.
Though the Reverend Mother had told her she would be working for a widowed naval captain, Maria's expectations were entirely different than her reality. As Maria suspected, the Captain kept a tight ship, going as far as dressing his children in horribly ugly uniforms, whistling for them, making them march and breathe deeply, and prohibiting them from playing. Still, for all his rules and expectations, he was not involved beyond that. He didn't even seem to know his children, which was a shame because they were magnificent.
Understandably, they were initially mistrustful and suspicious of her warm presence and demeanor. Given their history of previous governesses, they thought she would be driven away just as quickly. As a result, she was the victim of many pranks—frogs in pockets, pinecones on chairs, and even a snake in the hallway. Despite her fear, she put on a brave face and reminded herself to be patient. They had been through so much, not only losing their mother but their father, too. Maria continued the approach she took at the first dinner, no-nonsense but non-threatening, and it proved she was not going to surrender. The pranks stopped by the weekend.
Despite their improved behavior, she was thankful for her background in education. She had earned a degree in education before becoming a postulant. The Captain had left a ridiculous schedule. Given her training, she knew it was unsustainable for her and the children. Despite Frau Schmidt's hesitance, Maria changed the program and incorporated less traditional learning methods, allowing them to spend more lessons outside and physical exercise other than marching and breathing deeply.
It was a change for the better, and the children were much happier once they realized she allowed them to behave like children. Slowly, their walls came down, and they reached out to Maria more. The littlest ones trusted her immediately by their introductions. After the thunderstorm, the rest followed, except for Louisa. The governess suspected it was in the thirteen-year-old's nature to be aloof, much like her father, and did not take it personally.
As she grew to know all seven von Trapp children more, Maria wondered more and more about their father. He was an enigma and not what she pictured when she learned he was a naval captain. She imagined he was much older, grayer, more rotund, and carried a pipe. Instead, he was relatively young, no more than forty, and shockingly handsome. He had defined aristocratic features, thick dark hair, and slight peppering near his temples. Maria couldn't remember the last time she saw a more handsome man.
She often thought back to their meeting, and an odd feeling settled in her lower stomach at the shock of being caught in the ballroom and his dark silhouette in the doorway. She remembered the intense expression as he inspected her figure, dressed in that ugly grey sack. Usually never vain, Maria wished he could see her in the lovely dresses she had made from the fabric he had bought her, which startled her. She had never wanted a man's attention before, though many tried to give it to her, and there was something about him. He was captivating, and to know she captured his attention even while she was in her ugliest dress, was intriguing, and she wanted more of it.
"Yes," Frau Schmidt interjected, breaking Maria's thoughts. "He will give me an estimation of his arrival tomorrow, but there are some details he has to work out. Most likely due to his potential guests." The housekeeper gave Maria a knowing look.
At dinner the day Maria arrived, the Captain announced his morning departure to Vienna and was met with the children's vocal disappointment. Their spirits were bolstered when he promised to return with the mysterious Baroness Schraeder and their Uncle Max. Maria learned from the maids and Frau Schmidt that the Captain had been associated with Baroness Schraeder for months, and it was only a matter of time before she would be brought back to Salzburg to meet the children. Maria hoped this would be the steppingstone to reunite the children with their father. For all his indifference towards them, they craved his attention, and soon enough, they had it.
Frau Schmidt had told Maria the Captain's estimated arrival after breakfast, but it was all for naught. In typical fashion, Maria had lost track of time, and their first glimpse of the Captain was from the rowboat. Maria couldn't help but notice how striking he looked, even from a distance. His dark hair was impeccably styled, and his grey suit offset his tanned skin. The governess was so distracted she did not realize that he was alone.
The children didn't either. They were so delighted at his presence that they all stood up without a second thought to enthusiastically greet him. Unfortunately, that caused the rowboat to tip, dumping all eight passengers into the water.
Instead of approaching the situation with good humor, as Maria hoped—especially since he hadn't seen his children in weeks—he was harsh and for no good reason. Maria did not see the Baroness or any other guests that the Captain would have wanted to impress. Yet, the Captain subjected his children to a reprimand that could shake the toughest cadets and immediately sent them off to change. As she was about to join them, he sharply ordered her to stay.
