On the Veranda

This was written for the Alphabet Challenge (V is for Veranda) at A Note to Follow So Forum. Be advised that it's a bit OOC, and you'll have to search mightily if you want to find any semblance of a plot. My only excuse is that I'm still recovering from Forbidden Thoughts. If you can get past all of that, then enjoy!

* * * * *

Maria walked out onto the veranda, wringing the washcloth she'd soaked in cold water. The house was stifling hot and she hoped to catch a cool breeze, even if it was just for a moment. But the air was still, heavy with oppressive humidity. She was nearly drenched in sweat and her breath was quick and shallow. She hated feeling so sticky and she hated how her dress clung to her body. She tried to loosen it, but the fabric only resettled on her, her skin instantly suctioning it back into place.

Sighing heavily, she wiped her forehead and neck with the washcloth, trying to cool down her body, seeking some relief from the excessive heat. She pulled the neckline of her dress away from her chest and pushed the washcloth down between her breasts.

The strangled sound caught her so off guard, she couldn't move. It couldn't be, please, please don't let it be him.

Almost against her will, she turned her head. The Captain stood just a few feet away in the corner of the veranda, leaning against the railing, an almost empty glass of pink lemonade in his hand. She stared at the glass and could swear she could see the ice melting in the intense heat of the day. No, in the intense heat that radiated off of him. She could feel it from where she stood.

She followed the glass as he brought it up to his mouth and he swallowed the remaining liquid in one long gulp. She swallowed at the same time, but there was no cool liquid to quench her sudden growing thirst.

She looked the rest of the way up into his eyes. The lemonade may have cooled his throat, but it had done nothing about the heat in his eyes. She stopped breathing as he held her gaze, and she felt the first stirrings in her stomach. He put the glass down and pushed away from the railing. He started walking toward her, slowly, lithely, sensually. She felt paralyzed as he approached. She could only stand there watching him come closer. She tried to remember how to breathe.

He finally stopped when he was standing only inches in front of her. She had been right; the heat radiating from him was unmistakable. And now it was intermingling with hers.

He finally looked down from her eyes, and she was able to breathe again. She tried not to make a sound; she was only just able to stop herself from gasping for air. But the effort was a mistake, because it only brought his attention down to her heaving chest, and it was only then that she remembered the washcloth still stuffed down the front of her dress.

He startled her when he reached a hand up toward her chest. She leaned back, about to step away, about to run away when he brought his eyes back up to hers and held her again with a look. A look that said stay.

She held still as he reached for the top of the washcloth and slowly pulled it out from under her dress. It tickled her skin as it brushed up against her breasts and, despite the heat, she couldn't stop the shiver that passed through her at the thought of his hands replacing the washcloth on her skin, tracing the same path.

He crumpled the washcloth in his hands.

"It's gone dry. Would you like me to wet it for you?" His voice was soft, teasing.

"N...no, thank you. I…I should go back inside." She hated that she was stammering, that her voice was so thin. But he had taken too much of her breath away. And there something stirring inside of her, much lower than her stomach now.

He handed her the washcloth. She took it, her hand shaking slightly. She hoped he had not noticed, but the corner of his mouth curled up and she knew that he had.

"You should look around the next time you come out on the veranda. You never know what you might find. Or who."

He took a few steps back from her, then turned and walked toward the back door. Before going inside, he turned back to her.

"Next time, I'll bring the washcloth." He winked, gave her that half smile again, and walked into the house.

She lunged for the nearest chair and sat down before her knees gave out.

There could not be a next time. She promised herself that she would avoid the veranda at all costs unless she knew for certain that he was not there. She swore it to herself, knowing how dangerous it would be to risk running into him again, alone, on this veranda.

She looked at the back door that the Captain had left open, like an invitation.

She couldn't. She wouldn't. She closed her eyes and repeated the words to herself over and over until she was convinced that they were true. When she opened her eyes, she looked toward the door. Despite all of her efforts, the only thought running through her mind was that it was still open.

* * * * *

Maria stood just inside the back door with her hand on the doorknob, hesitating.

She told herself there was no reason to be afraid. She had seen the Captain go upstairs, retiring early for the evening. She had put the children to bed and retired to her bedroom as well, but it had been unbearably hot in the room. Even with all of the windows open, there was no cross ventilation, and the stuffy atmosphere had made her feel almost claustrophobic. The heat wave was well into its third day with no end in sight. She had decided to take her chances on the veranda, reminding herself that the Captain would not be there.

Her palms were sweating. What if she was wrong? What if he had come back downstairs, just as she had? What if he was on the veranda right now when she walked out there? After what he had said to her yesterday just before going back inside the house, he would think… he would think…

She was being foolish. His behavior throughout the day had proven that she had nothing to worry about. In fact, she had started to wonder if she had imagined the whole thing. The Captain's behavior toward her had been perfectly normal. He had neither sought her out nor avoided her. Not once had he said or done anything that might hint at anything unusual between them. He had been his usual self – disciplined, strong, confident, stern though not cruel, occasionally sardonic. He was the same Captain she had met just a few weeks ago.

Could she have imagined it? No, despite the apparent evidence of the day, she knew she had not imagined it. But perhaps he had decided to forget what appeared to be a moment of temporary insanity. Who knew why it had happened? Everyone was allowed an uncharacteristic moment. She had certainly had her fair share. It did not have to define anything, change anything.

It must have been the heat, she decided. The heat made people do strange things.

