This bit of uber Xena fan fiction belongs to me. Any references to the characters of RCA/Universal's "Xena: Warrior Princess" are purely intentional, but are not designed to make me any money. I also owe a debt to Chekhov's "The Cherry Orchard." Again, no insult or infringement is intended.
This story contains scenes of love and sex between consenting adult women. If this is illegal where you live, or if you are under 18 years of age, do not read any further.
AND, by the way, I started this story long before I read one speck o' fan fiction, and Alex was named Alex way back then! So there!
Any feedback, good, bad or indifferent, is greatly appreciated. E-mail: vandersonsc@yahoo.com

Chapter 13 [continued]

The intoxicating scent of Margaret's breath upon my cheek combined with the heady scent of the blooms around us must have put me under a spell. I was actually thinking of pursuing a relationship with Margaret--was I insane? No. I was in love. And she was in love with me. At least, she was in love with the man she thought she knew. I sat on the bench holding her hand, thinking furiously about what I should do next.

"Penny for your thoughts?" she questioned.

I kissed her hand, smiled and replied, "I was thinking about you. These . . . feelings between us are so new to me. The connection between us that you've spoken of before . . . I thought I knew what that meant. But then we kissed. The connection goes deeper than I expected . . . . "

"Yes," she said, "isn't it extraordinary? Though I have only known you for two short months, sometimes I think a millennia has gone by each time I have to wait to see you." She gently kissed my lips again, just the briefest touch, then said, "Alex, I need you to answer a question for me."

I felt the garden spinning with the touch of her lips, and was caught unawares at her query. "Certainly, Margaret, anything."

"Would you be shocked to know that you are the first man I have ever kissed?"

Truthfully, I was a bit surprised, "Surely not for wont of potential suitors? Margaret, you are more beautiful than any flower blooming here, and I know you are beyond delightful company."

Margaret smiled and coyly said, "Flattery just might get you everywhere, Monsieur." She quickly turned serious again, "Actually, Uncle Henri has, in an effort to have me remain in France, brought any number of suitable young bachelors to our dinner table. Each of them was witty and handsome in his own way, but not a one caught my fancy." She looked away for a moment, then resumed, "I had begun to think there was something . . . different about me. I never once considered marriage, nor even a courtship of any kind." She looked up into my eyes, and I could see small tears at the corners, "That is, until I met you. Alex, please tell me we can make this work."

I hesitated again, my thoughts running amok. I had to tell her the truth, even if it meant that I would lose her. She deserved true happiness, and still I hoped that I might be the one to give it to her. I hoped that her love was as boundless as mine, and that she would return my affection though I was not a man. Screwing my courage to the sticking post, I reached up and brushed a tear from the corner of her eye, and whispered, "I would do anything you asked. I am . . . not certain you'll want me when I say what I have to say. But do know this above all else, Margaret, I do now and will always love you with all my being."

Somewhat alarmed, but trying not to show it, she replied, "Oh Alex, I love you too. Nothing you could say to me would ever make me leave you."

Don't be too sure, I thought. "My love," I began, "I was not entirely truthful about the circumstances under which I came to France. Yes, Winterhaven is in a dire financial situation. We sold most of the stock, but it was still not enough to cover the taxes, so we were forced to sell some of the land as well. Uncle Henri's letter was a godsend to us, and the decision was made to come here. You see, it . . . my brother, he was supposed to make the journey, but became ill only hours into the trip. I did not have a chaperone, and didn't think Uncle Henri would allow me to. . . . " I stopped, unsure what to say or where I was going with my story.

Margaret was puzzled, "I don't understand, Alex, why would you need a chaperone?"

Thinking I had made a mistake even to tell this much, I could not look her in the face for fear I would see revulsion at what I was about to say, "You see, Margaret, we were in a desperate situation. If I had known I would meet you. . . .Oh, blast it, I'm not doing this right. Margaret, I cut my hair, and put on Nikolas' clothes, and . . . my real name is Alexandra. Alexandra Petra Petrovka. I am a woman in disguise."

As scared as I was, I still could not bring myself to look her in the face, but Margaret dropped the hand she had been holding at my last words. The silence that followed seemed to go on forever. I had expected that she might react strongly, but this long silence was not what I had in mind. I stole a glance at her, and saw that she had turned to face forward on the bench, and was thinking furiously. She finally started talking, but didn't appear to be talking to me, "Alex . . . Alexandra. Huh. No wonder. I should have known." More silence, then, "It's all well and good for the ancient Greeks, but today? What will we do? No beard, ha! Who else but a woman would be so kind and sweet and honest . . . well, to a point." I thought I might have had some affect on her state of mind, she was mumbling so rapidly. She got up and started pacing, still talking to herself, "Maybe Paris. Or Rome. No, Venice. But what about money? Can we keep this up all year? I don't know, I don't know."

Alarmed, I interrupted her twice before she turned to me, "Margaret? Margaret?! What are you talking about?"

