"It is!" he replied, fitting a key into the lock and pushing open the door to his room. "But if she knows you're here, she's going to start asking all kinds of questions and she'll want to have you to tea and before you know it, it will be time for you to go." He pulled her inside with him and shut the door, exhaling a sigh of relief. "She means well, but she'll talk your ear off all night, if you let her."

Giggling still, Jess found herself tugged into his private room, deeply amused by this description of his landlady. "She sounds lovely," she told him softly, self-consciously smoothing down her wet skirts once again as she glanced about. "Perhaps I should make an appointment for her to pass me as a suitable bride for her William."

He rolled his eyes, letting go of her hand now that they were safely inside his room. "She's not my mother," he reminded her with a small frown. He rarely, if ever mentioned his mother, obviously a source of pain and grief. "I'll introduce you to her later. Promise!" He turned, shrugging off his wet jacket and laying it across a chair to dry, absently shoving his fingers through his hair to smooth it out.

The room was simple and sparse but warm and comfortable. There was a perfectly made bed against one wall covered by a thick comforter, a dresser, small table and two chairs, a closet lining another wall, and a window opening onto a garden. There were few personal effects to be seen at first glance, no photographs, a few books. It seemed he liked to read. The room was small, but clean and tidy, and for now, it was all he needed. There was a shared bathroom down the hall, and he was welcome to make use of the kitchen and living areas on the first floor.

Noticing the frown, Jess sobered herself quickly, gently touching her hand to his back as he turned away to set his jacket to dry. "I know," she assured him softly. "I am sorry. I did not mean to make light of it." Her blush this time was a little embarrassed, mortified with herself for bringing up even obliquely something that caused him pain. Instead, she turned herself to look about the room, smiling to see how neatly kept it was. Her eyes strayed to the books curiously, but she kept her question to herself for now. "What will she do when she realises you are not alone?" she asked him quietly.

Whatever dark cloud had passed overhead was gone, and the smile he offered at her apology was bright. "It's okay," he assured her, dropping the subject without pursuing it further. He pulled out a chair for her at the table. "Please, sit. I'll get you a towel." His cheeks flushed, realizing how meager his surroundings were. "I know it's not much, but it's not so bad," he said, suddenly embarrassed, shrugging in answer to her question. "Ask if you're the girl I keep talking about probably." He made his way toward the door, flushing brightly. Apparently, his landlady already knew about her. "I'll be right back. Don't go anywhere." Well, of course she wouldn't. Where would she go"

"It's lovely, Will," Jess insisted, and to her eyes, it was. She was not so high as he seemed to have decided she was, and a year of sharing a single room much like this one with the other girl who worked at the florist had taught her the value of having a space, however small, to call completely your own. As he walked toward the door, she smiled encouragingly, having not the slightest intention of leaving, but equally no intention of sitting down just yet. Perhaps when she had dried out a little, through the weight of her skirt didn't offer much hope of that happening within an hour. "I will be here."

Will smiled happily as he exited the room, pulling the door partially closed behind him and hurrying down the hall to the linen closet to fetch a few towels. He wasn't gone but two minutes when a knock was heard at the door, and the door creaked open to reveal a woman in her upper years, but still possessed of a certain grace and beauty. She was petite and slim with silvery-white hair that she wore pinned up on her head, a friendly smile on her face, blue eyes still bright with life, laugh lines crinkling at the corners when she smiled. "I knew he was hiding someone in here. You must be the young lady William has been telling me about," she said as she stepped into the room uninvited. Well, heck, she owned the place. Did she need an invitation"

Jessamin jumped, startled to hear the knock, much less turn to see what could only be Will's indomitable landlady stepping into the room with all the confidence of his own personal valet. She blushed at being caught, glancing down in shy embarrassment at the state of herself. It wasn't the best was to present yourself to anyone whose opinion might possibly matter a great deal to your fianc". "Yes, my name is Jessamin Stewart," she recovered herself quickly enough to answer. "You must be Mrs. Middleton. I do apologise for not introducing myself below, but perhaps it would be best if I were to tidy myself up a little. I got caught in the rain without a coat." Her fingers flexed together awkwardly at her waist, all too acutely away of the bedraggled image she presented.

Mrs. Middleton smiled as she took in the girl's slightly bedraggled appearance. "My dear, you are lovely." She chuckled a little, almost more to herself than to Jessamin. "And wet. You need to get out of those wet clothes before you catch your death." She patted Jess' hand, like a mother would a daughter, and turned back for the door, sticking her head out and calling down the hall. "William! Bring me some towels and a blanket!" A slightly muffled acknowledgement was heard from somewhere down the hallway, and satisfied the young man would do as she asked, she turned back to the rain soaked girl. "What you need is a nice hot cup of tea. And some soup. Are you hungry?"

"Oh, but, Mrs. Middleton ..." Jess hesitated, but plunged on with her attempt to protest. "I have nothing else to wear. It would not be seemly for me to sit in company in ..." Her voice lowered to a mortified whisper. "....my petticoat." Of course, by this time, Mrs. Middleton was already calling to Will, and Jessamin's cheeks felt warm enough to cook dinner for two on easily. Cornered by the enquiry into the state of her stomach, she hesitated again, and confessed with shy reluctance. "I am hungry, yes. But, please, I do not wish to be any trouble. I will be fine."

"Nonsense," the woman remarked, waving a dismissive hand at her. "William is a perfect gentleman, and we'll make sure you're modestly covered. Goodness, dear, do you want to catch cold?" The woman nearly slipped and referred to Jessamin's fianc" as "her William", having lost a son close in age to Will years ago, but she caught herself just in time. She patted Jess' hand again, smiling warmly. "It's no trouble at all. I insist." Will poked his head through the door, brows arched curiously. "Is everything all right?" he inquired, unsure if it was safe to step back inside or not.

The look Jess offered to Will as he looked inside was a mixture of relief at his reappearance and mild terror at the insistence of Mrs. Middleton in stripping her down, combined with the familiarly reassuring sparkle of amusement at the situation she'd found herself in. "I'm sure I will be fine, Mrs. Middleton," she tried again, hoping that the engagingly spritely woman was not going to try and provide her with anything from her own wardrobe.

Hugging the warm blanket tight about herself, Jess had somehow managed to cover herself entirely, whether by the blanket or the long hang of her petticoat. The only part of her not covered was her head and the bare toes just visible, curling shyly against the warm rug on which she stood. "Thank you, Mrs. Middleton. You're very kind."

