((Contains material of an adult nature.))

Even with many of the hired laborers laid off for the winter, the house at the center of the Brambles always seemed to be full to Marin these days. True, there were only seven of them living in the big house itself, with Daniel and Carla still living in the cottage down the road, but it was a little difficult for the heavily pregnant Mrs Lassiter to edge through the main room of an evening without upsetting something someone else was working on. She'd taken to sitting in the kitchen instead, usually by the fire, and usually in the company of Jodie or Bill, or both, until Evan emerged from wherever he had been spending the hour after dinner. That was where she was now, feet up on a barrel, scowling ferociously at the cards she was writing, and trying not to feel left out of the more companionable chatter coming from the main room tonight.

Evan was a man who was accustomed to routine. Every day started the same and ended the same, so it wasn't difficult for Marin to predict when he'd be returning to the main house or what he'd been doing while he was gone. The chores around the farm were endless. There was always something that needed doing, but Evan never complained. Unlike some men, he liked being busy, he liked working. Idle hands are the devil's playthings, after all, or so he'd once been told. His last stop of the day before returning to the main house was nearly always the barn, where he made sure the horses were settled for the evening. He could easily have let some of the hands take care of it, but it was a job he enjoyed and to him, his horse was as much one of the family as he was. Once his horse was settled for the night, then and only then, did Evan allow himself to relax, until morning came, and it started all over again.

Guessing where Marin would be, since he'd left her there before he'd headed out to the barn after dinner, Evan came in the back door, which led to the kitchen. He closed the door against the late autumn chill before wiping his boots on the doormat as a matter of habit. He pulled the wide-brimmed hat from his head and shoved a hand through his scraggly, brown hair as his eyes settled on the woman who sat alone at the table.

She heard him coming before the door opened, blue eyes already lifted from the letter she was winding up to watch as he walked in through the door. Even now, with his ring warm and accustomed on her finger, and his child resting beneath her heart, she couldn't quite believe this beautiful, quiet man was hers. Together, they'd made the Brambles work for the first time in years, but more than that, Evan had given her an anchor. She needed him, more than she wanted to admit aloud, unable to countenance what life might be like now without his quiet calm permeating every level of her life. She managed a faint smile for him as the murky green of his eyes found hers, pushing her wild curls back out of her face. "All settled?"

"Yes, ma'am," he replied, following the removal of his hat with that of his coat, turning to hang both on a hook beside the door - the hook everyone knew was reserved for him. "Getting cold out," he continued, making small talk like he always did when he first came inside for the night. This was their time, and everyone else in the house knew it and mostly left them alone. Tending to a busy farm and living with five other people left little time or room for privacy, and it was the few precious hours after dark that they both seemed to cherish most. "Gonna snow soon. You can smell it in the air." Once his hat and coat were hung by the door, he made his way over to his wife, bending his tall self over to brush an affectionate kiss against her cheek. "Little one giving you much trouble tonight?" he asked, as he laid a hand against her swollen belly.

"I know I shouldn't wish for it, but wouldn't it be nice to send everyone into town and then get snowed in for a while?" Marin mused, answering Evan's small talk with her own as he set about removing hat and coat, setting her pen aside. Letters could wait; they were just a way of filling the time between dinner and her husband's return from the last of his evening chores. Hopefully in a few months' time, she'd be able to get back to a few chores of her own. She smiled as he bent to her, touching her lips fondly to his cheek in answer, suddenly no longer minding that she'd been left on her own in the kitchen by everyone else. His hand against the swell of her womb made her glance down, rolling her eyes as the baby rolled over, digging its knees into its papa's hand in the process. "You mean besides refusing to obey me when I tell it to get a move on and move out?" she asked with a rueful flicker to her smile.

The cheek she kissed was cold from the evening's chill, but his fingers were warm enough from the gloves he'd been wearing before he came inside. "Careful what you wish for, Mare. He or she ain't done yet. Longer the baby stays where it is, the healthier it'll be." He spoke candidly as one who seemed to know at least a little something of babies, having had a daughter already. He felt the baby move beneath his hand and frowned thoughtfully, knowing it wouldn't be long now. It wasn't having a child that worried him, but the whole matter of childbirth. No matter how many times Marin explained the marvels of magic to him, where he was from, childbirth was serious business and didn't always end well.