She turned to me and smiled. Smiled? My heart leapt in my throat. She walked over to me, stood before me, and touched my cheek with her palm. "Alex. Alex, it's all right. Somehow, I knew this. I knew it in the back of my mind. I knew it the first day you arrived here. You see, I have to this point, only been attracted to women, although I never acted on those feelings. When I saw you that first day, and felt inexplicably drawn to you, I should have known, and somewhere deep inside I did know."

I felt about to burst from joy! She loves me anyway, just as I am! I jumped up, lifted Margaret off her feet, and spun around the garden, faster and faster, until we collapsed laughing on nearby grass. "Ah, my love," I said as I stroked her cheeks, "I did not think it possible to be this happy."

"Nor, I, my sweet one," she replied. We kissed again, savoring the feel of each other's lips. I felt Margaret's tongue seek purchase in my mouth, and I opened myself to her. Our tongues danced across each other, over teeth and lips. Margaret, ever the bold one, began to suckle my lower lip. I groaned aloud at the shivers it sent down my spine, toward the building heat between my legs. I finally broke the kiss, and said, "Sweetheart, we should be getting back. If someone finds us on the lawn like this, it will surely ruin your reputation."

Margaret laughed almost bitterly, "My reputation? It doesn't matter, you know. We will be outcasts once your secret is revealed."

I stood and helped her up, brushing grass off her dress, "I have kept up the rouse for this long, why should I not be successful?"

She pondered this for a moment before responding, "Why, indeed? Only you and I know. But Alex, this means you will have to remain a 'male' indefinitely. From what I know of your culture, the Russians are no more likely to support our relationship than the French or the English. We will be outcasts where ever we go."

I could not bring myself to contemplate this any longer-the night had already been far too emotional. "My love, no matter what the outcome, as long as we are together, I would live in hell if I had to do so." I extended my arm, "Now, I believe I promised a certain someone at least two more dances this evening?"

Margaret smiled, and I could tell she too was still feeling the strain of our talk, but she followed my lead anyway, "Yes, Mademoiselle, you do indeed owe me two dances. Although, for keeping your secret, I feel as though I must exact some price. You shall dance all of the dances with me and me alone."

I laughed, "Oh, Mademoiselle, your price is high. Very well. I shall not leave your side all evening."

She turned to me again for a quick kiss before we proceeded further, and said, "You shall not leave my side for the rest of my life if I have anything to say about it."

Chapter 14

The remainder of that night is a blur to me. Try as I might to forget it, it comes to me in my dreams and lingers in my waking hours.

As Margaret and I approached the ballroom, I could hear shouting in the distance. I turned in the direction of the vineyard, and could see an orange hue light up the sky. That colour could only mean one thing: fire. I broke into a run toward the stables. I wanted to get a horse and go survey the fields as quickly as possible. I was so focused on my task, I could hear nothing around me but the sound of my heart and the breath in and out of my lungs. It was then that I smelled the smoke. When I got to the stables, Spazto was already there, moving the horses out of their stalls.

"What in bloody hell are you doing, Spatzo?!" I shouted as loud as I could though I was short of breath.

"Monsieur," he too appeared winded, "we must get the horses out if we are to save them."

"The fire is that close?" I was incredulous.

"Yes, Monsieur," he replied. "We have an hour. Maybe more, maybe less. The vineyard, she is dry and her brittle vines are going up like matches."

"How on earth did this get started??" a voice bellowed behind me. I turned to see Uncle Henri and several of our guests surrounding him.

There was silence, and I turned back to Spatzo for an explanation. He simply hung his head and said nothing for a moment. "They did not mean it, Monsieur. They are an honorable family, and meant no disrespect. They are working now with the others, pumping the irrigation water…"

"Spatzo," I said, "who are you talking about? Someone set this fire deliberately?"

I was interrupted by one of the guests, "I don't mean to intrude, but we must get a fire brigade going if we're to save the house."

Spatzo replied, "It has already begun. We need more people. We must wet down the barn, the winery, the gardens and the house." With that, several of the guests leapt into action, and I started to follow in their footsteps, but Spatzo stopped me. "Monsieur, I did not want to say anything in front of the other gentlemen…this fire, she was started by one of the campfires."

"But I watched the campfires," I replied in shock, "everyone was being quite careful."

Spatzo said, "That will not matter to Monsieur Henri. No one is supposed to camp in the fields. It is dangerous for this very reason."

"What??" I was shocked. For convenience of a few, Spatzo had failed to tell me this was not allowed. "Why did you not tell me this??"

"But, sir," he said, "you are the new master. It was your vineyard to do with as you pleased. I awaited your instructions."

My first instinct was to blame him or Uncle Henri or anyone for not telling me this was not allowed. A thousand things crossed my mind to say, and I'm sure my warring emotions could easily be read on my face. But then I saw the truth of it. This was my fault. I took responsibility for this place as soon as I stepped over the threshold of the doorway some two months earlier. The only thing I could try to do now was save what I could.

