

Fate's Touch

Written

By:

Sophia S. Sterling

2016

©

Fate's Touch

This novel is entirely fictional.

No part of the innards is related to any real person or persons,

living or dead and for mature readers only.

Contents

Précis

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Epilogue

About the Author

Other Books

Fate's Touch

Précis

Seeking shelter from a coming storm, a young boy finds himself the unlikely savior for a reckless girl. Saving her from being assaulted from the village priest, while leaving behind an unknown witness.

Years later and much older, the young man re-visits the village, where the not so young girl, finds him half-dead. She nurtures him back to life only to discover he was her Guardian, many years ago. In caring for him, her lonely, but passionate heart could not deny its burning need to have him, as she falls in love with her Savior.

With one thought on his mind to find his most ardent desire, the impetuous girl he saved, that stirred something within him. Her mere touch which personified loves passion, peace, and a home, in its simple caress. He knew if he found her again, he would have the sincerest of all emotions that any man would die for, LOVE!

However, will the two find peace when their unknown witness recognized him and survived his sadistic intent for retribution?
Prologue

Ireland, Galway Cliffs - 1827

Unnatural light spills from a hunting moon while dark clouds lurk to mask its silver grace. Shadowing over jagged cliffs, milky waves crash below the rocks as a slight figure tries climbing the crag. On a closer look, reveals a young boy struggling to reach the top. An inch away from his goal he almost slips into a watery grave, only to grab the roots of a Rowan tree jutting out of the edge of the bluff.

Collin, our slim figure heaves his weary body to safety, falling on his back while catching his breath. As the moon shines its eerie glow on him to see he is a filthy disheveled young man, who looks lost, with poverty as his traveling mate.

At fifteen years of age, his striking blue eyes could discern Collin's beauty, making many envious, save for the blotches of red in his sclera. Besides his gaze, there was not much to see of him, with his grimy face and ragged clothes. If he were considered handsome, it would be a great lie as his visage was concealed.

Weak from hunger, Collin's eyes slowly closed on him, but when he heard a rumble above him, he saw more than rain was coming. Exhausted, but with enough strength to search out some shelter, he saw a light up ahead and ran for the protection from what could be a coming storm.

***

Frighten shitless, but braving what plans she made on her only adventure, away from her men. Twelve-year-old, Irene Galway with her flaming, wild hair, looks a tad older with her breast pressed in her short frock. Peeps into a deserted church not too far from the cliffs. Seeing no one about, she boldly pushes the old groaning door open calling out, "Hello . . . Hello, hell." With a slight smile on her lips, Irene steps over the first threshold of a church in her life. Awed by how large it is, she stumbles falling back against the church doors, cursing loudly, "Ah, shit man," rubbing her back and bottom.

From within the hallow walls, towering candles stood on plinths shining its light on the Saints. Admiring the splendor of her surroundings, a gust of wind swirls from the crack church doors flickering the lights as it slams closed forcefully, startling Irene. With her hand, covering her mouth, she crouches to conceal herself between the last pews looking around the building with the walls painted of Mary, Jesus, and the Saints. Irene knew these images from her mother's Bible; that was left open by her father's nightly readings as he cursed God and the saints for permitting death to take his wife away.

Feeling brave, that no one heard or was around, Irene sauntered towards the altar admiring how peaceful it looked and that she was actually in a place they called, "a church." Smiling to herself, she whispered, "Hello, hello," to then holler, "hellooooooooooooo," laughing at her echo, from the high ceiling while humming to herself. Looking around, Irene examines the statues of Mary, Joseph, and Jesus, carefree and blind to anyone who might be observing her.

Stopping in the middle of the church aisle, Irene glances up at the white pearl ceiling painted to see angles surrounding a baby Jesus. Taking a quick glimpse of the church doors securely closed, to make sure that she was utterly alone, Irene pretends to faint dramatically by the altar looking up to see Jesus upside down. Gazing at Jesus on the cross, Irene turns slowly around to stare at his serene face, with her hands under her chin in reverence to hear footsteps.

Jumping to crouch low, as she looks around in a panic, only to see a short old man in all black rags, with a white patch on his neck, standing between the pews observing her with his hands on his hip and a frown on his wrinkled brow.

"Oh! Shit, oh . . ." Irene runs and hides behind the altar, yet in plain sight of the man who waves his hands up and down to calm her.

With a thick English accent, "That's enough, swearing in my church child. What in the saints you're doing in here?" he asked sternly taking a step closer to her as she backs away, hitting a figure of the Virgin Mary, knocking the baby Jesus out his mother's hands. But with quick reflexes, Irene catches him and cradles him like a living baby in her arms.

"Oh! Shit, I'm sorry, I, I . . . I'm sorry. I, I called, but . . ." Irene said, holding the statue as a shield before the man.

"Hush, child, I'll not beat you, nor bite you," he said, taking another step to her. "What's your name?" he asked, looking around the church apprehensively.

"I . . . Irene Galway. I, I just wanted to see what it looked like in . . ." Irene said, struck once more by the beauty of the church as she looks around.

"Is anyone with you, child?" the man asked, taking another step closer to her.

With her flaming hair in disarray, shaking it from side to side terrified that she was caught. Irene pondered what would happen to her if she came again without her father and brother, not knowing. A bit fearful of being caught, but with the old man's warm, friendly smile, made her feel all was well, and that she had nothing to be concern for.

"It's so big from outside, with its pointy roof touching the clouds and large windows. . ." Irene said, looking up at the high ceiling. "And your colorful flower beds drew me to it like a thirsty bee that . . ." She was declaring with a shy smile at the old friendly man staring at her now.

"And would you like to see more, more of the church, my dear?" Irene gazed up at the man with a beaming smile for her answer. With his hands out to her, she studied him for a second, and like a trusting, innocent child, she placed her hand in his.

"Irene?" the kind man said, smiling at her.

"Yes?" she replied.

"The correct way to responded would be, Yes, Father."

"My father says that a devil of a priest lives in here." Remembering what her father said, she wondered if the man that stood before her, if he was the indeed the priest her father spoke about? Squinting up at him, he looked to kind to be the devil of anything.

"No, my child," the man in his black rags, said, patting her hand and continued. "If a devil of a priest lives here, then it must be me, my little sweetheart," he stated, stopping by a picture of a handsome, baby boy in a cradle.

Irene looked at the priest, never calling her father, "Father," but responded, "Yes father," trusting him.

"Have anyone told you, your voice sounds like honey?" the priest asked, making her blush.

Beaming by the old man's praise, Irene answered in turn, "My father. He says, 'I could sing like the queen of angels, but my brother says, my voice is the envy of all harpies." Irene remembered when her mother died, she sang her mother's favorite song, Amazing Grace, and at the end of her song, not a dry eye was left in the cemetery. Even her awful brother's eyes were wet, and his nose was running. But when she had mentioned it days after, her brother just stared at her and told her, "That her voice made him cry, for it hurt his ears and he felt sorry he was not dead."

As the priest shook her hand, Irene realized that he was speaking to her. "And would you like to see a real angel? I have one in my room." She looked at all the lovely statues in the church and wondered what more could there be that was more beautiful. Watching the priest, she looked back and realized how silent and empty the church was, and how far she was from the front doors.

"I, I . . . I should be getting back," Irene said, taking a step away from the priest, but he held her hand tightly.

"It won't take long," he whispered with a slightly firmer grip on her hand and a kinder smile.

Irene nibbled her thumb knuckle thinking if she should let her only chance to venture about freely in a church, pass her by with a friendly tour guide. "A real one?" she asked as she watched the priest give her another humble, trusting smile of assurance. As she gave him one of her cheery smiles, nodding her answer showing off one missing front tooth that was taking forever to make an appearance to look around at the empty, silent church again.

"Irene, your father, and brother, they don't know where you are?" the priest asked, standing by a doorway.

With her eyes wide as saucers, Irene grabbed the priest shirt, "No father, they can't. My brother would ladder my ass till, till please, father, please," she shouted her pleas, grabbing his hand with him looking at her small hands near his crotch. The priest caressed Irene's hand with such sympathy and concern on his face as he tried to calm her.

"Not so loud my child, I shan't sell you out to anyone, as you won't sell me out to anyone, will you?"

Irene looked at the priest a bit confused by his meaning. "Please, father, I won't tell a soul that I was here," she said while he gripped her hands with a sweet smile.

"Then, it would be our secret romance. And would you like to see my angel now, Irene?"

Feeling calmer, she replied, "Yes, father."

"You have a good memory, Irene," the kind Priest declared.

Making her blush by receiving another of his compliment. "Thank you, father." She felt proud because she was getting so many praises that were not from her father. For he was the only one alive that gave her any, save for her beloved mother who would dote and kiss her every day when she was a child, to say, "she was her loving little angle."

"Why would you get a thrashing for coming here?" the priest asked, holding Irene's hand in his.

"My brother and father hate the church," Irene stated, feeling ashamed by that bit of information.

"I see. The Catholic church?" the priest asked gazing down at Irene, making her squirm a bit.

"No, father, all churches. They hate them all."

For years, Irene always wondered why her father considered the church as a place of scorn and lies. She never heard him speak a word of kindness to anyone who would waste their time to attend or even converse to a minister of the cloth. Until one day, years after her mother's death, she found a note in her mother's handwriting, which was the best penmanship she ever saw and wished she could have inherited it from her mother.

The letter read, "To my Lord and Savior, my rightful Husband and Friend, I come to thee." Just those simple words seemed to make her father hate the church and anyone affiliated with it even more. Shaking her hand to gain her attention, the priest pushed open his bedroom door, with the hallway candles shining into his bedroom, ushering Irene, into his den, leaving his bedroom door partially open.

The grey vestibule is small without windows, a cleaned but old rug, running the short length with four wall scone, painted black housing white candles. But their's another door that's cracked open with light flickering into its space. It's a tiny closet that's somewhat empty but has a long grey sleek coat and shiny black boots.

On a closer glance, a pair of dirty feet protrude from under the coat, that belonged to Collin, as he took refuge in the one place that would not cast him away as the church was a sanctuary he used sometimes. Stepping away from his hiding spot, Collin stares at the door across from him, partly closed listening to Irene's sweet voice speaking to the priest. "She looks so pale, so beautiful so. . . so lovely father."

"Come here, Irene, I want to show you something." the priest called out to the girl giving him a glimpsed of the crazed red hair child. When Collin was a young, curiosity was never a trait that got him into any trouble. He always considered himself a man before his time, due to circumstances. A boy's childhood was never meant to be his. But the way the priest called the girl, made him abandon his hideaway, stepping out into the hallway. For his gut never guided him wrong, rarely.

Irene looked at the angel and was utterly disappointed to see a very dull likeness that was painted less cheerful than the rest of the statues outside.

"What do you think of my angel, sweet Irene?" the priest asked, patting his bed for her to sit next to him.

Not wanting to hurt the old man's feelings, she turned on her thousand-watt, charm of a smile that she usually used to get away with anything from her father and brother. "She looks like a real angle father, a real one frozen and left here." Feeling slightly guilty for lying to a man of the cloth, Irene jumped up and sat next to him patting his leg in sympathy that he did not know the difference in what was beautiful and merely dreary. And his bedroom angel was just that, dull as ass.

The priest rested his hand on Irene's that was on his lap, squeezing it. Feeling a bit uncomfortable by his clammy wet hand over hers, Irene tried to pull her hand away, but the priest pulled it toward his mouth and kissed it.

"Oh, gross father that feels just nasty," Irene said, trying to yank her hand free, thinking something was wrong with this priest.

"Irene, don't you want to make me happy?" the priest asked now holding her hand to his chest.

"No flipping way. Why, why you . . ." she said tearing her hand away, and jumped off his bed, heading for the door when she suddenly felt his hand grabbed her only best frock from the back. Hearing it ripped, she was ready to beat the old man for destroying her Sunday best, which her mother had sewn. It was a blue wool gown that was too short and tight that it squashed her breast for they were enormous for her age and a grey apron with side pockets that still fit her perfectly.

Frightened and furious at the same time, Irene yelled, "Get away from me you beastly devil." to swing, nicking the priest in his wrinkled cheek drawing blood from her only piece of jewelry. A copper wire ring made by her brother.

In shock, the priest passed his hand to the nick on his face, smearing blood on his wrinkled angry mug. As Irene gazed at her torn dress, then at him, the "so-called" priest she tried for the door again. But the old man was quick, as he grabbed her by the neck and flung her on his bed covering her small body with his massive frame.

Irene opened her mouth and screamed as loud as a banshee in travail when she felt a sudden sting across her cheek, with her eyes closing, she saw a black shadow crossing her path. The priest roughly grabbed her by the cheek and forced her to look at him. With eyes, she barely opened, she could see the priest standing over her taking off his collar to place it next to her head.

"You're hot as your flaming hair, but for my blood, you shed, you'll pay for it, you evil whelp." Laying there dazed as she watched the man she thought was nothing of the cloth, removed his clothing from his ancient body in front of her. Turning to face the partly open door, to block what she knew was going to happen.

Irene may have been a little girl, but knew what goes on between men and women, for living on a farm. Lost in her thoughts, she saw a shadow passed in the hallway as the monster of a priest pressed his load of a body on top of her, blocking whatever caught her eyes.

The priest looked at Irene as she closed her eyes tightly and smiled, thinking, he was going to enjoy such an innocent little morsel as he leaned his head to kiss her. Irene was a fighter at heart, but knew she would lose this fight to retain her innocence from this vile creature they called a "priest." She now understood why her father said the devil of a priest lived in this church or maybe in all churches. Nevertheless, Irene was not about to give the sick man the pleasure to see any fear on her and started to hum an old Irish tune, of war and victory, that the wicked man did not know.

The priest frowned as he looked at his little friend humming a love tune, being caught off guard twice as he pulled his head away to see if she had gone mad. "A love tune? Hum! You're a strange little girl." the priest said, looking down at Irene with her eyes closed kissing her forehead, cheeks and . . . He stopped, pressing more of his weight on her stealing her breath away.

Squinting, Irene opened her eyes slowly to see the priest still body half on her. Wasting no time, she shoved the priest motionless body away, jumped off his bed, and made a mad dash for the church doors not venturing to look back. While exiting the church, feeling weary, Irene leaned on its thick, old walls weak and fell to her knees as tears ran down her face soaking her once best dress, which hung on her ruined. Cold and shivering, Irene felt a drop of water on the back of her neck, ran down her spine, to look up and see the beginning of a storm as rain poured out the sky like her tears when she heard footsteps from within the church. Frighten and weedy, Irene ran and slipped not far from church hitting her head on the ground to pass out face down just as Collin saw, standing by the open church doors.

Collin stood staring at the reckless little girl in her murky bed, who went willingly into the devil's den. Without thinking, he lifted Irene and walked towards a small village not far from the church. The same one he noticed when he took shelter from the coming tempest.

Soaked again, Collin looked down at the foolish, girl with her dirty torn clothes, to become, mesmerized by her beauty, as the rain-washed the mud away from her bruised face. With her face entirely cleansed from the muck, Collin leaned in to smell her, and even in her disheveled state; she smelled of heather and lavender to groan.

Hearing her whimper, he realized that she was about to wake up and quickly thought of getting rid of her. Looking around the small village that appeared somewhat prosperous with a few shops and building on both sides of the road. But what caught his attention was the smell, and a light shone through the transparent windows. Collin walked towards it, holding Irene as a baby weighing nothing, cradle to his bosoms. When he placed her by the store door, he took one last look at the girl with dreadful red hair, turned to walked away to feel someone grabbed his hand. Collin looked back and saw the reckless girl holding his hand, in a firm grip to search her face to see if her eyes were open.

But they were not.

With her eyes heavy laden with sleep and perhaps fear, feeling like a dream, Irene clutched onto the only thing that felt safe, yet sensed it was strange to her touch. Whatever she held, felt warm, giving her comfort that she did not want to let go. Yet a deep slumber was descending on her.

With her small hand slipping from his, Collin walked away without looking back, yet still felt the girls touch in his hand. It was the most intimate, human contact in such a very long time. Everyone saw what he looked like, for he was, a "beggar." If he was touched, it was a shove, or he was maltreated to move on. Never for any other reason, except now. To be stopped, because he was wanted was strange and foreign to him.

It made him think of a home, food, and loved ones around with a kind smile, word, and a warm hug. Nevertheless, he knew the unwise girl did not see him, nor knew whose hand she held so tightly. Thus, Collin had no qualms walking away without looking back, as her hand slipped from his forever.

In between consciousness, Irene thought the hand she held was sturdy and safe, but it had a severe dent on the left palm as it slipped away. As she drifted away to sleep, she heard muffled voices in her dream, "I'll be stepping out for . . ." It was Mr. Davison, the Baker, who was generous to give her and her brother Faylen leftovers of the meat pies on Sundays, with his quarrelsome wife, Petty. Irene always thought it was a strange name for a stout, plump Irish woman to be called, "Petty."

"Don't be out there too late. The rain is pouring ghastly hard." Even in her dreams, Irene knew those voices.

"Aye! I see that." Mr. Davison said mumbling to himself. As he opened his door, with a gust of wind slapping him in the face but took a bracing step forward, almost tripping over something. Looking down to see what nearly tripped him, "What the . . ." the Baker, said seeing a brown ball and wondered if it was a stray animal? At a closer look, he saw that it was not an animal, for the hair was messy and red. "I? Irene?" Mr. Davison stammered as he realized who was at his feet. "Irene Galway," he said, knowing she was the only child with the most unruly, red hair in the village. "Petty, Petty," he yelled out to his wife as he turned Irene over to see her clothes were torn and muddy, and she had a bruise on her cheek.

"What is it, man? You're letting the rain in the . . ." she said, pushing the door to close on him and Irene.

"Watch it, woman. Don't you see?" he barked at his wife while holding the door open.

Mrs. Petty looked at her husband with a frown, "What is . . . Is that young Irene?" she asked, looking at her husband kneeling to inspect the rumpled, dirty girl.

"What happened to her?"

"I don't know woman, but she's here now," he said, looking annoyed at his wife stupid question. "Maybe, you should fetch John." Mrs. Petty looked at her husband with one eyebrow, nearly touching her greying hairline as if he was mad. The mere thought of sending her in the rain, at that hour, to look for a man.

"Fine, I'll go, love," he said, going back for his coat to face the pouring rain, walking pass his wife as she struggled to carry Irene into their store. At that hour, John, Irene's father most likely would be in town for a pint, and that would be the first stop for him, Mr. Davison thought.

***

Cloaked in his new sleek grey coat, shiny black boot, and with his belly filled after raiding the stocked kitchen, Collin walked out the church and into yet another foolish girl visiting the church at that ungodly late hour. Collin thought that the girls of this village had no sense at all. Bending to aid the little girl, he saw it was a boy with striking beauty, brown shoulder-length hair, slim built about his age with grey eyes and luscious lips and . . .

Feeling odd as he stared at the boy, Collin shook his head from the trance the boy's beauty held on him. Without saying a word, he tried to walk around the strange boy who blocked his way when the boy grasps his coat, Collin swung around, hitting his jacket from the boy's grip. However, the fool was swift as he grabbed his left arm and felt an indent, in his palm. The pretty boy roughly turned it over, and before he could have gotten a good look, Collin pulled his hand away. Both boys stood staring at each other. Collin stared at the boy's beautiful face and the boy at his new coat and shiny boot that was three sizes bigger than his feet.

"Watch it you little . . ." Danny said as he looked up at Collin's piercing blue eyes, marred by red splotches. Danny stared at what he considered was the most handsome vagrant he ever saw in his life walking away with his coat hem dragging mud in its wake. Brushing aside what occurred, Danny pushed open the church doors but took one last look at the handsome vagrant.

Entering his haven, Danny felt the pull of joy just being where his love resides, the Saints, Angels, Jesus, and Mary. Walking through the aisle, he looked around with the euphoria of a child in a candy store spinning around, to then stop and look at the altar, which he noticed was one inch off its regular spot. "Father William, Father William," Danny shouted as he waited to see the priest come from some hidden corner as a spirit. For Danny, the priest was an evil spirit from his childhood memory; sometimes doing wicked things no child should face. But the priest was a friend of a lonely boy now. "William, it's me, Danny."

Concern over his friend's lack of reply, Danny knew there was only one place Father William would be, where he would not hear a soul calling him, so rushed off to find his friend. As Danny pushed Father William's bedroom door open, he stood shocked, staring at the floor. "Father?" Danny said as his legs began to work and crept slowly to rise over the priest. "Father, fa . . . Father?" dropping to his knees, Danny listened to the priest's heart and sat up, looking around the simple room that the priest maintained and wondered why he was naked and on the floor?

"Father William, it's Danny, boy." Touching father William's face, Danny snatched his hand away as if he were burnt. "You're, you're cold," Danny said, looking to light a fire in the small stove in the corner of the bleak, small living quarters. Searching for something to light the stove, Danny accidentally knocks the little table with the angel he so loved and saw it twirled. Standing still watching in slow motion as it spun, turned, and fell to thousands of beautiful pieces nicking his porcelain cheek. Looking down at the shattered angel, Danny turned to see Father William's peaceful naked body, hoping he would not be there, cold and lifeless.

Dropping to his knees again, Danny lifted the priest head, resting it on his lap looking down at father William's cold, dead eyes while his tears streamed down and dampened the priest's lifeless face.

"Will? Willy?" Danny sniffled, as he wiped his tears from the priest's face to smear something red all over father William's face. Staring at his hands, he saw that it was covered in blood. "William? Father?" Danny bellowed as he crawled back, hitting the cold stove. "I'll get you warm, don't you worry," Danny said as he took three steps to the bed and yanked a blanket off to cover the priest nakedness. Taking one last look of whom he considered a friend and a teacher, Danny kissed father William's cheeks and lips like a lover, whispering, "We'll find out who sent you home so soon. I promise. As God as my witness, I'll find him."

Danny never made a promise to anyone, for he knew the consequence of falling short on a pledge, also using God as a witness, he considered it a sin. For he never vowed such words to anyone alive, but when Danny made that promise to father William, he said it as a child turned into a 'man' by yet another tragedy.
Chapter One

Galway – Ireland 1839

Hands, Soft, Gentle, Warm Hands that no man can let go. Hands that can make a shack, into a home and tame a beast into a gentle being. I have dreamed of those hands for too long, wanting them to touch me again, to do as they pleased with me. Spurn me, hold me, and love me, but to just caress me. Even unto my death, if I were to be held by those hands.

"What the devil. Go on, get. Get out of here." Whack, whack, thud, and Collin was callously awoken from his nightmare, his mantra, his heart's desired dream that was his for twelve years. Turning, he opened his eyes to see a plump woman in a fancy frock that was ill-suited for the likes of the simple village that he was passing through. The only redeeming contrast to her dress, it held her body tightly, making her look well-fed and appealing. And with her black, midnight hair slightly loose as it fell from her bun around her surly, handsome face, holding a broom to swing at him.

"Who's your friend Martha?" Collin was saved from another wallop by three men passing, the woman they called Martha stopped inches away from Collin's face.

Ignoring the men snickering behind her, Martha shouted, "Get away from my shop, now you . . . you get."

As she swung her broom at Collin's body when, another man walked by and asked, "Is there a problem, Martha? Need any . . ." with her back to another passerby.

"No, I don't need . . ." Martha said, hitting Collin about his body again. "Now, shoo, be gone."

As Collin stood, Martha took a step away from her unwanted guest and looked back to see who was her last helper and forgot about Collin when she saw who the person was that offered her aid. "Oh, oh, Fay, Fay help me, please. He's not budging." Martha said, flashing a beguiling smile at the man. Collin stood and watched the play between Martha and the man she called Fay.

Being a tramp, Collin knew he was never welcomed anywhere, which gave him more time to observe the people around him. He saw what others would hide or lie. He would see a passed smile of a married woman to a single man who caught her eyes. Saw stolen kisses in the woods and much fornication in open places.

He saw life passed him by, just as he saw, the look this woman Martha gave this man Fay. She looked at him with a hero's worship and lust. She was in love with him, but the man Fay seemed clueless or just did not care about her feelings toward him.

"But, but you just . . ." Faylen said as he watched Martha tried her best to flutter her eyes as if something was in it.

"Please be a darling Faylen, my love." Martha crooned.

"You want him gone?" Faylen asked, and Martha smiled her answer to him. Shaking his head, Faylen regretted asking now. He knew he should have walked away as those men in front of him did, but he could never walk away from a damsel in distress, even if the damsel were plump Martha. Clearing his throat, "Come on with you, your best be on your way, go sleep somewhere else." Fay said, taking a step to Collin.

Collin knew his full height was nothing strange, but he learned a long time ago to hide what he had. His frame was always slim, but his height made people look at him as if he was an oddity. At six feet five, hunching was an added disguise to hide his stature and face. There, were times the way he looked would cause people to shun him, but his height made fear shine in a stranger's eyes, that always brought trouble his way. However, as Collin stood his full height, Fay took a step back looking intimidated by Collin's physique, compelling him to step back from him also.

"Fay, come on, John's waiting." Someone shouted as Faylen looked at the end of the small village, on top of a hill. Collin looked at how the parish grew in the twelve years since he was there. It was still undersized, compared to the places he had seen and been. There were a few more shops; the streets were clean and dry with one-sided pavement that had trees making it look prosperous to entice anyone who wanted to set up a shop and live.

Faylen waved to the person who shouted at him, turning his back on Collin and yelled back, "I'm coming." Collin tried to move out the way, making Martha grab Faylen for protection, thinking he wanted to harm her.

"Fay, don't leave me." Martha shrieked when Collin took a step away from her shop.

Faylen looked at Martha as she grabbed his arm, yanking him closer to her bosom. He did not mind the closeness of her sweet breasts, but the rest of her made him want to leave in a hurry. "Come on, be off with your now," Faylen said, waiting to make sure Collin moved on.

"Fay." The person hollered at him again. This time, Faylen ran to meet the person leaving Martha with her bosom and broom raised to defend herself against Collin. Collin watched as Faylen ran to meet who was calling him and saw "HER," when . . . Whack, whack, and bang Collin felt in his head. Collin saw the broom was coming at his face again and grabbed it from Martha as he took a step away from her shop and her.

It was "HER," the reckless, foolish girl with awful, flaming hair. She was taller with that same red hair but much longer. Collin could not take his eyes off her; he'd dream of her for so long and now to see how she transformed from that short little girl into a . . . A WOMAN. Even from that distance, he could make out her waist, hips, and chest. She had breast, and they looked like it could fill his scarred, worn hands. And as his eyes continued to devour her steps, Collin noticed her clothes were simple as it hugged her curves.

She was not starved, with bones protruding from her skin, yet she was a perfect match to fit him and prayed to God, that she could be a part of his life. Staring at her, he knew she was the WOMAN for him, Collin knew it was her. He found the hand that would make him into a . . . What! Staring at her as she went out of sight, he wondered what powers her hand could hold, to create a new being out of him.

God knew what Collin wanted from her. He knew what he was for years would not change. All attempts to be other than what he was, failed. Thus, Collin gave up trying to improve on what was. Nevertheless, he could not give up on that hand that held him. If he were to die with those hands holding him, he would perish a happy tramp.
Chapter Two

Irene waited, watching Faylen make his slow approach to her. He was the oldest, but she looked at him as if he was a child. Irene saw everyone as a child to her. Why? She never knew, but always felt more mature than everyone else who she knew.

"What was your doing?" Irene asked Faylen while he took his time walking towards her. He stopped and looked back at Martha, shouting at the tramp staring at them. Irene turned to see what Faylen was gazing at and saw Martha screaming at someone with a broom in their hands.

"Who's that?" Irene asked when she saw the stranger staring at them, but somehow she felt his eyes on her.

"Don't know; some vagrant," Faylen said slapping Irene's backside making her scream, to jump on his back and swing her around. "Come on."

Collin stared at Faylen and the awful red hair woman play, walking away when he felt a hard kick to his rear. "Get out of here and give me . . ." Collin turned back slowly to Martha, who took a step back, clutching her blouse. "Danny, Danny," Martha shouted as she ran into her shop. Collin turned back to get a last glimpse of the hot red hair woman, no longer a girl, and took a step to leave when he heard.

"The broom." Collin stopped and turned around when he saw that face, those eyes, and lips. He was much older and handsome with a deadly cold feel radiating off him.

Danny looked at the tramp from head to toe sizing him up, when suddenly Collin heard Irene's laughter through the wind and tried to locate its direction. "Give her . . . back . . . her broom, tramp, and be on your way." Fearless, Collin turned and looked at Danny when Martha ran and hid behind the man's back. Danny took a step closer to Collin, as Martha tried pulling her only family away from the tall, smelly tramp.

"Danny no," Martha whispered to her brother as he took a step closer to Collin, hiding a knife cleverly in his shirtsleeve.

"I said, give her back the broom," he demanded, taking another step to Collin.

Watching the knife and hearing the redhead girl laughter in his head, Collin turned and dropped Martha's sweeper, to follow the mellifluous mirth.

Amazed that the tramp obeyed her brother, Martha ran for her broom as Danny hid his knife in his shirtsleeve. His handy dagger was something he never wanted Martha to know he had, as he was always prepared, for anything that came his way.

Martha marveled at her very handsome brother's luck. When he asked or wanted anything, he got it. She loved her brother as a father figure. He always protected her from the evil things, others might try to do and say to her as a girl and even now as a woman. She looked at him as if he was her angel on earth, handsome, powerful, and fierce to lead.

How Martha had wished her brother would say, "We're moving on to a bigger city," or "Even to just move anywhere." She never thought that when they got older, they would still be in the very same village they grew up in, even after their parents' died. No, but here she was at twenty-two, alone save for her brother who looked content just to stay as is.

Danny had all the village girls at a loss, trying to capture his attention and even those who passed through their small, dreary hamlet for some reason. Thus far, he stayed aloof to the smiles, winks, and whispers. She knew he had a passion in him from a child, but it died some years back, making him cold to anyone, but her. For Martha, the only reason to stay in the village, the one thing that tied her to it was Faylen Galway. She knew he was impoverished somewhat. Maybe not dirt poor, and he was not as handsome as her brother, but he did things to her, that he did not even know. However, if she stayed one more year, she would have him. Martha had a solid, bold plan on how to gain her man.

"Martha." Shaking herself from her desires, she turned to see her brother staring at the tramp and remember how the tramp smelled like death came to her door. So ran and bought water to scrub the front of the shop to free it from the tramp's perfume. "Go inside Martha," Danny said while Martha scoured her shop doorway with vigor.

"What?" Martha asked as she scoured breathlessly.

"I told you to go inside." Martha stopped to catch a glimpse on Danny's face as if he saw a ghost.