Maria's heart had dropped in her stomach, but she was too infuriated by his treatment of his children. The Captain started maddeningly smug, prepared to cut her down, word by word, but Maria turned the tables. She was not about to go down without a fight. Righteous anger coursed through her veins as he berated her and questioned her judgment. This maddening man dared to challenge her understanding of what his children needed when he hadn't seen them for over a month. But she had. She had been with them every day for four weeks, and she used that to her advantage, effectively turning the tables on him. Maria hurled a clear-cut assessment of each child with an unexpected sense of motherly protection, and it made the Captain pace back and forth like a caged animal.
Through her fury, Maria noted how his tanned skin in the sun, perfectly arranged hair, and crisp suit set a different fire in her lower stomach. His calm demeanor juxtaposed his harsh tone and stormy eyes. He was magnetic, and before Maria realized it, she stepped closer to him. As their proximity increased, the volume of their argument did so, too. Surely the whole estate could hear them as they volleyed verbal spar after verbal spar.
Maria knew she had struck a chord as he grew more defensive, and her anger gave way to desperation. He had to reunite with his children. They needed him. They loved him. They had so many fond memories of him, and he had been an excellent father before their mother's death. She had to make him see that father was still in him, even if he tried to bury it, so she walked towards him, beseeching him. They were face-to-face as she begged him to find out about his children. He quickly averted his stormy eyes and was ready to step away until she reached out and grabbed his arm.
Suddenly, everything was silent.
The electricity crackling in the air transferred from the space between them to where her hand met his arm. They stared dumbly at their physical contact.
Then, they made eye contact.
And everything became a blur.
Maria wasn't sure who moved first, but soon, her mouth crushed against the Captain's lips while her body pressed against his. His lips were soft but demanding, and Maria vaguely realized this was nothing like her first kiss behind the school building. At some point, he wrenched his arm out of her grasp because his hands possessively cupped her face, and after they parted for a breath, he pulled her back to him while she snaked her arms around his torso.
Their kisses continued their verbal argument from before; both fought to touch more of the other, to feel more of the other, but as it turned out, they were equally matched and eventually both pulled away, gasping for breath.
Georg believed he was a level-headed man.
A respectable man.
A man that did not go around kissing his employees. Much less an employee set to become a nun.
A nun.
But sadly, he had been mistaken.
The moments between their argument and embrace melted together in a lust-filled haze. Georg wasn't sure if he moved first after she grabbed his arm, but it didn't seem to matter. Before he knew it, her soaked, lithe body pressed flush against him while he devoured her lips.
He could feel her damp dress through his suit, and he could feel the fabric get heavier, but he couldn't find it in himself to care.
He would be lying if he wasn't attracted to her from the moment that he saw her in the ballroom. Though she had annoyed him with her intrusion, after he inspected her and made her turn in the foyer, he settled on the fact she was indeed attractive, though the sack dress she tried to hide it. Her doe eyes and bright smile would have been endearing if he hadn't been so closed off. The zest for life and unabashed honesty she had would have been intriguing if he wasn't so jaded.
Before leaving, Georg arranged for Frau Schmidt to report on the children rather than the Fraulein herself. Though the housekeeper never said anything negative about how the Fraulein ran things, Georg had a sneaking suspicion there was something she wasn't telling him. No governess had stayed on as long as she had, and Georg had to see what magic she had worked. He hadn't expected her magic to involve the rowboat and his seven children shouting at the top of their lungs. He was grateful Elsa was not here to see this unorganized display.
The rowboat had been untouched for years, and just like the ballroom, the Fraulein had involved herself in something that was none of her business. He felt a cruel sense of satisfaction when she fell in the water, lost in his spite. Wanting to shame her for her recklessness, he told her to stay on the terrace after sending the children upstairs.
To his surprise, she fought back, and he quickly realized he had no idea what he had gotten himself into. It was the first time he recalled genuinely listening to someone, mostly because she didn't give him a chance not to do so, and the appeals she made on behalf of his children were earth-shaking. More infuriatingly, Georg found himself attracted to her. Despite her plain dress, her wet hair slicked against her face, and her unmitigated fury, Georg was enraptured. Neither ready to back away from the argument, literally or figuratively, they continued their verbal war while stepping closer to each other. They were nose-to-nose when she started begging him to be there for his children, and he realized he needed to step away. It was all too much.
