He hadn't been inside her room for months, not since the night he'd broken the door down to save her from her nightmare. Stepping inside, therefore, he found himself struck by how homely it was, far removed from how stark it had once been. Her possessions lay on the sideboard and the table by the bed. A perfume bottle, a scarf, a mirror and comb. There was a patterned blanket on the bed which he didn't recognise and an overall feminine scent to the room, quite different from that which he found in the rooms belonging to the others, mingled as they were with the sweat from other men.

"I suppose I should undress," she said suddenly, drawing him back into the moment, and he turned to look at her. Her expression was mildly anxious, but there was also a look in her eyes that he had seen many times before in the eyes of others, a look almost akin to desire.

"Ain't gonna do much good puttin' it on through yer clothes."

"No. Would you mind…?"

He turned away from her, angling his gaze towards the far wall noticing, almost immediately, that he could see part of her in the mirror opposite. He told himself not to look, but something drew his eye, and he watched as she unfastened the buttons of her dress then slid both it and her petticoat to the floor before stepping out and laying them neatly over the bedside chair, leaving her in her bloomers and camisole. Holding his breath, he watched as she hesitated slightly before lifting her fingers to the buttons that sat neatly in a row down her chest and, at that point, he closed his eyes.

"I should lie down."

"Guess so." He heard movement behind him, the slight creak of the bedframe as she climbed upon it and laid herself down. "Ya ready?"

"Yes."

Turning, he took in her topless form, lying face down as she was on the bed, her head turned to one side so as to be able to see him and he tried hard to appear as though it was the most natural thing in the world to see her that way. "Guess I'll just…" gesturing to the bottle of oil on the table, he moved forwards to the bed, lifting it and rolling it around in his hands. "Michaela tell ya what's in this?"

"No, only that it should help."

He paused, looking down at her, torn as to what to do next. Men who visited whores often appreciated a touch as much as they did anything else and he would have been lying if he'd said that there hadn't been occasions when Myra had excited him just as much by lying atop him as she had by lying under him, but he had never reciprocated the favour. Whores were there to pleasure men, not the other way around. Running his hands over a woman's body, in any way, during the act of intercourse was very different to what was now being proposed.

"Something wrong?"

"No," he said hurriedly, "just…reckon I'm best stayin' on the floor rather than…well…"

"Oh…yes, I suppose so."

Kneeling by the bedside, he found himself momentarily transfixed by the fiery curls cascading down her back, feeling them soft to the touch as he swept them to one side. Then, he unscrewed the bottle and carefully poured some of the oil out onto the bare expanse of her skin, watching as she shivered slightly at the sensation. Then, placing the bottle back down on the table, he lowered one hand slowly down onto her flesh, causing her to react again at his touch, and he stayed rigid for a moment before gently beginning to skim across her skin.

"Hope my hand ain't too cold."

"No, it's fine." Her voice was quiet, with a tremulous quality to it, and he suddenly realised that this was likely the first time she had ever been touched by a man. It certainly wasn't the first time he had touched a woman but something about the connection between them made his throat go suddenly dry.

"Where…uh…where does it hurt?"

"Right…there…" she said, as his fingers moved into the curve of her spine.

As he pressed down ever so slightly harder, she let out a low moan, somewhere between pleasure and pain, and his pants instantly felt as though they had shrunk around his manhood. He could hear his own breathing, ragged now as he continued to touch her, fingers skimming closer and closer to the curve of her body, away from the areas she had indicated, rather brushing against the swell of her breasts, pressed as they were into the mattress. She shifted slightly, almost imperceptibly, as though wanting to grant him greater access and he had to remind himself where the point of pain had been and focus on returning to it.

"Ain't hurtin' ya, am I?" he heard himself ask, his voice sounding reedy to his own ears.

"No, that feels good."

Her tone was languid, inviting, almost sensual and he felt the room start to close in on him. Rising up higher, he stretched across her, adding his other hand into the movement and she moaned softly again as his hand strayed dangerously close to the swell of her rear. The hand nearest to him slid from the bed, dangling so intoxicatingly close to him that he held his breath, well aware that if she were in some way to touch him, even accidentally, there would be no restraint strong enough.