His hand lingered against her belly for a moment before he straightened and went to the stove to pour himself a cup of coffee, another part of his evening routine. He took a sip of the coffee as he turned to face her, backtracking to the question she'd greeted him with. "We get snowed in and I'll be doing all the chores myself," he commented, not really following her train of thought on that one, and not always realizing she was teasing right off.

The longer the baby stays in, the bigger it gets, she thought to herself, careful not to voice this thought in front of her already worrying husband. I'm not a big person myself. "I know, I know," was her answer to his candid instruction, her smile fading away slowly as she sighed, leaning back in her chair. Coffee, that was another thing she wasn't allowed, according to Jodie. Mind you, if Jodie had her way, Marin would be bed-bound. She loved the busy-body, but sometimes Marin wanted to rip Jodie's hair out. Evan's misunderstanding of her tease made her laugh softly.

"That wasn't quite what I meant, but never mind," she assured him, absent-mindedly rubbing her palm against the side of the bump that seemed to be getting bigger by the day. "If I thought I could get away with it, I'd be insisting that we move ourselves to the cabin for Christmas, but I honestly think Jodie and Bill would pitch a tent so they don't miss the birth."

She nuzzled fondly to him, teasing out a long, tender kiss as her fingertips played against his cheek, enjoying the quiet and peace he seemed to carry with him no matter what troubles he was hiding from her. And she knew he hid a lot of his troubling thoughts from her, never wanting to pry. She had never quite got over the guilt of asking about Ellie before they were married, and that guilt kept her from prying further. If he wanted her to know, he'd tell her, she was sure of it. A certain amount of furniture shifting in the main room, however, drew her out of her loving contemplation of his eyes, a resigned look crossing her face. "How much would you like to bet me that Jodie's about to come in and say that it's well past time I should be in bed?"

"Reckon we should beat her to it then," he replied, with an almost mischievous gleam in his eyes. He took a final swallow of his coffee before pushing his chair back and moving to his feet. Relaxing in a soft, warm bed with his wife sounded like just the thing, and he saw no point in delaying. He glanced at the pile of letters on the table before her, assuming they could wait until morning. He drained his coffee and set the empty cup in the sink.

Once he was done cleaning up after himself, he turned back to offer her an arm and help her to her feet. She was just a tiny thing and she was all baby. Though he hadn't shared his thoughts, he privately wondered if she'd make it to her due date and had taken to staying as close to the house as possible and checking in as often as he could, despite the many chores that needed doing about the farm.

Marin laughed softly at the mischief in Evan's eyes, watching him rise and move to the sink before turning her attention to setting her unfinished letters back into the box they lived in. If it wasn't for Evan keeping her sane, she would probably have followed through on her oft-repeated threat to attack Jodie St.James with a broom by now. Grateful for the help to get to her feet, she squeezed his arm fondly, again wondering whether there was something wrong with her for still wanting him even this close to her due date. "Do you think I can make it through without knocking anyone over tonight?" she asked, half-teasing, half-serious. She wasn't entirely sure if she'd been forgiven for accidentally knocking Kale over the back of the couch a few nights before.

"You ain't knocked me over yet," he remarked with the tiniest of smirks. It would be a hard thing to accomplish as he towered over just about everyone at the Brambles, especially her. "Do I need to carry you up the stairs again?" he asked, teasingly. It wouldn't be the first or probably the last time he'd carry through with such a threat, even as far along with child as she was. "I 'spect they've learned to clear a path," he teased further. Tucking her arm inside his with a pat of his hand, he glanced toward the box of letters she'd been working on. "Those keep 'til morning?"

"Oh no, you don't," she laughed at his teasing offer to carry her. "You're not putting your back out just because I'm a fat lump at the moment." Her finger waggled under his nose for a moment, as teasing in return as he was to her. She glanced toward the box, and offered a one-shouldered shrug. "They'll keep," she promised him confidently. "I might not, but they will." One eyelid flickered a wink at him, figuring he wouldn't understand the silly joke embedded in her comment.