"Why? What's the matter?" waiting for an answer, Danny gave his sister, "The Look." Martha knew that look and knew not to question her brother when it came to his command to do as he said. Angry, Martha kicked the broom aside and slammed the shop's door rattling its glass panes while Danny turned back and looked where the tramp with sharp blues eyes wandered off.
Chapter Three

With every breath, Collin took, it was a step towards a new life. A new existence perhaps . . . He didn't know what sort of life for sure, but every step he made gave him the energy to see what lie ahead. With one thought in mind, hoping he was heading in the right direction, towards her, the girl with awful wild hair.

Hungry and tired, Collin stopped, looked around, to realize that he was the only person in the Moors for miles. Everywhere he turned, all he saw was green with sprinkles of Heather threw for hue. It was a tasked to look above him because of his weak state, but still taking a chance, Collin gazed at the sky, and heaven beckoned him to come. "No" was all he could have whispered, he would not give up his last breath until he saw her again.

But where the hell could she be? Collin wondered, feeling lost. Then he heard her laughter a few stolen breaths away; he knew she was close at hand. Collin believed if he were to die in the Moors, that he would be closer to her than the years apart. Just thinking made him tired. With his eyes drooping from exhaustion and hunger, his feet started to drag, bruising on the rugged land, feeling numb from all the pain.

With a deep breath, thanking God as he came upon the only tree in the forsaken Moors, Collin's eyes began to close. As he took refuge in the tree's body, leaning into it with all his weight and within a second, he realized his mistake. To give up on his search to lean on anything now would mean his energy was spent, as his eyes began to close slowly. His breath became shallow, and his sight blurry. Taking a step away from the tree, Collin glimpsed the tree root that was covered in moss. To realize he was falling like a rag doll as he hit the moss-covered tree root slowly. Collin heard a crack, to feel something wet trickle down his head and onto the old tree foot.

Blinking slowly, Collin heard something approaching him hoping the last thing to grace his sight would be her, only to see a sheep staring at him with a vacant stare of his kind. Closing his eyes he gave up, he knew when his eyes closed, this time, he would not open them again. But maybe, just maybe he would open his eyes again and see heaven.

"Father Lord, these sheep are dumb and stubborn. Move it." Faylen shouted as he tried to make his way to Irene, who was standing staring at their only tree that was called 'Granny Tree,' because of the story of how their granny met grandpa Kel who slept there.

Throughout the generations, the story was told of how granny, Ellen was sent to tend the sheep with her brothers and came upon a man, sleeping sitting down with a leaf in his mouth while petting one of their sheep. Granny snatched the sheep from him, kicked him in his side, and yelled, "You thieving dog." To run off and fetch her brothers. Upon returning, granny found the stranger rubbing his flank with yet another sheep petting it. With her brothers around her, granny waited for them to do something like take the sheep away from the stranger and beat his ass to a pulp and kicked him off their land, but they just stood and looked at him stroking their sheep. "The sick bastard," she thought.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" she shouted at her brothers as they watched the stranger. "Don't you see he's trespassing and thieving our sheep? Get rid of him." Granny shouted at her brothers, who just stood there, staring at the stranger.

Tired of waiting for her lame brothers to do something, she took a step to the stranger, but her oldest brother Shamus grabbed her hand, stopping her. "He's no thief sister. He owns the lands we farm on." Her brother told her. Knowing that they did not own the lands, they farmed on, irked granny to her gut.

Yanking her hand free, she turned to her brother, "That don't mean he has the right to . . ."

"I was resting my eyes, and your sheep came to me, that is . . ." The stranger was saying as he looked at her, and that was it. The stranger and granny were wed three weeks later, and because of that first encounter, it seemed like all Galway's were destined to meet their helpmate under the tree. For it was called, "Granny Tree." Irene never met that granny for she was dead over a hundred years plus.

Therefore, when Irene came upon someone under her Granny Tree, she was shocked and frightened. "Fay, Faylen," Irene called her brother as he came upon her staring at something.

"What is it, girl?" Faylen asked, knocking into her, tripping over a sheep falling next to a pair of dirty feet. "What the fuck . . ." Faylen said as he scrambled to his feet, looking at the whole body that was connected to the dirty ones.

"Where'd he come from?" Irene asked feeling strange staring at God knows what it was, but for the life of her, she could not take her eyes off it.

Faylen looked at its face and recognized the stranger. "The village."

Irene looked at her brother and asked, "You know him?"

"I chased him from Martha's shop."

"He followed you then?" laughing to herself, she didn't know why the tramp would follow her lousy brother. "You think he's smitten with your?"

"HA, HA, HA" Faylen laughed mockingly at his sister. "You think he came looking for you?" Irene asked again more seriously.

"Don't know," Faylen answered, feeling odd with the thought of someone like that following him. As Faylen continued to stare at the tramp, he noticed something red on the tree root, too look around and find a stick to touch the red spot. It was blood. Taking a closer look, Faylen found the tramp bleeding from his head, but his eyes were open, startling Faylen to fall on his ass hard.

"Oh! Fucking hell, Fay the sheep." Irene yelled as she ran to herd the few wandering sheep they were supposed to be watching.

"What about him? He looks like death caught him with his eyes open." Faylen said, watching the tramp while Irene ran after the sheep. "Maybe we should . . ."

"Na, just leave him be. Let's get the rest of them home before we lose any." Irene said, trying to shove the sheep to their home.

"But . . ." Faylen whispered, feeling uncomfortable leaving the tramp under their Granny Tree.

"Fay," Irene shouted as a few sheep decided to deviate, going closer to the cliffs. "Leave him, be you damn fool before pa takes to your." Even at his age of twenty-eight, Faylen knew their father had and made no qualms in beating Faylen for any foolishness that he had and would do, and most of his beatings were due to his own damn stubborn laziness.

Walking away to follow his sister's advice, Faylen took one last look at the dead man under their Granny Tree and followed Irene to gather all the stray sheep. Irene looked at her brother and noticed, his tired worn-out face, then a last look at the strange thing that was under Granny's Tree. Staring at him, Irene felt peculiar, like something was happening to her just by staring him, something lovely and severe all at the same time. She was never one way or the other, she was defined by her ability to make a decision forthwith and right, almost all the time. That was part of who made Irene Galway "I."
Chapter Four

Being the only woman in the house since her mother's death years ago, made Irene responsible for everything in their home, from cleaning to cooking to mending. Making her feel like a mother, or a maid would have done, that she did. It was not demanded by her father to take the reign of a maid, but Irene saw how her father struggled to take care of her and her brother, but mostly her brother for his willfulness. Irene took pity and started to clean one day out of the bloom, shouting at her men to keep "HER" house clean when she made it spotless at a tender age of seven.

The house was simple; a kitchen with a small wooden counter and sink, a wooden table with four chairs that needed some mending, a wooden bench, and an individual chair that was their mothers. Made by their father, in which Irene claimed was hers, and two large windows; simple. That was just downstairs.

John, Irene's, and Faylen's father sat looking at his daughter arranged their simple meal of lamb stew and vegetables with a jug of milk. Faylen was always helpful when it came to supper, moving the candle from the middle of the table while Irene placed a steaming bowl before them.

Hungry as hell, John dived into the stew and ate while Irene watched him make a mess. Faylen waited for Irene to take her meal and did the same as their father, making a mess while dishing out his own supper.

"For Christ's sake, can you two not make a mess while taking out your food?" John and Faylen smiled, just waiting to hear Irene say what she said.

"I, you know we'll clean up our mess. It's not like . . ." John was saying when Irene cut him off by giving him her "look."

"You might, but he won't," Irene said nodding at her brother.

"I clean up after myself I," Faylen replied with his mouth filled with food, spitting out on the table.

"Gad, Fay," Irene shouted at him. "How much time must I say, don't talk with your mouth filled with food. You're disgusting, that what you are. Shut your bloody mouth, eat and swallow then talk."

With the words Irene spoke, the table fell silent, making her feel sour for scolding her brother for being who he was. Ashamed for scolding Faylen for his constant mess, his sister watched as he swallowed slowly with his mouth clamped shut.

Wiping his mouth, with another spoon inches to his mouth, asked, "You think he's still there?"

"Don't know, and don't care." Faylen looked at his sister and knew she didn't mean a single word she said. Sighing, Irene looked at her brother who thought he knew her better than their father. "Who knows? He's either dead or gone."

Almost making the same mistake as Faylen, John swallowed then looked at his daughter. "Who's out there? What you're talking about?" Faylen waited for Irene to answer their father, seeing that John was staring at his sister, but Irene could ignore any and everyone with exceptional ease.

"Some tramp from the village, under Granny Tree," Faylen said, filling his mouth again.

"And you're left him there?" John asked, raising his voice to both his children. "Have your mother nor I taught your nothing?" Faylen and Irene looked at each other, feeling shame that they were taught and knew better but still choose to leave the strange man in the Moors, under their Granny Tree.

"Go see if he's out there," John said, looking at his children. "I don't need no more dead spirits on my land." Faylen and Irene looked at each other waiting for something or someone to move. "Go on," John shouted at both his children.

"But I'm hungry, and he looked . . ." Faylen was saying with a spoonful of stew inches away from his mouth.

"GO," John shouted, slamming his fist on the threadbare, table, making Irene and Faylen jump, dropping their spoons, and scrambling for the front door.

Knowing where their Granny Tree was located saved them time searching for the tramp and by how he appeared, he was not going anywhere. However, it could have been a blessing for Irene and Faylen, to go back home and tell their father the tramp had moved on.

Faylen stood over the vagrant swinging his lamp they snatched from the barn, shining it over the tramp's face. "But he looks dead," Irene said, staring at him, "Why can't we just bury him?" Faylen took a closer look at the tramp and saw that his eyes were closed and saw no sign of breathing. Never one to heap up more crosses on him as to bury a living man, Faylen needed to make sure as he took a step closer to the man's still body.

"Gad, what you're doing?" Irene asked, watching her brother creep closer to the filthy, smelly man, which she could smell a foot away.

"He's not dead. We'll take him home." Faylen said, backing away from him, rubbing his nose from the tramp's scent. "He's not gone, but smells like death all right," Faylen said, resting the lamp by Irene's feet as he struggled to lift the tramp onto his shoulder. "I'd have to throw away these clothes when I'm done with him," Faylen stated, struggling with the weight on his shoulder with Irene walking behind swinging the lamp.

"We'll leave him in the barn," Irene said as she held the lamp closer to the tramp's face and thought she saw his eyes open. "What the . . ." She whispered to herself, feeling that same curious emotion at the sight of the stranger, which became their barn guest.

***

Irene looked on as Faylen rest the tramp like a baby in an empty stall with hay, thinking something must be wrong with her brother to treat a stranger so gentle and kind. For the brother she knew was a "roughneck" like her uncles and cousins, sometimes rowdy. So why was he treating this man, this thing, with kindness and gentleness he rarely even showed her?

Leaning against the stall, Irene watched as her brother stepped back to inspect his new "pet," it galled the depth of her bowel to bring a Perfect Stranger Home. Shaking her head and grinding her jaw, would not change what happened and will happen. She knew it in her gut that this thing they brought home was going to change the Galway's, whether they liked it or not.

"You think he's mad?" Faylen asked, leaning over and inspecting the tramp's head, turning it side to side interrupting Irene's train of thought. "I mean, look at him, almost naked in the countryside as one of the characters in Martha's books." Irene looked at her brother and wondered how he knew what sort of books Martha read. Shaking her head and with a frown on her brow, Irene saw only trouble in the tramp. Someone to clean and cook for, until John saw fit to kick his loafing ass off their lands, and another person to take care of.

While watching the tramp, something caught Irene's eyes, making her take a deep breath. In all his filth, Irene saw a human that could be handsome under all that muck. He was tall when Faylen picked him up, and he had broad shoulders. Those were the only thing that made him human in her eyes. Curious, Irene wanted to see more, so strolled towards him, stooped down staring at the tramp's face, and pulled his bottom lip to look at his teeth, making Faylen slap her hand away. Irene was utterly amazed, for the tramp had teeth whiter than hers. Thinking it was a mistake by the lamplight, Irene pulled his lip down again and saw that his teeth were indeed whiter than hers gaining another slap from Faylen.

Rubbing her hand from Faylen's forceful slap, Irene turned to take a bite out of her brother, but Faylen cut her off asking, "Maybe we should have carried him . . ."

"I'm not moving him again." Irene jumped up and said with her hands on her hips.

Frowning by his sister outburst, "You? You? You didn't move him in the first place, I did."

"But I, I . . ." Irene was saying.

"You did nothing," Faylen said, cutting Irene from her irate speech.

"Fay, Fay," John shouted from the house, making Faylen, groan.

"What now?" Faylen asked as he walked towards the barn exit to see what his father wanted. "Your lucky ma made you a girl, or he'd be calling you all the time too," Faylen said, stopping by the barn door with Irene smiling to herself at Faylen's honest comment.

Still, with a dumb smile on her face at her brother's barb for being a girl, "Best see what he wants." Irene replied, turning her back on her brother, staring at their new barn guest.

Concerned, Faylen asked, "Want me to . . ." Irene shook her head for her answer before he could finish his question. She watched Faylen walk out, leaving her alone as she waited until she heard John's and Faylen's voices fade away, and gave her full attention to their barn guest.

As Irene made her way from the shed to her bedroom, she sat on her simple feathered bed and pillow, with a pink and blue duvet that was her mothers. Looking at her room, where a bed, a chair, and a wardrobe with a small window total for her quarters. It was enough for her, but from the moment she walked away from the tramp sleeping in the barn it felt like a palace compared to how she left him; uncovered, cold, with no light, dirty and definitely hungry.

There were times she knew she lacked the maternal instinct never having a woman around, but that did stop her from caring for her father and brother. Nevertheless, she felt "IT" needed a good bath, to make him look human, but something nagged at her. Irene knew if she crossed that line to care for the stranger, it would all fall on her shoulders soon.

***

John sat on his bed wearing his most comfortable longjohns, covered with his late wife's pink quilt from his waist, and his ledger on his lap to review the month's take on the farm. The night was the only time he felt relaxed and at peace, when he knew his children were in their beds tucked away. He also knew the time will come when he would be alone in the house with only memories of them as they tend to their own family. His bedroom was simple as Irene's; a bed, a chair, a wardrobe, but a larger window, and a nightstand where his candle stood to do paperwork.

From John's bedroom, he could hear everything that went on in their tiny home. However, feeling tired, John decided to close up for the night when he heard Irene's bedroom door open. He thought that she was going for something to eat, but when he heard the front door slammed, that made him jumped from his bed and saw Irene with a lamp heading for the barn through his window.

Forgetting he was in his undies, he jumped from his bed, ran downstairs, and into Faylen, "Flipping hell Fay." John shouted at his son, who looked like him in his undies also. Both father and son stared at each for a second, then, ran outside, worried for Irene's safety as she went out in the chilly night where the tramp slept.

Irene knelt next to the tramp, feeling sorry for him unexpectedly. Something drew her to him. If he were handsome, she could not rightly tell by the grimy state he was in. No, but her heart went out to him for what he might have been through in his life, to reach this state. Maybe it was just pity. With her eyes closed, Irene could not pinpoint why she wanted, no, needed to help him. She seldom spoke to the boys in her village, for she thought they all were beneath her. Sex-starved hoyden they all were. Yet the tramp pulled a cord from her lonely heart, and when he was restored, she would know why she needed to see him on his feet and well.

"Fucking hell," Irene grumbled, with a scowl marring her handsome face. What in heaven's name was she thinking about restoring him as she began to pace staring at the tramp with her hand feeling cold and her heartwarming to him? "I must be going mad or daft." Irene laughed to herself. God knew, she had a soft heart she protected ever since she was twelve, for what happened in the church, but to feel this connection with a complete stranger, Irene could not understand.

"I, I, Irene." Irene heard her father and Faylen yelling her name as if she was lost and not in the yard. As she turned around, she saw her father holding his heart, breathless from the small distance it took to cross from the house to the barn. "What the devil is wrong with you?" John took a deep breath and yelled at her, angry as hell, staring at his only daughter with relief. "What you're doing, going off like that in the night? And why come here to see him?"

Faylen just stood there staring at his sister thanking God nothing happened to her for her foolish curiosity. He knew how his little sister's mind worked and the kind of trouble she can stumble into from her naïve prying.

Irene stood moving out the way for John and Faylen to see the tramp looking dead. "Is, is . . . is he dead I?" John asked, taking a step to him, seeing him for the first time since his children brought him home.

Shaking her head, "No, not yet." Irene answered as she looked at her father, staring at her. "What?"

"You're not leaving him here?" her father asked.

Irene looked at her father and knowing what he was thinking, it was a silly question to ask. "And what would you have me do? You want him in the house now?" Irene asked, taking a step back from her father and the tramp. Scratching his chin, John looked at the beggar and saw a sorry, sad boy on his luck, to turn and watch Faylen and Irene, who were waiting for him to say something more.

"You can't just leave him out here. I don't want a dead spirit under Granny Tree, far less one in me the barn."

Knowing where her father was heading, Irene latched her hands on her hips, "So you'd rather a dead spirit in your house then?" Irene asked, raising her voice. "He'll stay right where he is," taking one last look at the tramp before storming out the barn. God help her, Irene felt relief that she did not have to beg or ask to tend to him in the house.

John and Faylen both staring at each other wondering what got into her when she looked so concerned that the tramp was out there cold and alone. She was the one who came looking for him, now she was refusing to house and help him.
Chapter Five

John and Faylen looked at the tramp resting on the floor by Irene's window, curled up in a ball, and Irene staring at them from her bed. "Are your right in your heads? In my room?"

"It's just for the night I. Give him a good clean up and feed him," John said, looking at his daughter who was now calm rather than angry.

"Why not put him in Fay's room?" Irene asked, not hearing a word John said.

"Because you're a woman, and a good one at that," John replied, smiling as he glanced at his son, who was not saying a thing the entire time. "I can't look after him I." John finally said with what sounded like remorse in his voice.

Reaching her boiling point with her face turning red, and hands-on-hips again, "And I can?" Irene shouted.

"I, be reasonable." John pleaded with his daughter. Irene stood over the curious tramp, knowing all her raised voice and arguing, she would do it, she didn't know why, but she would see to this person wellbeing.

And she did. Irene stood over the tramp, shaking her head as she struggled to sit him up. Kneeling in front of him, she looked back to see John and Faylen sitting outside her open bedroom door, thinking that they at least cared for her safety to stay close by.

Struggling as she sat the tramp up, only to have him slumped with his matted head to his chest. Irene tried to pull his shirt off and got a whiff of his stench, which made her gag and cough. Not wanting to try again, Irene yanked until his shirt ripped apart in her hands, making her fall hard on the wooden floor. Sighing, she stood and looked at him and knew she had a lot of work to do, so gathered, all that she needed, a bucket of water, rags, and soap as she watched him lying on the floor after her fight with his shirt.

While trying to remove his trousers, if you can call it that. It had more holes than any pants her men had owned, and she knew his clothes were useless, which could not be used to wipe the mud off their feet.

When Irene finally pulled away his trousers, he had not a stitch of clothes below it; he was naked. Irene stood looking at him lying on her bedroom floor in awe. He was a mess, matted hair, dirty face, dirty hands, and dirty feet all to his thigh, but he was clean with milky white skin under his filthy trousers. How was that possible?

As Irene continued to stare at the tramp, she remembered she saw her brother's private once by mistake in the outhouse. Because she had a hot pee and could not have waited and rushed in to see his trousers down. She was yelled and shoved out with such offensive "cuss words," that ever came out her brother's mouth. And she heard many nasty words living with her father and brother. Yet this tramp was beyond her brother's scope. He was "A MAN BELOW."

"Lord." Was all Irene could say with a deep blush forming on her cheek that spread right down to her womanly region. As she bent and looked him over, it made no sense she felt these stirrings for a perfect stranger that would be leaving her . . . Irene took a step back, "Me?" she whispered to herself.

How in heaven's name did he become, connected to her? Why did she have a sad foreboding feeling at the thought of him leaving her, and not the shelter, and food her father was offering. Why did she not fear that the tramp would harm her father and brother's life, or hers when he was well and about? It made no sense, but she would find out why.

Putting aside how she felt, Irene got to work by wetting and soaping her cloth to wipe away the dense layer of grime from his face, and as she did, she stopped again. He was . . . "Handsome." Irene heard herself whispered aloud.

"Aye!" John said, smiling to himself at his daughter's assessment of the stranger's looks. "Don't go and fall in love with him now I," John said standing over his daughter, "I'd hate to lose you to this boy and not a man with some stock and root to make you're a proper home."

Annoyed that her father caught her ogling at the stranger, Irene did the only thing to save face, she "snorted loudly," then continued to clean the stranger with such vigor, it looked like she was hurting him.

Forgetting her father was there, Irene finished wiping away the grime and dirt off the stranger in no time, never noticing her father left, returning to his vigil by her open bedroom door with her brother. When Irene was satisfied that his face was clean-shaven, she took a step back to admire her handy work. He seemed like a human instantly, even though his whole body was an uneven tone, but he looked handsome and scrubbed.

His nose was straight and a set jaw with a shade of pink lips that she never saw any man had and thick eyebrows that needed to brush neatly. He was handsome, but what drew him to Irene, was his lips. Blushing, she would forever wonder how they would taste if they had a taste?

He had no hairs on his torso except for his privates and the ras he had on his head. Irene stared at the jet-black forest in front of her with a thick, long, wooden pole that was limp. Beyond her own reasoning, she could not take her eyes off it. To describe his male appendage for a simple word was "Magnificent."

To look at his penis with its thick, pink head like his lips. Feeling bold, Irene held its head with her thumb and index rubbing the smooth surface, to feel it moved. Fearing she did something wrong, she dropped his penis, and it hit the floor with the sound, "plack" to stare at it again. With a blush from her chest to her cheek, Irene dived into her job.

Holding it in her hands again, she felt it jerk as though it came to life with a mind of its own. Staring at it made her feel curious about how it worked, but hearing her brother talk in his sleep, drove away all thoughts of how it worked and continued to clean it and move on.

The last stop for Irene was his matted hair. She knew there had to be things that were living in his hair, and she was not looking forward to putting her hands there, nor taking the treasured comb that her mother gave her to comb out his awful ras. It was out of the question, so there was only one alternative, cut it off. In which she did in record time. Typically, it took her five to ten minutes to cut her father or brother's hair while listening to their bitching and whining, but with an unconscious person, it was much stress-free.

Taking a deep breath, Irene stepped back and looked at the tramp with his ras cut. She noticed that the hair on his head was black with a hint of brown, and wavy, closer to his scalp, making him look like a gentleman with his short hair.

He was clean but naked, and the exposed part made her smile, for it was the first time a naked man was in her bedroom, and now she would have to hide his beauty with clothes. What a shame Irene thought for he was rather striking and virile, and perchance she'll never see or meet someone that looked like him ever again.

As Irene raised his light frame to dress him in the clothes she borrowed from her brother, she spoke aloud, one of her flaws she prayed could change and said, "I wish I knew your name." When unexpectedly she heard, someone replied, "Collin."

Irene stopped and looked the stranger in his face and saw the bluest eyes she had ever seen staring at her, and dropped him hard on her wooden floor backing away from him. She must have thought she heard wrong. He did not, could not have . . . he was . . . he was attractive and with a voice that made her insides quiver just by hearing him. Fucking hell, Irene thought something was wrong with him, for it could not be her. She was never a drama queen, nor did she hear things. She was Irene, fucking Galway for heaven's sake, a stone of sense, of reason, and what was bloody real.
Chapter Six

Irene left him half-clothed on her floor and went to bed while John and Faylen, were sound asleep at her open bedroom door. Pulling her covers to her chin with her eyes closed, Irene saw his eyes and heard his voice. "Collin," Irene whispered. He had a name now. It was no longer the tramp, the stranger, the thing, but Collin. He had a name with a voice that made her insides tremor for something, and he was handsome, yet there was something conversant about him, and she needed to know why.

Wasting no time, Irene flung off her covers and trudged over to inspect her handy work, thinking he was sleeping, but he was not. Turning him over roughly, Irene looked into his eyes and saw those blue eyes with red blotches around his white, staring at her. It meant nothing to her but beautiful, peculiar eyes. She flipped his right hand over and saw nothing extraordinary, but when she turned his left, she saw it.

Taking a deep breath with a heavy sigh, it all came back to her, "that night." That horrible night she learned not to be a hardened child, daughter, or sister. That night taught her not to be too disobedient, and to curve her curiosity that almost took away her innocence, and Collin was her only living proof of her persistent self. He was a God sent that night. Nevertheless, what was he doing here twelve years later? Irene wondered. Did he come looking for her, and why now? Irene pondered as she went back to her own bed.

***

He was alive as someone was caring for him and wondered who was tending to him so gently. His eyes felt weighed down with exhaustion, but he wanted to see who was holding him so tender and intimately that it felt so right, and when he opened his eyes, Collin saw her face. She looked like an angel, with a smile on her sweet lips while holding and cleaning his private, the girl with the awful red hair. When he felt her touch on him, Collin believed he was dreaming, but now he was in heaven as his eyes saw her beautiful face. The hand that held him so many years ago was caring for him.

She was much older with her hair tamer in an effervescent shade of red. Her button nose was adorable with pronounced cheekbones and a few freckles that were scattered. Collin thought her green eyes sparkled differently whenever light shone on it. She was beautiful in his eyes. Her pure beauty made him want to touch her face, but was too weak even to raise his hand, but when the question was asked, "What was his name?" The word came out of its free will, and Collin knew it was a mistake to say anything when she looked at him in shock. For the look on her face told him he had frightened ten years off her.

She backed away from him, like he was a leper, dove into her bed and covered herself to hide from his gaze. But it did not work. Collin could not take his eyes from her. She was the purpose he was there, she was the reason he lived so long wondering if she remained in the village? And Collin believed, he would give his last breath to have her hands on him and he would die, happy man.

***

Lying in her bed, Irene felt those blue eyes on her. She knew he was awake but too weak to do anything to her. Not only was he too exhausted, but Irene had the protection of her father and brother. Coupled with, if she got out of bed, he would be staring at her with those deep, sad, beautiful eyes and could not deny him anything. For years, Irene wondered who and what happened to the person who saved her, for it was not by her will, that made her escaped that sick bastard of a priest. Yet somehow as she laid in her bed knowing it was him, she would not fail to take the opportunity to find out why did he come back after all these years and thank him for his help.

Sitting up in bed, Irene looked at her brother and father, sound asleep by her bedroom door, turned, and sure enough, Collin was staring at her. She did as her father asked her to do for him. Irene cleaned him, but yet to feed him. So she tipped toed around her men and brought back a light supper for him. He was too spent to chew; thus, Irene spoon-fed him a light soup with a cup of water. Whenever he opened his mouth, it seemed like he desired to say something, but he remained silent. She wanted to ask him so many questions but held back also.

Collin could not stop himself from staring at her graceful beauty with her semi-large green eyes, and her full lips, which made Collin want to nibble on to feel their texture and flavor. She was beautiful, and would make an excellent mother and caring wife, "Wife?" he did not know where that thought came from, but if he were given the slightest chance to make her his, he would do it, and thank God till his dying days.

With his last spoon, Irene leaned back on her heels, watching him gain a little strength and waited.

"Why are you here?" Irene whispered.

Collin just gazed at her.

"What do you want?"

He just looked at her.

With nothing more to ask, for now, Irene said, "Thank you." and helped him lay back down on his make-shift bed, covering him with her blanket, and went to her bed.

There was more to ask, but nothing would come out of him that night. She thought maybe he did not recognize her, or he did not remember that hateful evening, which was something significant to her. As sleep caught up with her, Irene meditations were only of Collin's return and what did it mean to her and him.
Chapter Seven

Irene felt she was floating, but she was not. She laid on a soft bed cocooned in strong arms as a warm breath whispered, "I love you." Nestled by her neck, soft lips pressed against her skin, and those strong, gentle arms squeezed her tighter, but in a compassionate way, making her feel protected and loved. She smiled to herself knowing whose arms she was. It was Collin's. To her, he would make and keep her safe. Knowing that Irene turned to look at him, but saw the wicked gleam of those eyes that haunted her years ago. Ensnaring her with his cold and thin lips, inches from her chilled ones.

"Father," Irene mumbled, pushing her hand in the sick priest's face. It was the same nightmare she had for twelve years, that her father and brother knew nothing about. Save her vision was mingled with a touch of joy at his return. Fighting back in her dream, Irene fell off her bed, hitting her elbow on the cold wooden floor croaking, "Fucking hell."

While rubbing her elbow, she heard, "It's raining."

Irene turned and saw Collin wrapped in her blanket she gave him looking out to see that it was indeed raining. She sat on her bed to see that the height and breadth of his body, hid most of the window's view. "Aye, it's Ireland. It rains often." She said, turning to see if her men were still posted by her door, and they were.

Feeling a crick in her neck from her night rest, Irene closed her eyes, trying to massage her neck. Tightly twined from her last dream that was bittersweet, it was the most frustrating night she ever had in years. And when she opened her eyes again, Collin's gaze was pinned on her like an owl waiting for his prey to move.

"I, you've done a good job," John said, standing in her bedroom, beaming at his daughter's handy work by the living drifter. "He looks alive and ready to be off." Panicked, by her father voicing he was set to kick Collin off their land.

Irene said the first thing that popped into her head. "I, I don't think he's able to be off on his own just yet." Irene knew just by uttering those words was the wrong thing to say after her behavior last night.

With his eyebrow raised, John asked, "Why is that Irene?"

With no plausible answer that could ward off any more questions. Irene gave her father a reply that would never be questioned. "Just a feeling," and that was it. Ever since Irene could remember when she had "a feeling," a strong sense of anything, it was to benefit her family and those around her. So her feelings were never catechized on any topic.

John shrugged his shoulders and walked away, leaving Faylen to watch his sister with the tramp in her bedroom. Irene looked at her brother waiting for him to start with her, but he remained silent as last night. Faylen turned to walk off when Irene grabbed his arm. "Fay . . ." both sister and brother stared at each other, with Irene waiting for him to say or do something. But he just shook his head and walked off, leaving her with Collin.

Irene did not know what to do again. She was undeniably confused by his return and wanted some air. So ran out of her bedroom, leaving Collin there alone. There was nothing of importance to steal from her room, save her mother's silver hairbrush, and comb set. Rushing downstairs, Irene passed her father and brother waiting at their small kitchen table for breakfast. She knew her day always started with feeding, the lot of them. However, Irene was in no mood to be around any male, whether it be kin or fool. With her hand on the front door, she heard . . .

"I," and that was all it took for Irene to stop and look at her father. The man could see her better than a mirror. It was maddening he truly knew her inside out. Sighing heavily, Irene turned and went to do, what they were waiting for. And by the time she was finished making their breakfast, she dropped her weary body to eat with them, while listening for any noise that would come from upstairs.

"Is he coming down?" Faylen asked his first question, that was answered when they heard footsteps, to then see a shadow cast from the stairs candlelight. Irene knew he was close by. Spending one night in his company, she felt his presence as a flame to her skin, even with her back to Collin.