Mrs. Middleton waved a dismissive hand at the girl again and she pulled open the door to find a very confused looking William standing in the hallway holding a generic white bathrobe. She smiled at him as she stepped past him into the hallway. "There, all better." She looked to him, noticing he was not much drier himself and smirked. "Give her the robe and get out of those wet clothes. I'll bring a tray up shortly." She patted him on the arm fondly and went on her way, humming merrily to herself, while Will looked on dumbfounded. Change his clothes" In front of Jess" He felt his face flush hotly at the thought.

The expression on his fianc"e's face was no less wide-eyed than his at this prospect, her hands beneath the blanket tucking it higher about her cheeks as though to try and hide the blush that just hadn't even begun to cool from her cheeks since the kindly intervention of his landlady. She swallowed, squeaking out a, "I won't look!" and abruptly turned her back, closing her eyes just to make sure.

Somehow, Will got the feeling that they'd just been set up, brows furrowed as he tried to puzzle that out, but she wouldn't do that, would she" He was being ridiculous. "Um..." he stammered as he stepped into the room, his face flushed. "I'll go change in the bath," he suggested, stepping into the room so he could leave the robe for her and find himself a change of clothes. He set the robe down on the bed, trying to avert his gaze from her politely as he pulled open a drawer and fished around for a clean shirt and pants. He wasn't half as wet as her, thanks to the leather jacket.

"You shouldn't have to," Jess stammered, forcing herself to calm down and look at this rationally. They were engaged. They were going to be married. They were going to be wearing a lot less than this in each other's company before very long. Being shy of seeing or being seen was patently absurd. Letting out a slow breath, she relaxed her grip on the blanket, opening her eyes. "I won't look, Will," she promised him softly. "Not if you don't want me to. But you shouldn't have to leave your own rooms to change your clothing."

He paused, frowning, and glancing over at her as he closed the dresser drawer. "I'm not even that wet," he rationalized further. Okay, so his pants were soaking wet, but his shirt was mostly dry, and his hair had already dried, curls tumbling stubbornly across his forehead. "Are you all right?" he asked, sounding concerned, wondering what his landlady had said to her in his absence. What he'd heard through the closed door had been too muffled to understand.

"Will." Despite her flushing shyness, Jess managed to turn herself to face him, one hand appearing from the folds of the blanket to touch his arm gently as the material slipped just a little to reveal a delicately boned shoulder beneath the damp curl of her own hair. "There's no point in looking after me if you're not going to look after yourself as well," she pointed out quietly. "You are very wet, and I think your Mrs. Middleton might spank me if I let you stay that way." She lifted her shy smile to meet his gaze. "I'm fine. She's very nice."

Twin eyebrows arched upwards as she touched his arm reassuringly, cheeks flushed, but relaxing a little at her smile. He didn't think he was that wet really. He'd experienced far worse than a simple rainstorm. "I think she's adopted me," he remarked, holding her gaze a moment, trying not to notice her bare shoulder, tempted to kiss her, but deciding that would be too bold given her state of undress. "Turn around," he instructed, gesturing toward her with the wave of a hand as he, too, turned, tugging the damp sweater up over his head.

Obedient, she took a step back, turning away before she could be tempted to watch him undress himself. It was a temptation, though, and one she had not expected to feel, biting her lips with an odd sense of mischief as she sought not to look around. Her arms folded at her waist, the blanket slipping a little more, worn more as she might a shawl than to hide herself away in the distraction of his state of undress. "She is very fond of you," Jess attempted to continue the conversation, fixing her eyes firmly on the window. "She has offered us a suite here, a room and bath, when it becomes available in a few months. I did say I would have to ask you before agreeing to the offer, but ....it is very tempting, Will."

He threw off his rumpled sweater, a sleeveless t-shirt underneath, glancing to her reflection in the mirror, her back to him, entranced for a moment as he watched the blanket slip carelessly away from her shoulder. Distracted, he made no reply, barely hearing a word she said, his mind a million miles away.

Unbeknownst to him, his fianc"e had exactly the same problem. She wouldn't have noticed if he had answered; her attention had been captivated by his reflection in the window - indistinct, but clear enough to be able to follow what he was doing. She knew she shouldn't be watching, however indirectly, but somehow that made it harder to look away. "Mmm?" she managed eventually, an absent-minded sound that was possibly a little too close to other sounds he had heard her make when he kissed her in the past.

"Um, I'm sorry....What were you saying?" he asked, as he finally blinked out of his reverie and back to the present moment. He tugged on a long-sleeve, thermal shirt in beige, leaving the buttons open at the neck, frowning nervously as he contemplated the pants, his mind traveling back a few days to his encounter with the pirate wench, feeling a sudden and inexplicable wave of guilt wash over him at the thought.

Seeing him move once again, she blinked, tearing her eyes from the reflection that held her rapt, and tried to work out what it was she had been saying. "Oh! Oh ....that Mrs. Middleton has a room with a private bathroom that will be available in a few months," she repeated herself, touching the backs of her fingers to her cheek. She didn't dare turn to fetch the robe off the bed, not while he was changing, at least. "I think she would like us to take it."

"A room with a private bath?" he asked, pushing aside the unwelcome thoughts for now, wondering if he should tell her what had happened, and more importantly, what would happen if he did. Would she hate him' Would he lose her" His heart felt heavy at that thought, not wanting to keep any secrets from her, but was he supposed to tell her what happened without her thinking it was somehow his fault' "Is that what you want?" he turned the statement back around on her, making no comment either way regarding his own thoughts on the matter. He was perfectly happy to stay here for a while longer, but it was up to her. He flicked a glance in the mirror again to make sure she wasn't looking, and unbuttoned his pants, sliding the wet things down off his legs.

He arched a brow, wondering how she managed to get all those buttons and snaps closed but couldn't manage one little sash. "Are you sure?" he asked, not turning until he was sure she was decent and prepared for him to see her.

She laughed quietly, just a slight edge of hysteria in her voice. "I'm sure," she promised, embarrassed more by the fact that she had been beaten by a sash than any lack of propriety by this point. But then, the robe was thick, and her small hands were used to the more delicate clasps and buttons of her clothing. "And I am hungry, as I am sure you are, too."

"All right," he agreed, uncertainly. "Ready?" he asked as he started to turn slowly back around. So long as she had on her petticoat, he wasn't really going to see anything he shouldn't be seeing anyway. This was Rhy'Din, and he saw more flesh on the street on a daily basis than he'd ever seen of her, but she wasn't like most women on Rhy'Din. She was modest and shy, and he loved and respected her and didn't want to make her feel awkward or uncomfortable in his presence.

