The rain had deterred my outdoor classroom plans this morning. I was informing the children of this when I caught sight of Nathan riding into town at a full lope, a flash of red serge peeking out from under his coat. I heard him call out a command to Newton with an authoritative, yet kind voice, his expert hands bringing him to an instant, smooth trot.

That image had been rolling through my mind, distracting me all day long. But little by little, I found myself adding to it. In my daydream he was riding to me, slinging down from Newton, and climbing the schoolhouse stairs with an intentional stride. I would then turn away, continuing to teach class, giving my best show of being unaffected by him.

But he would not be deterred.

I felt his hands firmly wrap around my waist and his strong chest press into my back, his lips brushing against my neck as he said, "Sneak away with me, Lizbeth."

"I'm in the middle of class."

"Dismiss them early," he whispered, his warm breath on my skin making my temperature rise.

Still, I replied, "I can't."

"You can," he said, his teeth gently pulling at my ear.

"Nathan," I tried to object, but I was quickly becoming puddy in his hands.

"Stop overthinking it, Lizbeth. I know you want to."

There was no use denying it further because I did want to.

"Nathan, I do. But—"

"No, buts."

"Responsibilities" was all I could get out. Now breathless, melting into him.

"Come on. Let's go."

I was ready to concede.

"Right…this…instant," he continued, his tone authoritative and sexy, searing warm kisses into my neck between his words.

"Right this instant?!" I asked, spinning around, my tone heavy with feigned disapproval.

"Please?"

He meekly reverted, instantly dropping his determination…and suddenly I hated my own fantasy.

They say that life imitates art. But in this daydream, art was imitating life. In the past, I had stifled Nathan's passionate pleas a few different times, only to have him draw back or regress. Most recently I'd done so playfully, but sitting here reflecting on our shared history had given me a sudden realization. The strong, confident man that I loved quickly dropped his determined speech into a passive "beg" and "plead" each time I responded in the forthright, independent tone of Diane DiMarco. It was a pattern with me and one that I very much wanted to change. Not completely, of course. That tenacious woman was a big part of me. She was passionate, unafraid to use her voice, sometimes stubborn, always determined, and I liked her very much. Thankfully, so did Nathan. It's a good thing too, because she was alive and well inside me. But she'd recently been reborn into someone more brazen and mature, very eager to relent to all things Nathan Grant. Only, Diane wasn't her true identity.

Her name was Elizabeth Thatcher…and she was extremely attracted to the assertive side of her man. In fact, she grew breathless at the very thought of it.

Hearing his strong gait ascending the stairs, I smiled to myself and quickly got up from my chair, turning towards the chalkboard. Setting the plan I'd thought far too much about today into motion, I began slowly erasing the day's lessons as I heard the door open. Seconds later, my shoulders involuntarily raised when his unmistakable timbre broke the silence, sending a chill up my spine.

"Mrs. Thornton."

"Yes?" I returned, over my shoulder.

"Are you ready to walk home?"

"Almost."

I purposefully slowed down my task and he noticed right away.

"Do you need some help?"

"No, but thank you."

When I didn't turn to face him and my erasing slowed to a crawl, he asked "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine."

"Are you sure?" he asked.

"Come on, Nathan. Do it," I thought to myself. But I audibly replied, "Yes."

"Okay," he said, and his voice got further away.

"Great. Well, that didn't work," I thought to myself.

I finished erasing and turned to face him. He had taken a seat on the front row…and was sporting an all too knowing grin.

"What's that look for?" I asked, challenging him.

"I don't know what you're talking about. I'm just sitting here, patiently waiting to walk you home."

"Uh huh, right."

"Why, Mrs. Thornton, are you insinuating I'd play games with you?"

"I think you are, yes."

"Interesting that you'd think so."

"Interesting? Why is that, Constable?"

He stood up, slowly sauntering towards me until his chest met mine.

"Because I'm pretty sure you were the one begging me to play your game," he said, arching his eyebrows in mock suspicion.

"Begging?!"

"Pleading," he confidently returned, a smirk fully taking over his unbelievably handsome face.

"Shut up and kiss that smirk off his face, Thatcher," I heard the inner me say. And so I did, unapologetically, and with great pleasure.

Once we pulled back, he began grinning mischievously.

"You know, all you had to do was ask, Lizbeth."

"Where's the fun in that?" I said, winking at him.

We laughed together and then he took my hand, pressing a kiss into it.

"Are you ready to go now?"

"Yes, I'm ready."

He walked me home as we exchanged stories about our day and gave me a brief kiss on my doorstep.

"I'll see you later this evening, right?"

"Yep. I'll be back around 8:30."

"Okay. I love you."

"I sure am glad. Because it just so happens that I love you too, Mrs. Thornton," he said with a wink, flirting as he left.

I shook my head, grinning like a lovesick schoolgirl as he walked away.

With Jack playing at Talia's house after school, I didn't have much to do besides make dinner. So, I set myself to the task at hand, deciding on oven roasted chicken with new potatoes and green beans. I picked Jack up around 5:30. The playdate had been successful. He was exhausted. By the time we ate dinner, did our homework, and played a game of marbles, he was asking to go to bed early. He brushed his teeth, and I tucked him into bed at 7:30. Kissing my cheek, he said, "g'night mama" and was asleep before I closed the door behind me.

I had an hour left before Nathan came to see me, so I sat down to enjoy some quiet time, reading the Valley Voice. But Nathan soon took over my thoughts and I could no longer pay attention. So, I got up and started chopping apples for a pie.