John looked at the tramp's shadow, and said, "Don't be frighten boy, come down and break your fast with us."

John and Faylen waited to see if he heard them, but he just remained on the steps waiting. Irene knew her father and avoided his stare. With a small smile forming, John cleared his throat, making Irene look at him as he nodded for her to check on their guest, waiting on the steps.

Sighing loudly, Irene did not want to deal with him so soon, but she knew her father. So pulled Collin from the stairs to the table, without offering him a seat, and continued to eat while John and Faylen exchanged raised eyebrows as they looked at the tramp clean and Irene ignoring him completely.

Clearing his throat again, Irene squinted as she watched her father glaring at her. With her eyes closed and a little grumble in her throat, Irene got up, took out a bowl, cup, and spoon, slamming it on the table before Collin and continued to eat. John watched his daughter and wondered what mite bit her ass, for her to be so rude to the boy after taking care of him.

"I need some air," Irene mumble as she pushed her plate, of half-eaten eggs away, and went outside with all three men staring at her go into the barn. John and Faylen turned and looked at their cleaned guest, watching the barn where Irene disappeared in. John continued to stare at the tramp cleaned and looking like a human by his daughter's doing. Yet, he did not like how the tramp was inspecting his daughter.

"Boy, take a seat."

Collin looked at the old man and knew he was her father so sat in her chair.

Pushing his breakfast aside, John took a deep breath while crossing his hands over his chest and looked at what could be his biggest mistake. "Boy, I give you a week to get your shit together and be off my land."

And with those forthright words, Collin turned to look at the barn again ignoring the old man.

Annoyed, John continued. "She's my only daughter and is well-loved. You touch her, and I'll fucking kill. So watch, but don't touch." John declared as he walked to the door Irene left open and took his coat. "Fay, we have work to do."

Faylen looked at his father standing by the front door waiting for him, with a spoon of egg inches from his mouth. With his belly half empty, Faylen wished to God he could ignore his father and finish his breakfast. Yet knew he could not unless he wanted his ears boxed in. His breakfast was over, dropping his spoon to leave with his father.
Chapter Eight

Faylen walked away with John, wondering if they should leave Irene alone with a strange man on their land. "Come on, boy," John said, seeing his son worried, glances at the barn. "It's I boy, she can handle herself." Still unconvinced, Faylen followed his father to where all their sheep were waiting for the days grazing.

Irene could go anywhere for fresh air and peace. Their land was open where neighbors were far from each other, but the barn was the one place that was clean enough and sheltered her from her men and the rain. She considered it her parlor where she would not be disturbed, it was just with hay, birds, and its droppings, and a few odd knick-knacks. She felt free and relax in her parlor when a sweet tune popped into her head, she heard her brother whistle once. Humming the sweet melody with her eyes closed, Irene forgot for a second, the reason that drove her there in the first place.

Collin stood by the barn door hearing her hum. "Irene," he whispered her name, but her family called her, "I." For years, he just thought of her as the foolish girl with the awful red hair although it was tamed now. Yet it was still ablaze that made him desperate to touch. Lost in his own reflections, Collin heard the humming stopped. And wondered why? Slowly, he opened the door to look around for her. It was not a large barn, but it could house four horses to the sides with a makeshift hayloft in the back, where they left him the night before. Hearing her hum again, made Collin glide to her as if she were summoning him to her side.

With her hands behind her head and eyes closed, Irene laid in the hay humming without a care in the world, feeling peace again. But those eyes, his eyes she felt more than she saw was on her, and her little serenity vanished. Opening her eyes, she saw Collin standing over her.

Annoyed, Irene quickly sat up pushing down her raised skirt that exposed her hairy legs, to look up at Collin staring at her like last night and this morning. With a dark frown on her brow, she pondered, "Why does he look at her, like that?" When the other men from her village watched her, she knew what they were thinking and paid them no mind, but this person, he, made her feel strange. He made her feel like a woman and not a silly girl.

Irene tried to stare him down to make him disappear, but it did not work. So she sealed her eyes against him, thinking him away. However, when she opened her eyes again, he was lying beside her watching the rafters with all her pets and their droppings.

"He looks weak," Irene thought. As she leaned on her elbow, observing him, but he was clean and seemed like a human. Wanting to ask all her questions now, but had a feeling he was more tight-lipped than her. Yet, she needed some answers.

***

Faylen could not walk fast enough, his legs were exhausted, and his mind was in a state with the notion that something could have happened to his sister. No, he refused to think that and knew his sister could handle herself. But the tramp, the beggar looked at his sister with . . . with love. And it made Faylen sick to think such a man could love his sister or want his sister. He knew there was not a man alive, worthy enough to have his Irene; he was not born.

It was the same reason, he made all the boys and leering men from their village know not to mess around with his sister. Or he'd kill them. Irene nor John never got wind of him almost ending the life of one of their neighboring farm boy for spying on her while she took a dip in the lake. He made the boy know if he told anyone, he would finish him for good.

John walked fast behind his son with his tired old legs, with the same concern that drove Faylen. Breathless, John caught up to his son to lean on him for aid, only to see he was standing in the yard looking at the house.

"Fay," John whispered, as he stood and looked at their front door open. Faylen walked away slowly, towards the open door, to check if everything was how they left in the morning, and it was.

"I," Faylen murmured trying to find his voice. He stood in the kitchen and watched how abandoned it looked.

"I," John stepped into his house to see it appeared the same as the morning. "Irene," he shouted, passing Faylen, touching Irene's cup. "Irene," John shouted again, running upstairs. Faylen heard John crying for his sister and knew she was not in the house.

Irene would complain every God blessed day about her duties, hating the demanding housework as she would call it, but would never leave the house undone. She would have cleaned up after breakfast, and had their noon meal ready and waiting for them to share.

Out of breath, Faylen fled outside and looked around for any sign of his sister, and saw the barn door open. Taking off to the barn with John shouting for Irene, Faylen pushed open the door where it sounded to tranquil, even for all the birds in the rafters. It was at the end of the barn where he saw Irene's apron discarded. Faylen closed his eyes taking another step holding onto the stalls railing and with his last step to see . . .

John came out of the house breathless and exhausted, holding onto the front door frame. "I, answer me, girl," John yelled at the top of his lungs. "Fucking answer me, girl," he whispered slumping by the kitchen door, thinking that, "The Tramp took his sunrise."

With his head in his hands, John did something he promised never to do again as long as he was alive, and wailed mournfully, but stopped as he heard Faylen hollering for him. John stood and looked at the barn door open, and took off as if he was a young boy, but stopped short when he saw Faylen holding onto a stall staring at something.

Approaching his son, John did, yet another thing he promised himself never to do again and prayed like he never prayed in his fifty-seven years as a devoted atheist. John held on to Faylen's hand and fell to his knees with all his weight, covering his face as Faylen knelt beside his father with his hand's inches from Irene's feet. With a shaky voice, John finally found his voice, "I . . . Irene?" he said, touching Irene's feet.

Exhausted, Irene thought she heard someone yelling, to turn and hear John weeping. Her father never cried, the only time she remembered him crying, was the day they put their mother six feet under. Since then, his eyes remained with a ghostly hollow stare, which was his constant expression now. Sitting up, Irene was amazed to see her men kneeling in front of her with grief-stricken expression. "What? What is . . ." Irene was asking when she was engulfed by strong, arms that had refrained from hugging her since she got breast.

Confused by John and Faylen's behavior, she tried to turn and got a glimpse of Collin asleep beside her. Pulling away from her father, Irene saw that John was crying silently now, but Faylen had yet to let go. He held her in a firm grip making her whimper, for Collin to open his eyes and look at her. All Irene could do was shake her head and smile at Collin for him to go back to sleep.
Chapter Nine

Since her mother's death at a young age, Irene was never one to receive an abundance of tender words, nor see the tender affection that came with another woman around. However, she knew her father and brother fiercely loved her, and it was more apparent after the barn. So much so, there was a different feel in the house, after they had thought Collin had done something to her.

The honest emotion left an unusual air in their small home. She also knew her men would kill to protect her, but it still felt strange to be embraced by her lout of a brother and sometimes gruff father at the same time. It made her want to share what they're hugged meant to her, LOVE. She wanted to show how much she cared for them. Thus, she prepared their favorite meal, which took her the entire evening.

It was rare for Irene to cook their favorite meal, for she did it only on special occasions like their birthdays or when they got sick and on the mend. With pride and a smile on her face, she sat and watched her father and brother savor their meal, making her heart swell.

Faylen loved stewed lamb with vegetables, with a touch of brandy in it, and John adored boiled, butter potatoes with roasted pheasant, and carrots. They both moaned with every morsel they took. However, when their eyes were closed, Irene would steal a glimpse out the kitchen window and think of Collin, who was asleep in the cold barn yet again and thought about how hungry he must be.

"I, you outdid yourself girly," John said with his last fork of stacked potato, pheasant, and carrot. "I feel the love with every bite I take, I." Irene turned to Faylen and saw that his expression said a thousand words.

"Aye!" was all Faylen could say with his last bite.

Irene loved to feed her men, but she wanted to be with Collin. She needed to be with him. Just knowing he was outside alone, cold, and hungry drove her to the window to look out at the dark yard.

Faylen observed his sister the entire night while they ate. She did not notice his eyes on her every time she glanced out the window at the barn. The tramp was there. He was the cause she watched out the window steadily. Faylen knew the boy needed to go before he made any more changes to his sister.

As Irene finished cleaning up her small kitchen, she turned and looked at her men amused themselves. John, with his book on his lap, sat by the warm fire stirring it while Faylen sat at the kitchen table playing cards. Irene decided to play along, but all she did was hold her breath drilling a hole into John's back, and he knew it. "John," Irene yelled as Faylen looked between her and their father.

John knew what was coming, so he turned to see his daughter staring at the barn for the sixteenth time that night. "Maybe we should . . ." John was saying as he watched Irene.

"We already did, he slept in I's bedroom on her floor," Faylen said, putting his two cents in the conversation as he stared at his sister.

"Aye, I know, I know," John replied, rubbing his creased forehead.

Not wanting to wait anymore, Irene grabbed her shawl, and wrapped it around her shoulders and grasped the doorknob waiting and expecting John or Faylen to stop her.

"Going to see if your boyfriend's breathing?" Irene breathed a sigh of relief that her brother was back, making snide remarks, as he was famous for. That gave her the courage to go to Collin.

Faylen stood by the kitchen window with his eyes glued on the barn waiting, thinking he should make John kick the tramp ass off their land tonight. Annoyed, Faylen looked at his father sitting peacefully by the fire, watching his flipping account book with the money he made for the month while his shitting daughter was out there with a mad vagabond about.

Groaning from his frustration, Faylen flung open the front door, and was one foot out when John said . . . "Leave her be." with half his mind ready to disobey his father, Faylen turned to see Irene storming out the barn, stomping pass him, and fled upstairs, while he and John stared at her confused.

Irene knew that her father would be the first to knock on her door, so she sat waiting. Not having to wait long, he pushed her door open. "I?" he said as he stood looking remorseful at his daughter's angry eyes set on him. "Irene, if you want him gone, I'll do it," taking a step into her bedroom. "Your shit of a brother was just . . . He was just teasing you. You cannot be vexed with him for that." John said, smiling as he waited for Irene to respond, but all she did was glare at her father, making him nervous as hell. "Well . . . night then Irene." was the last words he said before closing the door.

Irene sat on her bed with angry eyes set on her bedroom door as her father left. Her fierce gaze was not aimed, at John or Faylen, but she stared blankly at nothing, remembering what she did to Collin. She knew she was wrong, and felt guilty, knowing what she did, could not be taken back. What was done; was done. Nonetheless, if only if she could . . . Biting back a loud groan, Irene was so angry with herself and the situation, she felt so drained since she found out who he was. So much so, all she wanted to do was fall asleep and pray he would be there when she woke up in the morning.
Chapter Ten

Faylen was never a drinker, and it was not a vice that ran in his family. Observing his father, he noticed that he was never one either. However, in their family, they would take a pint or two to wind down from a hectic week or month. Yet watching his sister's reaction with that tramp made him feel sick as a change was coming and he did not like it one bit.

Seeing hazy, Faylen found himself by the barn holding its door handle to go in. Closing his eyes, he knew if he opened the door, he was going to get himself into some serious trouble but found himself closing it from the frigid wind that was nipping at his behind.

Faylen took a long time to reach his mark and as he stood over "It" sleeping, looking innocent with its face already half dirty. Swaying a bit, Faylen held on to the stall knocking over a pitchfork. Bending to retrieve it, he came face to face with a pair of dirty feet. Groaning as he tried to stand, he held the fork for aid and dragged it to poke the tramp's shoulders.

Collin opened his heavy-laden eyes with sleep to stare at Faylen, Irene's brother standing over him with a pitchfork looking furious. "She's a looker. Yeah! A fine one?" Faylen said staggering with the fork. "Aye! If not her brother, I'd be her husband and may have fathered . . ." Collin sat up tall staring at Irene's drunken brother who was swaying as he dragged the pitchfork speaking some nonsense.

"Watch yourself, boy. Touch her, and I'll end your tramping days." Collin looked at him and saw he meant every word that came out his sloshed mouth, but not even the devil himself and his imps could keep him away from her, not now that he found her.

Collin watched as Faylen staggered and fell in front of him and as he sat up, poked Collin in his chest with his middle finger waiting for him to do something. Nonetheless, Collin knew what was going on, Faylen was baiting him to do something he would regret, but he was much too wise to fall for such an infantile trick.

Faylen stared at the tramp, watching him with his dauntless blue eyes staring back at him as his fist slammed into the tramp's face. The force of his cuff and his dislike for the tramp sobered Faylen and as he stood over the tramp slumped body. Faylen knew the boy was weak and could not defend himself. Still, he was in such a rage that nothing could have stopped him as he kicked, and punched the tramp about his body.

Somewhat unsettled by what he was doing, Faylen knew he would be in trouble for the shit that was spewing out his mouth about Irene could have been his wife. Being her brother, Faylen knew no other woman could be like his sister and wanted a woman just like her with all her qualities that he admired, for he saw his sister, as "Perfect."

Covering his head and forming into a fetal position, Collin knew how to protect himself from an assault. He had years of practice, yet this attack was different. Collin need not move on, nor would he think of leaving his "I." He would stay close to her even if her family tried to push him away, he would stay.
Chapter Eleven

While laying in bed the entire night with her eyes closed, Irene prayed he would be there in the morning. Finally, when her internal alarm went off, she flew from her bed and out her bedroom straight to the barn, just to see if he was there. So eager was she, Irene did not notice her brother asleep by the sheep stall with a bottle nestle on his stomach looking disheveled.

Faylen heard the front door opened and then closed, thinking it was too early to tend the sheep. But when he looked around, he saw his sister with a lamp and a dumb ass smile on her face, and she was heading to . . . to the tramp. "God, save him." Faylen thought as he tried to call his sister, "I" he assumed his voice shouted as he struggled to stand, dropping his best brandy. "I, Irene," Faylen yelled, and she turned to look at him. "Wh, what, what you're do . . . ing, doing?" he stuttered as Irene glared at him coming closer to her.

She turned up her nose as she smelt his special stash of the brandy on him. He reeked as though he took a bath in it. "What it looks like, boy?" Irene answered, "Are you blind?" she asked as he tried to block her from entering the barn. "Move out the way, Fay."

"But, but . . ." Faylen stammered while Irene shoved him out the way, falling effortlessly by her force.

"Fay," John shouted by the front door, "Leave the girl and come on." Lying in the dirt, Faylen looked up at Irene as she closed the barn door behind her, and knew he should be out of sight for a while. "We've a lot too . . ." John was shouting with his back to Faylen, going back in to have a light breakfast after the large meal he had the night before. Yet when he turned around, he saw the rear of his son scaring the sheep away.

"Boy, what you're doing?" John barked, as he looked at his son running away as though hellhounds were on his tail. "Fucking useless boy," John thought, with a smile on his face as he remembered his supper. His teeth still had remnants of it, and not even Faylen's foolishness could sway his joy and contented belly, but he knew by lunchtime, his stomach would be grumbling.

Irene saw Collin's feet curled up, and stopped with such joy to see him lying there. "Thank you, God," Irene muttered, for Collin's presence. He had relocated from where she left him the night before, and now he was curled up as a child with his face covered. "You moved?" Irene asked as she gently caressed Collin's hand, but he flinched, making her backed away watching him try to escape her presence.

Squinting at him, he could not be mad at her still. No, he could not be, for he was still there after she yelled and slapped him about to go away and go back to the hole he came from under. Covering her eyes, with regret tugging her heart, Irene only said those things to him, for she was angry with him for reminding her of what almost happened.

Yet if she was honest with herself, she was beyond ecstatic that he came back. To her heart and mind, the person who saved her was her "Prince Charming" and looking down at him, her heart skipped a beat at his sight. "Collin," she whispered, but he moved more into himself just hearing her voice, which made her mad. After what they shared, for him to give her his back made her pissing mad. "Collin." Irene stomped her feet as she yanked his shoulder to face her and fell back on her ass by what she saw. "Who, where'd you get all . . ."

She was shocked to see all her hard work of cleaning him up undone, to see him bruised, and battered. It was foolish, Irene thought. She met him two days ago and loved touching him, her Collin, she believed him to be. She inspected his bruises and saw his eyes were swollen, his bottom lip was split, and his ribs were blue and red. Even beaten and bruised, he still looked handsome that Irene could not keep her hands off him. He seemed like a child to care for, but more the type that can give you a child instead. This thought made Irene stop touching him. She could not get her eyes off his crotch, just watching it made her blush the color of her hair. With her hand covering her mouth, she felt his eyes on her and knew his were always on her. He watched her with such intensity that it made her stomach do a strange dance of its own accord.

Irene believed she was handsome but not beautiful and vain as some of the girls in the village. She was humble because her brother kept her so. He said, "It was his duty to keep her grounded with her flat foot," so he teased her about her red hair, full lips, her tan skin sometimes, and her height. The only parts of her he never criticized, were her breast and behind.

Hearing Collin moan, snapped Irene from her lapse in memory as he tried to sit up, which seemed painful. "Should I ask who did this to you?" She asked as he closed his eyes to her silly question. Shaking her head, Irene remembered her brother's pause of silence when they brought Collin home. It was just a phase, and now Faylen was back to who he was, a bully in her eyes at times.

"Well you can't stay here; you'll have to bunk with me while I undo what he did," Irene said, taking a step to Collin. "Can you walk?" She asked as Collin stood and wrapped his slim but strong arm around her shoulders. He was slender, but he had weight with him, and so Irene helped cart him out the barn without a backward glance, vowing never to leave Collin in there again.

Hungry as hell was all that drove Faylen home with his belly growling, knowing Irene would have their noon meal waiting, and whatever it was would taste good. For his sister could cook a day old rotten mutton into a king's feast.

As Faylen neared the house, it looked abandoned just like the day before, but knowing the beating, he gave the tramp he could not have done anything to Irene. Nevertheless, he paid a visit to the barn, only to see that it was empty. Slamming the barn door closed, Fay stormed into the house and saw not a jug or spoon laid out for their noon meal.

Angry and hungry as hell, Fay marched out into the yard shouting, "Where's me, meal girl? I'm. . ." when he felt a Whack on his head making him fall face down in the dirt to feel Irene's light body jumped on his back punching him about his body. Fay could not help it, but he covered his head and laughed by his sister's punches, which made her more outraged and forceful.

Faylen took a quick glimpse to see Irene's face distorted by her anger, which was strange, for she never got so mad at him. "You fucking asshole." Faylen heard his sister shouting at him while punching about his body. "You're . . ." Laughing wholeheartedly now, Faylen tried to ask,

"Wha, what . . ." and she was off of him in an instant. Moving his hands from over his head, Faylen saw John holding his irate sister, swinging and cussing like a soiled banshee with all its venom aimed at him.

Breathless from holding a raging Irene, John placed his daughter down and asked, "What the hell is wrong with you child?"

"Collin," Irene shouted, pointing to her bedroom window.

"Look what you've done," Faylen said, looking at his torn shirt. "It's you who'd have to mend it I, it's you, not me," Faylen declared smiling while John just watched Irene paced in front of him with her arms flapping in the air like a bird shouting about Collin.

"Me? Me?" Irene stopped in front of Faylen, stabbing her chest. "You're mad if, if you think, I'd mend anything of yours." ripping his tattered shirtsleeve beyond repair.

"Irene," John quietly called her name, and she spun on him with her hands on her hips, staring fiercely at him and her brother. "I."

"He messed him up, my Collin."

"Collin? Who's Collin?" John asked a bit confused.

"He's staying in my room." Irene pointed to her bedroom again.

"What?" Faylen shouted and stormed into the house with John and Irene behind him.

John and Faylen stood by her bedroom door watching their wandering guest, asleep in her bed, this time cleaned and covered with her pink blanket.

"What's he doing in your bed?" Faylen roared taking a step into her room.

"I'm nursing him back from the shit you've done to him." Irene stood in front of her brother, with her hands on her akimbo. "You're a great big bully, Fay," Irene said, poking her brother making him take a step back.

"And you're a fool to allow him back in your room." Faylen returned hotly at his sister, taking a step around her to point at the tramp in her bed.

"It's my room, and you've brought him here already," Irene said, pushing her brother away from her bed.

"That was before, before . . ." Faylen shouted, "He could be . . ."

With her hands on her hips again, Irene asked, "What?"

Watching his sister's reaction towards the tramp made Faylen want to beat him all over again as he was tucked asleep in her bed, but all he could do was shout, "Are you brainless?" he said as he tried to pull her away from the tramp causing Collin to turn.

"Irene," John said, stepping in to end the quarrel. "He could be a murderer. You don't know nothing about him I," John continued to express.

"But you've placed him in my room before," Irene said, raising a point; no one could have argued.

"Get him out the house, Irene. Get him out." Faylen barked. When he suddenly felt a whack on his head and turned to see his father pointing to the bedroom door for him to leave. "But . . . but," Faylen was going to argue again when he met John's glare, that bark for no argument.

With her arms folded under her heaving breast, Irene waited to hear what her father would say or do about Collin in her bed. "I," John said as he pulled her by her window to talk. "You don't know anything about the boy." Feeling her shudder, John rubbed his daughter's shoulders and took a quick glimpse at the boy in his baby girl's bed, and he pressed on. "He could be wanted, and I was wrong to bring him here in the first place. He can stay a few more days, then . . ."

"Collin."

John looked confused at his daughter and asked, "What?"

"His name is Collin."

"Right. What's to eat?" John inquired, and that was the end of their talk. No more was added, nor taken away. Irene watched her father walk away, leaving Faylen sprawled in the hallway of her bedroom waiting.

Irene walked and stood in front of her brother slumped on the floor with a dumb, smug smile on his face. "You're an ass," she said and walked off while Faylen tried to grab her skirt. She slapped his hand away and slammed her bedroom door in his face, to observe her handsome guardian asleep in her bed.
Chapter Twelve

Irene opened her eyes, knowing she would have to be up in five minutes to make her men breakfast, but she felt so sinfully grand lying in bed with Collin. She did not know why she had him in her bed. He could be comfortable on the floor, but she just wanted him beside her. The bed was small for her, and with him beside her made it feel like it was a boll's bed. Letting go of a wistful sigh, he never touched her, not once during the night, to her great disappointment.

Every time she believed she could snuggle a little closer to him, he would shift away from her. At one point in the evening, she wondered if he would have gladly gone through her bedroom walls to be away from her. Groaning, Irene knew he would never allow her to touch him, except to clean him up after her brother's heavy-handed treatment. Yet, the thought of him not wanting to do anything with her gnawed on her mind, making her frigging mad as hell.

Irene questioned if something was wrong with him, she wondered if he liked women in the first place. She knew she was semi-handsome with the right package for a young lady and then some. They were alone, and she knew he would not ravage her in the night for she felt utterly safe with him. Moreover, they had somewhat of a history, even though it was not a pleasant, nor a romantic one. But at least, he could have touched or stolen a feel.

However, the fool did nothing to her for heaven's sake. She felt for sure he could not have been with a woman before. "Oh!" Irene grasp, he must be shy for he is a tramp after all. A handsome one, but what woman, would want to bed something that looked, and smelled liked death. She considered to herself.

Sighing loudly, Irene swung her naked feet to the floor, which always sent a cold shiver up her spine, but turning back to her bed companion, made the warmth from her belly gravitate to her . . . "Sweet, Saints!" Irene groaned as she darted out of bed to dress for the day's work. Pulling her nightshirt off to put on her simple wool dress, thinking he was asleep, and no eyes were on her. Irene never gave any thought of how her naked body could affect a man and wondered if Collin would enjoy her body.

Collin knew she was up awhile and felt her eyes on him with his back to her. He knew why he had his back to her, for if Irene saw what was awake between his legs, he would be off their land faster than the weather can change. He also recognized when she left the bed and accidentally turned when she took off her nightshirt. Watching Irene discard her clothes in front of him made it impossible for him to take his eyes off her.

He saw a few naked women in his life traveling, some out of shape, some with different heights, pale, grieved stricken face. And some that had a smile plastered on their faces to sell their trade. But never had Collin seen a woman that made his body answer to hers like Irene Galway's naked body did.

He knew if she had an inkling of what was under her blanket sticking out watching her precious, sweet mouth-watering breast, and the hairy red patch between her exposed legs, she would have no fear of kicking his hungry ass out her room and house. Collin tried to close his eyes feeling guilty for watching, however, his eyes had a mind of their own. They wanted to see more of her as his hands and mouth craved to partake of the feast before him. It was a while since he saw a naked woman but never had one made him ache as . . . "Ohh," And he let go of a loud groan closing his eyes to open it a second later, to see her staring at him.

Collin thought this would be his end with her and assumed that she would tell her men that he was ogling her. They would boot his leering ass out, without a backward glance. However, all she did was a button up her dress faster with a smile on her face. Collin closed his eyes and saw her smile; he knew that smile was the beginning of his fall. It would make him a willing man to do anything for her because her smile was directed at him.

"You could stay and sleep," Irene said tying her apron around her waist, "I have to make my men's breakfast," she declared turning to leave feeling his gaze on her to glimpse his mouth moving. Irene stopped thinking Collin wanted to say something, but he just closed his eyes and turned his back to her. "God, this boy is a fool," Irene whispered as she closed the door. She was neither blind nor deaf; she saw the bulge in her blanket that he had, and knew what caused it. He saw her naked and got a rise from what he saw. That made Irene smile and blush all at once. He liked women, and he liked what he saw on her.

While trudging downstairs, Irene paused by the stairs with her eyes closed envisioning what it would be like creating her family. She would imagine how it would feel to wake up and make a meal for a husband and her babies and not her father nor brother. In her whole life, she never believed it was her lot to be a wife or mother. Nonetheless, since Collin's appearance, her mind would perpetually travel that path.

Would she make a good, loving wife and mother? Just imagine the magic in which it took to make a child with him. Sighing, Irene wished she could try it sometime soon. For years, she thought of the person who carried and saved her that dreadful night and wondered what became of the individual.

Shaking her mind free from such wasteful muse, for it would steal her joy for the rest of the day, so waved it off to concentrate on making their breakfast. With the last few touches to finish, she heard footsteps and thought her men were up already. Irene always thought John and Faylen had a clock that woke up their hungry bellies, but when she turned around, she saw Collin standing behind her looking handsome, bruised, lost, and nervous all in one. Stun to see him standing there, Irene was at a loss for words for a second. "You're, you're . . . hungry?" Irene asked, turning away quickly to hide the blush on her face. "Have a seat; you'll be the first to taste my spicy eggs."

Grinning, Irene knew he would eat anything she placed before him and would not complain. As Collin took an attentive step to her, she once again saw how handsome he was, too beautiful that he made her nervous to walk, far less to think. Taking a deep breath, Irene needed to refocus her mind in serving him and not servicing him, as if she knew what to do with a man in the first place.

Irene had no real female friends that could teach or talk to her about what a man wanted and needed from a woman. But she had her imagination that was somewhat wild as Collin opened the door to her carnal mind. Irene observed how he looked at her; more devour her sight that made her nervous. He took pleasure in watching her body and her in him, but he knew nothing of how she felt towards him. Irene knew where his big penis would go, and wondered how the hell it could 'fit' in her tiny hole. He was massive, as a . . . she could not continue with this line of thinking as her crotch, grew wet, with him so close.

Angry with herself for thinking below her waist since Collin showed up. That was all she contemplated, sex with a complete stranger. But if she was truthful to the woman she was, he made her considered the whole of what he represented, Life. Nonetheless, he was a stranger who saved her innocence years ago but . . . but she needed some air.

Collin watched her rushed out the kitchen with his breakfast in her hand, crossing the yard going into the barn. He wondered if he did something to make her upset. Grant it, he did not know much about women, but then again what was so hard to understand. You show them you love them, you say it, and they should believe you. He knew he did not express the words to her. They hardly knew each other what he was feeling could scarcely be called love.

Could it?

He scarcely talked to her in the first place. She did more of the nattering, and so he felt her out, she liked him. It was in her eyes, her blush, and when she smiled at him, he saw how she felt towards him. Maybe he should show her.

Irene sat by the barn door, staring at his breakfast, she flung away. Why was she angry? Was it him or . . . She knew the answer. "It was him. He made me want him. He was a tramp using whatever power he had to make me want him. So, I can keep him around as a kept boy or toy. If he thought I was so easy, he would . . . he would . . ." she was thinking when the barn door creaked open, interrupting her vex ramblings. Shit, her men and their meal, they came looking for . . . Irene was mumbling when she sensed him.

Collin.

"What is it you want?" Irene asked, refusing to look at him, "Theirs your eggs, you can have 'em." She said, trying to pass him with tears in her eyes. "Move out the way," she yelled, annoyed as he blocked her exit. Angry, Irene did not want him to see her eyes filled with tears that came out of nowhere as she glared at him.

Closing the door behind him, Collin took a step to Irene wanting to show, rather than say how he felt for her. Every step to her, she backed away, making it harder for him to show her that he cared for her more than gratitude. Finally, one giant step was all it took to grab her by her arms, and hauled her to him, wrapping her in his grip. Collin saw as he caught her, her eyes widened with shock, but by the time he had her in his arms, he heard a contented sigh that made him relax into the embrace.

Collin was amazed by the fact that Irene was the first woman he cared for, and wanted to hold onto her forever in all his roaming. Holding her gently, his mind and eyes remembered her full breasts, lips, and the patch of red bush that sat between her legs, and felt himself rise to the occasion. Moaning with pain and fear that she would feel his hard penis, he took a step back to move away, but Irene's arms went around his waist and held him fiercely.

With a smile on his lips, Collin made no move to extricate from her arms. Yet Irene pulled away beaming, she looked at him and could not help herself, and kissed him gently beside his lips. It was the first lips of a man she ever kissed, and she wanted to explore more of it.