Her fingers gripped the edges of the robe, holding it securely folded about herself, the fabric open only to the small dip in her clavicle at the base of her throat. "I'm ready," she agreed, unsure whether to be amused or mortified by the thought that flashed through her mind of throwing the robe off as soon as he looked at her. "I won't bite you, Will."

"How do you know I wouldn't like that?" he teased, a small smirk on his face as he finally turned around, a strange mix of relief and disappointment to find her completely and chastely covered up by the robe. He closed the short distance between them, reaching for the sash at her waist with a smile. "You hold it closed, and I'll tie."

Her mouth fell open in mild astonishment at his teasing, brown eyes wide for a moment before she giggled once again. "You know, I don't think you mean biting the way I do," she managed in a sweet tone, tipping her head back to look up at him as he smiled, her hands firm on the robe. And again suppressing the urge to let the fabric drop open. It might have been an exciting thought, but she was just too well-mannered to do it. There was one thing she could do, though. "Will?" she ventured softly, looking into his eyes fondly. "When are you going to kiss me?"

He kept his gaze fixed on the robe fastening, taking this very seriously, making sure the sash wasn't too tight or too loose, but like Goldilocks and the Three Bears, just right. He did, however, flick a glance at her with an arched brow at her question. "Kiss you?" he asked, as if she was speaking a foreign language. He was more than happy to kiss her, but he didn't want to be too forward.

Her hands fell from the robe as he tied it snug about her waist, closing over his with warm affection. "Yes," she said softly. "I would like you to kiss me." Her cheeks flushed a delicate shade of pink as her lips curved into a softer smile. "I have been wanting you to kiss me since I saw you running along the street in the rain." He could never accuse her of not being honest in her feelings for him, even if she had difficulty getting the words out from time to time.

He finished tying the sash, a soft smile on his face, flattered by her confession and amused by the color that spread across her cheeks. "Why didn't you say so?" he asked, tilting his head to meet her lips, noses touching momentarily as his eyes drifted closed. He pressed a soft kiss against her lips, warm and tender, lingering a moment longer than was prudent, heart afire.

She sighed happily into the kiss he proffered her, hands rising to lay soft and gentle against his chest as she leaned into him, easily swept up in the rush of warmth that came with Will's kisses. Even with the drying tendrils of her hair tickling both her face and his, knowing how inappropriately dressed she was, Jess was reluctant to break the kiss when it came time, only doing so in favor of silencing an embarrassing rumble from her stomach. She smiled sweetly, her thumb sweeping with tender affection against his cheek. "We should eat Mrs. Middleton's supper before it gets cold."

He found his arms going around, even without realizing it as he got a little lost in the kiss, though he did not press himself upon her too snugly, leaving a somewhat safe space between them. He found his appetite at the moment was not so much for food, but for more of her kisses, though his stomach disagreed. He sighed contentedly at the gentleness of her touch and her kiss, smiling warmly. Her kisses were so different from the pirate's, sweet and tender, giving as much as they took, affectionate and loving. He opened his eyes as their lips parted, leaning forward to rest his forehead against her, chuckling a little as her hair tickled his cheek. "I suppose," he admitted, making no move to let her go, just yet.

Jessamin's own smile deepened as Will drew her in, her hands parting from their place between them to rest at the understated muscular curve of his upper arms. She sighed once more, deeply contented with the smallest of affectionate gestures, her eyes closing to enjoy the closeness despite the impatience of her stomach. "I do love you, Will," she murmured softly to him, breathing in his scent with each lungful of air that passed her lips. "I am finding it hard to be patient when I think of soon being your wife."

He frowned a little at her admission. Though it was certainly a sweet thought to be married to her and he was as anxious as she was to be wed, he wanted to do things right. She deserved to have it done right. It seemed that a place to live would no longer be a problem, but there was the question of a ring. He had been squirreling money away ever since he'd asked her to buy a ring. Nothing fancy, mind you, but a token of his affection and a symbol of their undying love and devotion. "Soon, Jess," he lamented. "By the end of the month, I should have enough saved for a ring, and then we can get married."

Her smile softened once again, her fingers drifting up to smooth the frown from his brow. "I would wait far longer," she assured him devotedly. "But, darling, I have some money saved myself. Are you certain you do not wish me to help in some small way?"

"No! He looked almost appalled by this suggestion. This was something he wanted and needed to do himself. Call it male pride or ego. Whatever it was, he was stubbornly adamant about paying for the ring himself. It only seemed right. "I have almost enough saved. I'd have more if it wasn't for the weather." He was definitely going to have to look into getting a second job now that the weather was starting to turn, and he'd soon have two mouths to feed.

Though the outburst of bruised pride was startling enough to make her jump, blinking in surprise, Jess had been taught enough about men and their need to provide certain things of their own accord by her aunts not to take offence. She gently patted his arms reassuringly. "It is just a suggestion," she promised. "I will not ask again." Gathering her courage, she rose up onto her bare tip toes to press a kiss to his cheek. "Come, my darling, we should eat."

Such an innocent touch and yet it made his face light up as brightly as her own. It didn't take much, it seemed, to please her and that was all he really wanted - just to please her, to see her smile, to make her happy. But that happiness was short-lived as he felt an odd pain in his chest, like someone was twisting a knife there, remembering the guilt he'd felt earlier. He wondered once again what she'd say or think if she knew the truth, that he'd kissed another woman, and done even worse things, though it had not been for pleasure's sake but a matter of necessity and survival. He dipped his spoon in the bowl of soup, stirring it idly as if in deep contemplation. Why did this have to have happened" He was so happy before.

Aware on the edge of her perception that something was not right, Jessamin looked up from her soup, watching him with wary uncertainty as he toyed with his own food, not lifting the cutlery to his mouth to even taste the soup. She paused, hesitating, before summoning the courage to speak. "Is the soup not to your liking, Will?" she asked him gently. "Is there perhaps something else you would like?"

"No, it's....The soup is fine," he told her, despite the fact that he had not yet taken a single sip. "It's just..." He trailed off, not wanting to upset her while she was eating, not wanting to upset her at all. He continued to stir the soup, contemplating his words.

She watched him a moment longer, hurt by the creeping understanding that there was something he was keeping from her, something that kept intruding between them in the past few days. But she knew from her education that she had no right to be told everything, nor even really to ask, already having pushed her luck by asking once. Such were the strictures of the society she had been born into. "You should eat, Will," she reminded him again. "You will become ill if you do not."