But then, she grasped his arm, and everything became a blur.
The only sensations he could recall were the press of her lips and her lithe figure. She was even better at kissing than arguing, and Georg felt a desire he hadn't felt in years. She was responsive, and the sounds she was letting out drove him to the brink of insanity. He wanted to carry her up to his room and find what other sounds would come from her mouth, but when he realized the governess's room was closer, reality crashed into him like a train. He pulled away from their embrace but grabbed her arms after noticing her shaky legs.
"Fraulein—" he heaved, trying to fill his burning lungs with necessary oxygen.
She was equally breathless; her chest rapidly rose and fell. Her eyes were a mosaic of emotions—confusion, elation, desire.
He wanted to kiss her again.
"—Fraulein, I apologize."
Her brow furrowed as she breathed out, "For what, Captain?"
She grasped his forearms and took an unsteady step towards him, eyes glazed with lust. Georg slid his arms from her shoulders to her trim waist, gripping the damp fabric there, trying to ground himself. He swallowed, taking in her dilated pupils and her hot breath, trying to find the logic in this muddled situation.
Did she not realize the impropriety of their situation? Or the more thrilling thought, did she not care?
But before he could weigh the pros and cons of kissing her again, an airy melody came from the house. A small group of voices joined the guitar, and Georg took a hesitant step to the terrace. He frowned and turned away from the governess to the villa, struggling to determine if he was hallucinating.
"What is that?" he wondered aloud.
"I hope you don't mind," the governess softly began, "but I taught the children some songs."
"The children?"
He glanced back at her and took in a very different person from mere seconds ago. Her eyes filled with uncertainty, and her arms folded across her chest.
"Yes, they—"
But before she could continue, he hurried up the steps. Georg was unsure if his uncharacteristic rudeness was fueled by his need to escape the precarious situation or to quell his curiosity—perhaps both—but he had to see it for himself, could his children really be singing? His children?
He couldn't recall them learning, though their house was always filled with music. Agathe had not been gifted with song, but she did play a wide variety of instruments, including the violin. On the other hand, Georg sang, albeit sparingly, and played the piano and guitar. Liesl and Friedrich were most likely the only ones to have tangible memories of the family music nights where their parents would entertain their brood. After Agathe died, the instruments were sold or stored once they moved into the villa.
He stopped in the doorway of the sitting room, fettered by his shock as he heard the children's voices, harmonizing more beautifully than he could have imagined. As they sang, Georg felt the world close in on him, and he could imagine Agathe sitting on the couch, watching proudly. A life before pain, uncertainly, and soul-crushing loss. The children carried on despite that pain, where he couldn't. In his grief, he deprived them of a loving home, music, and a father.
Resolute, he stepped into the room and joined them before noticing Max leaning against the far wall. Though well out of practice and more unsteady than he cared to recognize, his voice was enough to capture the attention of his children. They stared at him in surprise, then elation. He could see the recognition in his eldest children's eyes—this was the father they had known. The younger ones saw the father they always had hoped he was.
After the Captain's reunion with the children, Maria excused herself to change before joining the von Trapps and Herr Detweiler in the sitting room before dinner. Throughout the evening, the Captain remained attentive while the children told him about their adventures over the last month and a half.
Though Maria was seated far away from the Captain, she reeled from their encounter. When his eyes occasionally met hers across the room, the embers leftover in her stomach from their kiss dangerously flared.
Maria had never experienced these emotions, and she was at a loss of what to do. If it weren't for the children, Maria would have stayed in her room, avoiding him at all costs. She couldn't tell if she was more mortified or confused by their actions. Everything had happened so fast, and Maria could only remember the feeling of his body against hers and the taste of his mouth on her lips. With her limited experience, Maria couldn't judge whether this was a normal reaction to kissing someone or something specifically brought about by the Captain.
What she was certain about, though, was that she was playing with fire and needed to refocus her thoughts on rebuilding his relationship with the children so she could complete her mission, which seemed more achievable than ever.