Never one to garner attention from anyone, Collin always tried to keep to himself, but her kiss was the first welcomed kiss he had ever with the opposite sex. Her lips were gentle and soft, and he wanted nothing more than to taste and explore it. But she pulled away and looked at him with a strange glow that shone in her eyes.

"Fay and John," Irene whispered and walked away from him.

With his heart racing and mind flustered, Collin's gaze was fastened on Irene walking away to recognize he just moved into a new stage of his life.

Irene floated into the kitchen and finished up her men's breakfast feeling twelve feet high from his artless reply to her question if he cared for her. It was answered. He did, and now, all she wanted was to see how much.
Chapter Thirteen

As John trudged down the stairs tired from the few days the tramp stayed with them, he wished he could return to the time where he opened his big mouth and left the vagabonds sorry ass under Granny's Tree. "We'll take them to the south pas . . ." he was saying as his words dissolved to hear his daughter humming early in the morning with a set table, and a smile on her face also. "Something she must want," John sensed with a smile. This was a ploy for something he knew he cannot give her, but she would try to get it.

Taking their seat, John and Faylen watched her served them with a smile and a tune on her lips, a love song? When she was finished, Irene took a seat with them and ate, knowing they were itching to understand "what in the heavens, hell" was wrong with her.

"So, did you sleep well?" Irene glanced at her father as he asked her, making him nervous. "I mean," John, said, trying to free his throat, "with a man in your bed?" Faylen ate and watched the play between his father and sister and waited, waited to see what the fuck was going on.

"It's not the first time," Irene said spooning more porridge into their bowls while John leaned back to observe his daughter.

"Your floor and your bed are two different places for a strange man to be in your room," John remarked, grinding his jaw. She was the exact image of his late wife, beautiful, and sharp, with a touch of regal air about her. John watched Irene and knew his daughter's way of thinking was like his wife. "What's this, I?"

Her father asked while she stopped with a full spoon of oats over his bowl, making Irene gaze at John, scratching his chin with his arms folded, staring at her.

"What?" Irene asked, dropping the spoon in her bowl, taking it to the sink.

"You've never served us so calm before." Her father replied.

"And with a tune too," Faylen added as he sat back staring at his sister.

She knew they spoke the truth. For every mealtime, she would complain until she gave them a headache for serving them as if they were gentlemen, high-born, and not some lowly sheep farmers. "Well, I'm, I'm changing." was the most candid reply she could give and it was the truth, because of Collin.

"Changing? Hum," John asked his daughter with her back to him. Irene knew if she faced John, not only her father would read her feelings, but her fast brother as well. She could do without Faylen's piercing eyes picking, and reading her out. He would, but not yet. She needed some time before she can woo Collin and her men too . . .

"Where's your boyfriend?" hearing her brother speak of Collin, shed whatever romantic emotions she was trying to hide. Taking a deep breath, Irene turned with a fierce glare to face Faylen as he stared at her, waiting for his answer. "Still in bed?" Faylen asked with a smirk on his stupid face.

Chewing on her bottom lip, Irene wanted to tell off her brother, when in walked the third addition to her heart, toting water. The looks on her men's face were priceless when they witness Collin helping her wash the dishes. "What in holy heaven's name he's doing?" Faylen barked. Irene wondered the same thing when she looked at her men's faces, watching Collin bring in water to throw in the sink. "What you have him doing I?" Faylen had to be the one to ask, and by the sound of his voice, he had a dumb grin on his face.

"What it looks like?" Irene replied, annoyed, as she washed and Collin put away their simple dishes. This was something her men never did with, or for her.

"You've got yourself a pet, I." Faylen teased, banging the table causing the milk to spill with no one laughing with him.

John knew his son said something, it must have been a joke for him only, because he alone was laughing, but he could not take his eyes off his daughter, and the tramp. What Irene said his name was? "Flipping hell," John cursed getting old sometimes. His memory occasionally lapsed with small things, but this tramp's name seemed branded in his daughter's mind. He had a sickening feeling that she knew more of this young man, and he knew his daughter, but with them knowing each other did not sit right with him, not one bit.

All his laughter was for naught as it made Faylen hate how the tramp kept staring at his sister. He was watching her with, with love. Real. Fucking. Love. He was in love with his sister? "This damn vagabond was insane," Faylen reflected. "He needed to go." There was no more room for "other men" in his sister's life. Faylen would have to sit John down and have a severe talk about kicking the gooey eye tramp off their land.
Chapter Fourteen

A month passed, and the tramp was still there, there with his sister, on their land, eating, shitting, and wearing his flipping clothes. Faylen did not give a rat's ass about his clothing, though the boy wore it better than him. Irene had been feeding him well enough because he filled out, and looked nothing like when he first came to them, Faylen thought.

Faylen hated leaving his sister with him, and John was no help. All his talking led to raised voices by him. It did nothing but got him more work with the blasted sheep while Irene tended to the house, and God knows what with the tramp. It just was not right for a single girl to spend so much time with a strange vagrant alone.

It was that same reason that drove Faylen into the village away from his only home. He hated to see Irene and the tramp looking smitten with each other. "Father Lord," it made him sick to just think about it, and he avoided the village because of Martha's lovesick, romantic notions about him.

He could just see Martha prettying her plump self whenever she would get a glimpse of him coming into town. He was not shallow or vain, Faylen knew he was not a looker, but Martha was the reason why he never passed in front of her shop, and stayed far, far from anywhere she might be. Faylen just wanted to have a pint, rest his eyes and mind from home. Nevertheless, with his eyes closed, all he saw was the tramp watching his sister.

Faylen thought of a home with his first swig and wondered what it would feel like to have his own home. A place he could have just to run away to save his sight from seeing his sister moon over a drifter that will be gone when his belly was filled with her cooking.

He gave into his wondering thoughts and pondered what it would be like to have a wife to cook and clean for him, someone that can enjoy his body as he will give her pleasure as a husband would. If nothing, that would be the best bit to marry some swell of a girl, to lie in bed with her on top of him, doing what she pleases. With a heavy sigh, Faylen knew nothing like that would be for him.

Faylen knew he was not that handsome. The fact stared at him in his small, broken mirror hidden in his bedroom. He was not tall with blue or green eyes, barely any lips, and an unattractive nose to mark him un-extraordinary, but he knew he was fit with a muscular body. Faylen thought himself average, but he knew he would never be alone because his sister was home with him and their father. The three of them would live there until their deaths, this was his failing thought, and now he had to face the facts. Irene, his beloved sister, might not be home for long.

With a deep groan and clenching his jaw, Faylen said, "Not with the tramp." He refused to believe his sharp sister would settle for a stray sheep. Grant it, the boy was a new shiny toy, which is why she was upon him like a fly on sheep shit.

After downing six pints, it was enough to get him home safe, and out the way of the smitten couple. Not caring whether if plumped Martha saw him, Faylen dragged himself passed her shop and stopped to stare at it. "In their lives the only woman who might want him?" he sighed to himself to grasp, she was the only woman who wanted him for anything. And wondered why?

Faylen always believed everyone saw him as lacking and yet Martha wanted him still. Something must be wrong with her too. Closing his eyes and rubbing his face, Faylen felt deep in his heart he should give her a chance and maybe he wouldn't feel all . . . No, Faylen refused to settle, nor should Irene, even if she believed the tramp would make a . . .

"Are you waiting for me?" Lost in his haze of reflection, Faylen did not hear when Martha came out and stood on her steps, staring at him.

Shocked, Faylen stood with his mouth wide open staring at Martha, who looked handsome tonight, making Faylen believed that he was over his six-point limit and needed to get home. Yet his feet wanted to take another route as his legs took a step to Martha, smiling at her not knowing what the hell he was doing.

"Have you come for a walk or a pint?" stopping mere inches from her, Faylen wondered how the holy waters, she knew about him and his occasional pint. That alone should have scared him off, but no, he stood planted in front of her as she watched and circled, him ready to pounce any minute.

"Aye, I've been for my pint," Faylen said swaying a bit with a grin on his face seeing the ground rise up to say hello. However, Martha was more than happy to save him from kissing the earth and hold onto him. "And what have you been up to?" Faylen asked, enjoying the hold she had on him.

Wrapping her arms around him, Martha knew when a blessing landed at her doorstep is to take it and run with it. So, she led her Faylen into the shop, a pint unable to fend for himself, but alas she did not care, she had him.

At a lost or maybe too drunk to ward off anyone, Faylen was shoved on a soft seat with his eyes blurry and mind scattered, waiting for his bearings to focus on what was before him. He knew it was Martha he was chatting with in front of her shop, but now . . . Where in heavens name was . . . And he felt a hand on his knee.

"I should be getting back," Faylen murmured as he tried to stand, but was shoved down with such ease. Gad, he should stop drinking.

"Fay," The woman whispered, causing something between his legs to twitch; Lord, the woman, said his name with such feelings. "Don't you want to, to sleep it off before you get lost, going home?"

Now Faylen knew his way homeward even with his eyes closed, so that alone was reasonable cause to get up and leave. Nevertheless, to hear a woman, Martha, whisper his name in such a guileless feminine way, made him want to heed her every sighed syllable to him.

Despite the longing he felt at the moment to hear Martha speak, Faylen needed to get home and made a move to leave again, but he was pushed back with a hand resting on his chest patting him. "I need to . . ." Faylen was saying when he realized that he was on a bed; the softest eiderdown he ever thought existed. "This must have belonged to royalty." He believed.

"No, Fay, stay." And he felt a heavyweight pressed his chest down, and yet again he tried to move but felt gentle, soft lips on his. Her lips, Martha's.

Martha refused to let him leave her when he was this close. Her chance had come to her door, and she was not letting it go. With Faylen lying flat on his back and open to her, She knew he had a few too many pints, and wanted to do something she always craved to do with him, to have his arms around her. It was clear he could not hold her, but to have his arms around her would be euphoria in itself. Thus, Martha tried to wrap his arms around her but felt it slip away. Thankfully she had him where she wanted him, in her bed. Cuddling with him, Martha's eyes began to flutter as sleep took over and she knew when the morning came, she would be ready to face anything from her dream man.
Chapter Fifteen

A month ago, Irene felt and thought Collin cared for her. That one time in the barn when he held her in that tight embrace, was all the answer she needed. He wanted her, but now even the kiss seemed like a dream she imagined. Collin no longer slept with her in her bedroom or even in the house. John had stopped that, declaring, "There cannot be two men living in his house." She had no idea what he meant, seeing that her brother was a man also.

Thus, Collin was back in the barn again and away from her as they made her promise not to see him, without one of them home. Together with him being beaten up, by Fay, John and her brother felt leaving Collin alone with her a few hours would not hurt, seeing he could hardly move or walk.

And Irene was not brave enough to wrangle words with her father on Collin's behalf, for she saw John intended to have him off his land. However, even in the barn, they watched him like a hawk whenever he and Irene were alone. She was timed when she took his meals to him and a change of clothes when her men were home. And even in those seconds, she spent with him alone, Collin's eyes were all the reminder and proof of their encounter a month ago was real.

It all made not a lick of sense for her father and brother to take turns to watch her and Collin. For if he wanted to do anything to her, he would have done so in her bedroom when she was alone with him. Even though her men took vigils at her open bedroom door every night, he stayed in her room after his beating from her brother. But they would fall asleep being weary from their day's work.

Fed up with John and Faylen's eyes forever watching her every move, Irene devised a plan. With the kitchen cleaned and her men ready to be off to tend the sheep, Irene sat next to their front door nibbling her thumb knuckle awaiting their departure.

"Don't you have something to . . ." shaking her head to Faylen's question, she knew he was going to ask. It was his parting grouse before he left the house every morning. To make sure her hands were filled with chores, that she would not see the tramp, without them around.

"Not a damn thing," she answered him, staring at the barn.

"John knows you're . . ."

"Not doing a damn thing." smiling sweetly at her brother, "Aye."

"Hum!" was all the answer he could reply as he walked off, not wanting to leave Irene for such a long time with that tramp still around, but John wanted to graze the sheep next to the cliffs near their land where the grass was green and sweet. Faylen always wondered what his father meant by "green and honeyed." Did he taste the blasted grass?

"Hurry up, boy," John yelled to Faylen, "We have work to do." Faylen took one last look at Irene's sitting prime and ready to take off to the barn. He knew his sister spent way, too much time with that tramp, even though she promised not to, without them home. Still, today was the day he would make John kick the loafing crack hobo, off their land.

Irene watched her brother run to catch up with John thinking he could lag about. She had a whole day planned out. Her picnic basket was packed with a simple meal fit for a modest king and queen. While her men slept, she spent part of the night preparing to spend some quality time with her Collin and wanted to show him the only place on their land where they would build their home. It was close, but far enough from John while the ocean was near to see the setting sun, the sweet green grass, but most of all she would make a home with Collin.

Entering the barn, Irene wasted no time as she headed directly to his area. Collin kept his space cleaner than her men's bedroom, tidier than she kept the house. It was not much, just a blanket, pot, and a candle was all that John gave him. However, he made it his clean space.

Collin heard her come in and knew she had something planned for him today. Whenever she could, she would sneak away from the watchful eyes of her father and brother to be with him. He mostly would listen, and Irene would be the one talking. If she asked a question, he'd answer her, but he was never one to start a conversation.

Her father had moved him in the barn, saying, "He would not have two men, in his house." Collin knew what he meant, but that was not what he had in mind, not right now. What Collin wanted was to woo Irene in time, for her to know he was more than just a tramp, but that entailed him starting a discussion with meaning.

Irene saw him sit up, waiting for her. He looked cleaned with his short hair that began to grow back, looking fine as any nobleman. With his shirt almost bursting from its buttons and his tight trousers that gave her ideas. Most of his bruise was gone, and he could move without the aid of a stick, she gave him.

"Are you ready?" was all she asked, and walked off, leaving the basket behind. Collin looked at the basket and followed her. As he stepped outside, he looked around the yard and got a glimpse of her grey dress passing behind the house. When he reached where he had seen her, she was off in a run, but it was not difficult to catch up with her because he was somewhat fit now.

Irene heard his footsteps behind her, whenever they would chance a walk, he would always walk behind her. She always believed it was a safe place for him to look at her, but she wanted his eyes in front of her as the morning she caught him staring at her breast.

"I'm taking you to my spot." She looked back and saw his eyes on his feet. "It's my piece of land, which will be our home." Collin stopped and looked at her staring at him with her hands on her hips. He saw her eyes were not playing any games or teasing him, she spoke as if her words were a law she decreed. "We should make ready for a month from today," Irene said as she walked off leaving Collin planted at the same spot.

"What was she up to?" Collin wondered.

Our home?

A month?

What was she saying?

"Come on." She yelled, as his feet would follow her anywhere she would lead him. When he found her, she was sitting under a tree that looked half dead with a few leafs on its branch waiting to fall because of old age, but on a closer look, there were also flowers budding. The tree seemed to cast a surreal glow around her, making her look like a lustful nymph left by some god and he was the lucky one who found her. And by God, the way he felt about her, he would die before he gave her up.

Collin knew this to his heart and soul as he watched her sit, waiting for him. In all his roaming, a woman never took his breath away and made his heart skip, and beat this wild all at once. Observing her, he wondered if she indeed wove a spell around him years ago, that fateful night. In his mind, he often imagined her, a grown woman that made him want her physically in such an unexpected way, he never thought would happen. When Collin sat beside her, she crossed over him, took the basket, and laid out the meal of bread, cheese, and milk that he felt fit for royalty. Watching her place their lunch in front of them, Collin wanted, to say something of what she mentioned but held his tongue.

Irene ate enjoying the silence, hoping he would say something of what she spoke of. Needless to say, all he did was sit there with his mouth closed, staring at his hands. Sighing loudly, Irene dove in, "Have I made a fool of myself?" he continued to stare at his hands, which made her angry.

"They think, they think, I'm their wife and maid, but, but . . . I, I don't mind," pausing to make herself clear. "I suppose taking care of them, showed me how to care of a house, but with you . . . I'd learn how to be a wife." Irene felt like a fool saying these things, but she needed to verbalize what was in her heart. The need to make herself clear on what she wanted from him.

Taking a glance at him, Irene was somewhat grateful for the other side of him that she did not mind at all, his lack of conversing. He never complained to her about anything. On the mend a while now, Collin did more in chores than her men did in her lifetime. Which they knew nothing of. He did so and made her wonder if he had practiced somewhere or sometime before he came to her as if he had a wife and family.

Thinking about it, Irene knew not one thing about him, only that Collin was her savior, and now she was falling in love with the person she dreamt of for so many years. She created an illusion of her protector, and he looked nothing like the man that sat with her, Collin was grander in the flesh.

Wanting to finish her speech, Irene dived in again. "In a way, I suppose it will teach me to be a good wife someday." Irene tilted her head with a smile for Collin, but he still had his eyes on his hands.

"John says I look like my mother, so I know I could catch any man's eyes." Waiting for a response from him now, Irene closed her eyes, and leaned back on the tree gathering her waning patience then asked, "What you're thinking?" She felt rather than heard Collin moved and looked at his back standing rigidly a few feet away from her. "Collin?"

"I look at my hands and wonder what I can offer you." With his back to her still, Collin needed to say what he had in his mind if he wanted to make what was in his heart come to pass. "You know nothing of me and want to make a home with me. Why?" the rousing question he needed to ask. "I have nothing and no one looking for me or ever had anyone special want me, but to move on. Why do you want me?"

She smiled when he said she was "Special," not outright he said it, but she knew what he meant. Collin thought she was special. Irene wanted him to turn and look at her desperately, she was never one to show her heartfelt emotions for fear of having it laughed at, but she wanted Collin to see Her. Irene knew this was his time to talk, and so stayed silent.

"We know what happened that night. Just four of us know." Collin turned to see Irene looking confused at him. "Four?" she asked.

"You, me, the man and God." clearing up her confused expression. "You need not marry me to show. . ." Irene understood his pause in sharing his true feelings with her.

"If you think I would yoke myself with any man for a show of gratitude, you don't know me and think me mad?" Irene had to take a breath to calm her rising anger. The gall and thought he felt she wanted him for the sake of showing gratitude were laughable.

It was her turn to show her back to him as she tried to compose herself. He was not way off with his assessment of why she wanted to keep him around, but here and now, she wanted him around because she cared for him. It may not be the love her father and mother had, but she knew it could be that. If only he stayed, and the only way he would be allowed to remain would be through marriage. Her father gave her a month and her month with Collin was coming to an end where he would be kicked off their land, and whenever her father set a rule or law, there was no argument by anyone. Irene also knew her brother was pushing for Collin to go, and she could not lose him, not now.

Irene did not want to frighten Collin away by showing the passion she had for him, so she hid it with her quarrelsome tongue sometimes. Taking a deep breath and squaring her shoulders, Irene found some calm as she spoke. "It would please me to have you stay on, but as my husband." Irene turned to see him watching her with a curious stare waiting for his answer.

A negative reply would break her heart, and she was not ready for such an experience to happen to her, thus sat down and ate with him watching beyond the cliffs and out to the sea.

Where would he go and receive an offer like this? He felt his years of wandering would come to an end when he found her. Her one-touch years ago was home to him, it was that what brought him here, and why he hadn't moved on. Collin sat down beside her and started to eat. He took a glance at her and saw her cheeks were glistening. Collin wondered if she was crying for him, if he were to walk away from her, or did she care for him? And so, ate in silence wanting to kiss her tears away. Wanting to confess, she was the reason he lived. She was his heart and love for life.
Chapter Sixteen

"Are you fucking mad?" yelled Faylen with his mouth filled spluttering food as he stared at his father. "You cannot be serious? Him?" Faylen said, pushing away from the table wiping his mouth, watching both his father and sister sitting so relaxed by what was shared for dinner. "I, you cannot be serious?" grabbing her arm and pulling her to watch him. "Him? You want him?"

Irene knew this would be the reaction from her brother, and was prepared for it, yet the force of his anger was so bewildering. She felt it radiating off him like heat from their stove. Yanking her arm away, Irene watched him as she stood one foot shorter than him but at eye level. "Aye, you'll have to find a new maid to cook and clean for you," Irene said, taking a step back from her brother. "I'll have my own blasted home to tend to."

"Is that why you want to marry that?" Faylen asked, taking a step to her. "I can more than cook and clean for my damn self, so can John." Touching her cheek, Faylen felt sorry he never did more around the house, but if it meant to have her home safely away from that tramp, he would. "Don't be a fool I; you don't know nothing about him." Irene backed away from her brother as he tried to hold her hand again.

"John, say something? Do something? You can't . . ."

"Enough," John shouted was all he could have done, leaving his son and daughter staring at each other. Tired of it all, John had enough, a month of hearing his son rant and rave of how he was a bad father for allowing his daughter to play around with a strange man on his land and in his home. John did not know how he reached the barn, but he was there staring at the cause of tension in his home.

Poking the tramp with a stick got his attention. Collin looked up and saw John watching him with angry, wet eyes. "Boy, I should kill you," John declared through gritted teeth, throwing the stick away. "You make my girl happy, or you're dead." And with those words, John spoke what was on his mind.

Collin sat up and stared at Irene's father leave, they knew now and so her brother would be coming for him again. How did he get a marriage proposal that he did not reply yes or no too? Collin wanted Irene, yes. He wanted what she would give him. He longed for it as it was a pathway to heaven, but how could he make her happy when he felt lost and did not know who he truly was.

No one knew his story, not even him. Then how could he build a life with someone who had roots? If he shared his life story, it would be short and not sweet. So why should he stick around when she would ask questions that he could not answer, and cast him away as he was no one.

Frighten by that thought, Collin strolled to the barn door ready to leave. As his hand grabbed, hold the gateway to free him from the woman he dreamt of. A vision of Irene's wet cheeks as she gazed out onto the lonely moors, caught his breath and heart. He was not vain, but he knew she cared for him in some strange way, cared for him deeper than gratitude.

She wanted him, but not as much as he wanted her in his life. Irene, "I" was the purpose he was there and took the daily abuse from her brother. Wandering was never a choice of his, and marriage or not Collin would have stayed close just to be near her, his Irene, for he looked at her as his, his responsibility to keep safe, his to make a life and a family with.

Liverpool, England - 1831

At fourteen, Collin had wandered almost the whole of England trying every trade a boy at his age could do so he can eat. He hated all of them. Collin deemed the owners, and workers were all immoral and deprived to have such young children do the things they made him do. It was never his will to stay too long in any one place because he feared his anger would descend on anyone. It was not scolding as some, but when it came forth, it was something he could not control until it was spent.

The one place he would have stayed in his tramping ways was at Miss Jezebel School. The name should have been a warning to him to move on, but he was desperate for any home. He was not naïve to the world and its failings, but he knew how to blind his eyes to things at times.

Collin was nineteen when he came to Miss Jezebel's School. It was just another place with a light on and laughter within its wall, so he tapped, on the only door that was close by. And was greeted with a beautiful face and a frown that would send him on his way. Collin did not hesitate when he saw her expression for he knew he would be chased away. Feeling tired and hungry, ready to make the floor his bed, Collin took a step away when he heard . . . "Oyo, what do ye want?" the lovely face asked him.

Stopping with his back to her, Collin answered. "Food," Collin waited for a second and heard the door slammed on him. Not surprised, he dragged his bare feet away, but was unable to take another step, Collin leaned on the wall for support with his eyes burdened with sleep and hunger when he heard another voice say, "Come with me." It was such a struggle to look up and push away from the wall to drag and follow yet another attractive girl.

Finding strength, Collin followed her and was ushered into a stunning kitchen, with the walls painted white with a large cooking stove against the wall. The first he ever saw with pots hanging over a larger table in the center of the kitchen with a stool on each side. As he looked around, he saw a nook by a large window making the kitchen look like a place he could live in with the view of a very flat green garden.

With his eyes semi-closed and stomach rumbling, Collin turned to the sweetest smell he had not inhaled in months. His mouth watered when he heard, "Take a seat." Upon opening his eyes fully Collin saw yet another attractive face, but this one was much older than the other two girls. She was a refined lady, in a regal, red silk robe with her hair cascading past her shoulders to her back, and her face was free from paint. She was beautiful with shiny black hair, arched eyebrows the color of her hair, and eyes as black as midnight with lips that made him wonder what it would feel like to touch.

Collin did what he was ordered to do; he sat on the floor by the door waiting when the lady in red folded her arms staring at him. "Not on the floor, young man. There." She pointed to the nook by the window. How could he sit in that heavenly little spot with his dirty self? Collin looked at the place where the lady pointed he should be seated and saw someone set a hearty bowl of stew and a chunk of bread beside it. Of its own accord, Collin's feet moved to the food where he sat and dove in, never taking his eyes off the meal, thinking it would disappear. Collin swallowed more than he ate his food, finishing in fewer bites than he should have.

Raising his head to look at the kind, beautiful woman who gave him his first free meal in weeks, he waited as she leaned back, staring at him.

"We need someone like you," she said, staring him in his eyes. "Someone who can help our cook, deal with . . . with things." Collin wondered what "things" she spoke of. "If you're willing, you'll have three free meals, a day and a place to rest your head. What do you say?" she sat forward with her hands clasped together, waiting for his answer.

Collin seemed hypnotized as he nodded his head, and was swept away by her smile as she clapped her hands together as two girls came rushing in and took him away.

He was pulled out the kitchen by the two beautiful girls, down a short hallway to his left, and was shoved into a room where a large tub was placed in the middle of the chamber with steam rising from it. He was stripped in mere seconds with his hands covering his crotch. Collin was not shy, but he knew what shame was when his trousers were caught in a gentry's gate as he tried to run from stealing food.

When his trousers were accidentally ripped from his body and left hanging by the entrance. His thoughts were not how naked he looked from the waist down, but how to get away from the Constable. It was only when he heard a woman screamed and fainted as he passed her, and with another gentry born woman pointing below his waist screaming. To have yet another female who stared at him, he realized he was trousers less.

He looked down and behold, his penis hanging between his thighs was swinging freely as Collin tried to cover his shame for the first time. It was far too long and too thick, to cover with his hands, so he ran into an alley and into the slums where he could hide.

It was Collin's first experience of what shame was of his size, of his manhood. He believed something was wrong with him when other boys saw and glared at him with angry eyes, so he stayed away from them whenever he washed in the river outside of the villages or city.

"Here's your new clothes." One of the beautiful girls said, covering her mouth staring at his crotch. He was snapped out of his last memory of being naked from the waist down, as he saw a clean pair of trousers, a white shirt, and undies for him by the door as the girls left him to clean up. He sauntered towards what was his second set of clean, free clothes for a while that he did not have to steal. Collin dare not touch it, fearing his dirty hands would mar its pristine.

When Collin entered the warm tub, he felt he could have stayed there, but knew he was expected by the lady in the red robe. And so took a quick scrub of his body, dried off and put on his new clothes excluding the undies, and retraced his steps to the kitchen where he came from.

As he entered the kitchen, he was meet with a bulk of a body with silver hair pinned in a tight bun, a line for an eyebrow, cold, thin lips that looked like it never smiled, and unkind eyes set on a dull grey day standing stiff as a wall staring at him.

"Laila, this is your new helper." The lady in the red robe said, stepping from behind the Walls back.

"Laila, this . . ." with a smile made to charm any man, "What is your name, young man?"

"Collin."

Smiling at him, "Laila, Collin is yours to command." Stated the lady in the red robe as she walked around what looked like a woman, this Laila, to stand in front of him.

"And you may call me Madame." tilting his chin up to look at her with a frown on her stunning façade. "You may be my trouble for a while." And with those words, she left him with "The Wall," which should have been her name taking a step towards him.

It was Collin's first home. The Wall and Madame were all the reason he knew he was getting three meals and a clean place to stay. It did not matter what he was supposed to do, he would do it for his back, head, and belly.
Chapter Seventeen

As the weeks turned into months, Collin still was not sure of what sort of place he stayed in. He was never allowed upstairs, nor was he to pass the stairs. Collin was stationed in the kitchen and the alley. He would help The Wall make meals he never did in his life but picked up fast on how it was done when she barked out an order. And when Collin failed to do as she ordered, he was inclined to feel her fist on his back. The first three weeks Collin could not lay on his back; it was blue black from all the assaults he got from what The Wall gave. Yet, when he did as she pleased, he was given a "Hum!" he did well.

Collin fetched what was needed for the kitchen, helped cook and cleaned, and when the day came to an end, he was given rest in his small room beside the pantry with a mattress, and a blanket. The most advantageous aspect of his little chamber was when The Wall went upstairs to her room, he had free reign to eat as much as he pleased.

It was a few months when he gained his equilibrium of having a safe place to live. Collin began to question his shelter and thought it was a school for young ladies when he heard their laughter more than saw them. Then he considered it was a brothel when he heard men's laughter at night with music loudly played on the weekends.

Collin could have cared less to what sort of place it was, for his body had gained weight, and grew a little more in mind. He learned long ago to hide behind a wall or to stay out of sight when people were around, and the school would be no different. However, one night, Collin learned not everyone would turn a blind eye from him.

As the Wall took her leave one night, Collin was left to do as he pleased, which was to eat. He sat in the nook, which he felt was his little haven with a bowl of stew he made from scratch. He took his time savoring it, and when it was done, he pushed his bowl away and rested his head and eyes for a second when he heard, "This must be him."

Collin looked up and saw four girls, each beautiful with sharp eyes on him. It was the two serving girls, whose names he never caught or cared for, which took him to the tub the first night, and they were with two new girls who looked comely and well-off. Collin made a move to leave them when they slid beside him, boxing him in his nook.

"So, we've been eating your hands." A girl with blond hair and sharp green eyes stared at him.

"Oh, those hands look positively manly," said another gorgeous doll grabbing his hands. Pulling it to her as she looked them over, she saw his left hand disfigured with a deep dent in his palm. The texture of it should have made her feel disgusted to touch it, but her eyes were stuck on his face that made up for what he lacked anywhere else it seemed.

"And you should see his third hand." One of the serving girls said. Collin did not want to know what she meant and tried to move from the nook, but they were determined to have him stay. The serving girls hid their giggles and pointed the top of the table with the new girls looking even more confused.

"His . . . Third . . . Hand," said the first one that opened the door to him months ago. Collin got the gist of what she was talking about and wanted to be in his bed before trouble made him leave the only place he knew as a home.

Sighing loudly, "And you dally with more men than I," said the serving girl as she moved out the way giving Collin a chance to get away from the curious young hens.

"Watch," she barked as she grabbed Collin from behind his trousers and yanked him to her. Collin could not have guessed such a slight, young girl could hold him so forcefully, and exposing his shame in his trousers which were swinging unbound. Needing to be free from them, Collin slapped her hand away and walked briskly to his small bedroom. Leaning against his door, he heard scandalous laughter as it was shoved and kicked. Collin now knew why the girls were trouble. Which is why the cook, kept him away from them.