He wasn't sure he cared. He deserved to become ill. He deserved to be punished, but most of all he did not deserve her. He wanted to be happy, but the guilt was eating him alive. He looked up from the soup to meet her gaze, needing to be honest with her, no matter what the consequences. A marriage built on lies was no marriage at all. "You know I love you, right?" he asked, trepidatiously.

The question surprised her. There was nothing else in the world she was more sure of than their feelings for one another, the deep knowledge that Will loved her as she loved him. "Of course I do," she heard herself say with mild disbelief. "And I love you, Will. You know that."

He wondered if she'd still love him once he'd told her what had happened. He was going to have to be careful with his wording so that she did not misunderstand what had happened. "And you know I would never do anything to purposely hurt you," he continued, needing to make all of this perfectly clear so that she understood he had not intended for any of what he was about to tell her to have happened.

"You swore to me you would never let anything hurt me," she answered, her sweet voice calm and soft, unsuspecting of anything to come that might knock that unwavering faith she held in him off-balance. She set her spoon down, folding her hands in her lap, feeling that he needed her full attention for something.

"You should eat," he told her with a worried frown, as concerned for her as she seemed to be concerned for him. He picked up his spoon as if to encourage her to finish eating, though he has lost his appetite for the moment.

A small frown creased her brows, her gentle eyes troubled by how eager he seemed to talk at one moment, and how reluctant the next. But she had been taught well, and she held to that education without a second thought, not wishing to push for anything he didn't want to tell her. "Very well," she agreed obediently, lifting her spoon once again and resuming her meal. But her appetite, never very large to begin with, was waning under the heaviness of the quiet that was drawing around them. Barely three spoonfuls later, she set her spoon down, wiping her lips dry.

It was more than he had eaten. He had managed to take a bite of his bread, but the guilt was weighing too heavily for him to have much of an appetite. Happy one minute, troubled the next. He couldn't marry her without her knowing what had happened, without her knowing he wasn't quite who she thought he was. His attention refocused on the stirring of his soup, he hardly noticed that she'd set her spoon down and daintily wiped her lips.

Silence had fallen between them once again. They had never really been wonderful conversational companions, but over the months, they had developed a quality of silence that was comforting and company enough. That quality was missing in this silence, and evidenced by the erect stiffness of Jessamin's back as she sat upright, sipping from her teacup, her eyes continuously flickering back to Will regularly. If only she knew how to draw him out of himself, she berated herself inwardly, but conversation with men had never been a subject during her aunts' education of her.

The uncomfortable silence seemed to draw onward, lingering awkwardly between them for what seemed a long time, though had, in actuality, only been a few minutes. At last, he seemed to gather the courage to speak again, knowing she would never push him to it, and they could easily sit there for hours in silence if one or the other didn't speak. "I did something bad, Jessi, and..." He paused again, chewing at his lip worriedly. "I'm afraid if I tell you, you'll never want to see me again."

She seemed genuinely shocked that he was afraid of telling her anything, much less that he thought she might turn her back on him for doing anything. "Why would you think that?" she asked in soft amazement. "Will, you're a good man. If you have done something bad, I am sure you had good reason to do it. You would not revel in something awful purely for enjoyment's sake."

He looked up at her, genuinely surprised at her statement, feeling even more guilty that she put so much trust and belief in him, convinced he wasn't the man she thought he was, convinced he wasn't nearly good enough for her, that she deserved better. "I'm not such a good man, Jess. I've been to war. I've killed men. I have blood on my hands. You deserve someone better than me." He rarely, if ever, spoke of what he'd seen and done during the war, and truthfully, felt little guilt over it. He'd done what he'd had to do, and he'd believed in the cause, but she was so far above him. She was all that was good and pure and right, and he was nothing but a broke farmhand from Texas who knew how to fly planes.

She paused, giving this due thought. It hurt, yes, that he had kissed another woman, there was no escaping that fact. But there were extenuating circumstances that she could not ignore. "Did ....did you enjoy it?" she heard herself ask hesitantly, hating herself for asking but needing to know.

"No!" he exclaimed, stifling a shudder at the memory of the pirate's lips on his. Sure, she was attractive, but she wasn't Jess, and he would give anything to be able to go back in time and take back that meeting and those kisses. "All I could think about was getting out of there alive," he continued, taking a slow breath, his chest aching, like a heavy weight lay against it. "She told me to kill her. She said if I didn't..." he broke off again, unsure if he should tell her the rest. "I'm so sorry, Jess. I wish I could take it all back. I wish it had never happened."

Oddly, a fond smile of remembrance touched her face. "And if wishes were sugar, we'd all be eating cake," she said softly, remembering the many times her aunt Margaret had said exactly that to her, when she had wished for something unattainable. Shaking her head, Jess looked back to Will, rising up onto her feet. "You have nothing to be sorry for, Will. I would rather have you here with me than dead for no reason. I trust you; my darling, I love you, and I trust that you love me. I know you would do nothing to hurt me. A single kiss will not make me walk away, even if I were dressed." It was an odd allusion to her state of undress, the open hang of the robe revealing her thin petticoat and the snug fit of her corset, the boned curve reminiscent of those belonging to his nightmarish pirate and yet so completely different at once.

It hadn't been just one kiss, but she seemed to understand that he'd had no choice, that if he had not gone along with her, at least until he could make his escape, he might be dead. His gaze followed her as she moved to her feet, astounded that she not only believed him, but seemed to hold such trust in him, as much trust as he held in her. "You aren't mad at me?" he asked, blinking back the tears that were threatening. He couldn't remember when the last time was that he'd allowed himself to shed any tears. Not when he'd found himself in Rhy'Din, not when his buddies had been killed. Had he cried at his mother's funeral" He couldn't remember.

"Oh, Will ..." She bent just a little, curling her hands to his cheeks as she looked into his eyes. "Why should I be? You did not do anything there of your own wish and will, and anyone can see it has been tearing you apart inside. And you told me, though there was no need, though you could have kept it a secret all our lives. How could I possibly be angry with you for that?"

He kept his eyes fixed on her face, afraid if he let them roam for a single instant, he'd be looking at something he shouldn't be, well aware of the robe that was hanging loosely from her shoulders allowing a peek at her under things. Tears of relief spilled over onto his cheeks, a weary, relieved smile touching his lips as he looked up into her sweet, lovely face. "I love you, Jessamin Rose," he told her, his voice betraying a flood of emotions, chiefly among them relief and love that went deep into his very soul.