I muttered to myself briefly, "I didn't know. I didn't know." Snap out of it, Alex! Do something! "Spatzo, get the horses and any children you find onto the road away from the vineyard. I'll need every man and woman on the fire line. Once the children and horses are a safe distance away, return and help me and the guests douse the house and winery."

Spatzo nodded, and returned to wrapping the horses eyes and heads with damp rags. This would keep them from panicking too much as they were led from the barn. I raced outside to find several of the guests milling about. "Everyone," I shouted, "can I have your attention? We have dozens of buckets in the winery and water in the pond behind the house. I need every able bodied person to form a line and work with me to douse the roofs of all the main buildings."

"What about the fields?" someone shouted.

"The workers are in the fields now using the irrigation system. We must try to save the main structures!" With that, relative chaos became relative order. I could see the flames in the fields moving closer, and knew we would need to hurry. Sparks from the fire flew about our heads like fireflies. The acrid smell of smoke now hung heavily in the air, and a few people were already starting to cough from it. The guests, however, even in all their finery, could not have been better. Everyone pitched in to help, without regard for silk, linen, or fur. Several people found ladders and used these to pull water up to the highest point on the buildings that they could reach.

In my race to the barn, I had dropped Margaret's arm, and I did not see her again until I looked at the top of one of the ladders. There she was, pouring water over the roof of the house. I tried to get her attention, but she did not look my way, and soon I was busy with the winery itself. Spatzo returned in a half-hour or so, and better organized our volunteers. After two hours, I could see that the fields were mostly a lost cause. The workers trying to put out that fire crept closer and closer to the barn and winery. I could feel the heat from the flames, and see more showers of sparks shooting into the night sky. As the fire came closer, it appeared as though the sun were coming up, even though daylight was hours away.

Ten minutes after I sent more guests to help with the field fires, the roof of the barn and stables caught fire. I called them all back, and we concentrated our efforts on the house and the winery.

Near dawn, the fire had no more fuel in the fields, and started to die out. The barn and stables were burned to the ground, but we did manage to save the winery and house. As we started to gather in small exhausted groups, I could see that everyone was covered in soot from head to toe. Once I had time to think instead of just react, my first thoughts were of Margaret. I went back to the same ladder just as she was wearily climbing down, and I walked over to her. We stood for some moments face to face, and she touched my cheek with her palm just before she flung her arms around me and started to cry silent tears. They washed long, clear streaks through the soot on her face.

I had no words to comfort her, no words to comfort myself. I knew that I had to find Uncle Henri, and tell him the reason why this fire broke out. I held Margaret a while longer, until Spatzo approached us.

"Monsieur?" he asked, "What will we do with the bodies?"

My hand froze on Margaret's head as I had been stroking her hair. "Bodies?" I replied, choking on the word.

"Yes, Sir. Some of the families in the fields, they could not make it out. The smoke was too much for them. Those that did not burn, could not breathe."

It was too horrible to contemplate. I swallowed hard several times, willing the tears not to fall. "How many are there?"

"At last count, 12, Monsieur."

Twelve people! Twelve people dead because of my negligence. Margaret must have seen the guilt and defeat I was feeling on my face, and tried to speak, "Alex, my love, you don't think any of this is your…"

"Fault?" I said bitterly. "Of course it's my fault. I'm the one who allowed the bloody gypsies to light their damn fires in the first place!" Everything was silent for a while, while my rage, sorrow and frustration built. My next actions were unconscionable. I looked angrily at Margaret. "So even though no one told me it was against the rules, I'm supposed to be a mind reader and know that fires in the fields are forbidden!" I turned my anger on Spatzo, "And you! Too busy laughing behind my back to tell me what I needed to know! Now 12 people are dead, and it's supposed to be my fault! No! I refuse to accept that!" I could not hold my tears back any longer. "It was you!" I pointed at Margaret. "And you!" I pointed at Spatzo. I turned to flee, and could see my new neighbors gathered around to hear my yelling. Uncle Henri stood at the front of the pack, a look of sadness and weariness across his face. "And you!" I pointed at Uncle Henri. I could not take his disappointment. I could not take anyone's disappointment. I stormed back into the house as fast as my legs could carry me. When I got up to my room, I wondered why I even bothered. Nothing in it was important. I would no longer need the clothes I had worn these last two months. Upon my return to Russia and Winterhaven, I would resume my duties as house mistress. Yes, Winterhaven. I would go there and forget everyone and everything I had ever known in this cursed place. I quickly washed the soot from my face and hands, and changed into a suit that didn't smell of smoke. Grabbing a small valise, I made ready to head down the stairs and to the train station. I would walk the 5 miles to get there, and purchase the first ticket home. As I started down the stairs, I could hear Margaret and Uncle Henri near the bottom. Too ashamed to face either one of them, I turned tail, and went down the back stairs to the servants' quarters and out the back door.