By the time I was sifting the flour, I was in full daydream mode about him again. Seconds later, he knocked at the door and startled me. Having been pulled from my reverie, I jumped a bit and a puff of flour escaped, coating my apron. I put down the sifter, brushing myself off as I opened the door.

"What do we have here?" he asked, taking in the sight of me with a broad grin.

"I was just sifting flour for a pie, and it went everywhere."

"A pie? What kind?" he asked, closing the door and following me to the kitchen.

"Apple. Does that sound good?"

"It sounds great. Can I help?"

"There's not much left to be done. The filling is ready. I just need to make the crust. Have a seat and tell me about your evening with Allie."

He sat down at the kitchen table and told me about Allie's newest idea to sway the cattlemen's association. He had so much love in his voice as he spoke of her boldness, warming my heart clear through. I was dropping cold butter into the mixture as he finished the story.

"I'm so proud of her, Nathan."

"Me too. She's growing up so fast."

He was quiet while I used the pastry cutter to break the butter down into the dry ingredients. It didn't take long to finish. When I was done, I glanced over my shoulder at him and saw that he was taking me in, from head to toe.

"Enjoying the view, Constable?"

His unapologetic eyes met mine and his lips quirked into a sly grin.

"I am."

Elizabeth Thatcher stepped forward and said, "I thought you might, and just so you know, I like that…a lot."

"Yes," he said standing up. "I know you do."

Taking a pinch of flour, he sprinkled it on the counter and reached for my rolling pin, handing it to me. I took it from him, turning back to the counter, starting to roll the dough. That's when I felt his arms wrap around me, his hands covering mine. Curling around my body, we became one in motion. Rolling out, rolling in, we did it together in perfect tandem. When both halves of the crust were done, he wrapped his arms around my waist, quietly holding me while I assembled the pie. When it was ready, he took it from me and put it in the oven.

Walking back to me, I reached up to put my hands on his chest, but he caught them mid-air, stopping me. I gave him a questioning look, but he made no verbal response. Instead, he gently turned me away from him and pulled me close. With one arm securely holding me against him, he pushed my hair behind my ear and began kissing my neck, his tongue randomly tasting my skin as he blazed a trail with his lips. Emboldened by Elizabeth Thatcher once again, I lifted my arms and grasped the back of his neck with my hands, tilting my head further to the side, willing his lips to further explore. He dropped his other hand to my waist and held me close as he continued kissing me.

"I'll give you all day to stop that," I heard myself say as he nibbled my ear.

"My goodness, Thatcher, you're getting quite brazen," my inner dialogue commented.

But I paid her no mind. I couldn't help myself, and what's more, I didn't want to. He had a power over me that I loved. It was masculine and strong willed yet, perfectly balanced with love and tenderness.

"You like that, huh?" he whispered into my ear.

"I do," I said letting my arms fall, resting my hands on his at my waist. "But do you know what I like most?"

"What's that?"

"The way you don't ask to hold me or kiss me. You just do it. It's very attractive."

"Really? I thought you wanted me to beg and plead with you?" he asked with a teasing tone.

I tapped his hands, and he loosened his hold on me. Turning into him, I reached up and grasped his neck with both of my hands.

"I forbid you to beg and plead with me about anything."

"Is that right?" he asked grinning at me.

"Yes."

"But forbid? That's a very strong word, or so I've been told."

"You're right, it is. So, how about this?" I gently pulled his face to mine, brushing my lips against his. "Let's just focus on conceding instead?"

"I like the sound of that."

"I thought you would," I barely managed to say before he began kissing me.

Little contented sounds of delight escaped my throat, and he took the opportunity to deepen our kiss. I melted into him, absorbing and appreciating every moment, until he pulled back and led me to the living room. I sat down on the couch, while he took a seat in his chair, giving us both a little space after enjoying so much wonderfully heated closeness. We visited with ease about several things and before I knew it the pie had baked, cooled enough to enjoy a slice, and it was time for him to go home. He gave me one last tender kiss in the doorway, told me he loved me, and he was gone.

I shut off all the lights downstairs, brushed my teeth, and got into bed. Turning my bedside lamp on, I reached for my copy of "Anne of the Island," and began to read where I'd left off.

"It seems funny and horrible to think of Diana being married," sighed Anne, hugging her knees and looking through the gap in the Haunted Wood to the light that was shining in Diana's room.

"I don't see what's horrible about it, when she's doing so well," said Mrs. Lynde emphatically. "Fred Wright has a fine farm and he is a model young man."

"He certainly isn't the wild, dashing, wicked, young man Diana once wanted to marry," smiled Anne. "Fred is extremely good."

"That's just what he ought to be. Would you want Diana to marry a wicked man? Or marry one yourself?"

"Oh, no. I wouldn't want to marry anybody who was wicked, but I think I'd like it if he COULD be wicked and WOULDN'T. Now, Fred is HOPELESSLY good."

A small laugh escaped me.

Anne was speaking to my heart tonight, and I couldn't help but appreciate the irony. I would never want to marry a wicked man either, nor one who was hopelessly good. I wanted to marry Nathan, and I didn't have to choose because his personality didn't allow for it, as he was the perfect blend of both worlds…in the best, most attractive, loveable way possible.

I glanced up at my closed bedroom door and my inner dialogue stepped forward with something "wicked" of her own to say.

"Once he's on this side of the door with me, all that's forbidden will melt away, and I intend to enjoy every aspect of him as much, and as often, as I possibly can."