Her smile reappeared like dawning sun on her face, her thumbs gentle in a soft caress against his cheeks, brushing the tears from his face. "And I love you," she promised him in tender tones that were for his ears only. "I always will." She bent close, touching her lips to his forehead lovingly as her hands slid to his shoulders. Looking down at him, Jess' smile took on a sweetly teasing note. "Now will you eat?"

He smiled back, bright as sunshine chasing away rain clouds. "Only if you join me," he said, noticing that she hadn't eaten much more than he had. He brushed a thumb across her cheek, wondering not for the first time, what he'd done to deserve her. "I wish you could stay the night," he found himself saying, though it knew it was an impossible request. She was a lady and had a reputation to uphold, but the nights were long and lonely and full of things he'd rather forget.

Predictable as ever, Jessamin blushed, her face lighting up with a soft pink flush as she slipped away from him to retake her seat, folding the robe neatly closed as she did so. "If the rain continues so, I may have to," she offered in a shy voice. "There are ways to preserve a reputation, if it comes to that."

"I'll sleep on the chair," he offered, taking up the challenge. Now that he was back in her good graces - not that he'd ever not been, except in his own mind - his gaze drifted briefly to the robe that covered her less than properly attired body, before he brought his eyes back to settle on her face. "I'm not sure what Mrs. Middleton would think," he admitted dourly.

"Will, you would not need to sleep in a chair." Jess found herself giggling softly as she took up her soup spoon once again, draping the napkin over her knee with the other hand. She was acutely aware of his gaze drifting, half shy, half pleased with his interest, biting the inside of her cheek for a moment before going on. "I'm sure Mrs. Middleton would be able to find me a nightgown, and so long as there is a bolster between us on the bed, it would be perfectly acceptable."

"A bolster?" he asked, not quite sure what she meant by that. There were times when her proper upbringing clashed with his not-so-proper upbringing, and this was one of them. You mean, like a barrier?" he inquired, taking up his spoon again. "Should we put a pillow between us?" he teased, hoping to bring out a healthy flush to her cheeks once again, not even realizing how his own were flushed at the prospect of sharing a bed with her, however innocent the intent.

His wish was granted, a deeper flush accompanying her repeated giggle as she sought to contain the urge toward slightly hysterical laughter at having this conversation at all. "That is a bolster, as far as I know," she managed finally, not even able to meet his eyes as she attempted to explain this. "A long, thick barrier, my aunts used to say. Aunt Cecilia always liked to tell the tale of when she was forced to share a bed with a gentleman who kept accidentally knocking the bolster away in his sleep."

"Maybe it wasn't an accident," Will suggested, dunking his bread in his now half-cold soup. No matter, it was still edible, and he'd had worse. "What was life like in England?" he asked, curiously as he took a bite of his soup-soaked bread.

"Will!" Jess' giggles erupted once again at his suggestion, her hand lifting the napkin to cover her mouth as she laughed at this scandalous implication. The thought of her staid, elderly Aunt Cecilia engaged in anything like that was truly hilarious. His question, however, she considered carefully before answering, tipping her bowl to catch the last of the soup on her spoon. "Structured," she said finally. "Every moment of my day was already set for me when I awoke. There were few pastimes considered appropriate for a lady. I was on my way to take up placement as a governess in Boston when my ship arrived here."

Jessamin stared at him, unsure how to take this revelation. She knew that the lower classes were peopled with strong women who did more than just bear children and run their houses, but she had never truly been able to conceive of it from her own perspective until she had come to Rhy'Din. And even now, when she held down a job and set money aside, when she looked after herself far better than she had ever done at home, she could not quite move her thinking away from the mindset that had been trained into her. "She sounds like a wonderful woman," she murmured, in awe of the mother who had raised her beloved Will.

"She was," he admitted. Like most devoted sons, his mother had been the center of his world, the love of his life, until she had died and his heart had been shattered. Everything she'd worked so hard for seemed to have died with her, and he went off to war, unsure what to do with his life once she was gone, thinking if he died, at least, he'd die for a cause, something meaningful. He reached for his cup, more to keep his hands busy than because he wanted to drink any. It had gone cold and it was far too sweet for his tastes, which were more accustomed to the bitterness of coffee.

Tears sprang into Jess' eyes at the quiet admission, recognising the adoring devotion he held for his mother and the still devastating pain of her loss. She had never known her own mother; indeed, her grandmother had often delighted in telling her that she had killed her own mother simply by being born. But she could sympathise with the loss of someone dear, even if she had never yet experienced it truly. "We don't have to talk about her, darling," she promised him softly. "Not while it hurts you so much."

"No, it's..." He fiddled with the too small cup between his hands. It felt almost a relief to talk about his mother with someone who might understand. He'd never really talked about her with anyone before, not even Mrs. Middleton, other than to explain that she was dead. The elderly woman, God bless her heart, seemed to infer a lot more from what Will didn't tell her than from what little he did. "It's all right. She was sick. She's at peace now." At least, that's what he told himself to give himself comfort, unsure really what happened to anyone after they died.

Jess couldn't help smiling a little, envious of his memories of a parent he had loved so much and missed so dearly, but pleased he had those memories at the same time. "What was she like?" she asked curiously, folding her hands in her lap as she watched him. "If it is not being too forward to ask."

"She was..." He frowned at the loss of words to describe what his mother was like, lacking even a photograph of her which had been left behind with the rest of his personal effects when he'd gone MIA. He wondered, not for the first time, whatever had become of them. "She was the kindest, strongest person I ever knew." He picked a finger at the flowered design that decorated the tea cup. "She could have given me up after my father left. Her life would have been easier, but she didn't."

"Easier is not always better," Jess murmured quietly, understanding that though her own life had been relatively easy until she had come to Rhy'Din, it could have been much, much worse. In many ways, she and Will were not so different as they first appeared. "I think I would have liked to have known her. To ask her permission to marry her son, if nothing else."

That small admission from her brought a smile to his face as he lifted his gaze from his tea cup to her. "She would have loved you. She was always telling me to find some nice girl to settle down with, but..." He shrugged his shoulders. "I guess I wasn't ready to settle down yet." Or he simply had never met the right girl yet. Clearly, she had been waiting for him in another time and another place to meet him here.