As the days went by, Collin placed a lock on the door of his creation, because he was not paid a salary, nor did he converse with The Wall, and he neither saw the Madame after that one night. Therefore, he sorted to fix his problem on his own. His only solution was to hide when The Wall went off to her room because no one wanted to come across or mix words with her in her kitchen. Anyone tried, and they would lose. Collin saw it happened many times since he was there with vendors or tradesmen who did any business with the school.

While days turned into weeks, and the girls saw he no longer stayed in the open for their viewing pleasure. They remained in their domain, so he lapsed in his vigil as he went back, enjoying his late meal alone in his nook. He did so as the weeks passed by without any mishap of those girls.

Until one night, Collin sat with his belly filled, resting his head for a second, which ticked off to hours. To hear a noise that stirred him, thinking the cook came down for her nightly cup of Gin. But as he looked up, he was hit in his head seeing blurry white, then black. Collin fell hard on the nook's table.

May, the green-eyed beauty that looked at Collin as a toy rather than a cook that first night had dreamed of him, and his third hand for weeks. Everyone who knew her, recognized not to play games with her, for some would whisper, "She was the jade bully." May did not care, just as long she got what she wanted when she wanted it. Moreover, for weeks, she wanted his third hand that kept her up at night.

She planned everything. May knew his routine, his footsteps, and his one-word response to a question he would give to The Wall, and he spoke to no one, save her. Smiling for the fact she had him unaware, she planned to exercise his third hand, even though it would be for a short time, but it would be enough.

May knew she was not starved for men's attention. She had the pick of the lot wherever she went. She was as handsome as he was beautiful, May reasoned, even though his left hand felt strange to touch. And his eyes were white and clean with bits of red in them. Nevertheless, he was damn handsome with his sea, blue eyes, set jaw with lips that were too pink and tasty looking to be on any boy or man.

Enjoying the sight of him, May believed if he had a family or as simple as a home and a name she would have made him hers, and they would make a handsome couple. And the babies they would make. Oh! How envious everyone would have been.

The young green eye bully was no virgin. Before the age of seventeen, she had seduced twelve men, but no one could be compared to this boy in a man's body. He acted like a boy, for which man would see such gems of Jezebel's School for Girls, and not take a chance and cavort with some or one. May thought he was simple-minded or he liked his sex, whichever way, she wanted to try him out.

The week would be up, and she would be off to her parents' home for two months with their ever-watchful eyes on her, waiting to match her with a wealthy husband for their pockets and not her heart. "Like they need more money." She would have her last fling of fun with him, this mere boy as she dragged him from his nook.

"Gad," May groaned pulling him by his arms. She did not think he would be this heavy as she hauled him to his master bedroom and dropped him next to his bed.

The corner of his room was cleaner than hers, and most of the girls she knew as she kneeled looking at him. He was indeed handsome with his black hair reaching his neck, straight nose, and luscious pink lips meant for sucking, but why did he traipse his way around? With his looks, he could easily make for an excellent companion to a lonely old widowed woman with tons of money. May wanted to know more about him, but settle for getting to know his third hand.

As she unbuttoned his shirt, her eyes were blessed to see such a physique that was made to be adored by all women. He was hard with ridges at his stomach, his chest was smooth and warm to her touch, but he was full of hair from his navel going down. Oh! May could not wait to see what else she was in store for.

Undoing his trouser, shimmy, it passed his waist to his knees, to look up and see he did not wear underclothes and his . . . It was beyond all her imagination. It was indeed thick and long even asleep, nestled in his black jungle. A bit concerned, May thought him too big for even her to handle, but she did not plan to see all this fall short because she lacked stamina.

The hit in the head would not keep him down for too long, so she brought her trusty laudanum to keep him asleep until she was done with him. She fixed a precise dose, and threw it down his throat, covering his mouth with her hand to make sure he swallowed it all, and he did. May wondered how she was to get a rise from him asleep. So she crept, down beside him, held his third hand, and felt it twitch in her hands, and began to salivate as she descended on him. Taking the tip of it into her mouth, sucking gently, going down to the sides. She felt and saw it worked. He was standing for her, but something was strange about this one. As he stood slightly tall amid his black jungle, May realized she never dealt with a man with so many pubic hairs, but all she cared for was his third hand standing tall for her.

The "Jade Bully" wasted not a second as she tried to sit on him, she tried twice and could not, because he was too big. Angry with herself and him, she sat on the floor watching it go back to sleep but was determined she would have him.

May grabbed his penis, bit it hard, causing a bit of blood to flow from it and got it to stand again. Wasting no time, she took bit by bit of him in her, making her eyes water, biting her lips from screaming, and slowly sank on him in which a groan escaped from his lips. May stilled as his head began to rock side to side moaning, but he stopped and fell into his laudanum dose sleep.

May felt she could not; dare not move. She was ripped and torn with pleasure from him, by this tramp. Nevertheless, she would ride him, as she may never have the likes of him again.

It took a while before she did not feel skewered by him, but when she became relaxed; her first move bore pain for her, and even him from the sound that emanated from him. May could not stay still any longer and so rode him slow, then picked up pace crying as she felt her rising need coming to a pinnacle that made her think she would pass out.

May bit her hand as she came to keep from crying out the joy of what she felt, and from what she took from him. Oh, it was heaven; this tramp bought that for her. It was pure heaven being on him, and he was still hard in her, and he had yet to come. Wanting to give him back what she took from him. May continued to gyrate on him and felt his size grew a little more, to have him stiffen as his release was shot in her.

His come went on for a while as his breathing became erratic, with his head rocking side to side again and with a deep frown on his face. She knew she should have gotten off him before he came, spilling all his seed in her, but it felt so wickedly grand to feel him flowing into her.

It also felt good to know she was his first, to wonder how such a handsome man could have never had a woman ride him, was beyond her comprehension. She knew she was his first by his reaction as he came. May felt her inside was filled with his seed that it overflowed onto her thighs and his crotch smiling. He might never remember his first time, but she would retain his until she died.

She stayed on him feeling him go limp in her but wanted to cuddle with this sleeping tramp. Watching him as he looked in pain, May wished she knew his story of why he was homeless and alone. She learned of him by the serving girls, and what he was, a few months ago, and got a glimpse of him. It was because of his face, May wanted to meet him so badly. It looked blank from all emotions, but when he thought no one was watching while he ate, it was his expression and the reason she sat on him. It was incredible.

Lying on him, May rested her head on his chest for a while, but he began to whimper. She thought a hasty retreat would be best. Pulling herself off him, May stood for a while and watched him sleep with his body glistening, and his penis with come and blood from her bite. She enjoyed her short time with him and wanted a kiss from him. Thus, knelt and sucked his lips to hear him moan. May wanted to leave another mark on him and gave him a love bite above his heart, and when she stood, she looked pleased and content as she departed.
Chapter Eighteen

Collin was in pain beyond any he had ever known. He felt pressure on him, on his waist, "gad" he wanted to know what was happening to him. He did not know what to do but groan with the pain of something enormous jumping on his . . . his penis felt hard . . . It felt like it was swallowed completely, it hurt so much. Collin groaned trying to open his eyes, but that failed him too, his body was betraying him but his . . . his penis was hard, yet the rest of his body did not listen to him as darkness descended on him.

Time lapsed, and Collin woke to feel numb and tired as if he ran for his life, as the devil himself was chasing him. Groaning as his overworked sleep wore off, Collin opened his eyes slowly, feeling behind his head ached. Trying to rise, he felt dizzy and dropped to the floor hard.

Why the hell was he on the floor and not on his bed? Collin turned to see that he fell a few inches away from his bed and tried to rise again, but felt a chill cascade down his body and saw he was exposed. His shirt was opened, and his trousers were below his waist. What the . . . why?

Collin sat up slowly and looked at himself, trying to remember how he . . . blood. His penis had blood on it, and he smelled . . . fresh. He touched his penis, and it felt sticky with blood and wondered what the white stuff was on him. What was wrong with his body? He did not know nor cared right then because The Wall would need him for his daily duties. Therefore, rose, buttoned his shirt, and pulled on his trousers to deal with the day's task.

Collin spent the whole day in a daze as he went about his work, cleaning, cooking, and running errands without a hitch. No one knew he was at a loss of last night's events. He remembered eating alone, then turned when he heard a noise to see a white image and felt pain behind his head to wake up on the floor semi-naked with blood on his penis. And The Wall, The Wall looked at him strangely the entire day. He wondered if he did something to upset her, for every time Collin came close to her she would step back from him, and look at him as if he was a leper.

Confused by it all, Collin did something he never did to The Wall, he asked a question. "Did I do something wrong?" The Wall stopped with her back to him, turned, and glared at him from head to toe.

"You smell sinful," she replied with scorn on her face. "Whoever you had last night, make it your first and final. I will not tolerate it again." To storm off, leaving him even more tangled by her words.

Collin felt even more confused by the morning's event to the nights ending. Forgoing his ritual of a late meal, he went to his room with his door closed and began to strip so he can wipe off the day's muck. To hear someone in the kitchen, and thought it was The Wall. Continuing, Collin was about to take off his trousers when his door flew open, and he saw the green eye girl in her shift staring at him.

Collin backed away frighten and nervous as she took a step to him.

"You look more beautiful awake," She said, coming closer to him.

Collin did not know what to do but backed up until he hit the wall. He knew he was cornered with her standing in front of him with the kitchen light shining and outlining her nudity for him to see. Collin could not breathe as she touched his left chest with a strange mark on it. It was something new he did not have the night before as he watched her hand traveled to his trouser. Holding his breath, Collin made a move to stop her hand, and she smacked his hand away and told him, "Not to touch her." Her words were more of a warning, for she knew she had power over him.

"You will enjoy it tonight," May said, snaking her hand in his trousers and grabbed hold of his penis. Collin's eyes closed of their own accord as she squeezed it, and felt his body betray him as it stood for her. She smiled as she stood back and undid his trousers and fell to his feet. Collin kept his eyes closed fearing what to do or what he will see. He knew he was in trouble just for having her in his room, even though he did not invite her, it would all fall on his shoulders and not hers, and she knew it.

Smiling, May had him where she wanted him. He could not tell on her, nor could he reject her for her word had more power than his. Kneeling before him, May took him in her mouth, and he moaned with his eyes closed, daring not to touch her as she did things to his body for the first time.

"So, it was you."

Dropping his penis and standing away from him, May saw The Wall in his doorway watching her. May knew everyone in the school and understood never to tangle with Madame or The Wall. Stepping aside, May rushed pass The Wall and fled from what was to be her last chance to have the tramp.

Collin opened his eyes when he felt he was alone and pulled up his trousers as The Wall walked away. He took a step out his bedroom door to see The Wall about to leave, and wondered what could he say to save face? However, she said it to him.

"Lock your door if you don't want them to come for you again." And that was it. She left with those words. Collin did not hesitate as he slammed his door closed and slid his makeshift lock in place. It was his first real experience of sex after running from such circumstances. He now knew what happened the night before. Why he smelled fresh, why he was sticky, the strange mark he had on his chest, where it came from, and the blood on his penis. The Wall had saved him, and he would be forever grateful and debited to her.

As the weeks wore by, the place grew quiet with less work to do as the girls went away. So he had more time to think and remember the red hair girl, and wonder what she was doing. It was years ago, but he thought of her every day since she held his hand. How such a simple act remained with him and made him want her touch more than any.

Almost four months went by after the green eye girl came to his little room. He never mentioned her nor talked about her with The Wall or Madame. It was as if it never happened, and he was happy to forget his humiliation.

Yet, one day as Collin was about his duties, returning from shopping on a bleak October morning for The Wall, he saw a carriage pulled up to the house, thinking it was another girl that came in late from her holidays. Collin stood in the alley and looked at an elegantly polished carriage, with a wolf and boar emblem and wondered what it would feel like to travel in one when he saw . . . Her again. Fearing she might see him, Collin took off into the village to wait for her to leave. He was free to move about like an ordinary person for no one knew him before or remembered who he was. They just saw a serving boy, which was well with him.

Though, Collin could not wait any longer, for The Wall would be furious with him if he lingered too long in his outings and so bit the bullet and went back to the kitchen hoping to God she was gone. But, when he opened the door to his little haven, Collin saw her, the green-eyed girl sitting in his nook with a sour face woman who looked like the jade eyed girl, just plump and older.

Desperately not wanting to know what was going on, Collin took a step to his room when he heard . . . "It was him, papa." The green eye girl shouted with tears in her eyes, pointing at him.

Collin had his hands on his door when he felt someone swing him around and slammed him against the wall.

"You will not disgrace my daughter." The man shouted at Collin, slapping his face.

"Papa no," the green-eyed girl rushed, yelling, as she stood between him and the man.

Collin watched the old gentleman step back, looking angry enough that he could kill him and her at once, but she turned and looked at him holding her belly. Collin looked down and saw that her stomach was more significant than what it was when she was there.

May turned with a smile on her face as she watched Collin looking even more, handsome in the four months she was away. She was proud of herself for what she did and how things turned out for her. She was happy beyond words, but she had to complete her act before her parents, Madame and The Wall.

As May watched Collin confused expression, she may have felt a hint of sympathy for him, but she wanted him, and she would have him. "Papa, remember why we came," May said as she wrapped her arm in Collin's standing beside him. "We love each other, and I want him and the baby." Collin tried to pull away, but May had a firm grip on him.

"I should have this, this school demolish." The man shouted, making the old woman who sat in his nook jump and hiccupped wiping her eyes. Collin stood beside the green-eyed girl, never getting or cared for her name as he saw what was transpiring before him.

Madame sat opposite the old, plump woman looking stricken by the man's outburst of having her school demolish with The Wall standing behind Madame, looking angry at the distinguished gentleman in his elegant, pressed clothes, raging. Collin knew they were the girl's parents, and wondered why they thought he was in love with her and that her child was his? Collin looked down at her stomach, and she was indeed pregnant and not fat.

Collin knew all the girls that came to Madame's School were from the fineness homes with money or title. Some were good, and some were rotten like the one who had his arm in a death grip. Collin knew he should speak up, but his voice failed him as he saw Madame's eyes, glistening with unshed tears.

"My daughter will have no other," the angry gentleman said calmly, "She is my . . . it will be done before the season is over."

Collin looked at Madame and The Wall for answers as to what was going on, and what the little, girl father was saying. "Come, mother. May, make your goodbyes." The old man said with his hand out to his daughter to take. "My Man will make him reach on time."

The green-eyed girl turned with a sweet smile on her face and kissed Collin's cheek as she followed her parents out of his kitchen.

Collin waited for the door to close to then breathe when Madame sighed, wiping her eyes looking at him crossed. What had he done and what was going on? It was The Wall, which shed light on all his questions.

"She is pregnant, and her father has come for you to wed his daughter." Collin dragged his feet as they almost gave up on him, by this bit of news and sat in front of Madame Jezebel. "He has money . . . name, and power," The Wall went on, "And she is his only legitimate child."

Tired of standing through the whole ordeal, The Wall sank beside Madame, with both scrutinizing him. "If you do not marry his, his . . . daughter," The Wall said, looking close to tears, "He would close the school as he said."

With those words, Collin wondered what part he played to the man's threat. He did not love nor even like the green-eyed girl, how could he wed her? He never touched her . . . and . . . and he began to remember what happened some months ago as he watched The Wall console, Madame. It was indeed part of his fault the school might be closed, but it was not all to fall on his shoulders. He did not willingly sleep with her, and now he was told he must marry the green eye bitch. How could he? Why should he? Collin knew the answer to his questions, but still felt it was wrong to be hitched to the likes of her.

Even though he was given shelter, where food was not withheld from him, and he had the freedom to go and come as he pleased. It felt like he was doomed to do what others wanted and willed of him, for he was indeed indebted to The Wall and Madame and it was his price, he must pay now. To Madame and The Wall.
Chapter Nineteen

It was that reason Collin was dressed for a wedding, in the most refined clothes and shoes he ever wore or owned. As he dressed for the wedding, his "Shadow," the guard whom his beloved father-in-law, gave him. Collected Collin from Madams School and stood by the open bedroom door waiting.

Yet watching himself in the mirror, he saw something different, something he never saw in all his nineteen years of living. Collin saw a human that was worthy of love from someone who would genuinely love him beyond what the green-eyed witch wanted from him. In that second of a moment, he remembered the girl with her awful red hair. Would she see him as he saw himself right now? Would she give him a chance?

"It's time." 'His Shadow said shaking Collin out his brooding thoughts as he turned, and looked at the bulk of a man that was his escort waiting. As Collin stepped out of his temporary bedroom, he looked back at its luxurious furnishing and wondered if it will be his room after his vows. For the stylish room, was dressed with a reserved table and chair by the window, an enormous bed that could have held three of him with a bloody red counterpane of the family crest on it. And pillows stacked high taking up a third of the bed with a chair by the fireplace, and a full-length mirror.

The room had light streaming in through the windows that covered the entire wall, and when he looked out those windows, he felt like how the sky seemed, bleak, and thick with regretful tears, just waiting to burst any minute. However, Collin knew to shed any tears was a waste of time, of his time. He was more trap now than when he was in the orphanage.

As Collin followed his Shadow down the wide hallway, he felt cold eyes staring at him wondering what he was doing in their home. Nonetheless, he kept his eyes on his Shadow back as they went down a spacious staircase with gold-tone railings and into the hall. His Shadow took three quick steps and stopped by golden double doors to a room on his left, turned, and pulled Collin towards the doors and knocked softly. Waiting, the doors opened as Collin was ushered in to see a small party of four staring at him.

"Young man," Collin soon to be father-in-law, shouted at him while his feet were rooted by the doors, "We don't have the whole day." His bride's father half yelled at him as his burly companion shoved him into his bachelor's end.

Collin looked at his fate before him, if he tried to run, he would not get far because his Shadow would come after him. While he was getting ready, Collin looked out his window and overheard May's father, ordered, his Shadow, "Whatever it takes, make him reach my daughter's side, even if he is close to death." So running was out the question, yet death seemed so much suitable than to marry the green-eyed witch.

Although Collin knew he would have shelter, a bed, and three meals a day like at Miss Jezebel School without the workload, he wondered if it was worth his life. But being shoved yet again answered his bewilderment. Therefore, he strolled and stood in front of the priest. With pity in the clergyman's eyes, Collin questioned if he knew what he was about to do to him, and he began his sermon with his voice blessing the union of Collin and May Thomas.

The ceremony was short and fast, for Collin only remembered the priest saying, "You may kiss the bride." He was not asked a question or needed to say anything. He turned and looked at his wife, "May," whose name he now knew, wrapped her arms around his neck, and kissed him on his lips with her eyes open. Collin saw a smile on her face as she nipped his bottom lip, making him pull away breathless as he held his bitten lip.

"Right, the house is yours now." Her father said as he shoved Collin from his daughter and envelope her in a fatherly embrace, then her mother did the same crying as they walked out, leaving him with the priest waiting.

"My son," the priest whispered, "I am so very sorry," as he tapped Collin on his back and walked away, shaking his head. As a new husband, he stood staring at the priest back while his giant companion stood by the door waiting. Collin wondered if his Shadow would be his permanent friend from now on, but his new wife solved that question when she told him he was not needed.

May walked about her living room, "Hers." She now was free because of him, her husband. She had no mother or father to answer to, nor would she have to heed to her husband will, Collin Thomas. "A simple name for a simple man who would be easy to control," May believed. As a new bride, May felt she was the luckiest girl alive as she dropped on a settee where her husband stood nearby, looking nervous and out of place.

She could not say it enough, "Husband." She was married to a man of her choice, and he was handsome and blessed with an incredible penis to make her happy, and satisfied. She need not want or crave another man in her life, or between her legs. Her Collin would be her all.

Looking at her husband's face, she saw he was a bit nervous. She could not blame him. He was made a spouse by force, but she thought he should be happy also. He had her, a beautiful wife, home, and soon a child would be his to love. She would make him see how lucky she had made him, and she intended to do so tonight.

"The Cook has made an excellent meal," She said as she tried to stand. For less than five months, her belly was enormous, more substantial than what it should be the doctor said. May knew the child was Collins' for he was the only person she slept within the last year. Planning, waiting, and wanting only him, she had no man between her legs save her Collin, her husband, but the baby was still too big, which made her uneasy somewhat.

May took her husband's hand feeling it wet and quaking, while pulling herself up with his help, to guide him upstairs to their bedroom. She could not wait to disrobe him and have him after their meal, for she was ravenous for him with his child growing inside her. Knowing how eager her body was for her new husband, May should have taken the time and showed him about the house and estate he now lived in. Introduced him to her staff, in general, she should let him see what he had gained from marrying her, but she wanted him in a desperate way that no man ever made her feel.

Collin held May's hand, and it felt nothing like the awful red hair girl's touch. His wife's hands made him want to run and hide from her. Her caress was cold, as he had no feelings for her. No, he had one emotion towards her, despair. His wife's touch made him feel, he was going to jail for life as he climbed the stairs to her bedroom for a meal.

Collin was pulled into a bedroom that glowed and glittered in red and gold from the fireplace and with a four-poster bed that was turned down with a few pillows stacked against the headboard like his bedroom. The room was stunning by any he had ever seen in his life, but he liked his quaint quarters. It was just what he always wanted, something that was like him, unassuming.

"I'm famished," His wife said, sitting at a table loaded with food that could have fed a small orphanage in Collin's eyes. He sat with his wife and watched her load her plate with everything on the table. She had it piled high with slices of baked ham, croissant, cheese, pheasant, and a few vegetables, pears, and some sweets he never saw before. And a tall glass of red wine, while his plate had a slice of ham and croissant.

Collin was hungry but nervous as his wife devoured her meal in less time he ever took when he was starved. It was quite a shock to see a gentle-born woman, scoff down a meal without a break or blink. Trying to soothe his galloping heart, he sat quietly waiting as she finished her meal, of what to do next.

Observing her Collin, May pushed her empty plate away and looked at her tense husband's whole meal. She knew he was a bit uneasy and frighten by all that was going to happen, but she could not help it, she loved feeling in control of her life and of his.

Pushing away from their makeshift dinner table, May strolled to her closet to change. Peeking ever so often to see if he was there and he was sitting right where she left him. God, she thought she was fortunate as she changed to have her husband.

Collin felt trapped in the chair, it was his first night as a married man and pondered what he should do? Or how to make this hopeless stone that was hanging around his neck to go away. He wished he was prepared for the role that was thrust on him as he waited for his wife.

"Sir Collin," he looked up to see May, the woman who was now his . . . his wife. She stood before him in a thin pink web exposing her enormous belly that housed his child, and breast that had swollen with her pregnancy. She was indeed beautiful, he could not deny that, but he did not love her. Nevertheless, he would try to like her for the child's sake.

Collin stood as she moved to her bed. He knew he should join her, but his feet did not want to budge as she slithered up on her bed.

May saw how reluctant he looked as she made her way to their bed, and knew she would have to woo her husband. Smiling at that thought, it was such a novel idea for her to do, when it should be the other way around. Men would fawn as fools all over her fluttering eyes and seductive smile, but not her new husband, not yet, that is.

With her hands out to him, Collin just stared at it but made his feet move as he stood before her as she grabbed his hands in hers and kissed it. Closing his eyes to her for a second as she slid his jacket off him, and made short work of his shirt buttons. Holding his neck, May pulled him towards her and took possession of his mouth begging entrance with her tongue. Collin groaned as he felt her hand enter his trouser and grabbed his penis, giving her tongue entrance into his mouth, sparring with his tongue, making him want to gag.

May could wait to woo her husband. However, she just wanted him inside her now. Wasting not a minute, she pulled and shoved him on the bed tugging his trousers off his waist, looking at him still without underwear.

Taking a deep breath, knowing how to wake him up, May did so with little effort as she took his penis into her mouth, sucking hard on his head to get a rise from him. With a pleasing smirk on her face, from his pleasurable penis and her bite mark that left a small scar from his first time, she licked it with a satisfied smile.

As her husband stood hard for her, May wasted no time as she straddled and sat on his penis, making him moan either from her weight or his pleasure, she considered. Either way made her happy just to have Collin in her, whenever she wanted him in the future.

Reaching her peak quickly as she screamed out his name after riding him. May examined his glistening and breathless form as she lay next to him going limp with his hand over his eyes. May took his arm and wrapped it around her and fell asleep contented.

Collin could not move by the weight of her leg and half of her on him. He was pinned and in prison. In the minutes she rode him, he could not breathe, far less think, all he felt was pressure and pleasure from her. His body obeyed her above him; he now knew he had no control in this marriage.

As her husband, Collin knew to stay away from her bed, it would give him some semblance of control. He recognized he just performed a sexual act and should feel happy, but imagined he betrayed someone, and immediately his thoughts rushed off to her again, the girl with her flaming red hair. She should be a woman by now, perchance with a family of her own like he had, and perhaps she was happy with hers, as he was not.

Staring at his . . . his wife as she drooled on his chest with a contented smile on her face, and her exposed breast with her nipples hard, through her night shift, with her leg thrown over him. Collin gazed at his crotch and saw he was dripping white from his penis, and it smelled fresh like when he was at Madams school. Closing his eyes, Collin prayed he would like her and the sexual act they just performed someday.
Chapter Twenty

In the three months of Collin's marriage to May, he enjoyed his shelter and his free meals whenever his belly grew empty. He also enjoyed the freedom from arduous work. He was freed to walk the grounds, roamed anywhere he chose to go and stay in any room in the house. He felt his life was turning around with such liberty that came with this marriage. Nonetheless, when the night arrived, he knew he had no control over what he enjoyed at night.

He was in bed with her every night, and she rode him until she was content and happy to lie beside him from exhaustion. As her belly grew, so did her appetite for sex. Collin could not say he was forced into the act. No. It was payment rendered for he owed her, his wife. For she took him from a wandering life and gave him shelter and food to his gratified will.

Nevertheless, Collin was not deceived into thinking life could be better. This is what he had and wished to make the best of it, but how? Whenever his wife kissed or touched him about his body, he became repulsed.

Together with, in the three months of his marriage, Collin saw more of his wife's mother than her father. Which was good, considering they did not see eye to eye, and May's many half-siblings also came on separate occasions. Yet being one not to converse willingly with anyone, Collin learned that his father-in-law had a healthy appetite for the opposite sex and sexual conquest like his daughter. However, he was a man so Collin knew her father would have a greater need and want for sex, but his wife surprised him of her desire for it every night and if need be, the day also.

One afternoon relaxing in the only room his wife rarely ventured in, Collin sat in May's library attempting to read a book when he heard them before they descended on him. His mother-in-law was in the lead as she swooped in and gave him the look of motherly disdain. "What are you doing?" she asked as if she were blind to see which room he was in, and what he had in his hands. Collin closed the book and made a move to leave, but when he reached the door, he was waylaid again. His wife's family had a knack to keep him in a pigeonhole for their liking.

"Why, it's my little sister, husband." His wife eldest, half-sister said, pushing him back into the library with a devious smile on her face.

Collin tried to walk around her to leave, but his wife came in and made the perfect circle complete. The "three witches" Collin would call them. They always gathered to torment him. They took pleasure in saying things that made him sick and angry; for they knew, he would not act nor give them words of his displeasure. He seldom said anything to his wife far less her guest. And upon hearing a click behind his wife's back, he knew he was in for the long haul of their visit.

May's sister, Rose was everything that May was not. She was fat and rosy as her name, with cold, calculating eyes. Collin could not think of anything good about meeting her, save when her back was to him when she left. Rose and his mother-in-law had the same mean disposition, which was why they tolerated each other.

"What were you reading?" Rose asked as she snatched the book from his hand. "A book of poems?" she said aloud with a smirk on her face. "Sister, you did not say he could read."

May sat beside her mother as she looked at her sister, staring at the book Collin was reading.

"Did you think I know everything about him?"

"Yet you took him between your legs," Rose stated, deciding to sit next to her brother-in-law. "Before you knew anything about him?" And so, it began. The sisterly 'tit for tat' while his mother-in-law sat silently listening without reprimanding any of them.

"How can one girl be so lucky?" Rose asked, staring at Collin, making him feel uneasy.

"How am I, fortunate sister?" May asked.

"Look at him," Rose answered, touching Collin's shoulder. "He is handsome, does not speak much and with your appetite like father, he must be blessed between his legs." She finished her speech with her eyes fasten on Collin's crotch, and with a smile that bears a resemblance to a blush. May stared at her husband waiting for him to look at her, which she knew he would not.

In the months they were husband and wife, he never looked her in her eyes, not once. When she was on top of him taking her pleasure, his eyes would be tightly sealed, and she would have to wrap his arm around her to show some comfort after they made love. She saw that his heart was closed off from her, but she refused to believe it would always be so.

Yet thinking more on it, May imagined he tried to shut her out from his presence, with his eyes tightly closed, which made her mad as hell.

May knew she was not the perfect wife, but at least, she gave him more than any average spouse would give to a poor husband. He should be happy; nonetheless, she knew he was not. The man was void of showing any emotion around her. When other men would have taken what she gave so regular and freely with a smile on their face, he was cold and clammy when she slept with him. It made her mad every night. She wanted a real husband and got a wicked, ungrateful boy that could pleasure her repeatedly by just having his penis stand hard for her and mercifully, he had no control over his penis.

If her sister knew all the gold that glitter was not gold as she portrayed her marriage to be. Nevertheless, she would never say a word to spoil the vision she created of her nuptials to Collin, her three-legged husband.

"May?" Rose shouted to gain her sister's attention, "I was asking how many you're going for?" confused by the question. Taking a deep breath, Rose asked again, "How many children you're going for?"

May looked at her husband wanting to see any reaction from him and said, "Ten is a number close to my heart." She said, smiling as she waited to see his response, but yet again, none was given. "Cold. Marvelously cold," May thought her husband to be, but his penis made up for it all. Still, she wanted him to pay for his callous behavior towards her and her family. He must learn she wanted more from him, and she would have it.

While sitting back, Collin waited for the three witches to finish their visit as he ventured into his fantasy of the red hair girl waiting for him. She was much, much older with striking red hair, and the same touch to make him feel wanted and loved. He envisioned her beauty enhanced, with her belly swollen with his child.

"Dreamer?" someone shouted interrupting Collin, from his caprice to see that his "in-laws" were gone, leaving his wife staring at him. Looking at his wife, he knew he did something wrong. Not once did Collin gaze into her eyes, but as he took a quick glimpse at her, he knew how to read her when she said nothing. And she was saying nothing of his indifferent interaction with her family. He knew it; he would pay by her only means of punishment. Collin knew his wife had a cruel heart that showed itself to him every day and night.

Collin never slept in the bedroom where he got ready for his wedding, he slept in his wife's bed, and he was always prepared for her. Thus to make the event of her having sex with him to finish fast, he would be waiting for her naked under the covers sometimes so it would be over as she rolled away from him with exhaustion.