It was like a pain, a nagging in his groin slowly spreading through his entire body. He'd desired women in the past, Clarice, Myra, his whores, but this…this felt different. It was a hunger, burning inside him, sapping every part of him, a need that only she could satisfy.

"You never did tell me who told you that you had magic hands."

Her voice broke through into his mind and yet, all he could hear were his own words reverberating around his brain…I want you. I want you so damn badly…

"Hank?"

"What?"

"I said, you never did tell me who told you that you had magic hands."

Spots danced before his eyes.

It was all too much.

"Ellie…"

"Mmm?"

"I gotta stop." Her eyes flew open, and she lifted her head slightly from the bed, a confused expression spreading across her face. "Ya asked me before if I was scared when we met them Injuns and I told ya no and that was the truth. Don't scare easily but…I'm scared right now. I gotta stop."

"Scared of what?" she asked quietly.

"Scared I can't keep my word," he replied, rising to his feet and stepping back towards the wall. "Gotta stop… 'fore I can't."

She paused for a long moment, her gaze boring into his, then slowly pulled herself up onto her knees, dragging the blanket with her so that it thankfully covered her chest. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have asked you to do this."

"No, don't gotta be sorry, just…just gotta understand," he said, wiping his hands on his pants. "Can't…uh, I mean…yer beautiful and…and I'm a man and…well…most of the time we only think about one thing but…"

"I understand," she said. "I do, and I'm grateful for your help."

It was almost making it worse. The way she was looking at him, her hair falling around her shoulders again, the blanket barely concealing the body he knew was there…she was his wife, he had every right…

But he'd given his word.

He had to get out of there.

"I'll…uh, leave ya to git dressed. Meetin's at seven so…"

"Yes," she nodded, "yes of course."

He allowed his gaze to linger on her a few seconds more, before moving over to the door and opening it, grateful for the cool breeze of air that greeted him, then closing it firmly behind him, his hand remaining on the handle far longer than it needed to. When he chanced to look up, he saw Olivia standing a few feet away, regarding him carefully.

"What ya lookin' at?" he asked. "Ain't payin' ya to stand around here doin' nothin'."

"Why don't you just take her?"

"The hell ya talkin' about…?"

"Eloise. Why don't you just take her? Ain't nothin' she could do to stop you anyways."

"Shut up."

"We can all see it."

"Yeah, whose we?"

"Me and the other girls," Olivia replied. "Ain't blind, Hank."

"Told ya before, mind yer own business," he pushed past her into the bar, hoping that she wasn't in the mood to bravely say more as he certainly wasn't in the mood to calmly take it. Fortunately, her attention was quickly taken up by a prospective customer and he was able to pour himself a couple of shots of whisky in peace.

Goddamn her. Goddamn Ellie for being so…so…

A touch on his shoulder suddenly caused him to start and turn quickly, hand reaching for his gun, only to find Jake standing behind him. In a way, he was almost relieved. "Ain't wise to sneak up on folks like that."

"Something got ya jumpy?"

"Injuns," he lied, "what else?"

XXXX

"If there's Dog Soldiers roaming around here planning attacks, then the town need to be prepared," Jake declared.

"There's no evidence they're planning any such thing," Michaela countered. "All Hank and Eloise encountered was a small band of renegades who wanted to know what goods they had."

"And they didn't take nothin," Hank said, "don't that tell ya all ya need to know? If they'd just bin wantin' goods, they'd have taken what we had."

"Not to mention that horse," Loren quipped, grinning at Eloise, who looked down at her hands.

In all truth, the purpose of the meeting was the furthest thing from her mind. Every time she allowed her thoughts to wander, they only went to one place.

"The tribes stopped the raids a long time ago," Michaela said, "and there's no reason to suspect that they're going to start again. Speculating like this is only going to cause panic and fear where it's not necessary,"

"Reckon folks got the right to decide whether they oughta be fearful or not," Hank said, looking at the crowd assembled in the church, the vast majority of whom nodded and murmured in agreement. "Gotta make sure we protect ourselves."

"By doing what? Seeking out trouble?"

"Makin' sure we're ready if it comes."

"I propose we start nightly patrols," Jake said, murmurs of assent coming from around the room. "Every able man takes a turn. That way we'll be ready if anything does happen."