Now, not only did I have the guilt and shame of the fire to content with, but the bitter, angry words I said to Margaret. I could hardly live with myself, how could I expect her to want to live with me? I was responsible for a fire that killed 12 people, and ruined Uncle Henri's vineyard. I knew from the books that he did not want for money, but now he and dozens of others had no livelihood. I had spoken harshly with Margaret, and blamed her for the fire too. How could I face her? How could she love such a monster? No, it was better that I leave at once. I could do no good, and might certainly do more harm. If I gathered enough courage, I would write them both letters explaining my reasoning and begging their forgiveness, but right now, I could not face them. I thought about all of this and more as I practically ran up the road away from the house. I could hardly see through the veil of tears covering my eyes. How I actually got to the train station, I do not know. I do not remember purchasing a ticket or boarding the train. All I could see in my mind's eye was the fire, and Margaret's hurt face.

I must have looked half mad, because no one on the train accosted me. Three sleepless days, and a lifetime later, the train pulled into the station nearest my home. I dragged myself onto the platform and hired a hansom cab to take me to Winterhaven.

Answering the door, Mrs. Poliokopf did not recognize me. "Who are you?" she asked suspiciously.

"It is me, Alexandra." And with that, I collapsed into oblivion on the doorstep.

Chapter 15

Nikolas told me later how he found me on the front steps, passed out from lack of sleep, and how he carried me into the house and up to my room. I remember none of it. I awoke in a dark room, not really knowing where I was. I turned toward a light on the bedside table, and saw Nikolas dozing in the chair next to my bed. I reached out and shook his knee to wake him. Wordlessly, he awoke, and moved to sit on the side of my bed. I sat up and hugged him, and sobbed on his shoulder. We sat that way for long moments, until my tears diminished. He pulled a kerchief from his pocket and handed it to me. I wiped my eyes and blew my nose, but the tears continued, albeit more slowly.

Nikolas touched my cheek, and whispered, "Dear sister, what happened? Why are you here in such a state?"

I shook my head, unwilling to talk, but he encouraged me to do so, and I found myself retelling all that had happened. "I…Nikolas, I…I killed 12 people…maybe more. I don't know." To hear myself utter those words was shocking, and I shuttered.

"What??" he said, appalled.

"There was a fire. It was my fault. People were killed, and I…I fled like a craven coward." The tears started again.

"Shhh. Whatever happened, I know it was not your fault. You are too good and too kind a person to have let any harm come to anyone."

"It WAS my fault, Nikolas!" I nearly shouted, then regained some control, "I accepted the responsibility the day I walked into Uncle Henri's house. It was up to me to question the customs and ensure the safety of everyone at the vineyard."

"Alexandra, why don't you start from the beginning and tell me everything."

I started to do as he requested, when Mrs. Poliokopf came into the room, and insisted that I take the time to bathe and eat. Nikolas left me alone to bathe, and asked me to join him in the library when I was finished. I donned a loose fitting nightdress and robe, and descended the stairs to the library. Mrs. Poliokopf had prepared a tray of sandwiches and tea, but I was not hungry enough to do anything but nibble. Nikolas again asked me to relate the tale of my failure in France. I did, hesitantly at first, then in a rush, all of the information running in a jumble. I told him about the trip, meeting Uncle Henri, working in the fields, Spatzo, and, finally, the fire.

"There is one thing I have not told you about, Nikolas…."

I could see in Nikolas' face that he felt badly for me, and wanted to help. "Yes? Go on."

"I…I fell in love. For the first time. And it was snatched from me before we could…I'll never….,"

"Oh, my sweet sister, I am so very sorry you went through all of this. The fire…no one person can be blamed for it, especially not you. Two months, you were only there two months! How were you to know what traditions were being broken?? We should never have tried this scheme!"

"Then I would never have met Margaret, and that was worth . . . .," I stopped, afraid I had said too much.

"Margaret?" Nikolas was puzzled, "Who is Margaret?"

I paused. "The woman with whom I fell in love," I whispered back.

Nikolas was silent for a moment, then said, "And she feels the same about you? She knows you're a woman?"

"Yes."

"Then where is she?" he asked.

"She must be in France, with Uncle Henri. I do not know. I said…horrible things to her, and left. I blamed her and others for the fire."

Nikolas was angry with me, I could tell, but not for the reasons I expected, "Alexandra Petra Petrovka, you ought to be ashamed of yourself!" I started to interrupt him, to explain that my love was true, but he held up his hand, "Before you say a word, I have just this to say. I have never known you to run from anything in your life. You were both my strength and inspiration when I was young. When all I could do was lay in bed and cough, you were there, holding my hand, and telling me stories. You say this woman loves you? Then she will understand your mistakes. You had the greatest gift anyone could ask for, and you threw it away because of your pride."

"I threw it away because of my shame! How could she love me after what I said to her??"