He was prepared when the door clicked open with the room in darkness by her decree. As her stomach grew over time with the child, May loathed seeing herself naked. So ordered most of her mirrors removed and when she came to bed at night, demanded Collin to out all the lights. Some nights, he would lay on top the bedding naked as he did now while his wife slid to him, but felt the bed dip more than the night before. And as she touched him, Collin knew why the bed weighed more.

Rose.

"Given permission." his sister-in-law said, having a smug smile on her face, Collin sensed more than saw.

"No," Collin roared as he jumped from his wife's bed, sheathing with pure hatred and anger towards her. May and her sister. He tolerated his wife, but he refused to be passed around like a used toy between sisters. Making his way to the door, as his eyes became adjusted to the dark Collin wished he was blind, for the sight of Rose was like looking at a pink whale with her breast almost touching the top of her stomach that lapped over her private. Her hair was loose and thin, and the only redeeming factor of Rose was that she could not outrun nor outwalk him.

Seeing Rose struggle to come off the bed, Collin walked to the door, hearing footsteps behind him. He knew this was a moment and someone he would have to defend himself against, for his need to take a stand for what little rights he had in his wife's house. All his life, he knew and was taught, never to hurt a woman. It was one of the rules that were pounded into his head as a child growing up in the orphanage. However, they who taught him such things never cross paths with Rose, his new enemy.

Trying the doorknob, he found it locked, and as he turned, he saw Rose strolling to him slowly. Collin rattled the door when he heard a snigger outside and knew it was his wife, enjoying her little game. As Collin turned to see where his sister-in-law was, Rose greeted him with a heavy hand across his face that had him seeing lights flashing behind his eyelids.

He tried to focus his eyes on her when a second strike was aimed at his nose, making his head hit the door hard as he fell to the floor almost blacking out, but he refused. He would not let another woman take advantage of him as his wife.

Collin felt Rose kneel beside him while she descended on his lips and took possession of his mouth in a wet, disgusting manner, which made him feel like he was drowning. Not caring she was a woman or his sister-in-law, Collin shoved her off him with all the force and pinned up emotions of being in his "wife family" with vigor. Hurling a startled Rose across the floor landing in a heap by the bed.

"Rose, Rose . . . Rose answer me," May shouted. When no response was given, the door swung open as she rushed in wearing her robe holding a candle over her sister's naked body by the bed. May wielded the taper around to see Collin walking away. She stepped out of her bedroom and saw that he was naked, walking away, going downstairs. "Collin," she shouted, but he did not stop. May stood looking at Collin walk out the front door. "Collin," she cried, holding her stomach stomping her feet, send wax on her hand. "Damn it." She bawled, to see her husband continued on his walk, leaving her home.

Leaving her.

Collin was cold, but he did not care. He wanted peace, craving her and her touch now. The girl with the awful red hair, and not the wife he had. Walking until dawn came upon him feeling complete freedom from his opulent cage. Collin walked away with one intention, to have her, that girl with her flaming red hair.

As dawn approached, Collin saw they were a few people on the road, and when they came upon him, they would run in the opposite direction from him. He walked until dusk hearing the first carriage since his emancipation, riding hard behind him.

Collin stepped out the way to give it room to pass, but the carriage stopped alongside him, and when he looked up, he saw 'His Shadow' stepping down with a coat. Collin looked at the cloak, 'His Shadow,' and the road.

His feet were hurting, and his belly was biting, but he was going for her, he was going to find her and make her his. And as he took a step away from the coat, the carriage and 'His Shadow,' he felt a hard hit on his head, and the ground came to meet him.

A month after the Rose incident, Collin was gifted to some freedom and peace. His wife had no more visitors to her house. She rarely spoke to him or came into his space, and there were nights where he was free from having sex with her. Remorse was something he thought he would never have seen from her, but there it was. She tried to show a softer side for the Rose night, but Collin could not forget or forgive.

He knew she had no respect in her eyes for him and used him for her sexual needs. His wife could have had any man with money and title to give her what she wanted. Yet Collin, wondered what valid purpose his wife wanted him for? It could not be for coitus only. But then again, when the night crept in, and his penis was hard by his wife's cruel mouth, he understood he was for May's pleasures?

As the time came closer for the child to be born, and Collin to become a father, his wife came to him in the library while he was sleeping on the couch one evening. Upon opening his eyes, he saw her staring at him so intently and thought she wanted sex from him now. She never came to him in the library after the Rose visit, and as he sat up looking at her hands, rubbing her over swollen stomach, Collin waited for her to make her move.

May never loved something so much in her life. She never planned to feel so strongly towards anyone in her life as she did for this person who was her husband. Words of want and need felt strange for her to say together for anything, but they were what she felt for her Collin.

He did nothing to make her want him, he was just there, lonely, and she desired to make him happy.

Why?

She did not know.

May knew Collin did not care for her or her money, and she wondered many times why he stayed with her. He looked at her home as a shelter where food was readily available, and if he walked away from her once with nothing, he could do it again successfully if he planned. May could not and will not allow him to leave her. He was hers to keep. He possessed her thoughts with nothing of his given affection, but with precise time, she could make him love her. May knew she could, but how would she keep him from leaving her, from walking away again?

She never showed or said any words of her true feelings to her husband, so it took a while for her to muster what to say. Sitting in front of him now as he looked at her with his empty stare, May needed to say something for him to stay for . . . The baby . . . And for her.

"You are my husband and father of this child," May said, trying to say the right things from her heart to him. "We are one, joined by God." She was never a religious person, nor did she think her husband was one. "I . . . I want this family." She said, rubbing her belly. "I want you, because . . . because of I . . . I love you." Closing her eyes, May felt a weight was lifted off her shoulders, thinking now she can have him as before.

No, she wanted him to be a real husband to her and not what he was. May looked at him, staring her in her eyes, something he never did. He stared into her eyes, seeking if she spoke from her heart if she spoke the truth. Sighing loudly, May rose and looked down at her husband praying Collin saw she spoke from the most sacred place for her, her HEART.

Collin knew he would never love May. He would care for the child and give it all that was denied to him from his sire. As a father, Collin would be there for the child, but could not love its mother, who tried to be kindhearted, caring, and loving as she never did before. For the first time, in knowing his wife, she spoke to him as if he was her equal. As if she cared what he thought, but all Collin saw and felt was a chill from her.

The baby was due any day, which surprised Collin that she wanted his body still; she demanded it from him after her speech. His wife was always on top; did what she wanted, took what she wanted, and fell asleep beside him with her hand over his heart. He would stay there until she woke to clean up and so he was free from her until she wanted him again.

But the night before the child was born, she did something that took him by surprise. She repeated the words of love to him, kissed his cheek, and fell asleep. Collin watched her sleep wondering what game she was playing, but always feeling exhausted after she took him, he fell asleep with that question on his mind.
Chapter Twenty-One

She smiled at him. Her eyes were ablaze with love, they spoke it in volumes, and her touch made his heart feel safe from any storm that can rage about him. She was what home is. Collin knew it was a dream, but never cared to wake up to the reality of what his life was now. He would fall asleep with all manner of evil thought for the people around him, yet to think of the red hair girl, and he would find himself smiling in his sleep.

He knew her touch had the power to make him feel alive and someday into a wonderful husband and father as he will make her a wife and mother. Collin dreamed of the pleasures it would take in making babies with her, many. She was his life in a dream. She was what he wanted above all. However, he woke up every day to see May beside him, holding him caged in her grip.

Opening his eyes, Collin felt his back wet and heard May groaning in her sleep. Pulling away, he looked down and saw he was soaked as the bed in blood. "May," Collin, whispered when she shot upholding her belly screaming. Grabbing his pants, with his feet touching the ground to get help, May grabbed his hand in a death grip panting holding her stomach with her legs wide open.  
With her face overcome with panic, Collin feared something was severely wrong. "Collin," she shouted, "The, the . . . baby," she screamed. Fear gripped Collin's chest as he looked at his wife panting shaking her head side to side, he wanted to do something to help but stood paralyzed watching the woman who made him a husband and soon to be a father by trick and forced. What could he do? What should he do?

"Collin . . . Do . . . Something." May shouted between fits of tears and moaning, he knew nothing of what she was feeling and what to do. Yet thought her staff would surely know, as he yanked on his forgotten trousers and ran to the kitchen where her servants stayed most of their time.

As Collin burst into the kitchen, everyone stood shocked and silent that he was there. For the months he lived in the house, some considered him a ghost at times. Most of the staff would whisper among themselves if they spotted him anywhere about and they stayed out his way. "May's having the baby," He said breathlessly as everyone scattered about doing something. Collin stood out the way as the cook barked out orders to fetch the doctor, and sent two maids to his wife's bedroom, and two others to bring clean towels and bedding.

Collin followed behind the heavyset cook that reminded him of The Wall. As she entered May's bedroom, he stood shocked by the door and looked at May's face distorted in pain with her hair plastered on her face with sweat. Her night shift laid beside her naked body, covered in blood as the bed covers were.

Staring at her bed, Collin never saw nor knew the human body could hold so much blood. As fear crept into his mind for his child while watching his wife's face paled as a maid ran past him with a bundle of red sheets. He stepped out the way as another girl ran in with more clean linen. "Where's the blasted doctor?" the cook barked, as she looked at her employer in a fainting spell.

"He's coming with her mother." Collin's 'Shadow' whispered from the hallway, above all the chaos. A strange feeling crept over him of what was happening to his wife. He was not a doctor, but living in the slums and poverty, he saw and knew what could happen, when a woman bled so much before she gave birth. With his feet giving way, he sat outside his wife's bedroom door, watching and listening to all that entered.

As the minutes trekked by, he heard her cry out in pain for her mother and God to help save the baby. With her beseeching husky voice, something tugged at Collin's heart when she began to cry in earnest for the child to be born safely. He never thought of the child or saw it in his mind's eyes, but with patience, he would see his child with his own eyes and hold it in his arms.

Yet not once, did Collin ever thought that there could be any difficulties, with the baby coming into the world. Seeing that his wife was rich, ate all the time, and had a doctor on call at her will. However, as he sat on the floor, hearing his wife cry for the life of their unborn child, it made Collin want to be what he never had, "A father."

"Where's my baby?" shouted his mother-in-law as she ran to May's bedroom, breathless. Nevertheless, Collin remained where he was as he listened to what went on while his hand covered his face.

May knew giving birth would be painful, but not as painful as this. She felt her baby was crawling from the inside, stretching the walls of her womb, getting ready to burst into the world. She felt weak by the loss of blood. "God," May prayed silently, "Keep the baby safe, let him be, let him live." That was her mantra as she murmured when she heard the doctor come in and took over.

Feeling tired and sleepy, May also felt peace, for surely her aged doctor would make her baby come through safe. She did not want to die giving birth, but if it were her life or her baby's, she would gladly see her child born with her husband's name to live on. She desperately did not want to see her baby buried and forgotten. "Push," The doctor yelled, and May did with all her might, but nothing came to, expect a gush of fluid, making her weaker and somnolent.

"Mother, mother . . . where's my husband?" May cried, feeling she was fading away, she needed to say something to her Collin, and she needed his forgiveness.

"Mother, get him, please." Collin heard his wife plead. "Mother . . . pleases." Not waiting for his mother-in-law, Collin stepped forward into his wife's bedroom.

"Collin." She whispered with a pained smile on her face as he stepped closer and took her hand, she squeezed his with what little strength she had. "Collin." May cried as she looked at her husband, perchance, for the last time, while she heard the doctor whispered to her mother, "The child is too large and cannot turn."

In the few months that she was pregnant, May heard countless conversations of childbirth, where the baby was too huge to turn. In which the doctor would have to cut the womb for the child to live. And if that was the case, so be it if her baby were to be born without its mother. He would have its father. Yet she knew differently, by her mother's pleading to the doctor to do anything to save her baby.

Tugging Collin's hand to her chest and hugged it. "Collin," she cried, "I'm sorry, my love." Panting raggedly, as a dose of pain gathered in her womb. "I love and . . . wan . . . wanted you so, so," she screamed, holding onto his hand for life. "Plea, please . . . for, forgive me." May said on a sigh, feeling her eyes closing with a peaceful calm that came over her as she stared up at her handsome husband.

"May . . . May my darling," whimpered his mother-in-law, as she held onto her daughter's free hand. "Don't leave me, child, don't." May's mother moaned mournfully, burying her head in the bed crying as she held her daughter's cold hand.

"Collin," May whispered feeling too weak she knew it was over, she felt no pain, just tired as she held his hand to her chest. "For . . . give me," she said, trying to kiss his hand for the last time.

Collin stood there staring at his wife's life fading away, and with it, the child. What was he to do now? His hidden emotions barely came forward, while masking his passions for years of his hate, disappointments, and his lost history. After what he'd been through with his wife, how can he show his sincere feelings?

But he wanted his wife to see something he felt for her, so he leaned forward and kissed her cold lips. She smiled at him and held on tighter to his hand when the doctor came over her still smiling face. Collin watched as the doctor closed his wife's eyes, and watched his mother-in-law shoved and screamed at the doctor, "To wake up her baby."

"No," she shrieked, shaking her only child and grandchild. "No, no, no, do something. Wake her up," she shouted mournfully. In the months of his marriage to May, he never saw the woman look more distraught than now. When she visited May, her eyes would be glazed over by drink, or unshed tears due to her husband's constant infidelity. Yet joy was always in attendance when May was about. It seemed like his mother-in-law's life had ended together with her daughter's life.

Collin stepped back as the doctor helped remove his wife's death grip from his hand, turned, and tried to console his mother-in-law. "No," she yelled at the doctor as he tried to guide her out of the bedroom. "No, fucking one is taking my baby from me." She cried, pounding his chest with grief and fury of her loss. "Bring her back." She grabbed his arm, pulling him to her daughter's deathbed. "Make her well."

Collin knew she would not welcome his touch, so he stayed out the way while the doctor consoled her. He was thankful it was a tasked he could forego, but stayed there in the room, for he could not move, nor leave, not yet.

As the doctor, partly lifted and dragged May's mother out of the room, Collin was left alone for a few minutes with his dead wife and child. He stood and looked at May; she seemed peacefully asleep with a smile plastered on her face and wondered how life was so short. Just a week ago, Collin thought he would be a father and remained a prisoner to his wife until his death.

However, as he gazed at May's lifeless body, he knew life could change in an instant for the worst or better. Collin knew he should feel and be sad, but all he felt was a relief. A reprieve that he could go find her, his flaming red hair girl.

Not wanting to leave just yet Collin leaned in and gave May her second free and willing kiss as her husband.

***

The day was bleak, wet, and cold; it was the perfect atmosphere for his wife and child's funeral. Everyone wore black in his and hers finest, where his almost family was buried in their private plot where only a few were allowed inside its gates. The servants were all done in their Sunday best standing by the cemetery entrance as the priest presided over the service. Collin saw everyone he thought he met since his marriage. Expect his father-in-law. After he demanded that Collin wed his daughter and the marriage ceremony was over, he never saw the man again, which suited him fine. Nevertheless, Collin thought he would at least, show up to his only legitimate daughter's departure to the afterlife and support his wife, by lending his shoulder.

When the priest spoke, his last words and everyone threw flowers that smelled of his wife's well-kept garden, and dirt on the box that held his departed family. Collin was left alone as everyone walked by with pity in their eyes for him. He did not care for their sympathy or wanted anything from them, but he waited to say his last goodbye to the only woman who wanted him for anything, and the child that he made with her.

Closing his eyes, Collin said, "Goodbye May." And walked away, leaving everything behind to seek out his only sincere desire, the one thing that he recognized would make him happy. The one person he wanted more in his sad life was that girl, his flaming red hair, and her touch. In Collin's mind and heart, he knew she would be all that May was not to him; she would be his life.
Chapter Twenty-Two

Irene & Collin's home

Collin stood with the blessed sun on his face and with his eyes closed, thanking God for the day. He was never religious, but he knew when to give thanks and pray, and he was thankful to have found Irene and, even more, grateful she was his to have.

Growing up every second in the orphanage was filled with self-righteous women to teach you a thing or two about God when they lived a much sinful life before those they kept. Nevertheless, to his never-ending soul, he was pleased with how things turned out. He had her, she was his, and he was never giving her up. Even though he knew she did not love him, all that she did was due to gratitude, and he would not fault her for showing it to him.

To Collin's heart, he knew what May did to him; he would have done it to his Irene, to keep her close to him. She was so important to him that a lie would make him take and detain her to his side, but he wondered what he could do to bind her to him, forever.

With a stupid smile on his face, Collin embraced the hot, tiring day as his back and hands were hurting. He felt all the muscle in his body for the day and weeks work, but he enjoyed it. The end of the day would also mark the end of living in Irene's father's barn and moving into his home with his wife. Just with that thought, produced a strange emotion, which was humming in Collin's chest for a while.

It felt like nothing he ever possessed, "Being Proud." He heard of it, but to genuinely link it with him, was something new. Yet it was a great joy when Irene stood beside him and said, "I do" when the priest asked if she would take him as her husband, with her family as witnesses.

They were married a week, and he watched her like a hawk. Her very smile, frown, breath, and the way she walked. She strolled with a purpose in every step, and she showed her emotion in her eyes, for nothing could be hidden from those who loved her. Since they got married, Collin rarely thought of May. As if, any feeling or any jubilant emotion such as love could be found in his heart towards his late wife. Collin knew his Irene would be a balm to his soul, so he sought her out with his last breath, and he found her.

Thank God!

As his father-in-law nailed the last nail in their house, Collin, John, Irene, and even her brother Faylen stepped back to look at their humble home. It appeared crude and a shack compared to May's house if it could be called so, with fifteen bedrooms, four living rooms, parlors, a library, and many more rooms Collin never really cared to venture in. May had a house in which it was big enough to hide from anyone, it was never home in his eyes, but this crude shack was his and Irene's home in which he would make a family.

The thought of holding his wife made him feel nervous, yet, had him aroused as no woman ever did. She would say his name and make him hard, she would touch him, and he would be in pain. His wife had no idea who he was, and now they would be alone, by the end of the day in their own home to be as man and wife.

Collin cursed the thought of not pleasing her, for he wanted to satisfy her above any, yet he had no clue how to go about that with Irene. His body wanted her on a level he thought that was not possible after May.

"Well, I . . ." John said, looking at his daughter with her hands on her hips, clothes askew and in a mess, her hair in disarray as always, but with a beam in her eyes. "You're home," he said.

Smiling from ear to ear, Irene looked at her home. "God," she said aloud, "I'm indeed home, John." Irene turned and stared at her husband and saw something, something that she saw in the barn months ago. He looked at her the same way, making wondered if he felt anything for her, or was he just like all men? Glad to have a wife to do all and be all he wanted; a maid, cook, and bedmate.

Her relationship with Collin was strange, to say the least. He saved her then, and now he was her husband. She could not remember his last name as the minister spoke it, for her mind was on their wedding night that they would share. Her wedding was a blur to her, for she wanted to be alone with him in a sweet way.

Irene did not know his age, where he came from, or if he had a family. Her husband was an enigma to her. All she knew his name was Collin, and he was her husband for life now. "God," Irene thought, "what have I done?" However, looking at him, Irene knew it was God who made them come together. It had to be. If not by the hands of God, why was he here and her husband now?

With her heart beating in a rush, fear gripped her spirit, what if he was just waiting to show his true self when they were alone? She wondered what if, her first physical encounter with her husband be a cruel one? She heard many stories of women. They weren't speaking to her, but she overheard their talk, and it frightened the curls out her hair, and the thought left her with dread. Nevertheless, as she looked at her husband, that could never be him, not with his gentle eyes.

"I suppose we'll be leaving you then," John said, gathering the tools he brought to help build his daughter's home with his new son-in-law's help. John watched Collin and wondered if he did the right thing by giving his only angel to a stranger she hardly knew. Irene made no bones about it; she would have him, as her husband by any means.

John wanted to laugh when Irene said, "by any means." What the hell, she meant by that? But he saw the answer in her eyes as he was about to question her meaning. Come what may, his baby would keep the tramp close to her at whatever cost, and their sudden marriage was proof of it. John often thought in the week building their home that his baby, was having a baby, which is why she wanted to be tied to the tramp. However, I was smarter than that, to stick with anything that she did not care for. She was sharp, beautiful, and a blessing that he'd do anything for.

As Collin placed the last tool in his father-in-law toolbox and stepped back, he gave John his hand to shake. John just stared at the boy's outstretched limb and saw the man that was taking his baby away but caught a glimpse of Irene watching him and her husband. He knew for her sake, he would have to try and like the boy, which he did already. He saw that the boy would work hard for his angel and when the young couple looked at each other, they forgot if any were around. Collin would invariably gaze at her when she was not staring at him. The boy cared for his baby, and if he could read between their eyes, they shared a spark of love that was forming a tight bond which, could not be severed.

A point for his son-in-law. John clasped Collin's hand, in a tight grip squeezing it hard hoping, the boy would get the point in his handshake. "Do not mess with his baby."

"Come, Fay, we need to get home," John said, going to hug Irene. As John hugged his daughter, he remembered his late wife. His heart began to swell from loneliness, knowing Irene would no longer be home. If only she knew how he wished he never told them to move the Vagrant from under Granny's Tree, if he had shut his mouth, she would be homemaking their supper. But alas, she would be making her husband dinner and sleeping in his bed

"John," Irene groaned by her father's tight embrace. "John, you're okay?" Irene asked, trying to break free from her father's death grip. Taking a step back, Irene looked at John and saw his eyes were shining. Staring at her father, Irene smiled and wiped his cheek. Her men were not the type that spoke or showed their feelings; they were more the gruff, old sort that went about their way.

"Aye," John stepped away from Irene, wiping his eyes to see Faylen standing behind him with his eyes more massive than usual tearing up also.

Smiling, with her hands on her hips, Irene waited for her brother to say something daft about her marriage to Collin; it was the bane of her relationship with her brother now. "Yes, Fay."

"I," Faylen said, taking a slow step to his sister standing with her hands on her hips. This was her natural stances when she was waiting for him to do something asinine. Fay could not take it anymore as he took one huge step and held Irene in a bear hug squeezing the precious air out her lung.

"Fay, Fay," Irene groaned as she struggled to break free from her brother's crushing embrace, like John.

"Don't stay I," Fay cried, releasing his firm hold on her slightly to wipe his nose. "It's not too late sister." Faylen practically begged, never calling her sister, unless he was genuinely sorry for some fault of his. "Come home, Irene." Fay moaned as Irene caught sight of movement to her side and saw Collin taking a step to her and Fay. Irene knew Collin was not pleased to hear her brother beg her to return home, he knew Faylen hated him, but Collin did not care one bit what Faylen felt. It was sweet, knowing Collin would never give her up for anything and that alone made her heart grow fonder of her husband.

Shaking her head, to signal for Collin to stay put, Irene knew her husband was protective over her, which was so strange. All her life, it was John and Faylen who were her protectors, and now she had Collin.

"I," Faylen said, crushing her tighter again.

"For heaven's sake boy," John said yanking Faylen away from Irene by his collar. "Can you not see they'd like to get on with their honeymoon?" John declared, practically pulling Faylen away.

"John, fuck man John," Faylen shouted as he tried to right himself, but John had a firm grip on him.

Irene watched her men walk away, feeling a bit nervous about being alone with her husband, for her home was with him now. She was becoming a bit . . . God, it dawned on her, that Irene was a wife and a wife to a stranger. Irene turned and looked at Collin, observing her, she always felt his eyes on her, and they were still piercing her body. Looking at him, his gazes were a mix of lust, fear, and wondered if love was hidden behind it somewhere. Maybe it was an impulsive decision to marry Collin, but she could not let him walk away from her when he was there in the flesh.

Looking around, Irene saw it was indeed getting late. "Well then," she said, "I, I . . . I should be making supper." And walked off into her sanctuary for a while, maybe her time alone would calm the butterflies in her stomach, head, and heart. She wanted tonight to be perfect, she would try to make it so for him, and perhaps he would see she was not some desperate, lonely girl.

Collin looked at his wife as she practically ran off into their home and wondered why? Did something happen to make her frightened? For the time he was around Irene, he knew she was completely innocent in the ways of men. He was not all-wise in the art of making loving, for May took what she wanted, and left him craving for something more. His only encounter with women was a disturbing experience and sometimes with men trying to grab and hold him down. Yet his only physical interaction was with the wife he was forced to wed.

While Collin sat outside their modest home, he looked out, and saw the ocean as his blessed view, and heard the waves crashing on the cliffs. Their yard was feathered with Heather for color and empty, but not for long. He intended to fill their home with all that his wife needed, and their yard will have a garden to feed them. And with the help of his father-in-law, sheep would be a part of their livelihood. To think of it, his wife made him wealthier than May could have made him in the months he was trapped by her.

Hearing Irene shuffled about in their homemade him a bit nervous, as he listened to his wife hum a love tune while preparing their supper. Tired and horny, Collin closed his eyes and leaned on their house, hungry, and aching to fill his wife with him. He wanted to make love with her painfully, for his body yearned to have her; it was all he thought of while building their home. Collin craved his wife most intimately a man long for his woman.

Not wanting to wait anymore, Collin dusted off his behind and stepped into their house to see Irene clad in a white shift with its cleavage loosely tied revealing her ample breast as she leaned forward placing a candle on the floor. A small indication they lacked much, but her father gave her a bed suited for "his princess" as he said.

Irene looked up as she heard Collin footsteps by the door, to see him staring at her breast that was ready to spill from her nightgown as she placed the last piece of ornament to make up their first supper as husband and wife.

Collin could care less of his stomach right then; he just wanted to hold his wife, his Irene, and took a step towards her, smelling her arousal.

"Not another step," Irene declared with her hands out to him stopping her husband. She knew what he was coming for, and it was not the simple meal she prepared of bread, cheese, and wine after an arduous day.

Stopping in his tracks, Collin stared at his wife, thinking he did something wrong already.

"You need to wash before we eat." He watched her point to a bowl of water and a pristine white towel with a change of clothes waiting for him by the door. With her hands on her hips, Irene watched and waited as Collin took what she offered him, to clean himself up. Nervous as hell and feeling her legs would give way, Irene sat by their supper and waited. Looking at Collin, she saw what he was coming for, not the crusty bread, cheese, nor wine, but for her. Her husband showed his true feelings in his eyes like an innocent lass, would show her heart on her sleeve for a lad.

"I?" Irene looked up from her thoughts and saw him standing there deadly handsome and dangerously. With his now grown hair slick back, his jaw with a slight shadow about it, and free from dirt. His soiled clothes stripped to a white shirt and tan trousers, Colin's face had an urgent appeal to it. Irene stared at her husband as he came to stand before her, forgetting all thought of their humble meal.

Collin held his hand out to her as he looked at her worried expression gazing at him and his offer. Without thinking, Irene placed her hand in her husband's and was led to their bedroom trusting him like no other person in her life. Watching him, she knew he would do everything to safeguard her every soul if need be.

As Collin stood beside their bed, holding his wife's hand, he felt her shiver. Fear was a part of how she felt, and it made him apprehensive about what should he do to appease her concerns. Never keenly taking a role in having sex with May, Collin wanted this, their first time to be exceptional for his wife so made it his duty.

Reducing the gap between them, Collin touched Irene's cheek as her eyes fluttered closed, drawing him closer. Feeling slightly brave, she stroked his chest, to feel he held his breath. Yet gazing at him, she saw his sea-blue eyes blazing brighter than ever. It seized her, making her bolder as her hands glide over his eyebrow along, his cheek with her thumb brushing his lips.

Irene knew her touch did something to him but never had time or privacy to see how far she could go, until now. On tiptoes, she brushed her lips against his, feeling a smile form on his mouth. Taking a step back, Irene saw her husband smile languor on his sweet lips with his eyes caressing her waiting for her next move.

Tired of wondering and waiting how her lips felt, Collin, descend on her expecting luscious lips. God, he never kissed a woman and wanted a woman like he desired his wife. She made him want to do things to her, with her. Forgetting patience, Collin sucked on her lips, holding her head, turning his head from side to side as he devoured her mouth.

"Collin," Irene whispered, holding his shirt tightly, stopping his assault on her mouth. Collin's mouth was still on hers when he opened his eyes feeling drugged. Breathing heavy, he took a step away from her only to be yanked closer to her halting his retreat. This time, she kissed him a feather-light kiss, she wanted everything to move slowly so she can remember her first time. She had no experience whatsoever in sex, but she knew this would not be called coitus, but making love to the man she married.

Irene tugged open his shirt, exposing his now tanned chiseled body passing her hands over his shoulders and chest. She loved his body, it was made to be touched and adored which she did. With her eyes roaming his body, it traveled further to his trousers and stopped to see a bulge that was in his breeches. Feeling her apprehension beginning to rise in her stomach again, Irene took a step and touched the top of his trousers. But Collin grabbed her hand, stopping her, she looked up at him, and he released her hand to do as she pleased. Giving her free reign.

Unbuttoning his trousers slowly, she slid it off his backside, to reveal and revel in the image before her. She held his penis for the second time and felt it pulsed in her grip. Stepping back, Irene pulled off his trousers completely, to see he never wore undergarment it seemed. Kneeling before her husband, marveling at his penis standing without help by the size of it. She saw veins straining while she examined and wondered what it would feel inside her.

Licking her lips, Irene wondered how it would taste and tried the tip of his penis, noting a clear tangy substance and heard him groan as in pain. Although when she looked up, his face seemed to be relishing what she was doing. So she continued her exploration of her husband's body taking more of him in her mouth, adoring the velvet feel of him and taste.

Collin could not take it anymore, what his wife was doing to him. It made him long to be inside her, giving her the same pleasure she was producing. "Irene," Collin moaned as he lifted her off her feet and set her on their bed, pulling her shift over her head and throwing it aside.

Irene knew what was going to happen as he watched her with such hunger. "Collin," was all she could whisper as his mouth descended to hers, devouring her sighs and whimpers.

He felt different; he knew he was an altered man all because of her. As his hands roamed his wife's body, touching her shoulders gliding down to her breasts, stroking her nipples as they stood hard from his touch. Collin wanted to taste her, taste all of his Irene's body, and latched onto her breast sucking hard on her nipples making her moan, and writhed about with his hand traveling lower to her stomach drifting to the one part of a woman he never looked at or touched with his hand. He wanted to explore his wife and pulled away hard from sucking her breast, hearing a pop to spread her legs open to study her.

Irene should feel shy or ashamed of how a man was watching the most private part of her, for no one had ever seen her naked. Yet she felt pure bliss in watching her husband make love to her with his eyes. She saw his eyes widen with a wicked grin plastered on his mouth causing her anxious to see what the next step would be and she did not have to wait long as her husband bent his head licking her wet core.