"They bills?" he asked, curiously. Though he generally left her to the task of paying the bills and taking care of any paperwork that needed doing, he liked to stay aware of their financial situation. Now that they were married, whether the Brambles failed or succeeded was up to both of them, and he wanted to be as active in the business as possible. He arched a brow at her comment, not quite sure what she meant by it, as it could be taken a number of ways. "Reckon we'd best get you to bed then."

"No, we're up to date with the bills," she assured him. "I was just writing out the thank yous to the hands who came up over the harvest and brewing time. A little late, I know, but I'm hoping to get it done before the year ends." Her eyes twinkled sweetly as she smiled up at him, hugging to his arm as they moved to leave the kitchen and traverse the main room, hailed quietly from the various souls lounging about on the furniture and wished a good night by all.

"Reckon their pay check was thanks enough," he remarked, never understanding the need for such things as thank you notes. Why thank someone for something they were getting paid to do' He led her through the main room toward the stairs with a polite nod in greeting and a quiet, "Evenin'," before leading her toward and up the stairs to their room. With any luck, they'd escape before being detained by idle chatter, however friendly.

It seemed as though Carla had already pulled Daniel away to their own cottage, and with Bill hunched over something mightily secret with Jodie, the others in the room weren't so inclined to interrupt the passage of Mr and Mrs Lassiter, as they insisted upon calling the pair. Marin was grateful for the lack of interference by the time they reached the stairs; as much as she had felt left out earlier, she knew from experience that starting a conversation at this time of night usually meant no one getting to bed until after midnight. Not good practise on a working farm.

"I know you think I'm being silly, sending out thank yous, but they didn't have to come and work with us," she pointed out quietly as they mounted the stairs together, glad she hadn't taken her shoes off as her feet scraped over the bare wood. "They could have gone elsewhere and been paid more. So they deserve a thank you."

He accepted her explanation with quiet grace. It didn't really matter to him one way or another. He just didn't think like a woman, nor had he been raised to consider such civilities as thank you notes the norm. "Reckon so," he admitted with a thoughtful frown, seeing her point. Farm hands usually went where they'd make the most money, but it seemed a few of them had chosen loyalty over profit, for some reason, and Evan knew that was mostly because of Marin. He led her slowly up the stairs and down the hall to their room, pushing the door open when they arrived and leading her inside, happy they'd escaped the chatter downstairs.

"There are ways," he replied, his kisses grazing her cheek, her neck as he drew her hair back. It wasn't so much the color he loved so much, though there was that, but the way it felt against his fingers, as soft and luxurious as silk. He wasn't exactly inexperienced in the ways of love, and he knew what would please her, even if they couldn't make love in the conventional sense. He reached for her hands to draw her with him toward the bed.

"Ways, hmm?" Her voice sounded just a little breathless as she teased him softly, nuzzling her own kisses to his temple, into his hair, as his lips trailed down over her throat. She couldn't have resisted his grasp on her hands any more than she could have prevented the sun from setting, leaning into him as her fingers tangled with his. "Have you been saving these ways up, or should I have asked a while ago?"

"Just waiting for you to ask," he replied as honestly as he could, drawing the robe away from her shoulder to plant more kisses against the ivory smoothness of her flesh. In all truth, for what he had planned, he didn't even need to undress her. He brushed his lips against her shoulder as he very gently turned her toward the bed and drew her downward. "Just try to relax," he instructed, as he slid the robe away to expose her shoulders. The fire was burning warmly in the hearth, just as it burned between them, and until either died down, neither would need to worry about catching a chill.

"I'm always relaxed with you," she murmured fondly, something of a lie since quite a bit of what they did with their private time together brought a delicious tension of its own. Or it had, until a month or so ago. Self-conscious of her rounded form, however natural that roundness might be, she settled herself on the bed, her face turning to watch him as he drew the robe from her shoulders. One hand rose to touch his cheek. "This isn't just about me, sweetheart," she said softly, anxious not to distress him in any way. "You ....you don't have to, if you don't want me."