"Would you love her if she had said the same to you?" he asked.

I paused, my breath slowly returning to normal as I thought about what Nikolas just said. I was nonplussed. Would I still love her? Do I still love her with all my heart? Yes. Of course, the answer was yes. How stupid of me. I ran when I needed to face my critics, and try to make amends for what I had done, with Margaret at my side.

I was suddenly grief-stricken, "Oh, Nikolas, what have I done?"

A slight smile played on his lips, "You can make amends, you know. Write to her. Tell her about all of your regret and sorrow. Do all that you can to take what responsibility is truly yours, but do not take more than your share."

I tried to smile back, "When did you get so wise, oh kid brother of mine?"

"I had a great teacher," he replied, "You."

Chapter 16

It is unfortunate that my priorities were forced to shift on that day from Margaret to our house. Nikolas informed me that Winterhaven now had to be sold to cover our taxes. While mentally I knew I was not totally to blame for this either, I bore the brunt of the responsibility silently. Nikolas would only deny my part in order to try to make me feel better, and I knew his protestation would not be true. First and foremost, I had to help Nikolas deal with the impending auction before I could attempt to contact Margaret and Uncle Henri. We sold the remainder of the stock first, and gave Andrev and his family the proceeds from that sale. Our goodbyes to our loyal servant were tearful, but he left us with our highest recommendation and enough money to last him nearly a year while he sought a new position.

Next came the sale of the house and all of its contents. It rained the day we auctioned everything off. The weather reflected our abysmal spirits, and neither of us could remain for long at the house. Nikolas and I only kept our clothing, a few personal belongings, and two crates of books from the library. Everything else we sold to the highest bidder. Before I left, I noticed Baron Morozov in the crowd, bidding for the remainder of the pastureland that was adjacent to his estate. He barely looked at me, which was just as well since I had nothing to say to him.

When the sale was complete, we had managed to pay the back taxes, and have enough monies remaining to send to Uncle Henri, as I was wont to do, and to set ourselves up in our newly adopted home, Paris. Nikolas was going to be, quite literally, a starving art student, and I was going to live with him and find a teaching position. While I certainly loved Russia, the sale of the estate left a bitter, sorrowful feeling within me, and I wanted no more to do with the countryside in which I had grown up. Traveling to France and seeing another part of the world had seemingly set my own kind of wanderlust in motion, and I looked forward to our trip to Paris.

Mrs. Poliokpf found a position and a rental house in town, and offered to let me stay with her while I completed the last of the estate business. Nikolas went ahead to Paris to set up our apartment and get our belongings unpacked. The day before I was to leave to follow him, I was sitting at the table in Mrs. Poliokpf's small kitchen, trying to figure out how to start a letter to Margaret. How do you tell someone you have made the biggest mistake of your life? How do you rationalize irrational behavior? How could I convey the depth of emotion I felt for her without sounding trite? I must have been sitting at that table for hours, starting and discarding a dozen letters. I could feel my back and bottom tighten up, and I got up to stretch.

At that moment, there was a knock at the door, so I continued stretching as I went to answer it. The next few minutes seemed to happen in slow motion, as if I was in a dream. I opened the front door, and standing on the doorstep was Margaret. Her hair was loose around her shoulders and blowing in the wind. She looked at first surprised to see me, and looked me up and down as I stood there. I became conscious of the fact that I was wearing a dress, and that she had never seen me this way before.

"Margaret," I whispered, and that broke whatever silent spell that was existed between us. A cold and angry look crossed Margaret's face. She had papers in her hand which she now threw at me.

"There!" she spat. "There's all that remains, I hope you're happy." And she turned, storming off.

I was momentarily taken aback, then I regained my senses and rushed into the street after her. "Margaret! Margaret, please, stop! I have to talk with you!"

Her next words were venomous, "I have nothing to say to you, Alexandra. Get away from me!"

I caught up with her and grabbed her arm, forcing her to turn and look at me, "Please, Margaret. I MUST speak with you. Please, hear me out."

She took a moment to think about my request. "Very well," she said, crossing her arms in front of her and not looking me in the face, "make it quick."

I reached out to her with my hand, to pull her eyes up to meet mine, but she jerked her chin out of my reach. I let go of her arm, letting my hands fall to my sides, and said softly, "Please come back to the house. We can talk there."

She nodded once, and stormed back in the direction from which we had come. She entered the house ahead of me, and I gently closed the door behind us. "Won't you have a seat in here?" I gestured towards the parlor. She shook her head emphatically, "I don't plan on staying that long. What you have to say to me can be heard standing up."

I stood for a moment unsure of where to start. I had written nothing in my letter thus far, I don't know why I thought I could do better verbally. I nervously cleared my throat, and said, "My love...."

She coldly replied, "You are not to ever again to use those words when addressing me."