It must be the heat that made her continue to replay those moments on the veranda over and over again, unable to shut them out except when surrounded by the children who demanded her full attention. It must be the heat that made her remember every detail of what had happened with maddeningly vivid clarity. It must be the heat that was making her sweat, that was making her feel so restless, as if she was about to jump out of her skin.

She told herself to relax. She reminded herself that not once had he looked at her with anything resembling what she had seen in his eyes the day before. Not once had he spoken to her with that teasing tone in his voice. She should feel relieved. She was relieved.

Her palms were still sweating.

She offered up a quick prayer, took a deep breath, and stepped out onto the veranda.

He was not there. She looked toward every corner, a part of her somehow believing him capable of blending into the darkness so thoroughly that he might not be visible to her. She rolled her eyes, realizing how ridiculous she was being. She should follow the Captain's example and forget that anything had happened. Trying to recover her confidence and courage, she left the safety of the house and walked out toward the far railing. She rested her hands on it and looked out at the night.

It was not much cooler outside, but at least it felt more open. She did not feel as trapped when she was able see the broad expanse of the starlit sky. The shimmer of moonlight on the gently stirring lake water was mesmerizing. It was quiet, as though every living creature had gone to sleep, resting in the calm of night. There seemed to be no end to the beauty around her.

She wondered what it would feel like to float among the stars. They seemed to stretch out into infinity. Would she float forever, never coming close to another object, or would she find something new, something undiscovered, something wonderful?

"Exquisite, isn't it?"

Good God in heaven, where had he come from? How on earth had he snuck up on her so quickly? She could hear him walking toward her now, but she did not let herself turn to look at him. She was too busy trying to loosen her death grip on the railing. Just breathe, Maria.

He slipped in close beside her and set a glass of ice water on the railing. He must have come downstairs to get something cold to drink and seen her on the veranda.

She still refused to look at him. She was afraid of what she might see, not at all certain if it would be the Captain she had seen all day or the one she had glimpsed yesterday. Even more frightening was the fact that she could not decide which one she wanted to see.

"I love this house, the grounds. I can't imagine any place else feeling like home. It's beautiful during the day, but at night… at night it's transformed. I don't come out here often enough."

He spoke softly, as though sharing something close to him, something private. It completely disarmed her, and she turned to look at him. He was staring straight ahead, a smile on his lips. She had never seen him so at ease, his face so relaxed. It felt as if he was revealing a side of himself that he usually kept hidden. He looked younger, less guarded. He looked...

He looked devastatingly handsome. She already knew it would be yet another image of him that she would have trouble exorcising from her mind. He turned to look at her and saw her watching him. When she saw the glint in his eyes, she knew she was in trouble. The half smile threw her into a near panic.

"You like it here on the veranda, don't you?" There was the teasing, seductive tone. The sound of it was almost a caress.

"It was so hot inside, I couldn't breathe. I just came out for some air." Thank goodness she had been able to control the stammer this time. But her voice was breathy; it betrayed too much of what she was feeling.

The smile reached his eyes and it was as if he could see right through her. She felt hot all over. It was a heat unlike the one that had driven her from her bedroom. There was nowhere to go to relieve this heat. But as quickly as she had the thought, she knew it was a lie. There was one place she could go to find relief. There was one person she could go to. But that was unthinkable.

"You do look rather warm. Perhaps I can help you."

Oh God oh God oh God oh God. She would have gone back inside the house but she could not remember how to move her legs. He picked up the glass of ice water with his left hand, and wiped the condensation from the glass with the fingers of his right.

"I must apologize for forgetting the washcloth. I hope you don't mind. My hand will have to do."

Did he… was he really going to… Her heart was pounding in her chest. Surely he did not mean to…

He touched his fingers to her forehead and, pushing aside her hair, spread the cold drops of water across it. A bit of water dripped down the side of her face. He traced it with a finger and reached around to the back of her neck. His fingers were cold but already they were warming from the heat of her skin. She shivered as a drop of water slid down her back.

"Let's see… you wiped your forehead, then your neck. And then…"

He could not possibly be thinking… She had not thought it possible for her heart to beat any faster.

He traced the collar of her dress, starting at the back of her neck. He kept his eyes on hers as he reached the front of her collar and tugged gently.

The sound that came from the back of her throat seemed loud in the silence of the night. She had never made a sound like that before. She had never felt like this before. What was he doing to her? Why did it seem as if she could already feel his hands on her? Why did it feel like something was squeezing inside of her, where she had never felt it before?

She knew why. And she knew she had to stop him.

"Captain, please…" Her voice shook. She pulled his hand away from her chest. He offered no resistance.

He stepped away from her, just as he had the day before, and bowed to her.

"You may be the most extraordinary governess to have ever graced us, capable even of walking on water as far as the children are concerned. But you're a woman, just as human as I am. We both need…" He paused for a long moment, looking intently at her. Then he shook his head and smiled. A sad smile.

"Perhaps, someday, it might be possible to meet on this veranda under different circumstances. I do hope so." He reached out as if to touch her one more time, but he stopped short of her and dropped his hand to his side.

"Don't stay out too late. You need your rest. Goodnight, Fraulein."

"Goodnight, Captain." She may have said it out loud. She could not be sure.

He went back inside the house.

"Perhaps, someday, it might be possible to meet on this veranda under different circumstances. I do hope so."

God help her, she hoped so too.