Sighing loudly, Irene grabbed the bedding feeling a naughty ecstasy as Collin's tongue lapped and sucked at her as if he was starved. She felt his tongue pressed in the core of her making her groan when he lifted her hip more as his mouth devoured her female juices.

He had not a clue what he was doing, but it was right, it felt perfect because his wife was enjoying it and him too. When he looked up from his assault on his Irene's sweet substances he saw white cream flow from her, bending again, Collin took what came from her body and sucked it all up feeling his wife tremble and whimper loudly. Watching her, he could not wait any longer as he held his penis and guided it into her wet opening pressing his penis head into her.

Opening her eyes, Irene felt a foreign pressure between her legs as Collin was posed between her thighs. She looked at him and knew what would come next. Irene wanted to touch him, but he would not let her, taking both her hands in his one over her head, Collin pushed a little more into her and Irene cried out, the pain was too much for her. "Collin no," she said, trying to back away from him, but he held her in place as he shoved a little more into her.

Irene felt her privates ripped, closing her eyes and biting her lips she wanted her husband, and knew this part would be painful because of his size, it was . . . "Forgive me, love." Was all she heard and felt torn asunder. Irene screamed with tears flowing down her cheek, thinking, "God she was in heaven and hell." As the pain was bittersweet with her innocence gone by the massive size of her husband's length and width, but there had to be more as she waited.

To wait would make Collin have blue-black balls before he made his first thrust into his wife. He could not stay put any longer; he was dying to move, yet feared if he did, his wife would cuss him to hell. Collin was big, and now with his wife wet, sweet female core nestling him was much, much grander at present. Touching Irene's cheek wiping her tears away, he felt home was here forever, giving his wife a tender kiss on her lips, he began to move slowly.

"Collin," Irene barely whispered as her husband started to move in her making her heart swell for the man and had a lifetime to learn all that made him.

Bracing his weight beside her head, he experienced his heart swell with joy at having Irene as his wife. With her, Collin was indeed a new unwritten page to start afresh, and for the first time, in copulating, he felt this forceful power build inside of him that made his body trembled. "Father," he felt like he was on fire from the inside out widening down to his groin, making his cock ache to release.

Soaring high and breathless with his every thrust, Irene grabbed onto his hands for support, if ever there were a saying of "Someone was rocking someone's world, Collin was doing it now, Irene thought. She could not believe after such pain of him entering her could build to something as beautiful when he thrust his penis further. It could not be possible, yet it was.

Grunting, his intense pleasure, Collin knew he was almost there ready to come, but he wanted his wife to appreciate the enjoyment of cuming for the first time so delayed his. And he knew hers was not far from his when the walls of her vagina squeezed his penis.

With a heat that was building inside of her, Irene bit her lip to prevent the scream that wanted to escape from deep within her stomach. Sinking her nails into Collin's back, Irene marked her husband clawing his beautiful back to highlight her painful pleasure as her feet wrapped around his chiseled bottom wanting his help to calm what was going on deep inside her body.

Collin bent and devoured her mouth when he felt her body shudder under his, and it was then they came as one with his grunting and her loud moan of contentment. Collin fell half on his wife, buried deep and still hard inside her. With her arms instantly embracing him, he placed his hand over Irene's heart and said, "I love you," and fell asleep holding the one woman he dreamt of and knew she would be the only one he would spend the rest of his life with.
Chapter Twenty-Three

The sweltering sun stung her back and arms while she worked her garden, HER GARDEN, Irene loved saying those words: HER GARDEN. For all the years of living with her father and brother, she never thought she would have a home of hers with someone to love and share everything that mattered to her, but she did, because of Collin. He was off again with John tending to the sheep while she remained at home.

Standing with her hand over her eyes, she looked around their yard with a sheep pen, a safe distance away from their home. A flower garden filled with tulips and daisies in boxes on their porch and seating that Collin erected by himself so they could stay out late and look at the sky. But most of all, Irene loved her kitchen garden, that had all the necessity they needed, and what she adored eating. Collin ate almost any and everything she made, and he wasted nothing. When she burnt her first cake, he dusted it off and ate every crumb with a smile, kissed her, and said, "It was wonderful and asked when she would make another?"

Six months after their marriage, she was pleased to no end. Her home was looking like how she wanted it. The kitchen and living room had yellow curtains hanging by the windows; their small round table had four sturdy chairs, a couch in their living room with cushions. It was the strangest thing ever, having something soft under your butt while you sit. Collin had said, "It would make sitting enjoyable for long hours."

"And making love too."

Every day, they would make love. It did not matter what time, whenever she had a feeling, they would be on each other, clothes or not. All that mattered was Collin in her, which made their love grow sweeter and stronger. There were times when she would feel angry that Collin would take his time to make love to her, by kissing and such which was ridiculous. Moments like that Irene would spare him no patience when she wanted him badly and pulled down his trousers and sat on him for a while unmoving. That, in turn, would torture him and he would flip her over and take her fast and hard.

They were suited to each other. If it were not God, that placed them together, it would be a lie onto nature. The way Irene and Collin spent their day would marvel any man, for they spoke without words, but by a look sometimes. They seemed in tune with each other as they expressed and shared what was close to their hearts. Collin rarely shared his life before her, but she knew they had a lifetime to communicate all that was before.

With her back hurting a bit and stomach growling, Irene knew it was getting late, and her men would be coming home soon. Every week she would prepare a home cook meal for them that Faylen sometime came to and would say was a feast, seeing John or her brother did all their cooking and mending now. By the looks of them, Irene thought, her men were looking worst off as Collin when he came. Therefore, she took pity, fed, and mended some of their clothing.

She could not complain when it came to cooking because Collin knew his way around the kitchen. His hand fooled her men many times thinking she cooked their supper. Her husband could cook. She did not know where or how he learned, but she was thankful for his help many days when she fell sick just like today. Placing her hands on her stomach, she brought up her breakfast and lunch in one go, over her prized tomatoes.

Wiping her mouth, Irene listened as she heard dogs barking and knew they were coming. Covering up her evidence to walk away, Irene heard, "I saw you." Knowing that voice, Irene placed her hands on her hips and turned to her husband with concern in his eyes.

"And what did you see?" grabbing her hand, Collin hauled his wife into their bedroom and stripped her from her vomit-stained clothes in seconds, to hear, "What's for supper?" It was John; standing all cleaned and washed up waiting for his Irene's cooking. Her father always had an eternal clock when it came to a meal.

Slamming their bedroom door on his father-in-law, Collin did not give a rats' ass if it was rude after seeing his wife heave in her prized garden. Placing Irene on their bed, Collin paced in front of her with a guilty look on her face while he tried to control his anger. Since she told him, they would be parents, her husband demand she took it easy. Which meant he would do almost everything, and she was okay with it, yet he knew she missed tending her garden and felt it was her duty since it was hers.

Sitting there, watching him try to remain calm was a sweet ordeal if he ever found out. Irene saw that his eyes were glistening with unshed tears, but it was also filled with anger. He clenched his jaw shut as he tried to control his heavy breathing looking like a brooding Viking ready for battle. All Irene could think of at that moment was to have him in her right then filling all of her with his supersize penis, than to wait to hear his lame lecture.

Collin stopped and looked at her, he knew she loved to study him. He would always feel her eyes on him in every movement, and it felt good to know she watched and wanted him as her supper to eat.

Kneeling before his wife, holding her hands, Collin closed his eyes and took one long breath and said, "I will not bury you or our baby for your hard-headed, damned ways woman." And stepped away, turning his back to her to give himself some space. He wanted to declare something again but knew if he stayed with her a second longer, he would be in her forcing his point home with every thrust. His wife loved and listened to him when she was ready, yet when she was pinned by him, and he was in her, she obeyed and kept her word to a letter of his every command.

Often, Collin thought their relationship made a strange vibration in the air by fewer words said. Moreover, he was never one for much talk, but his wife made him come out and voice his mind and feelings that he could not hide anymore. She made him fight, argue, and begged his way to her, and she had him wrapped around her little finger, and the woman knew it and used it.

"John," Collin said as he walked away from his wife to see his father-in-law waiting for his weekly supper. They would generally have a simple meal that he would help whip up fast, but with his anger at seeing Irene, vomit in her garden made him sick of the memory of May. Collin's heart was not broken by May's or the baby's death, but by the loss of his very own first family. Nevertheless, the notion of losing Irene and his child was death onto him, for Collin knew if anything happened to either, his life would be taken from him. As he would return to his tramping ways with his life ending quickly and empty by his hands.

"I'm starving here," John said, trying to look beyond Collin and at his daughter sitting on her bed looking furlong and sick. "There's nothing cooking?" John murmured as Collin looked back at what John was staring at and closed their bedroom door on him yet again, giving Irene some privacy. Collin looked around for his brooding brother-in-law and was not surprised he was a no show once more.

Ever since they were married, Irene's brother stayed far away from her and Collin, save when their father harried him to visit his sister. And the boy would show up and eat his belly filled, to then pestered his sister to return home, that made Collin want to throw his brother-in-law out. Also, there were times he would pay a surprise visit when he knew his sister was home alone, but when Collin showed up, Faylen would vanish as fast as he came. Collin did not care for her brother's broodiness, but it made his wife miserable by the lack of his presence.

John saw Collin looking around for Faylen and shook his head, "He's off to the village again," he said looking at his son-in-law rustled up a quick meal of bread and cheese with sheep milk. Collin sat and served John, but John refused to eat, staring at his daughter's bedroom door.

"She's not feeling well." Collin merely said as he ate without looking at John.

John was proud of his daughter, she was happily married and soon to be a mother, but he knew the complication that came with giving birth. So he was worried a bit when he saw Irene stay hidden away, in her bedroom. He knew Collin took great care of her, and after hearing him speak to his headstrong daughter, his son-in-law was the right person to deal with her pig-headed ways.

Even though he was proud of his daughter, John felt he lost two and not one child by Irene's marriage. Often he would be home at night without Faylen and his dreary company but knew where to find him his sorry ass. And the knowledge of where his son was held up these days, amazed him to no end, there were no incidents of him and the girl's family. For the simple reason, that no one in the village dare goes near to the cherished lass.

John saw the boy and girl grow before his eyes, as they were not cruel. Save maybe for the boy, that he felt something was off about him. John would often think at times when he ventured into the village for a pint or two.

Danny was a handsome lad that attracted both sexes, making them take a second and third glance at times. He wondered if the boy knew how attractive he was, because he made no play for any young women's attention, and many tried to pull him into a talk that would lead to more than just talk.

John knew the family was very religious, and the son turned out to be the same as their parents, yet the sister, Martha, was a whole story that made him smile. If his son were wise, he would lay into her and make her a mother and wife within a month. Just thinking that made John smile with a bit of sorrow touching his heart. For he knew if that were to happen, he would be the only person in the house, and without his babies. As all his children would have their brood and home to tend too.

Finishing his supper alone with Collin in record time, John thanked him and knocked on Irene's door before he left. "I, I'm off child," he said waiting and was given silence to his farewell. Turning, John saw Collin cleaning and putting away their dishes. It always surprised him how his son-in-law was so domesticated. He did not mind for one reason, he helped his baby in her time of need.

As he took a step to leave, he heard "Thanks, for coming da," To turn and see his daughter leaning against her doorframe rubbing her growing belly with his first grand. Overwhelmed with pure joy, that he was about to be a grandfather, John could not help it and gave Irene a bear hug making her whine. "Da, you're . . ." Irene said as her father took a step back and looked at her with tears tumbling down his face, "John . . ."

"I'm good girl, I'm just fine," he said, walking away without another word with Irene planted where she was watching her old man leave, becoming very sentimental since her wedding. Irene stared at John with a worried frown on her brow and wondered if Faylen would be home to curve John's loneliness.
Chapter Twenty-Four

The night was chilled, yet he felt a scalding heat that enveloped him as if he was on fire. Gad, he never thought such a feeling could be produced by the likes of such a woman. Panting and exhausted, Faylen flopped beside Martha breathless. The woman could ride him under a second of his life. She was always willing and had an enormous appetite that he thought no woman could have.

Faylen knew he met his match with Martha. She did not look like the type of woman who could hold her own in bed, but she fooled everyone, she misled him, and he was glad for that. For he was the lucky one to burst that seal having her, and to have her, he meant to do.

In the time that tramp pushed his way into his family and home, things had changed for the worst. Nevertheless, Faylen found a second home or someone he could rely on. He saw the way she looked at him, how she touched him, and how she did any and everything for him. Martha looked at Faylen as her sunrise, stars, and the moon. He had no work to woo her. She was the one who did the wooing, for he had no talent to sweet talk a sheep from a cliff or to get into a girl's undies.

Faylen was never ashamed that he slept fewer women in his life in one hand than most men in his fornicating family. His last was a quickie with a friend of his cousin on his cousin-wedding day, which made it twice Faylen Galway had a bedmate. He knew he was not a looker like the tramp, but he could hold his own in his mixed-up family of deadbeats sometimes, depending on who was around.

The quickie was a looker with her long, flowing, sunshine hair, straight freckled nose, and thin lips with a body that could have been blown away by a gust of wind. She looked at Faylen from the moment he came into her view until she had him on his back behind the church. It was the most painful and embarrassing fifteen minutes of sex that had him confused for years, which made him never too anxious to repeat such an event.

However, Martha, who was the opposite of the quickie. His Martha made him feel like a man, a man who did it right. Regaining his composure and breath, Faylen looked at Martha's thick body beside him, she was everything he could think of a woman should have and be. Her body was thick and cushioned, breast made to fit the size of his hands. Tender grey eyes with lashes to shade them on a sunny day, a button for a nose to kiss, and lips meant to suck as tropical fruit.

Looking at Martha made him want to suck any and everything on her, to say how sweet he thought his Martha was. Faylen wondered why it took him so long to see her. The things that came out her mouth, what she wanted him to do to her and for her, made him blush, and in the months they have been together, he tried out some with a lot left over for more trials. Smiling to himself, Faylen thought he hit the jackpot with the woman who had his heart in her palms for the taking.

"When you work hard, you're always rewarded." Her father often said those words to her in the shop while packing away new goods that came in. Martha would think her daddy was an old fart at times saying all sorts of things to make up for the fact that Danny could be outside enjoying his time with the other kids that were around to play, but ended up in church every time. She would always stay back and help arrange the store with their father.

Growing up, Martha thought it was unfair, being a girl of twelve that was a tad thick, and developed before all the other girls. She never knew why the girls from her village continually mocked her and wondered if they were jealous of her thickness and big breast while they were like stick figures and flat-chested. Martha knew she was a woman, maybe not a looker like her brother who had all the friends he could choose from, and girls to pick for as his girlfriend. All she had was Danny, her brother, and best friend.

However, when Faylen found her crying one day under the only tree in the moors for miles, his concerned eyes hooked her. Martha had overheard some girls while she was collecting a box of chocolate in the back to stack on the shelf in the shop, circling her brother like a kite in for the kill.

"Danny," Mary the Angel everyone thought she was with sweet pink lips. She was a tart and flat as a boy with shifty eyes always on her brother. She whispered his name in her sad seductive voice. "You're way too beautiful for a boy, while your sister looks like," hiding her perfect white stackable teeth. "Looks like an old sheepdog." Martha was not shocked, but it still hurt to hear someone say such mean things about her. When Mary said those words, she knew Danny would fix the little tart, yet she did not care how and ran to the Moors hiding in plain sight under the only tree.

Martha sat there feeling alone when she heard someone mumbling and cussing up a gale. It was Faylen. Her Fay she loved since she laid eyes on him. "The lousy shitty . . ."

"Fay."

"Oh! Fucking hell Martha," He said holding his heart, looking white in fright as a cloud after rain. Martha never got him alone, and so was thankful to have him for herself a while. She knew her eyes were swollen and puffy, and her nose must have looked a state, yet she did not care a figs ass.

"What the hell you're doing out here?" He asked, taking a seat next to her. "You should be in the shop," he said as he picked up a stick and began to dig in the moss-covered tree root.

Angry and annoyed, even Faylen thought her place was in that blasted shop. This made her blood boil. With her anger tipping to a hundred percent, Martha stood with her hands on her hip and yelled, "My navel string isn't buried their boy." Faylen looked taken aback by her passionate outburst, as she never showed him her true self. She was always sweet and polite. However, Martha was not feeling friendly at the hour.

Faylen new Martha hid a lot behind her shy, sweet smile, and her outburst just showed him one part that made her up, and it was good.

Swallowing his shock, Faylen asked, "What you're doing out here?" trying to be amiable, thieving a glance of Martha wiping her eyes and nose. Fay thought she looked beautiful. He knew what the other children thought of her, but he did not care, because he was teased bitterly for a day until he tackled the boy who started calling him names and taught him who was "Faylen Farting Fuck."

Nevertheless, Faylen had his physical power to defend himself, and Martha had her odd brother Danny, who scared the shit out his crack at times. Yet, Faylen wondered sometimes why Martha's brother did not fight for his sister, like how he would fight for Irene. Faylen knew it was none of his business as he wished he could put a smile on her face, and wondered what would make her smile, and why he cared to make her smile in the first place.

"I needed to be alone," was Martha's simple reply as she sat back beside him, thinking she was not going to answer him for how angry and hurt she felt. Feeling a fringe of peace, Faylen did not want to leave her alone, so he leaned back on his Granny's Tree and waited with her until she wanted to be with someone.

Years later, Faylen sat back on her bed with his hands behind his head watching Martha moved about her bedroom wrapped in a sheet around her, looking even more, handsome and fragile. He knew she loved him with all that made her Martha, and the knowledge of that caused his heart swell significantly to be so loved and wanted by a woman like her. Faylen could not believe she was there all his life and never knew that her love could make him feel this whole.

"What you're looking at?" Martha said, placing a plate of buttered bread and jam on Faylen's lap, licking her lips and fingers. Faylen could not help it, he wanted so much to have Martha with him always; it hurt him to have to sneak out her room like a thief in the morning, never getting the opportunity to see her all the . . . "Fay?" Martha whispered in her breathless way that always got a stand from him. Faylen knew what she wanted, by how she said his name and by licking her fingers from the jam. He wanted to taste some of her to see who was sweeter, his Martha or . . . The jam.

With the light snack she stole from the kitchen, on Faylen's lap, she knew it was going to be forgotten, by how her man was looking at her. Martha never wanted anyone but Faylen all her life, nor did she want anyone to do the things he was doing to her right now. Releasing a moan as his mouth made short work as he sucked her fingers, tasting the sweetness from her homemade jam.

Faylen always believed that the woman he would marry if she could cook as good as his sister, she would make a good wife. He never cared for someone to complicate his life, just someone to cook, clean, and sleep with him when he desired to, that was all he wanted in a woman. Yet having Martha whisper and sigh his name with his artless kisses made him feel like a man, bigger than Goliath. Faylen did not know how he was going to get Martha to be his wife, seeing that he would have to go through her brother. But enough thinking, all Faylen wanted to do was please his Martha for she was his now and forever.

Martha had no shame when it came to satisfying her Faylen, nor did Faylen hold back in his desire for her. They were perfectly matched. She had all sorts of ideas in her head about how she would make love to Faylen when the time came, and it was here, "Her Time," and she brought some of her passionate dreams alive. With her imagination, she felt like Delilah before her Samson but prayed not to be his downfall due to her brother.

A nip on her breast brought her back to what she was doing and feeling Faylen, spreading her legs wide as he posed to enter her. Martha loved how he would wait for her to look at him and give him permission to enter her once forbidden walls. She did not know how he could pause because she had not the will to ask when she wanted Faylen. She was greedy for him and took what she wanted from him all the time.

Gad, Faylen groaned as he shoved his way into his woman's secret garden waiting to recapture his breath. Feeling tension rise in his stomach as he thrust slowly, his stride found pace as it swept away patience. Faylen could not stop his thrust as his hip began to move faster and harder into Martha, hearing her groan and whimper his name holding onto him for security. Faylen could not help himself now when he reached that point all he wanted was to brand Martha as his, make her know she cannot, and will not have another man in her like him.

Martha was in pure pain, with every thrust Faylen stamped something in her with her breath hitching to scream, she tried to clamp Faylen's hand over her mouth to keep her joy and pain from spilling out into the night air. She knew he was coming close and she was not far behind him with her peeking, Faylen latched on her breast and sucked like a starving baby when he heard . . .

"And who told you, you can fuck my sister?"
Chapter Twenty-Five

Hearing his voice was like falling into a glacier. Martha dear not move and Faylen, thank God with his naked behind exposed to her brother, stayed where he was to shield what should be a shameful moment. But there was none as he pulled out of her and covered her with her blanket.

Faylen knew this day would come, yet never thought it would arrive so soon. He stood, trying to hide his penis that was more assuredly dead asleep but dripping with his come on the floor. This was a sight Faylen thought, as he looked straight at his future brother-in-law waiting for his next move.

"Danny," Martha said, trying to untangle her blanket and share it with Faylen.

"Don't say a fucking word." Faylen felt, rather than saw Martha flinched by her brother's harsh words to turn and see tears sliding from her eyes.

"If you value your life . . . leave," Danny whispered, barely moving his lips, "Now."

Faylen looked back at Martha as she closed her eyes and nodded for him to go. She knew most everyone in the village feared her brother. If she was truthful, she feared him sometimes, and seeing him standing so cold and calm, she knew he was seething under his so-called tranquil exterior just waiting.

Faylen gathered his clothes taking small glances of Martha. He did not want to go, but Faylen knew the secret was out now and perchance, he would not have to sneak into her room like a thief, but walk through the front door. Not caring for his nakedness as a furless cat before Martha's brother, his only concern was to retreat and plan his next visit in which he would claim Martha as his wife. Faylen took a step to leave, stopped, and grabbed her hand, giving it a fierce squeeze with a smile that was shared between them, praying she saw and knew what it meant. For he had not the words to voice what was in his heart at the moment. This would be the last time Faylen Galway would leave his woman under another man's roof.

With his head held high, Faylen walked by Danny and left his wife to face her brother alone. While walking out and putting on his clothes, he could only think of what was going to happen. However, his pride was nicked as he passed through the back door again as he learned how to sneak into her bedroom.

Walking through the alley, Faylen could not help feel miserable to leave her, his Martha, and knew the one thing that could give him any comfort for leaving his warm, sweet Martha was stashed in the barn at home. The one place his father rarely ever went. So walking away from the sleeping village, Faylen made his way to his once happy dwelling into a dark, cold barn to ward off his loneliness.

Watching her Fay stroll away, she should have felt some sort of fear having to face her fuming brother, but knew her Danny would never lay a finger on her. For countless times his words of assurance no harm would befall her as they grew up, was her chant from young.

***

As Faylen took a step into his once happy home, he was greeted by an eerie melancholy in the atmosphere. Everything sounded quiet as he felt an underlining hatred towards his brother-in-law, the tramp. It was a few months since his sister married him. Yet Faylen just could not get past the fact she no longer shared their home, but was now married and soon to be a mother, a mother by the tramp. Faylen knew his brother-in-law's name was Collin, yet he did not give a shit. All he felt was disdain to the highest level towards the man who broke up his happy family.

Feeling shadows that were surrounding him and his happy feelings of having Martha, Faylen pulled the barn door open, and he knew his night would not get any better as he saw John sitting next to his very exposed secret stash. Faylen looked around the barn and saw why; his father had nothing in his ass to do, but clean the barn after so many years of neglect.

John watched his son slumped beside him smelling fresh from his lady's bed. He need not ask where he was nor would he, for Faylen was a big boy. Yet staring at his son, crack open a bottle of scotch that was hidden and bought with his allowance. He was indeed no boy, but a man who reached his destiny.

After Irene, John knew it was a matter of time when Faylen would start his own family, and build a home on his share of land like I. With the knowledge that he would be a grandfather soon by his daughter was pleasing to his lonely heart and soul. Nevertheless, he did not think Faylen was ready to be a father, seeing how childish his son was behaving these days.

To Faylen's gut, he knew what was coming. He had the same talk with John every week over his visits with Martha. Nevertheless, after the night he had with his girl's brother seeing his naked backside, he could forego their little chat. But knowing his father, his sermon would not be suspended. Therefore, he needed to be sloshed to hear John's speech.

John gazed at his son looking worse for worn, while he endeavored to gather his fleeting endurance. He did not want to know what went on in his outings to Martha's, but guessing by how Faylen finished off three-quarter of his bottle, Danny had something to do with it. Faylen may not want "the talk," but the night would be good as any time to have the talk.

"Fay, son," Faylen groaned loudly knowing it was going to start. He was not over the deep end to deal with John, not now, not yet. "Don't groan, boy," John stated as he got up towering over Faylen, who looked like his eyes were ready to close. "Danny, saw you?" John watched as Faylen finished off a bottle and going for another. John knew the day would come when Faylen would be caught sneaking into Martha's bedroom, and it happened. Watching Faylen as he teetered to pass out, John's anger rose like the bile in his stomach for the simple reason, he could lose his son because of the woman he chooses to settle with.

Gad, John was so fucking angry. With Irene leaving home, and now Faylen's little penis getting constant action, that might cut his life short because he thought he was in love. John knew his son was not wise and sharp, but at least, he assumed his son would know how to stay away from danger. Dealing with Martha while Danny was around, it was like walking into a lion's den without God.

With half his second bottle almost empty, Faylen felt he could cope with John, but was jostled by a ruff shake that rattled his brain, making what little sleep that was pending take flight. And with that jolt, his sharp wit returned.

"Good lord man," Faylen said, slapping his father's hands away to stand and face him. "Give me a blasted break," walking away shaking his head, Faylen knew John was not going to let it go.

"Have you lost your mind?" John shouted. "That boy could kill you for just watching her, but no, you're fucking his sister." Faylen knew his father loved him, even after all the cussing that was spewed on him thousands of times, but he would not stand to hear his father speak of Martha in such a crude way. That made his semi-drunk mind sober even more than his jostling moments ago.

"Don't you speak of her like, like that. Don't, don't you dare." Faylen stuttered shoving John away from the barn door as the chilly night air slammed into Faylen's heated face to calm his racing heart and still his feet. Looking around at what once was his pride and joy, his comfort of all, his sometimes muddy yard, broken down hovel for a sheep pen, and a house that hosted his heart. Faylen stood looking around and wondered why he was still there.

"Fay," That soft, soothing voice that can part a fight with his tigress of a sister was the reason he would always come back. John. Faylen did not think John could make it alone without Irene, and as he turned and saw his father's expression, he knew John would pine away with him gone also. Since his mother's death, it was always Irene and "her men," she would call them, and John would call a big hardback man like himself and Irene his "babies."

Faylen staggered with that one word, 'babies.' The man that was making his sister into a mother soon was the reason that caused all this shit to happen to him, Faylen thought. For John to be meddling in his personal affairs while looking lonely and tired. Gad, Faylen was so angry he wanted to vent it on one person.

"Fay, Fay, where you're going?" John shouted as he looked at Faylen storming off in the direction of . . . Irene's home. Screaming for his drunken son to stop as the wind wiped his voice away and slammed it into his face. This night would not end without some blood being spilled, John believed as he rushed to follow Faylen.

Half-sober, Faylen found himself pounding on the door that had part of his heart. Shouting at the top of his lungs, Faylen felt energized. "Give her back, give her back tramp." Faylen had not a clue of what the hell he was doing, all he knew he wanted his family the way they were, under one roof. Faylen stood still hearing movements from behind the door, and John's heavy breathing to his back.

"Boy . . . leave . . ." John was gasping to say as the door swung open to see the tramp looking better than him, but with an angry frown on his brow.

"What the hell is wrong?" Faylen heard her voice behind the tramp seeing his I standing there trying her robe around her large frame. Faylen snaked around the tramp and pulled his sister out of her house, walking by a stunned John with his sister still in shock. Faylen closed his eyes, thinking he should have done this month's ago, but better now than never. The feeling of pride he had, was short-lived as his sister was yanked from his grasp to look back and see the tramp standing in front of his sister shielding her from him . . . from him, her brother.

With a boost of liquor bravery, Faylen knew he could take him, he took him in the barn months ago, and he could do it again. Taking a swing at the tramp and hitting nothing, he swerved and jab back at the tramp's face, striking air. Faylen thought it was the drink, which had him off his game. Breathing laboriously holding onto his sides, Faylen just looked at the tramp wrapping Irene carefully in his arms, taking her back to the house and away from him.

"No, he's not keeping her," Faylen shouted as he lunged at the tramp trying to grab his hair as he wore only a trouser in the chilly night and was kicked away hard, landing on his back feeling flesh torn from his backside from his fall.

Looking up, Faylen saw the tramp bearing down at him with such hatred in his eyes. Faylen scuffled back into John's frame while Irene held the tramp's hand in midair. Faylen thought, "What the fuck? He couldn't take his asshole brother-in-law in a fight?" The drink was making him see things play out poorly. However, his sister showed him this was no dream but very real by giving him a solid slap on his cheek.

"You fucking drunk, shit," Irene shouted heaving from exhaustion pacing in front of her brother.

"Get him home, John."

"But I," Faylen said, trying to stand to hold her hands.

Slapping his hands away, Irene stood looking at John gather her dishevel brother with tears falling from her eyes.

"I," Irene turned to see John looking sad and sorry, yet not caring as she stormed off, leaving Collin to watch her men go. Collin knew someday, what played out was going to happen, and it did. He also knew it would not end well, and looking at his wife slumped shoulders and her teary eyes, it was not over.

Irene sat on her couch with her back rigid, staring at the fireplace embers dying when she felt more than heard when Collin came in. She looked up at her husband to bury her face in her hands and cried. What for? She knew very well why, but to say it aloud, she couldn't do it.

Collin never knew what to do with a crying woman. He thought no man comprehended what to do, but did the only thing he suspected to be right. By wrapping his arms around her, and placing his beautiful wife on his lap while holding her tightly as possible with her large belly.

His wife's tears did something to him, seeing that it was the first time he saw her cry and he prayed it would be the last. It made him feel strange, it made him want to go after Faylen and stomp his ass to the earth for waking her up in the wee hours of the morning with his drunk self. Groaning, Collin's heart went out to his wife sobbing mournfully.

Shit, but now was not the time to be hard while holding his weeping woman, yet he could not stop his desire for her. Irene had absolute power over him, which could make him stand painfully, but all she wanted and needed was comfort from him, yet holding her was causing him . . . moan.

Irene felt it, and her hiccups stopped instantly. Her husband had a fire that fueled both of them whenever he got a rise. However, now was not the time to have his passion erecting. With the underlying emotion that was bubbling up, she wanted to be alone; she wanted to vent her confused mind to the shitty wind that was now howling outside. Irene tried to pull away from Collin, but he held onto her in an immortal clutch.

"No," Collin whispered his intent of not letting her go, as she exhaled into his chest.