I felt as though I had been slapped, and choked back the tears that threatened to spill. "I know you are angry, and you have every right to be. Thanks to my thoughtlessness, the vineyard is destroyed and twelve people are dead."

"Do you truly think that is why I am angry with you?" she asked.

"Partly," I replied, ducking my head in shame, "and partly because of what I said before I left."

"Think again, Alex," she said, nearly spitting the words out. "I am angry because you ran out. I know your words were spoken in the heat of the moment. I know you blamed yourself for the death of the workers and the loss of the vineyard. Uncle Henri didn't, and neither did I. We all shared equal blame. If you had bothered to stick around, you would have found that out."

I was stunned into silence. The room was deathly quiet, only the sound of the clock in the hall ticking. The sun was shining through the kitchen window behind me, and I could see small dust particles floating in the air. I sat heavily on the floor and buried my face in my hands, willing myself not to cry. I whispered, as much to myself as to Margaret, "I was so wrong. I thought...I thought you could not possibly love me or live with me after you had seen what a monster I am. I accused you of not helping me. You, who had done so much, gone beyond the pale to work with me and help me make a success of it." I removed my hands from my face and sat staring at the floor, my head hung, and my eyes glassy with tears. "Nikolas told me I was a fool. I've been trying to write a letter, begging you to try to understand. I chose to leave rather than face my responsibility, but I am truly willing to try to make amends." I looked up at her, her face set in stone, her eyes wide. "Margaret, I would do anything to take back my actions and my words. Anything. But I cannot. All I can do is to...fix...ask for forgiveness and work hard to make it up to you and Uncle Henri and all those who work on the vineyard."

"Oh Alex," she said, as a small tear escaped the corner of her eye.

I pushed myself up on my knees in front of her. "Margaret, I cannot give Uncle Henri his vineyard back, but I can help to pay for whatever damages occurred. I have some money. We sold the estate." Margaret gasped at this last bit of information and covered her mouth with her hand. "Nikolas has agreed that we send fifty percent of the proceeds to Uncle Henri and money to you so that you can return to England if you so chose. It won't nearly be enough, but at least it is better than nothing at all. I am not trying to buy forgiveness. I am helping in the way I know how. I will come back to France and help rebuild the buildings lost in the fire. I will pay burial expenses to the families. I will do anything within my power, but please, PLEASE, do not hate me."

"Alex, Alex, I could never hate you. Oh, my love, I am so very sorry."

"Sweet Margaret," I said as I wrapped my arms around her legs and buried my face in her skirts, "There is nothing you need be sorry for. I love you so. I have shamed you and failed you, and I will spend my live trying to make up for it."

Margaret reached down and tilted my face up so that I would look at her. "Alex, you are not a monster, nor have you shamed me. I...I was lost when you left." She began to softly stroke my face as she spoke. "My heart was wrenched from me. I prayed you would return. I wanted only to help you get through this. To help you see that the fire was not your fault. When you did not come back, even though all your belongings were still at the house, I was afraid...that something had happened to you, something terrible. Spatzo found out from the stationmaster that you had purchased a ticket for Kiev. That's when I became angry. I thought you had deserted me. I was not thinking properly, just as you weren't when you left."

The afternoon sun had further set, and the house had continued to darken as we talked. Now, we were both in dusky shadows, and I could not fully see Margaret's face to read how she was feeling. She knelt down in front of me, and gently placed her lips on mine. The shock of it sent a hundred bolts of lightening through my body. Hungrily, I grasped her in my arms, and deepened the kiss, locking my lips over hers. She broken away from my lips, and kissed the tears on my face, over and around my nose and eyes. "Alex, I do love you, my sweet. Never, ever leave me again."

"Never," I promised, "I will never leave you again."

We must have stayed kneeling on the floor for quite some time, whispering endearments, and kissing our tears away. "Alex?" she asked.

"What, my love?"

"Surely you do not intend to make love on the floor of your housekeeper's parlor?"

I swallowed, suddenly my mouth was dry, "Make love?"

Margaret looked into my eyes, holding my face between her hands, "Yes, Alex. I want to make love with you. I want to hear you call my name in the throws of passion, and forget everything and everyone you've ever known but me."

Oh, is that all? Nervously, I replied, "I…follow me."

I took Margaret's hand and walked up stairs to the second floor landing. Just to the right of the top of the stairs was a small door that lead to my attic room. I opened the door, and it creaked a little as it always did. Feeling a bit as though I was being led to the guillotine, I was that nervous, I escorted Margaret into my room. My room, if you could call it that, was a 10 x 8 patch of floor with a ceiling that slanted so that the spot where the roof met the wall was barely a foot over the head of my bed. My bed took up nearly the entire room, with the exception of a small dresser under the room's one window. None of my personal belongings were with me, save the book of poetry I bought in the bookshop the day Margaret and I went into town. I sat on the bed, as she stood before me. She picked up the book and thumbed through it. It occurred to me then that she might be as nervous as I about this situation.