"I agree," Loren nodded.

"I don't," Michaela replied. "It's unwarranted and unnecessary."

"I agree with Dr Mike," Reverend Johnstone said. "Things have been peaceful for quite some time now. Starting patrols and worrying folks isn't the way to deal with matters."

"S'pose ya'd rather wait til they was gallopin' into town 'fore ya'd want to do nothin'," Hank said acerbically. "Reckon ya'd be singin' a different hymn if they went and burned this place to the ground."

"What about you?" Jake asked Horace, who had so far sat quietly at the end of the table.

"I got a family to protect," the other man said, "especially now we got a baby on the way. I wanna make sure that I'm doing everything I can…so I agree that patrols are a good thing."

"Motion carries," Jake said. "We'll get a roster posted and start from tomorrow night."

"Eloise…" Dorothy caught up with her as they made their way out of the church. "What do you think about all this?"

"I'm not sure I'm qualified to comment," she replied, "I've been here such a short time…"

"Yes, but you were with Hank when the Indians stopped you. I mean, I'm guessing you would have been afraid?"

"Of course, but…perhaps Michaela has a point about not causing unnecessary panic in the town and…" she glanced over to where Hank was talking with Loren, "and I wouldn't want anyone to get hurt." Turning back to Dorothy, she saw a sudden look of realisation dawn in the other woman's eyes. "What I mean is…"

"I understand," Dorothy said, a small smile playing at the corner of her mouth. "It's only natural to worry about the menfolk, but I don't think you need to fear much on Hank's account. He's well able to protect himself and others. Just gotta watch out for that impulsiveness sometimes." She took Eloise's arm. "Must say I've seen a change in him these last few months."

"You…have?"

Dorothy nodded. "And for the better, I'd say."

Mindful of what Michaela had said, she opened her mouth to protest that any change in Hank had anything to do with her, but before she could, he came up behind her and tugged her sleeve gently.

"Let's go. Dorothy."

"Hank."

The other woman's smile followed her as she fell into step beside him and, for a moment, she wasn't sure what to say before settling on the events of the meeting.

"Michaela seemed to feel quite strongly that there's no threat from the Indians."

"Told ya before, Michaela loves the Injuns like they were her own family."

"Even the Dog Soldiers?"

"No, but she's all about understandin' 'em, thinks they all got a raw deal from the government, so we oughta pay the price for that. Like it excuses 'em from rampagin' through the town, causin' pain and misery."

"You seem to feel quite strongly about it too."

"I do. Got a lot to protect and I don't just mean the saloon."

"If you mean me then you don't have to worry."

"How d'ya figure?"

"Well, I know how to shoot, remember? And if I can stamp on a white man's foot, I'm sure I could stamp on an Indian's foot just as effectively." It was meant to be taken light-heartedly, to diffuse the tension, but rather than appreciate her humour, he stopped and turned to her, his expression drawn.

"Ain't a joke, Ellie. Injuns come ridin' into town there ain't gonna be time fer ya to think about stampin' on anybody's foot, alright? And whilst we're on the subject, that cute little trick ain't liable to work in a real-life situation when a man's got his gun to yer head anyways."

"Why not? It worked with you."

His eyes roamed across her face, his breath tight and she found herself lost in his gaze. "Goddamn it…" he muttered eventually, before turning and moving away from her.

"Wait…what have I said?!" she called out, hurrying after him.

"Nothin'."

"Hank…Hank, wait!" Taking hold of his arm, she forced him to stop. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make light of what I know is a serious situation. It's just…the thought of Indians raiding the town frightens me and I suppose joking about it goes, in some way, towards mitigating that and…"

"Told ya I'd protect ya as long as yer my wife livin' under my roof. Take that kind of thing seriously."

"I'm not suggesting that you don't…"

"Ain't ever gonna have ya in a situation where ya need to think about whether or not to stamp on a man's foot or shoot him, any man. Told ya before, I'd have to be dead first."

"Well, if we're being accurate, you said you'd have to be dead before I was involved in a drawing situation, not just any situation. And besides, there's probably a high chance of the saloon being robbed again at some point so…"

"Good thing ya ain't gonna be there much longer then, ain't it?"