Laughter broke out in the room, and Maria quickly joined, hoping the children hadn't noticed her inattention. Herr Detweiler was in the middle of another amusing story at the Captain's expense and the children's delight. The merriment continued through dinner and up until bedtime. To Maria's surprise, the Captain accompanied them and participated in their nighttime rituals, unwilling to part with his children just yet. She was amazed by his seamless integration—overseeing the young ones' brushing their, reading books, and snuggly tucking each child into bed.
As soon as the door to the nursery shut, Franz appeared and stated there was a telephone call for the Captain, and Maria was relieved. She couldn't take another moment of the growing tension in her stomach that intensified as they quietly exited the nursery. The Captain seemed detached and calm and collected as usual despite the tension. Maria didn't understand how he could remain so composed.
Once he disappeared down the stairs, Maria leaned against a wall to steady herself. The molten heat continued churning low in her belly, and she felt a blush crawl up her neck. She remembered the feel of his muscular body against hers and the taste of his mouth. His scent—of wood, musk, and rain—stayed with her. It made her legs shake, her heart race, and her palms sweaty. But why?
She took a deep breath and pushed herself off the wall, hoping a walk would distract her, but first, she wanted some water. She headed down the backstairs that directly led to the kitchen and grabbed a glass. She savored the calming effect it had. Maybe she was just dehydrated. Satisfied, Maria headed to the atrium, still determined to walk outside before bed, but before she could get far, a low voice echoed through the space.
"Fraulein?"
Maria stopped, unaware anyone was downstairs, and looked around, trying to locate the source. She noticed the sitting room was cracked open and warm light outlined the space between the door and the frame.
"Yes, Captain?" she hesitantly responded.
"Can I speak to you?"
Though it was phrased as a question, his tone made it an order, and Maria couldn't help but roll her eyes. She slipped through the open door and took one or two steps into the empty room. It was void of life from earlier. He was in the same clothes from earlier, but his coat was off, giving her a view of his wrinkled shirt. The heat in her lower belly increased, and Maria desperately wished she had brought her water glass. Upon further inspection, Maria noticed he looked tired and troubled, as if he had been brooding, which, according to Frau Schmidt, he often did. They stared at each other in silence before he cleared his throat and ran his hand through his hair, further mussing it.
"I'm happy to have caught you before you turned in for the evening," he began, and she tilted her head in curiosity, not sure where he was going with this conversation. "I will be returning to Vienna—"
Her heart dropped in her chest, and anger bubbled in her stomach. How could he leave now? "What?"
"Ye—"
"When? Tomorrow?" He narrowed his eyes, and his left-hand fingers fidgeted in irritation, causing her to continue, "I am only asking, so I can know what to tell the children tomorrow."
"Now, Fraulein—"
"After this evening, you surely understand how important it is for you not to leave again. What will the children think if you are gone tomorrow? Think of how bitter tonight will become for them once they realize you have left—"
"Fraulein—"
"—not to mention, they still haven't met the Baroness despite your original promise when I first arrived—"
"FRAULEIN!"
At his exclamation, Maria stopped chattering and registered the Captain's arms on her shoulders and his hot breath against her face. She swallowed. Realizing their proximity, he dropped his hands and took a step back.
"Will you listen?" he barked. She mutely nodded, and he sighed, realizing his volume. "Why don't you take a seat." He motioned to one of the chairs, and Maria quickly sat down.
She watched with curiosity as he began pacing in the open space where the children had been singing earlier that day. What was rolling around in that head of his? Was he rationalizing his escape to Vienna? Was he regretting their encounter on the terrace?
Maria's heart dropped into her stomach. Was this all her fault?
"Captain—"
"Fraulein," he sighed, "Your incessant chattering is wearing on my nerves. Please be quiet while I gather my thoughts."
"But what I have to say might help."
He mirthlessly chuckled. "I doubt that."
Still, she continued, "I want to apologize for my actions by the lake."
His eyebrows shot up in disbelief. "What?"
"It was wrong of me to speak to you the way I did, and as for what happened after… I apologize for that as well. I didn't intend for it to happen, but please don't let the children bear the consequences of it."
"Fraulein—"
"I'll pack my things and leave if that would make things easier."
"Why on earth would your departure make anything easier for me? If anything, it would make it more difficult. The children will most likely follow you right out of the house once they know you're gone."