Confusion flickered across Evan's face as he turned his gaze toward Marin's, pausing in his removal of her robe. Was he reading her wrong" Did she want him to help her relax - for lack of a better word - or not' "Course I want you. Why wouldn't I want you? I just don't wanna chance hurting the baby." Their sex life had been healthy and active until a short time ago, when things had gotten a bit awkward and Evan had not pressed the matter. It wasn't for lack of desire, however; only concern for the well-being of his wife and child.

Rose blossomed on Marin's cheeks once again as she realised belatedly the reason for their awkwardness around one another these past weeks. She was self-conscious of her expanding girth, and he ....he thought he would hurt the baby. Her smile flickered as she twisted to face him, curling her hands to his jaw and drawing him into the kind of kiss she hadn't had the nerve to give for quite some time. Drawing back slowly, she let the tip of her nose stroke against his. "You can't hurt the baby," she promised him. "I ....I asked the doctor at the last visit. I thought, well, I thought that me getting bigger was the problem."

His brows furrowed at her statement, even as her lips touched his, and he looked just a little confused. He'd been doing his best to control his own desires under the mistaken and old-fashioned belief that if he gave in to such things, he might hurt the baby, and now she was telling him that he'd been completely wrong" "You getting bigger?" he echoed, unbelievingly. "You thought I didn't want you no more" Didn't find you attractive?" He chuckled dryly at the misunderstanding. Nothing could be farther from the truth. If anything, he found her even more attractive now that she was carrying their child. "That ain't the problem."

"Well, I don't feel particularly attractive," she admitted reluctantly, glancing down at the high swell of her belly. It would begin to drop within days, they both knew, if the doctor's dates had been correct, and then it really would be only a matter of time. "I'm huge and moody, and I can't even walk without waddling like an over-fed duck." She shrugged, embarrassed to be admitting these opinions about herself. "But if, if that isn't the problem, then ....then there isn't a problem. It's completely safe, just ....awkward."

Evan's old-fashioned notions were showing. After all, he was from a different time and a different place, and though he'd been in Rhy'Din for some time now, he was still behind the times. "You ain't unattractive," he assured her, letting his eyes roam over her nightdress-clad form as if to prove his point by admiring the beauty that was before him. A small frown touched his lips as she put herself down. "Mare, you're pregnant," he reminded her, gentling his voice, which was not an easy task for one used to ruggedness. He brushed his fingers against her cheek in a loving caress. "You're as purdy today as the day I met you. Purdier."

"Worrying over nothing again?" she asked softly, reassured by the gentleness of his voice, the loving way he looked at her. His compliments were always sincere, always intentional, and she had learned not to put herself down too much in his presence. He never liked to hear it. Twisting again, she rose to settle onto her knees on the bed, as close to him as she could get, drawing her own fingers over his cheeks as her breath painted his lips. "Please, Evan," she whispered, her voice just a little shaken with nerves. "Make love to me?"

His brows rose yet again at her question. It wasn't so much that he didn't want to fulfill her request - he wanted to very much. He had, in fact, never lost his desire for her. If anything, his desire had only increased over the weeks and months that they'd been together, despite her pregnant state. There was that uncertain look on his face again, not a denial, but a little afraid. "I want to," he admitted, probably for the first time in weeks. "I just....I'm not sure how....I don't wanna hurt you..." He'd been the one who'd claimed that there were ways, but the ways he had been considering had nothing to do with his own desires and everything to do with hers.

"You won't hurt me. You won't hurt the baby." Marin was certain of that, and though she, too, wasn't entirely sure quite how they were going to manage it, she wasn't going to let him think of her and deny himself, not now he had admitted to wanting her in return. "There are ways, you said," she reminded him, her lips just barely brushing his as she spoke, as her hands trailed down over his chest to undo his belt, to begin the task of unbuttoning his shirt. "I want to feel you inside me, love. Please."