"Perhaps not." Jessamin glanced toward the window, where the rain was still pattering lightly against the glass pane. She was torn, wanting to stay and talk and perhaps sleep the night through with him, but knowing that she should make an effort to get herself home rather than risk losing what reputation she had. That was, if Mrs. Middleton was ever going to give her dress and stockings back to her. "Tell me about Texas, Will," she asked suddenly, turning her eyes back to him with a curious smile. "I only know what I have read, and I do not believe that America is populated solely by cowboys and Indians."

He was quiet a moment as his thoughts ruminated on his late mother before she drew his attention back with her request, a chuckle erupting from him at the mention of cowboys and Indians, realizing that though they were from the same world, they were in some ways, worlds apart. "What year was it when you left?" he asked, needing a reminder. He knew it had been late 1800s, but he'd forgotten what year exactly.

"It was 1899," she told him, knowing that if they went by traditional dates, she was several decades older than he was. Yet here and now, he was the elder, and she was more than happy for it to remain that way. "November 1899."

"1899," he repeated. "In a few years, they're going to discover oil, and everything is going to change," he remarked, more to himself than to her. "I was born in 1896," he told her. "There isn't much wild left in the Wild West anymore."

She bit her lip, unable to keep herself from smiling at the thought that immediately rose when he named the year of his own birth. "You were born when I was sixteen," she giggled softly. "How, in three years, did you manage to grow up so fast?" It was a gentle little tease, proving that the more time they spent together, the more comfortable she was becoming. Her hands rose to her hair, pulling the combs from the tangled mass for a moment to twist the almost dry length more neatly back from her face before sliding the combs into place once again.

A smile appeared on his face again, sunny and warm as the day was not, laughing lightly at her remark, but before he could reply, she was playing with her hair and he found himself too distracted to utter a halfway intelligent response. "I, uh..." he broke off, watching as the soft fall of chestnut curls tumbled over a shoulder and she twisted it in her hand to put it back into place. He'd dared to touch her hair a few times, but he wondered what it would feel like to run his fingers through it, to smooth it out, to brush it against her back, to bury his face in it and inhale the smell of her so close and intimate. His face flushed at the thought, his mind obviously a million miles away.

He did not have long to wait until he could fulfill those fantasies, innocent as they were, with the thick curling mane so often held imprisoned in complicated knots or simple ribbons, though he might well have a fight on his hands to convince her not to braid the length before bed. Looking up at him as a loose curl slipped free to stroke her cheek, she smiled once more. "Will?"

Though the kiss was brief, it lit him up inside and out like a fireplace on a cold winter's night. He looked down at her in wonder, not only of the feelings generated by that kiss, but by the simple fact that she had been bold enough to do it, in the first place. Suddenly, all thoughts of pie - or anything else but her - evaporated from his brain, his heart thumping hard in his chest, his attention focused entirely on her. It wasn't the kind of heated kiss that was full of passion and wanton lust. It was a sweet kiss, almost but not quite innocent, a kiss full of longing and newfound long, a kiss that showed promise, a kiss that, given time, would flower into something deeper and far more passionate than mere lust.

Her shyness seemed to burn away beneath his eyes, unable to raise a defense against the sheer force of his focus as she met his gaze. Her lips, so close to his own yet not quite there, parted to let the sudden stagger of her breath ghost against his mouth, her own heart drumming in her chest. She didn't quite know what it was she was feeling, nor even what had caused her to kiss him in the first place, but that same unknown something was calling louder for another such touch of intimacy. And why shouldn't she" They were engaged, they would be married soon. A kiss was nothing more than a kiss, wasn't it' Wetting her lips with a sweep of her tongue, Jess rose up onto her toes once again to touch her mouth to Will's, her eyes falling closed in the delicate brush of lips.

He settled his hands against the curve of her hips on instinct, almost without thinking, letting his body think for him, as all logical thought had evaporated from his brain. He kissed her again, knowing it was wrong, it was dangerous. They were playing with fire, but it was her who had kissed him, who had initiated the kiss, not the other way around. Was it so wrong to want to share this with her" To want to love her not only with his heart and soul, but his body, as well" Was it so wrong when they were planning on getting married soon' His own eyes drifted closed as he fell once more under her spell, and his arms slid around her waist to pull her closer, wondering what she'd feel like against him, soft and warm, without all the layers of clothing that usually kept them apart. He flushed at the thought, knowing it was wrong of him to think such things but unable to stop. Her lips were like the sweetest candy, and he couldn't resist, each taste only leaving him wanting more.

With each kiss they shared, she grew more confident, more skilled, no longer so much the shy, stumbling child she had been the first time his lips had touched hers. Even to Jess, who had never known addiction or even the semblance of it, their kisses were a drug she craved, and once initiated, found it hard to break free of that craving for more. Gathered against him by the wrap of his arms about her waist, she let her hands slip from between them, fingers gripping his sleeves as their kisses passed back and forth, knowing they should pull apart but lacking the strength of will to do it. Each breath she took was stolen from her body with the press of his lips to hers, and yet she did not complain. She would have given him a lot more to keep this heat and loving affection around them both.

Each kiss burned brighter, like an ember in a fire, slowly building until he could no longer endure the heat. He reluctantly pulled away at last, before he could lose control, gasping for breath and looking down at her with mingled wonder and desire. His arms fell away from her waist, and he took a step back, reaching for her hands and holding her at arm's length. "Jess, we shouldn't..." he whispered, all out of breath, pulse pounding in his veins. He felt all at once weak and light-headed, as though he was feverish, but at the same time, strong enough to conquer the most dangerous of tasks, like he could accomplish anything, so long as she loved him.

Breathless, she swayed as he stepped back from her, her eyes blinking open to look up at him through the haze of what she was slowly coming to understand was as much desire as love. "I know," she heard herself whisper in return, nodding reluctantly. "I know. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have ..." And there was the blush that had been conspicuous by its absence for the past several minutes, rising in a warm glow of heat and color over her cheeks to signal that she did, in fact, know where such kisses might well lead them. She bit her lip, glancing to the window. "Should I leave?"

He frowned as he followed her glance to the window. It wasn't raining that hard now, and he knew he should walk her home. It wasn't safe for them to be there alone together, not if he wanted to be a gentleman and keep her chastity and reputation intact, but at the same time, he didn't really want her to go. This, he now understood, was why children were born out of wedlock and why people didn't like to wait long before getting married. He wasn't sure why such things as reputations mattered when they were so far from home and away from the scrutiny of anyone who might care what they did, but old habits died hard, and he wanted to do things right. She deserved that much from him and a lot more. "I don't want you to leave," he admitted quietly, swinging his gaze back to her, obviously feeling conflicted from the look on his face. "I wish we didn't have to wait to be married."