"But—"
"Besides, I was equally responsible for what happened after our argument." He unexpectedly chuckled, his lips curled in a devilish half-smile, and he rubbed his jaw. Maria should have been annoyed at his smugness, but she couldn't help but be attracted to the raw masculinity oozing from him. "I don't know who initiated it, but it doesn't matter at this point. I believe we can move beyond it, if only for the children. You have proved invaluable to my family, and I want you to stay—I ask you to stay," he quickly amended. "But I also understand if you have any desire to leave, I understand. I promised the Reverend Mother you would be safe here." His countenance changed from smugness to something darker. Though I recognize, I have not entirely kept that promise, for which I sincerely apologize." He sank into a chair across from her and ran his hand through his hair while his fingers fidgeted restlessly. Maria's heart broke at the gloomy look that clouded his face.
"Captain, you have nothing to apologize for. I'm rather impulsive and consider myself just as responsible in the situation." He narrowed his eyes, not believing her, but didn't argue. "As I said, I am not proud how I spoke to you about the children by the lake—um—before. I am far too outspoken. It's one of my worst faults. I understand if you want me to leave."
The Captain leaned back in the chair, furrowed his brows, and pressed his finger pads pressed against each other, forming a church steeple. "You are quite a puzzle, Fraulein." Maria frowned, but he continued before she could speak. "I have made it clear you are an important asset to this family and have surrendered my pride to ask you to stay, and here you are, still apologizing as if the incident on the terrace was your fault and making excuses to leave."
"All I'm saying is that I equally participated, Captain," she firmly but quietly responded, eyes flashing in defiance.
"I'll say," he muttered as he pinched his nose. "Perhaps it would be best if you left…."
"Oh no, Captain, please," she begged, jumping from her seat. Genuine panic bloomed in her chest at the seriousness of his tone. She didn't really want to leave. She hadn't made that obvious enough, and if he intended to send her away, she would not go easily. "Why don't we start over? Pretend that nothing happened. After all, it was just an accident. Besides, how would you explain my departure to the children?"
"Me?"
"Yes, now you're the one sending me away," she crossed her arms over her chest and had an indignant look on her face, much like Gretl, "it's only fair you'd explain."
Georg was beyond befuddled. Why did he think they could have a productive conversation with the tension slowly growing between them every minute? Now they were talking in circles. Could she be doing this to extend the conversation like he was? He wasn't seriously considering her leaving, just to see what her reaction would be.
If only to see if that flush grace her cheeks. At that thought, he abruptly shook his head, trying to refocus his thoughts. "I am only joking, Fraulein, if you don't wish to leave, I will certainly not send you away. Now, can we get back to the original reason I called you in here?"
"Oh, yes, Captain."
"As I was saying, I will be returning to Vienna to collect the Baroness at the end of the month."
"Oh."
"She would have arrived with us today but was delayed."
A small smile grew across the Fraulein's face, surprising Georg, and he raised a questioning eyebrow. "I see, Captain."
"See what?"
"Oh, nothing."
"Fraulein," he tiredly sighed, "I'm not in the mood for games."
"You were checking in on us, weren't you," she asked, though her tone presented it as a statement. "Were you curious to see why the children hadn't run me off yet?"
He returned her smile and grasped his hands behind his back, giving her a childish shrug. "I admit nothing."
"I see," she mercifully smiled. For a moment, he thought she would give him another teasing remark, but she turned away, much to his surprise and disappointment. "Well, good night, Captain."
"Good night, Fraulein."
After the door shut, Georg let out a breath he didn't know he was holding. He sunk into the chair she had occupied and rubbed his forehead, head spinning from their odd conversation that piqued his curiosity more than he liked to admit and shamefully aroused him.
Her eyes taunted; her lips teased; her taste beckoned. He wanted more.
But he had to remind himself—she was his children's governess and destined to be a nun.
He should have known she was trouble from the moment he caught her in the ballroom. It was apparent he was playing with fire on the terrace, but after this conversation, he realized he didn't mind the heat.
Regardless, Georg needed to cool things down. She was under his protection, and he would be damned if he did anything foolish. He survived the Great War and was decorated by the emperor for God's sake; he could manage the undeniable attraction between him and his governess for a summer—he hoped.
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