It was a little too late for touching, as far as he was concerned, but if he was the master of his own desires, and he'd held off this long; he could hold off a little longer. With her settled back on the bed again, her back to him, the first thing he wanted to do was reassure her that he did indeed love her and desire her. He moved closer, close enough that she could feel his arousal, the desire that he'd denied himself for so long. He swept her silken locks aside and pressed his lips against her neck, warm and surprisingly soft, kissing the back of her neck, beneath her ear, trailing kisses along the curve of a shoulder, while an arm went around her to smoothe his fingers against her swelling belly, drifting higher to cup the soft curve of a breast, fingers teasing and stroking the acutely sensitive tip, feeling it react to his attention.

And she did react, more violently than she had thought she might. She'd missed his touch, more than she wanted to admit, and even the gentle press of him against her back was enough to draw a soft moan from her lips. She arched unconsciously as his lips found her neck, her shoulder, unable to kiss back but open in the loving sweep of her own caress, her hand combing slender fingers in and out of his hair, her palm sweetly soft against the line of his jaw as she trembled at the smooth stroke of his hand over her.

Never a loud lover, nonetheless she moaned and sighed for him with tender abandon as he teased the wonderful sensitivity of her flesh, reaching back to curl her fingers about his hip, drawing him closer to feel his arousal pressed tight to the soft curve of her rear. "Oh gods," she whispered, her voice thick with loving desire. "Gods, I've missed you so much ..."

Though he wasn't a loud lover either, the sensation of her flesh against his arousal was almost too much to bear, sending tingling shivers of pleasure along his spine and nerve endings in almost electrical waves. He groaned, almost as if he was in pain, but it was only long-repressed desire making itself known, aching almost painfully, needfully. "Marin," he whispered huskily, the arch of her back allowing him easier access to the soft curves that he so loved to touch, despite her fears of the opposite. "I love you," he whispered, pressing himself against her as his hands held fast to her breasts, which fit so perfectly inside his big hands.

It seemed that they had done so little thus far, and yet she was already breathless, already trembling in his arms, arched back against him with parted lips releasing ever more fervent declarations of long-denied delight in him. His whispered repeat of the feelings that had grown so quickly between them and continued to grow with each day that passed drew a tenderly sweet whimper from her lips, impatience and deeply touched enchantment mingling in the shudder of her slight form in his grasp. "I love you," she breathed back to him, her head turning to touch a kiss to his cheek, his jaw, even as her thighs pressed together, wanting to prolong the slow burn of this wonderful moment for as long as she could. Impatient to feel him inside her and share their desire while they could.

As her head turned to kiss his cheek, he leaned closer to intercept those lips and press them to his own, opening his mouth to receive her kiss and offer some heat of his own. In some ways, it felt as though they were rediscovering each other, and yet, at the same time, it was as though no time had passed at all. Old lovers, easy and familiar with each other, knowing without asking what the other wanted. Some claimed the love was all about the chase, but Evan knew better.

His love for this lovely flower hadn't faded with time, but had only grown deeper, burned forever in the book of their lives - a book they were writing together - and this was only one small chapter. Impatient and yet patient all at once, knowing they had all the time in the world and yet not enough of it, he took his time kissing her, tasting her, loving her. All of his senses engaged in exploring and savoring her, until neither of them seemed able to remain patient any longer. Very gently, he parted her legs and slid himself inside her, even as a moan was pressed against her lips, one hand moving to rest against the swell that was their son or daughter, as if to reassure the child growing inside her that all would be well.

She filled his mouth with the taste of his name on her lips as he so gently took her, one leg lifting, curling back over his as her back found the pronounced arc that gave them both room to move and preserved the intimacy of their closeness. He'd primed her more than she had expected, utterly floored by his seemingly super-human ability to hold himself back until she was almost begging, surprised to find that she had thought he would not be such a gentleman after so long without this closeness. Her hand fell from his cheek to grip his arm lightly, the other clenched in the sheets as they began to move in a dance they'd both known before meeting, but had learned to near perfection in each other's arms. Under his hand, the child was still, seeming to understand that this was not about him or her, but them.