It was obvious, just from the look on her face. that Jess was feeling the same reluctance, the same conflict. She didn't want to go, but at the same time, she knew she should. Who knew what might happen if she stayed? "I don't want to go, either," she confessed, her fingers gentle in squeezing his as she looked up at him. "Perhaps we should set a date now. We have somewhere to live, and truly that is the only absolute necessity, surely."

He frowned, having managed to save almost enough money for a ring, but not quite enough. He almost wished he'd stolen the pirate wench's necklace, but he was no thief, and he didn't want her coming after him to try and get it back. He wondered if Mrs. Middleton would lend him the final payment, but he was too full of pride and too stubborn to ask. "By the end of the month, Jess, I promise," he told her, squeezing her hands lightly. He didn't want to wait any more than she did, but he wasn't going to marry her until he could provide for her properly and put a ring on her finger.

Her gaze softened as she found a little control over the baser side of her instincts, a small smile curving her lips as she drew her fingers over his palms. "The end of the month," she agreed, pleased that her own prediction had been borne out by his. There was a moment of stillness, her mind torn between another kiss and putting more space between them, but this time, propriety won out. "I should see if Mrs. Middleton is prepared to let me have my dress and stockings back."

Despite the relief he felt that they had at least arrived at this decision, he continued to frown, not really ready to say goodnight, but knowing if they didn't, it might not be so easy to hold themselves back the next time. He slowly drew away from her, his fingers slipping slowly away from hers. The end of the month couldn't come soon enough; it might as well be decades away. "I should clean up," he told her, regarding the pile of dirty dishes he had only managed to half gather up before she had distracted him.

She nodded, hearing what he hadn't said. Though he was a pilot, he had still been a part of some war he refused to tell her about, and men died in war. "I am glad you were brought here, for whatever reason it was," she said softly, following him down the stairs gracefully. "I do not know what I would have done this past year were it not for you."

"Really?" he asked, surprised enough by her statement that he nearly dropped the tray in his attempt to look at her over his shoulder. "I don't know what I'd have done without you either," he admitted in return. His life had been pretty empty after his mother had died, though he'd found a purpose in the war, however grim. He felt at peace when he was high above the clouds, but before he'd met her, he'd felt out of place here and terribly lonely.

"Truly." She reached out, laying a gentle hand on his shoulder for a moment, giving into the urge to caress his cheek with her fingertips when a glance about the foyer told her there was no one to see the fond intimacy. "You gave me an anchor when I needed it most, Will. Were it not for you, I think I might well have lost what little pride I had in my search for some gainful employment."

He arched a brow, not daring to move a muscle to return her show of affection or he'd drop the tray to the floor in a crash of shattered porcelain. Though quiet, when she spoke, she was so much better with words than he was, so much more eloquent. He felt that warm, fuzzy feeling inside he always felt when she said or did something to touch his heart, a sweet ache of love and longing he'd never known before. He wasn't quite sure what she meant by what she'd said, what she was alluding to and he wasn't quite sure what he'd done to help, but he was glad to have been there for her when she needed him, whatever it was he had done. "You gave me a reason to live," he replied, his tone of voice saying more than that simple statement implied.

"Oh, Will ..." How could she answer such a heartfelt statement' What could she share that could in any way compare to what he had shared with her with that single sentence" Wet eyes necessitated a touch of her fingers to her face, to be certain those sympathetic tears had not spilled forth even as she smiled, deeply touched to know that she was something so very important to the man who was the centre of her life.

If not for that tray that separated them, he might have swept her up in his arms and showed her how very much she meant to him, but as fate would have it, his hands were already full and there was nowhere handy to set the tray. "It's true," he reaffirmed, a serious look on his face. "I don't know what I would have done if not for you." He took a step closer, but the tray came between them.

She squeaked just a little as the tray made itself known, the unexpected hardness of the edge uncomfortable against the boning of her corset even under the thick robe she wore. A self-conscious smile touched her lips, moved by Will's fervor, a little shy of sharing it at the foot of the stairs of his boarding house. "Then I am doubly glad we met."

At that moment, Fate intervened in the form of Mrs. Middleton, who, hearing familiar voices in the hallway, arrived from somewhere nearby to investigate. "Oh, William!" she called as she swept in to join them. "Just leave the tray in the dining room, dear." She turned her cheery smile to Jessamin, reaching for her arm, not taking no for an answer. "Come with me, dear. I have something I want to show you."

Not in any position to resist the guidance of the hand on her arm, Jess threw a slightly alarmed glance back at Will as she was drawn away from him. "I did not mean to cause offence by coming down unclothed, Mrs. Middleton," she began to apologise, thinking that she had offended the woman somehow.

Will looked about as dumbfounded as she was, but he laughed at the expression on Jessamin's face when Mrs. Middleton took charge, knowing there was nothing he could do to rescue her just yet. He turned on a heel and started toward the kitchen, rather than the dining room, to get the tray of dishes washed, dried, and put away and keep himself busy while his landlady absconded with his fianc"e.

With an arm linked to Jessamin's, Mrs. Middleton led the bewildered girl away, down a hallway to small room she used as a sewing room.

Though the woman was no seamstress, it seemed she liked to sew in her spare time, and the room was full of various sewing supplies, along with an antique foot-pedal operated sewing machine. If queried, she might admit that she was responsible for some of Will's wardrobe. Jessamin's now dry clothes were there, hanging neatly from a hanger, along with several reams of material, a sewing box, and a book of patterns. "Don't be silly, dear. You haven't caused my any offense. I wanted to show you something," she explained as she drew the young woman into the room.

"Oh ..." The sound was a rush of relieved breath through the young woman's lips, the tension in her shoulders relaxing to seep away as she looked around the little sewing room. What Mrs. Middleton regarded as an antique was, in fact, state of the art as far as Jessamin was concerned, having been taught to sew neatly by hand and never allowed near a sewing machine at all. "Goodness," she murmured, pleased to see that her clothing was dry, at least. "You have time to mend and sew while running this boarding house?"

"I have a little time now and then. To tell you the truth, I don't sleep much. I haven't slept well since..." She broke off, unable or unwilling to finish that thought. "I wanted to show you this," she said as she let go of the girl's arm to reach for an old book that looked like it had seen better days and handed it to Jessamin. "I want you to pick something out. Nothing too fancy, mind you, but something nice." Jessamin would find that the book was full of patterns, but not just any patterns - sewing patterns for wedding dresses that were reminiscent of her era in time.