His words brought her up sharp, a stark reminder of the temporary nature of their situation and the time fast approaching, though she hadn't realised he had been thinking of it as she had. "Then why bother even showing me how to shoot? Why buy me the gun, why make me practice?"

"Yer the one who asked me to teach ya!"

"You didn't have to agree! You could have told me no and that would likely have been the end of it, but you didn't. You wanted me to learn. Why have you changed your mind?"

"Ain't changed my mind! It's just…"

"Just what?" she demanded.

He shook his head, "Don't expect ya to understand."

"Good, because I don't!"

"Don't ya?" He stepped closer to her. "Ain't got the first clue? Not even a little bit?"

How could she put words to it? How could she tell him every thought that had passed through her mind during and since he had been in her room? How could she explain that when he had touched her, it had felt like nothing she had ever experienced before…that she had wanted him to keep touching her, that she had needed…

It was wrong, so wrong. He might be her husband now, but there was no future for them. He didn't love her, couldn't love her and yet…in every way that Thomas's touch had made her recoil, his had only made her want more.

And he wanted more too, she knew that now. The look in his eyes and the way he had told her he needed to stop confirmed for her that he desired her. In some small way, it pleased her to know that those feelings, basic though they were, were reciprocated, but it changed nothing in the grand scheme of things.

"I won't lie," she heard herself say. "If you ask me how it felt earlier…how I felt earlier…in my room…I won't lie."

"How did ya feel?" he asked, moving closer to her, his voice low, rich in its quality, that only served to make her insides rush hot and then cold in quick succession.

"I…I felt…"

"Hank!" They both started at Jake shouting from a few feet away. "Folks are wanting drinks. You coming?"

His face pinched, seemingly angry at the interruption, but he turned back and nodded, "Yeah, be there in a minute." When he looked on her once more, his expression had cleared. "Like I said, ya ain't gonna be standin' on no man's foot, white, Injun or otherwise."

"No," she conceded with a sigh as he walked away from her, "I guess not."

XXXX

Her breath was hot against his ear, ragged…desperate…breathing his name over and over as he claimed her.

She had put up no resistance when he had appeared at her door, opened it without questioned, allowed him to close and lock it behind him, then moved over to the far wall, as if she had known how it would happen. There had been no protest when he had pushed her back against it, fumbled under her skirts to divest her of her undergarments and then lifted her up into his arms, legs curling around his waist as he had freed himself and driven into her. The sharpest cry had come when he had broken through her maidenhood, but quickly she had joined him in a rhythm that, had he not known better, would have led him to believe that he was not her first. And yet he knew he was. Her first and only. His wife. His Ellie.

"Hank…don't stop…don't stop…!"

"Ain't gonna stop…ain't ever gonna stop…"

He woke suddenly, his first thought after regaining his breath being that she was there with him, lying beside him. But the bed next to him was empty and the front of his union suit damp with his desires.

"Hell…" he muttered softly to himself, lying back against the pillow and looking at the ceiling. It had felt so real, she had felt so real, so much more than the last time in Denver when all he had fantasised about was kissing her. "Last time ya hadn't touched her. Last time ya hadn't seen…" he broke off, trying not to think about it, trying to push from his mind the look in her eyes when she had told him she couldn't lie about her feelings. If there was one thing he knew how to spot in a woman, it was desire and there had been desire in her eyes.

Desire for him.

Rising from the bed, he moved over to the window and looked out into the dark, quiet street, telling himself that thinking on it served no purpose. She was a lady, someone who had been brought up well, someone who would never lie with a man out of lust rather than love, even if they were married. But he could also tell, perhaps now more than ever, that being here, spending time with him had changed her. Her boundaries were flimsy now, working in the saloon, drinking, shooting, riding…lovemaking…. he couldn't help but think that all it would need would be a little persuasion and she would agree to be his.

He let out a shuddering breath, knowing he couldn't let that happen. He'd made her a promise; stay married to her until Christmas with no physical contact, then agree to an annulment. It was what she wanted, after all, what she needed in order to make sense of the next phase of her life, with no complications or messy legal or emotional intricacies.

He'd no intention of going back on that promise for one reason, and one reason only.

He loved her.