I cleared my throat, "Margaret?"

She put the book down, but did not approach me or touch me. "Yes?" she replied.

Standing in the faint glow of dusk coming through the window, I could barely make out the contours of her face in shadow. Still, I could hear her breathing steadily, and it made my heart race at the sound; a sound that until 30 minutes before I thought I would never hear again.

I reached over and took her hands in mine, pulling her closer to me. "I . . . I am nervous. I do not know what . . . I have never . . . . " Oh, God, kill me now so I don't have to remain such a fool in the presence of this goddess.

"Shhhh," she whispered. "It's alright, Alex. Neither have I. But I love you and I want you. I want this." She paused, and timidly said, "Don't you?"

"More than anything," I tried for levity, "But my heart is pounding so fast I am afraid my chest will explode before I can even kiss you."

I could just make out her smile, "Let us see then, shall we?" With that she leaned over and softly kissed my lips. She pulled away, and I am sure I resembled a fish, my lips seeking the return of that softness of their own accord, and Margaret put a finger over them. "Nope, no explosions. I do think, however, you are ready for another." She then wrapped her arms around my neck, and the formerly soft kiss became something altogether more. My tongue met hers mid kiss, and we both moaned at the satin, slippery wetness there.

I reached up and began to unbutton her bodice. She had already removed her cloak and hat downstairs, so there was no other impediment to my being able to touch the body that haunted my dreams, except her dress and corset. The latter was, as usual, a complicated garment, designed to torture. Once I had unbuttoned Margaret's dress, I pulled it off first one shoulder then the other, and it easily slid to the ground. She stepped shyly out of it, bent to pick it up, and hung it on the bedpost. She turned her back to me, and raised her hair so that I could easily access the strings of her corset. My fingers felt an inch thick as I fumbled with the knots, not able to move as quickly as I wanted. Margaret could feel my fumbling, and turned back around to kiss me again, "Alex, it's alright, you know. I want you to see me, as I want to see you. Take your time. We have all night. We have the rest of our lives."

I smiled and said, "As usual, you always know the thing to say to put me at ease." I was able to finish my task with more alacrity, and the corset joined the dress on the bedpost. I cannot begin to describe the site of Margaret naked from the waist up. I was not sure if the room had suddenly become devoid of oxygen, I had tunnel vision only for the beauty before me. Her breasts were creamy and freckled, the same as the rest of her golden skin. Her nipples were rosy pink buttons waiting for me to lavish the attention on them they so richly deserved. Seemingly embarrassed at my stares, Margaret started to cross her arms over her chest, but I took both of her arms in my hands and said, "Don't. Please don't. My love, you are breathtaking. Don't ever hide from me."

She laughed quietly, "Now who is the shy one?"

I too chuckled, "It is your beauty that makes me brave, sweetheart. Would I hesitate to touch any flower in the garden? No, and I shall not run from the thing I treasure most."

Margaret and I embraced again, and I caressed the bare skin on her back as we kissed, sending shivers down both our spines. She broke our kiss, and looked up at me with a smirk on her face, "One of us has too many clothes on."

"Oh, you think so?"

"Most definitely," she nodded. Where I had been slow, Margaret was the opposite, quickly unbuttoning and untying, throwing my things in the corner. Before I could utter a sound even in surprise, she bent to kiss my breast, and run her tongue across my now exposed nipple. The effect was electric, and she lowered me to the bed for more of the same, moving from one nipple to the other, nipping with her teeth and licking until I thought I would go crazy for want of her.

I felt as a starving man might, unable to get my fill of this feast, and I wanted to gorge myself on her. I rolled her over so that I could bestow kisses to her breasts and nipples and the sensitive hairs on her stomach. I came back up to nuzzle her neck, and suckle her earlobe, this last drawing a moan from deep within her.

We broke apart for a brief moment, laying side by side, breathing the same air. She, being still the brave one, reached down and took off her pantaloons, then helped me with mine. Creamy thighs matched her breasts, and I reached out to run my hand along the top of her leg. "God, Alex, that feels . . . ."

"If it feels half as good to you as it does to me, I must be driving you mad with desire."

She laughed, "Oh, you are, believe me. "

"Good. I'd hate to think I was the only one who had gone around the deep end." I paused concerned about where this might take us. I knew I wanted her with everything I had, but I also needed her to know we could stop if she wanted, "Margaret, my love . . . "

"Alex, my angel, has anyone ever told you that you talk too much?"

"I am serious, sweetheart. I need to say something."

"Oh, OK, I'll put on my best serious face. But it won't be easy. You look so terribly endearing naked."

With that I blushed hotly, but I was not to be deterred. "My love, if there is anything about this that makes you . . . what I mean to say is, if you want to stop at any point because you are uncomfortable . . . . "

Margaret snuggled closer to me, and wrapper her arms around my neck, "Alex, it is sweet of you to think of my feelings. I say the same back to you. Know this, however, a pack of wild dogs could not stop me from doing what I am about to do. Do you understand?"