Jessamin's hands closed automatically on the book, handling it with the care of one who had never had a single book to call her own and appreciated how rare they could be. "Are you sure?" she asked softly, her fingertips barely touching the pages as she leafed through the book itself. "I would not like to tax the time you have as your own." But the little smile on her face gave away how grateful she was for the intervention, and how very appreciated the offer was in itself.

"Of course I'm sure. I wouldn't have offered if I wasn't sure. Consider it a wedding present," the woman said, smiling, glancing over Jessamin's shoulder at the book while she flipped through the pages. "Oh, that's lovely," she commented eyes settling on a photograph of a rather elaborate dress. "But too fancy. The dress should enhance your beauty, not overpower it."

It did not take long for Jess to finish dressing and locate her shoes, also astonishingly dry given how very wet the leather had been when she had arrived. When she was presentable, she folded the robe over her arm and slipped out of the little sewing room, closing the door behind her, glancing about for some clue as to the location of the kitchen. A young man in an elegant dinner jacket caught her eye as she looked around, weathering through her blushing, stammering request to point her in the right direction. Relieved that at least one of Will's fellow boarders was a gentleman, Jess slipped along the corridor in the right direction, raising a hand to knock on the kitchen door.

Voices could be heard on the other side of the door - one male, one female, both familiar, and in a moment, Will was pulling open the door and smiling a greeting at Jess as she joined them. "Hey," he said as he reached for her hand to tug her into the room. "We were about to put a pot of coffee on and have some pie." From the looks of things, he hadn't had much choice. The pie was already out on the table, and Mrs. Middleton was busy slicing it into sections.

More confident now she was presentable, Jess' smile was wide and warm as Will caught hold of her hand, drawn into the welcoming space that was obviously the exclusive domain of the landlady busily preparing pie. Her fingers entwined with Will's as she stepped inside, standing close to him as her smile extended to include Mrs. Middleton. "I wasn't certain what to do with the robe," she admitted a little awkwardly. "I did not want to simply leave it in your sewing room."

Emily glanced up briefly from the pie and smiled amicably over at the girl she was quickly becoming fond of. She couldn't be fonder of the girl if she'd handpicked her for William herself. "Just leave it anywhere. I'll take care of it later," she said, turning back to her pie-cutting. "Coffee will be ready shortly. Do you like coffee, my dear" I can put on a pot of water for tea, if you like."

Now that Jessamin was dressed in something she seemed more accustomed to and comfortable in, Will led her into the room, one hand at the small of her back. His sleeves were still rolled up, his hands reddened from scrubbing at the dishes.

"Well, I ..." Jess glanced to Will as though for a little moral support before going on, deeply aware of the warmth of his hand at her back. "I've never tasted coffee, though I'm told it can be adjusted to suit the palate?" As she was drawn into the room, she folded the robe carefully in her hands and set it on a corner of a countertop, beside what seemed to be fresh laundry in a basket. Both hands free, she closed them about one of Will's, gently testing his skin to be sure he had not burned himself.

His hands felt warm, but not uncomfortably so, and he smiled when he felt her hand slid into his, his fingers twining with hers as he led her toward the table and chairs where Mrs. Middleton was busy serving up slices of apple pie onto plates. "Of course! It's just like tea, dear. You can sweeten it to your liking." She licked a bit of apple from a finger, leaving the plates on the table as she moved over to take down three mugs from the cupboard and check on the coffee pot, which she was brewing on the stove the old-fashioned way. It seemed they were going to be forced to have pie and coffee whether they wanted it or not.

To Jess, this little gathering felt remarkably as though she were about to be interviewed as to her suitability to join the little household, sending flutters of nervousness through her stomach as she squeezed Will's hand in return, waiting until Mrs. Middleton's back was turned before lifting his hand to her lips fondly. "Remind me why you are marrying me, when you have her to feed and look after you?" she asked him in a quietly mischievous voice.

Will smirked in amusement at the question. Though it seemed Mrs. Middleton took adequate care of Will's needs, there were some things she obviously could not take care of, things that required a wife or a lover. "I'll remind you later," he whispered back, dropping a playful kiss against her nose. Whether Mrs. Middleton had heard the remark of not was uncertain, though she was now chuckling a little to herself with no apparent reason as she filled three mugs full of coffee, the entire kitchen filled with the smell of apple pie and freshly brewed coffee.

Jess giggled softly, her nose scrunching beneath the brush of his lips as she clung to his hand, pressed close to his arm in the warm quiet of the kitchen. Her manners were too ingrained to allow her to sit down while the lady of the house was still standing, and she had been designated a guest, thus unable to offer her assistance on this visit. "You will make me forget my own name again," she murmured back to Will, stroking her thumb over his knuckles as she watched the elderly Mrs. Middleton bustle about.

"I'll remember it for you," he assured her, keeping his voice down to that of a whisper and turning to face her, almost forgetting that they weren't alone. "Oh! I almost forgot!" Mrs. Middleton exclaimed as she set the coffee mugs down on the table beside the plates of pie. "There's a bed upstairs that needs making. Will you both excuse me a moment?" she asked, apologetically, wiping her hands on her apron as she looked between the pair.

Predictably, Jess jumped at the sound of the elderly woman's voice, having begun to lose herself in Will's closeness once again to the point of forgetting they were not in the privacy of his room. Her cheeks lit up with a deep flush as she looked to the woman, her smile more than a little touched with shy apology. "Of course," she nodded to Mrs. Middleton. "Unless you would like me to do it for you?"

"No, no, no!" She waved a hand at the girl. "Sit, relax, eat, enjoy each other's company. I won't be long." Yeah, sure, she wouldn't. It was almost as if the woman knew just when to make an entrance and an exit. She hurried off toward the hallway and the flight of stairs to take care of whatever it was she had in mind, leaving the young lovers alone. But what harm was there" It was the kitchen, after all.

Will only chuckled and drew Jess by the hand toward the table, letting go once they arrived so he could pull out her chair. He was used to Mrs. Middleton's occasional flights of fancy, chalking it all up to old age.

Jess watched the older woman's exit with an air of shy bemusement, utterly nonplussed by her behaviour. It was only Will's hand still on hers, drawing her to the table, that kept her from following to assist, her eyes turning to his as he pulled out a chair for her. "Does she ever sit down?" she asked him as she took her seat, quite seriously doubting that his landlady had any ability to relax.