I gulped and nodded, wondering what exactly she meant. I very shortly found out, when she pushed me over on my back again, and, cupping my breast in her hand, took my nipple between her teeth, biting almost to the point of pain. I held her head in my hand, gasping between clinched teeth, running my hands through her hair while silently begging for more of the same. My next words were out before I knew what I was saying, "Can I light a candle? I want to see you." She nodded into my breast, still suckling and biting my nipples, and it made lighting the candle quite difficult, but I managed. I could now see her mouth covering first one breast then the other, her tongue trailing a wet path between the two. I saw her tongue lick from the bottom of one nipple to the top, and I groaned quite loudly. "Did you like that?" she smiled wickedly.

"Do you have any idea what you do to me?" I managed to croak out.

"I have a pretty fair idea, my love. The same thing you do to me." She ran a trail of kisses down my stomach as she ran her hands across my thighs. Her hand found my wetness first, and I heard her intake of breath, and then she said, "Ah, my love, you are so very wet."

My body was a traitor, moving with her without waiting for me to feel the slightest bit of embarrassment about my lack of modesty. I felt like a wild caged thing that had finally been set free. Margaret's fingers took on a new rhythm, and she began to rub across my folds and the hard bundle of nerves contained there as she entered and exited me. I felt myself tremble from deep within, deeper and deeper, then back to the surface, until everything around me exploded in stars, and I screamed Margaret's name.

Her hand remained nestled within my hair for long moments while I caught my breath. I opened my eyes to see her smiling down at me, then I burst into tears. She stroked my face, "Shhhh. Shhhhhh. What is it my love? Are you alright?"

I felt only a little silly. "I am so much more than alright. I . . . it's so strong. I am overwhelmed by all that I feel for you. I love you so, so very much."

She kissed my nose, and said softly, "And I you, Alexandra. You are so beautiful." She bought her hand to her nose, "And, oh God, you smell so wonderful."

I blushed, and snuggled my head into her shoulder. "What?" she laughed, "It's true!"

"I don't know," I replied. "In my wildest daydreams about you, this is not a subject I thought would come up."

"Ah ha! So you have daydreams about me, do you?"

I smiled, "And night dreams, and dusk dreams, and late morning dreams . . . . "

"Alex?"

"Hmmm?"

"You're talking too much again."

The sweetness of that night plays over and over in my mind. Even as Margaret now sits by my side every day. Even as many times as we have made love since then, that first time stays with me. I cannot help but smile each time I think of it, and such joy wells up inside me I cannot contain it.

I touched and teased and stroked Margaret until her breath became nothing but a moan, and she too screamed my name in passion. I tasted the sweet nectar of her sex, and drank there again, and again. We stayed in my room for two whole days, not venturing out except for infrequent breaks for food and the outhouse. I fed her the first strawberries of the season, kept cool in Mrs. Poliokopf's back cupboard. While she poured wine on my body, then licked me clean.

On the morning of the third day, I woke to find Margaret's body draped across mine, and her snoring softly. I stroked her hair, and whispered in her ear, "My love? Sweetheart? Wake up."

"Don't want to," she groaned, then put a hand on my face, "Go back to sleep."

"Did you forget what we agreed on?" I asked.

She sighed, "No. I did not forget."

At some point during our time in my room, Margaret told me that Uncle Henri had passed away only two days after I left. She held me while I cried, and scolded me again when I tried to blame his death on myself. "You know better than that, Alex!" she said. "Uncle Henri was very, very ill. He died peacefully in his sleep, and he was ready to go. Do not, under any circumstances, blame yourself for any part of his death. By taking care of the winery, you helped make his last days some of the most peaceful he has ever known."

I was not going to argue with her, though I still carried some guilt. We cried our tears of mourning and loss together, holding each other until they dwindled to sniffles. Margaret informed me that Uncle Henri had drawn up a new will as soon as I had arrived at the vineyard. Everything was mine; at least, what was left of the house and barn. The land itself was now practically worthless for growing grapes.

From this news, we hatched a plan to return to the vineyard so that I could make any kind of amends possible. If there were any workers left, or families of the deceased, I would do my best to help them get back on their feet. From there, we would travel to meet Nikolas in Paris.

So here we are, packed and ready to depart. Mrs. Poliokopf has not seen us to the station. We said our goodbyes at her house. She said she does not do goodbyes well, and will not be tortured by seeing me leave. I do not blame her. It was difficult enough to say goodbye at the house.

I stare out the window of the train. My emotions are chaotic. I will miss my home and my friends. I look forward to meeting my brother in Paris. I look forward also to returning to the winery and closing that chapter in my life. Most of all, I am excited about the life Margaret and I will share. I turn from the window to look at her, and she takes my hand and smiles. I love you she says. I love you too I whisper back. And the whistle on the train blows as it chugs out of the station for France.

The End