"Let me go, let me go." Irene cried trying weakly to exit from his snug hold, but she knew he would not let her go with all her protesting and so gave up, and stayed in his arms and cried until there were no more tears.
Chapter Twenty-Six

Martha sat behind the counter while yet another day passed away. Two, blasted, long, weeks since Danny caught her and Faylen together as she waited for her castigate, command, or threat by her brother. She did not know what he was waiting for. Daniel the Lion he was called in school for he feared no one, and he was safeguarded by some spurious force that made him get away from everything harmful that came his way. Whatever should have happened to him as payment for any evil he did, it would sometimes fall on her shoulders as a child for she was the last and only a girl.

She watched all her life, how everything fell into her brother's lap while she had to work hard for it all, friends, boys, and her parent's attention. All Danny did was flash his lazy smile and got all his malevolent will answered. However, his decree and edict will not stop her from claiming Faylen as her man. She waited too long for Faylen to cast his eyes her way just for him to slip from her grasp. Martha knew she had Faylen, but she did not know how to get him to make a home with her. There was no way Martha would move into that wasteland of theirs and raise sheep. She adored Faylen, but her love for him ended with her, rearing sheep she considered. Maybe?

By the world and her parents dictate, Martha recognized women had no right to gain the upper hand on men. Thus, she was entrusted to watch the shop while her brother, so-called visits to other shops made her embedded, buying her time as she won Faylen. Though sometimes tiresome, living in a small village and taking care of a stupid shop, Martha never complained. Save when Danny left suddenly to go on his "secret trips" to stock the store and come back with his hands swinging, riled at her patience.

Martha knew the shop would be the only place she could live with Fay and would have to make Faylen see he would be happy anywhere she was and the store made her pleased after all. It was all she knew, what some customers would look lovely in, what complimented their size and color. The shop was her's. Nonetheless, wanting to stay in her store, Martha had yet to formulate a plan to make Faylen propose marriage or any commitment.

Deep in her heart, Martha knew Faylen adored her body, for every time they had sex, he would worship her physique as it was gold sent from God himself. Her Faylen was also a breast man as he paid much homage and to her wet . . . Martha moaned just thinking of her female core devouring Faylen's handsome large sausage.

Smiling with her eyes closed, she could not help the . . . "What's the smile for?" Martha opened her eyes to see her brother staring at her with a strange expression on his face, and that alone wiped all smile of pleasure on her face. As she picked up, the nearest object on the counter, which was a duster to look busy as she fidgeted about the store, trying to avoid Danny and his ever-observant eyes.

"It was nothing, just . . . nothing."

"I'll be leaving."

Martha turned to see Danny with his bag packed resting beside the counter, another so-called trip for their store. Martha was no fool; she knew what he did with his time when he went off on his own. Leaving her behind to watch his inheritance, even though she felt it was more hers.

Folding a nightgown and smoothing it out, staring at the pink buttons with a loose thread, she could not help it, but ask, "And when will you be back?" Martha held her breath, waiting for an answer.

Danny did not miss a thing that went on with his sister and that sheep boy, Faylen for a second. He knew as soon as he left, sheep boy would be back in his house riding his silly, impenitent sister. It galled him that his once ingenious sister would allow such filth to lay with her; she could do so much better than sheep boy. And with this trip, Danny planned to find and bring back a gentleman for Martha. Someone deserving of her class.

Danny could not comprehend what his sister saw in that sheep boy, but needed the answer to his fearful inquiry. "I don't know why you like him so?" with the question asked, Danny felt somewhat sorry that he probed Martha's taste in men, seeing she only had eyes for that sheep boy. And by his sister's stiff back, he would not get an answer.

"When I return, I hope to find nothing has changed." Martha turned just in time to see Danny's eyes squint in a line, and his jaws set to grind bones, as she got the gist of her brother's meaning. Biting her lip, Martha tried her best not to spoil Danny's farewell to plaster a sweet smile on her face and with her hands behind her.

"Well then," taking a step to her brother. "Have a safe trip," she said, standing on tiptoes and kissed Danny's soft pale cheek. Stepping back, thinking all was well with her and Danny, Martha was hauled against her brother's hard bony chest. "Danny." Martha hissed by his quick and fierce embrace and tried to push away from his strange hold on her.

"You're. . ."

"When I return, I want things the way they are," Danny declared squeezing his sister's arm, making her shut her eyes by his surprising tight embrace.

"What's gotten into you?" It was a dumbass question to ask, as she knew why he was behaving like that. Annoyed, Martha slapped Danny's hand away, and for the first time, she saw what others feared about him. For he looked like a stranger to her at that second with his face cold and drawn with lines creasing his flawless skin, lips thinned, and eyes dark and beady. Danny did not look like her brother, but a monster of a bully.

Danny never felt shame for anything in his life, but he felt small as he looked at his sister's expression. He felt wicked that he should be plunged, a hundred feet below hell to die. He made his loving sister fear him. Him? Martha was the only person who mattered to him, whose opinion counted for anything in his miserable life.

Wanting to hug his sister for mercy's sake, Danny took a step to her sending her into a shelf, spilling its feminine essentials on the floor. Grinding his jaw, Danny stood there gazing at Martha's heated glare.

"Martha . . ." Danny said as he watched his sister drop and picked up all the frilly underwear with her hands trembling. Never in his life would he stand for anyone making his sister feel what she felt at that moment. "Right," Danny backed away from Martha, "Take care of yourself." He said, picking up his bag to swing onto his shoulder as Martha stood shocked, that he left so abruptly.

"Danny," Martha whispered, wanting to impart something profound before he embarked on his trip, as it was sort of a tradition of hers. She loved him, no matter how she felt at that moment. She loved her big brother. And with his back to her, all she could have said was, "Be safe."

Danny rode away, feeling he should do or say more, he hated leaving his sister with what happen weeks ago with sheep boy, and what just transpired between them. Nevertheless, he needed to go, or the trail would be lost, and he would have to wait again for more information. It was coming up on the anniversary and wanted it to end.

To feel free from the damn foolish onus he took upon himself. With his back taut, riding away from his sister, it never made him virtuous, seeking the cause that made him travel every year. Danny just felt tired of it all and wished for a change, that he did not know how to achieve.
Chapter Twenty-Seven

"Five months and nothing." Danny reflected as he watched around the store that he did business with sometimes. It was his supplier for almost everything their store needed and wanted and the only source of information on Him. "God, when will it end?" Danny said with his eyes closed and brow creased wishing he was home in his store with his loving sister.

"Is something wrong?" opening his eyes, Danny just stared blankly at first, but when his eyes became focused, he saw the most fascinating creature in his life. It was a girl if you can call her that with her slim waist, bite-size breast and slender frame to say the very least. But it was her face that made Danny held his breath. She was a goddess with full lips that made him want to taste and touch, a straight nose, and semi-large, black eyes that saw into him.

Danny never had a woman look at him like how she was staring at him making him feel . . ."Are you alright, sir?" she asked again, touching his hand this time. Sucking and holding his breath, her touch disturbed him through his gloved hand, and he recoiled from her. This made her take a step back, viewing him cautiously.

He did not know what got into him, but he grabbed her hand to stay her retreat. Holding her wrist made him feel peace, he had not felt in his life and pulled her to him. Danny was not himself as he hugged the mysterious creature in a deadly embrace feeling a soothing, calm warmth, radiating from her body. Never would he have believed to live and experience what the stranger had him facing. It was euphoria.

"Unhand Her Now," Someone roared somewhere in the store that did not concern Danny. All he could think of was the feel of that small creature in his arms. It was so surreal all of his concentration was of the joy he held, but then he was brusquely yanked, from her and cuffed on the chin.

"You stinking scoundrel." Dazed still, Danny was cuffed and shoved against a shelf that held men's shirt neatly stacked scattered onto the floor as himself. Shaking out his haze, Danny remembered a scene like this that played out with his sister not too long ago and realized what he did. Righting himself to stand, Danny saw who sent him to the floor. Something scrawny and young that looked like a boy, much like the girl he held, just taller with broad shoulders.

"Anna, are you all right?" the boy asked Danny's balm to his weary soul, as he stood staring at her with her eyes glued on him, nodding her response to her helper.

"Did he . . ." Anna touched her brother and felt his body tremble with rage.

"Anton." Danny's balm spoke again, and her voice was like a warm blanket over his cold heart.

He could not take his eyes off her as she was shoved behind the boy that sent him to the floor. It was a strange feeling being hit, for never in all of Danny's life anyone raised their hand to him, not even his parents. Martha would argue, "It was his rotten luck that got him out all his Randy misfortunes."

As he dusted off his coat and fixed his necktie, Danny looked around and saw a crowd was forming around him and the children.

"I should . . ." the boy said heatedly, taking a step to him again. However, Danny stood his ground when Anna that was her name, held the boy's hand staying him as they looked around the store, seeing a crowd patiently waiting to see more of their display. But the store owner shooed the gathering away.

"Go on; go on, nothing to see," he said, standing next to Danny. "Forgive me, Sir. Are you alright?" the dumpy storeowner asked Danny while dusting off his coat.

"We are very sorry," Anna said as she looked at Mr. Valor, the store owner, who began to gather his goods that were scattered about the shop floor. Anna could not help it when she saw the young man standing there appearing lost for no reason looking sick, but on closer inspection, she saw that was his natural complexion. She was never someone to walk away from a person in need of help, which was one of the flaws she wished she could chuck away.

However, nothing could have prepared her for seeing or touching the young man's hand. There was indeed a tremor, she felt it, and he had too, it was not her alone. Just recalling her reaction to him, Anna needed some air. She could not breathe, and she knew why, his eyes were on her, his stare was sucking the very air she needed, and it was crucial to be free from his penetrating gaze.

Anna bolted with everyone staring at her as if she had lost her mind, but she did not care, not one ass. Her brother and herself had a reputation already, and one more scene for the narrow-minded kakaholes (assholes) of the village could do them no harm.

As Anna made her way out of the store, knowing the stranger's eyes were on her made her felt sick. Sick to think all her fictional reading of romance, that hushed subject in her home could be real and she had just experienced it.

"Anna! Anna . . . Ann!" her brother yelled as she walked away from the stranger's sight. Taking a deep breath, she reined in her confused heart with her back to her brother Anton and knew what was coming. "What happened to you?" he asked, pulling her hand in the crook of his arm walking her home slowly. She did not know how to answer her brother, so she choose to use one of her talents and remained silent. Closing her eyes for a second and taking a deep breath, Anna took a glance back at the store and saw the pale man staring at her, making the hair on the back of her neck rise in a fearful, but pleasant way.

Danny wanted to know what the hell was going on with him; he never watched a female like that in his life. He wanted her, an inane thought with a treacherous forethought. How could that be? He never saw the fairer sex as anything but the weaker sex, save for his sister who could stand her ground against anyone, especially him sometimes. Yet he held that small creature and felt so comfortable in her arms or rather, as he held her in his.

Taking a step to follow her, Danny heard, "You should leave them alone." Stopping in his tracks, he looked back at the nervous shop owner holding the door open like a shield protecting him as he watched him queerly. Danny knew he was out of his element for he had a reputation of zero. He did business and left without any interaction or incident in the towns and villages he visited, but on this trip, his mind and heart felt jumble up of sorts. So much so, the shop owner was giving him counsel on who he should talk too.

Danny turned and stared at the short, portly man as he took a step back. Glaring at the store owner should have sent the man scurrying back into his business and behind his counter, but he stood his ground staring at him. While observing the man shaking in his boot, Danny considered the storeowner brave or rather foolish.

Wanting to know more of the girl, Danny venture further into what the portly man knew of the girl and asked, "Why?" Wondering what reason and connection the businessman had to some poor village girl. Why should he stay away from her? He wanted nothing to do with the girl for by the looks of her; she was destitute and in need of . . . "Why?" Danny asked again, taking a step to the store owner once more, sending him this time into his store and behind his counter.

Danny needed to know who that slip of a girl was, and if he had to tone down his emotions, he would. Nevertheless, the fear factor he had not a clue how to tone that down. Therefore, he tried to plaster a smile on his face and kept a safe distance from the petrified man.

Smiling, "Why should I keep away from her?" Danny asked, waiting a minute looking at the terrified man wiping his clean counter down. Thinking he was not going to get a reply from him, Danny took a step to leave.

"They are penurious and simple children." The shopkeeper replied, staring at Danny as he waited for more gen, but was not given more. Closing his eyes and shaking his head, Danny left the store. He was finished, and he need not go back to the retailer for his business was over. All he required now, was to wait for confirmation that his parcels would leave on time, and he would move on.

Taking a step on the spacious sidewalk, Danny looked around the village that seemed much like his home, but on a bigger scale with more stores that gave each other competition. There were two Inn's, a few shops on either side of the road, an open and active church, and a boarding school and some stately homes of well to do families. The village prided itself as the shopping hub and as a quaint hamlet. It was a place he would love to bring Martha someday, as he saw a few gentlemen that could be up to scratch for his sister. Danny did not give up on his search to find someone ameliorate than the sheep boy to be his brother-in-law. With a heavy sigh, he would continue his search for his former priest, murderer, and his future brother-in-law.

Feeling the weight of the real reason he was there beside his business was a burden on his tired shoulders. His affair had come to an end and completed. Now he could move on and start with the real reason he was passing through this quaint village with its people.

Another sigh escaped Danny's lips as he closed his eyes, seeing her, and a knot formed in his chest. Could he walk away? If he did, he would not see her, and to walk away, Danny knew would never know that peace again. Although if he stayed a while longer, his heart and mind might learn how she gave that to him.

"No," Danny whispered to himself loudly. If he stayed, he would lose the trail and could not mislay "his" trace this time. He was bone and soul-weary of all the traveling. Groaning, in all his life, Danny never had a double mind about anything. However, his mind was confused with his heart in turmoil because of "her," he could not leave. He would stay and suck the marrow out of her to know how she could bring peace to a sinful and tortured soul like his.

Closing his eyes, Danny knew she was not an angel. There could not be any angels left when his shattered to pieces years ago, leaving a tiny scar on his cheek. "No," Danny groaned again, he would stay and see what she was and maybe take away from this unexpected meeting a whiff of peace.
Chapter Twenty-Eight

Two months Danny delayed his travel in search of "him" father William's murderer and all he got were snippets of her, the girl from the store. In the early part of his life, he never had eyes for the fairer sex until she touched him, this odd girl called Anna. She sparked something in him that no other did, and he needed to know how she did that.

Danny took a cheaper room in the Guest House he regularly stayed at when he passed through buying for the store, but with his extended visit, he had to save cost. The room was cheap and perfect; it was located opposite where she worked as a governess for a family. He saw how she smiled and laughed with the children she cared for and how the children mimic her every move to perfection.

Her protégés were a little waggish Danny thought, yet he loved them for the simple reason, they dragged her out the house every evening to play. He could stay from his room and watch until it got dark as she played convincing them; they wanted to do what she wanted them to do, so they did it freely. Anna had a way of getting her way every time with those children, making him wonder if she could be so convincing or conniving with him? Danny smiled to himself; he would love to try her.

Late one evening, as Danny was hidden by his window staring at her reading while her imps played with each other in their yard. She suddenly looked up and stared straight at him, making him stumble from his perch, falling clumsy on his ass. Shocked by his foolish reaction, Danny stood and looked out the window, and she was gone. She could not have seen him, not in his darkroom. Nevertheless, he felt her eyes piercing him. Smiling to himself, Danny could no longer wait, he needed to speak to her, to end this, this strange feeling she brought out of him as a floundering boy, and not a man.

Anna went home feeling joyful yet again. He had her smiling every time she left her work. It was so dull and boring until he showed up. Tending to those little monsters that were rich and had all that they wanted to show her how lonely life could be with wealth. Anna believed to be penniless with love was the riches thing a person could have, and that was what she was looking for. Not necessarily the poverty part, she was already that, but the love portion.

As a little girl, she prayed for love, and just maybe it could be hers. The only downfall to what she wanted was her so-called brother. The love of her sibling was not something she could give to her brother, for he was a thorn in her side whenever Anna spoke about loving another. Anna knew he made a promise to their parents to look after her. However, he looked at her as if she was a fragile, naïve doll, and if any gentleman spoke to her, she would run off with said gentleman. It was laughable, to run off and leave her exasperating brother to face life alone was mere insane to think.

It was two months since his eyes were continuously on her, and in those months, she grew to know she was no longer a little girl like how her brother treated her, but she was a woman to attract him. As she changed for the night, Anna stood in her small bedroom in front of her mirror, looking at her tattered nightgown and saw her breast had grown forthwith, in her twenties. When she held it, it was a handful and wondered if he would appreciate the size and the gentle curves that came with her twenties.

Throwing herself on her small cot with her arms spread out above her head, Anna wanted more than just his eyes on her. She wanted much, much more, and closed her eyes to formulate a method in which to get him close enough to speak to her. She knew he was just waiting for an opportunity to approach her, for they were of like mind. Exhaling, Anna gave up to her sleep seeing his handsome face come to her in the night.
Chapter Twenty-Nine

A week later, Danny waited and watched her tending to her charges from his room when he believed she saw him staring at her from his bedroom. He assumed she would stay away from her daily outings with those gremlins. "Thank God," his heart whispered as she sat on the bench and read after that day. The days she would stay put and not play with those children, gave him much pleasure for he could enjoy the dreamlike image that sat and read before him.

Some could have said she was not handsome or beautiful with her slender body as a young boy, face shaped like a ripe olive, lips luscious as a full pear that begged to be sucked with its juice flowing, and eyes that saw more than any. Watching her, Danny knew beneath her ordinary clothes was a woman's body. There were times as she played with her charges, he would get a glimpse of her body and see her breast outlined.

They were not small but meant to be suckled babies, and he wondered what it would be to taste her . . . Groaning, out-loud as he closed his eyes, Danny questioned what the hell was wrong with him, wanting to suck a woman's breast, her lips, or anything on a woman. He never saw the female sex as anything but shoppers and spenders of their shop, save now. He saw and wanted this one woman.

Anna knew he was there watching her, and she could feel him, so set her scheme into motion.

"Children you need to go in and meet your mother," Anna said ushering the children in their house with her back to him hearing the children whine as she closed the side door firmly, and stepped out into the semi-busy street.

Taking a deep breath, Anna tried to smooth the crease from her very best outfit, which was her Sunday and every day best, and made a step into what she thought was her little adventure into womanhood. Taking her time while walking away from work early, Anna closed her eyes and prayed he would follow her movements as an adventurous soul.

The street was far from crowded, which made it easy to find and follow her. It was late evening when most people would find themselves home from their day's labor, but she left work early. Danny believed this would be his only opportunity to see her up close and perchance speak to her, to have a second within her peaceful company.

He was there, right behind her, she could feel his eyes on her back with every step she took. Turning the corner, Anna wanted some privacy, so she led him to her little hideaway by the pond, not far from the village. It was one of those places the young and old lovers sunk off, to find a bit of solitude. The few streetlights were lit, and the setting sun gave its golden light, creating the scene for her first seduction as she sat and waited for him on her favorite bench.

The pond was the only place that she could walk and get away from the bustle of the village. It was lined with willow trees that were scattered around the pond, making it a welcome place for lovers to hide.

Nervous as hell, Anna sat trying her best not to fidget waiting for him, "Jez, how far was he? It's getting late, and Anton would be worried by now. Why did he not . . ." Anna began to mumble to herself when she heard, Crick, crack someone was nearby. Anna held her breath, he was close; she could sincerely feel his eyes eating her up.

Never in all his twenty-seven years, had he any cause to speak to a woman of his inclination. What could he say to her? Danny was mere inches away from her that he could stretch his hand and loose her hair from its tight bun. How can he . . .

"Hello." With her back to him, Anna could not wait for him to do something. Turning around, she saw that he was just as handsome in the store as he was out in the dying sunset. With a leisure smile on her face, he took a seat beside her with his hands on his lap holding an umbrella-like a prepared gentleman for rain, it seemed.

With a smile on her face, Anna saw his hands were whiter than his pale complexion clutching his umbrella, making her wonder if it was for his or her protection. In all of Anna's life, she could not remember ever seeing a man with such a ghostly complexion.

Danny sat beside her and felt he could not breathe, he was out of his element. He just sat there wishing he knew what to say or even do. Deciding to close his eyes to concentrate on what he should do next, he heard her move, and when he opened his eyes, she was sitting beside him, feeling her heat penetrate his clothes.

Feeling bold, Anna went full out into her plot, placing her hand over his quivering wrist. Wanting to calm him, Anna entwined her fingers with his and found for a man's it was soft as if it never did a hard day's work. Unlike her brother, who taught children, and yet his hands were callused. She bought his hand onto her lap, and Anna knew he was somewhat shy, but she felt brave for both of them and placed her head on his shoulder.

"It might be wise to breathe now." She said, and he exhaled. Anna smiled to herself for she loved an attentive man.

"How did you know?" breathing helped Danny to find his voice to speak to her.

"I could hardly not feel those eyes on me." Anna declared enjoying his body heat.

Surprised yet again, Danny felt something gripped his balls as her sweet voice conjured thoughts too sinful for even him. Her voice, her gentle brogue also relaxed his mind a bit as he held her hand tighter with her snuggling closer to him.

Anna felt she was safe with him even though she did not know his name or where he'd come from. Nevertheless, her heart sensed she could trust him. "I would have loved it if you had made the first move, but. . ." Anna was saying on a sigh as her eyes closed when he intensified his hold on her hand.

"Why?" Danny wanted to know. "You're a brave one." Anna beamed by the first compliment, other than her brother gave to her. Thinking about his words, she did feel somewhat fearless for what she was doing. He was a stranger that could likely kill her if that was his motive. However, she was following her sleepy instinct, and it was shouting for her to wake up and see he was life passing her by.

"Not brave enough to have done this sooner."

"But here we are. What next?" Danny was bursting with curiosity, sitting with a strange woman, and the only thing he knew about her was her name.

Sitting up, Anna looked at him with a frown on her face and wondered honestly, what they should do next. "I have not a clue what next to do," Anna answered frankly, as he watched her pull away from him with her shoulders slumped. Danny wanted her body close to him again, but all he could have done was remain silent as the seconds turned into minutes, which made him feel eerily uncomfortable being in the presence of a woman with naught to say. A mysterious but enticing young lady that is.

"Your eyes seem sad and a puzzle?" saying this was Anna's way of breaking the silence, and waiting for a response from him, she tilted her head and looked at his frown.

"I've never done something like this, sir." Laughing shyly as she stood to put some distance between them. "I've never approached a man far less held a man's hand, other, other than my brother's." Anna continued fearing she could not say it all but needed to share every precious detail that was swirling around in her heart and mind. "I am no country lass, waiting for someone to sweep me off my feet, sir. No." with her hands on her Kimbo. "No again, sir. I am Anna of, of . . . of . . ."

Anna lost her voice as she looked at him, staring at her with those deep, desperate eyes like the shade of grey clouds on a cold day. His every gaze pulled at her lonely heart, they watched, wanting something from her. Her very soul, she deemed. Fearing she made a mistake, Anna took a step away from him, edging closer to the pond's edge.

"I, I, need to . . ."

For heaven's sake, Danny did not know what got into him as he took a step to her and held her upper arm firmly feeling her tremble as he pulled her close to his body. He was drawn to those lips that were calling to him from the moment he saw her. She was indeed courageous for if she knew who he was, who stood before her, she would never have given him a chance to be alone with him. Feeling the fan of her breath on his lips, Danny brought his mouth

onto hers with a passionate kiss. Wanting her for so long had him hungry as he sucked and nipped at her lips. Danny wanted more, as his tongue forced its way into her mouth, almost making her push at him.

Anna was shocked by his need as he fed on her mouth. Smiling, she followed his fashion and toyed with his tongue, stroking his in their dance. Opening her eyes, Anna saw the surprise frown on his face as she did what he did to her. Nipping his lips and teasing his tongue made her feel dauntless.

Danny was beyond flabbergasted how this delicate girl aroused certain parts of his being and on his first kiss with her soft, plush lips. Never once did he care to know how a man should kiss a woman but went by the seat of his trousers and found he enjoyed it very much.

Slowing his pace, Danny began to nibble on her lips that tasted of sweet honey. Tilting his head to the side, he got a closer fit wanting more and was rewarded nipping her bottom lip. Hearing her sigh as she gently stroked her tongue to his and held onto his lapel for life. The ecstasy of what he was feeling, Danny also knew it was sinful. It is what his mind was thinking save for his heart. His heart was begging to "have more of her," while his soul was saying, "make her his."

This was the happiest Anna ever felt in her life. Her heart was racing as a stampeding horse to her ear, and her stomach felt the hoofs of said beasts. She thought this was also insane what she was doing with this strange man. Yet, she could not stop for all her attempt of good breeding had marched out the second she saw him.

"Anna," Anna thought the heavens were shouting her name for she was in heaven with his lips on her doing such wicked . . . "Anna."

Anna pulled away with her eyes wide open as she looked around, hearing her name holler not too far from her for real. "Anna," There it was again. Anna looked at her sweet sir with his eyes glazed over as if he was lost and of no use to her. "Anna," Again her name was bellowed when she realized it was . . .

"Gad, Anton." Anna pulled away fearing she would be found by her brother in the company of this extraordinary man. That is all she needed. It took her four years of begging to be free to work for her own money, for her to be caught in the fervor of a sinful embrace with a curious and wonderful man by her brother. No, this would not do.

Anna pulled away entirely to leave him when he seized her wrist in a vise grip. "Don't leave me, please," he begged. Anna wished she could stay, but if her brother found her, it would be the convent or worse for her.

"Sir," smiling sweetly Anna knew she would meet him again, "What is your name?"

Giving an alluring smile, he pulled her back and whispered his name in her ear, "Daniel."

"You know where I am, and I know where you are," Anna said, touching his cheek. "Stay put till I come to you."

Danny heard her words but only saw her running off, leaving him behind and in pain. Hell, he was in such agony from below the waist. His penis was hurting him as though the devil himself were yanking at it making it forcefully to stand by her whim. Staring as Anna slipped away from him. Closing his eyes, Danny wished things were different for him where he could explore the feelings he was having for her or even someone he could talk too. Danny knew there was only one person who could have taught him about the fairer sex, but he was taken from him, and he was the reason he met Anna. Smiling to himself, maybe the fates had a plan for his life after all. To show how empty his life was at this point, to confirm things might be changing for him. "God knows." Danny contemplated as he walked back to his empty room.
Chapter Thirty

Anna felt this was love, no, she knew this was love. This was what she was waiting for all her life, and by God, she was not going to hide anymore from it and her brother. By whatever means, Daniel would be her's and commit to her. Tonight she would do it. Anna knew it was a great chance she was taking, to force him into something that he might not want. But for the months they've been together, watching, and waiting for someone to make a move, this was the right thing to do. Daniel must comply with all of her desires.

Trying to read her book while her wards played hide and seek, waiting for the hour to reach where she could be with him, made Anna feel like a silly, young girl with her first love. Smiling broadly with her eyes on her book, she knew this was the first time she fell in love or was in love, and he would be her first in everything.

Feeling his eyes on her, Anna looked up and saw him standing in his window staring at her, no longer hiding. She always felt his eyes probing her with too many questions, and with such hunger that could devour her if she were to set herself free. She desperately wanted to let go and have him bounded to her forever. From his window, Daniel stared at her, making her feel he was summoning her. His spirit had this powerful pull over her. So much so, Anna found herself in the street crossing to his building.

"Anna," She stopped in the middle of the street when she heard her name.

"Anna," Someone was shouting her name, it felt like a repeat of their first meeting all over again. As she looked around, she saw Anton coming at her. Taking her eyes off Daniel for a second snapped their connection, to look back at his window to see he was gone.

"Thank God," Anna murmured, as Anton pulled her out the street looking livid. She was so tired of dealing with her brother overprotective ways, it was driving her crazy. Maybe that was the reason she looked at Daniel as a way out from her jailer.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" Anton whispered in her ear. He would never say those words aloud for anyone to hear, but only for her ears. Hauling her away from the middle of the street, Anna stumbled to keep up with his firm grip on her arm and knew the shit was going to happen. It took him long enough to react to her many nights of getting home late. She did not care, she was ready for it, and for the night, she planned with Daniel.

Tonight Danny was leaving, he could not take the chaotic feelings he had for Anna. His body was in constant pain from below the waist, his pulse raced whenever she touched him, and she did it all the time. She made him hot as if he had a fever; she was always on his mind, awake or asleep, Anna would invade what little peace he had. But most importantly, he lost track of time, and why he was away from his sister and their store.

Groaning loudly, Danny was beyond frustrated as he kicked his only chair across the room, breaking it. Something he would have to pay for. "Fuck," yelling his confused heart out. He felt some peace when he was with Anna, but if he was honest with himself, his heart, mind, and soul felt like one when she was with him. She brought harmony to his complicated life, but took it away as his body did battle with his . . .

Sighing, Danny felt he was losing command over his anatomy with Anna. She gave him peace at one end but confused his physique and emotions. He was not prepared for her but recognized he was screwed up, but when she was away from him, the muddled mess of his life would settle much more onerous on his chest.

With Anna around, her presence was like a lifting grace that kept him afloat. Danny knew he was baffled like most men when dealing with a woman. Although he felt more so after his clipped boyhood and wondered what woman in her right frame of mind, would want to keep his wounded soul, mind, and body around her.

"Fucking hell," Danny growled, why Anna could not be like Martha, just another woman to talk him away from his hellish abyss that was his life, and give him some freedom from his tormented memory and thoughts . . . "Martha," Danny whispered, he missed her more now. It felt like years he was away and yet with Anna, it seemed like time had stopped at a slow pace.

***

Eyes blazing and his hands on his hips, Anton could not stop what came out his mouth, "You will leave your job and stay home so I can keep an eye on you."

"No," Anna whispered. She had enough of Anton dictating what she can and cannot do. With the typical stance of his hands on his hip glaring down at her, Anna thought who the hell he thinks he is? He was no one but a . . .

Anna saw him take a deep breath to try and calm his ragged breathing with his eyes closed.

"You are my sister. I only want what's best for you." Anton tried touching her cheek. Anna hated it when he came to close to her person, as the so-called brother, he pretended to be. She was tired of the lie. She loved him but was weary of the deception they shared to be together to keep out of the orphanage.

Imitating how Anton stood, Anna placed her hands on her hips and glared back at him resolved to say her piece, and move on. "Anton, I tire of the acting and will not feign anymore with you." He took a step back as he knew what she was going to say. "No, brother, you are to me, but a cousin. You cannot tell me what I can do from this day; it stops. Do you hear me?"

Anna waited to see if her words registered in his head, but all she got was a blank stare of shock by her speech. There was no doubt it was all an act, but she preferably dealt with it after her time with Daniel. Picking up her coat, Anna felt bold as she walked out into the night, leaving Anton alone to stew in his power play of protected possessiveness.

***

Sitting on his unmade bed, Danny looked around his dark, cheap, quiet bedroom, and knew tonight would be the final time he would have with Anna, and hoped he knew how to say goodbye the right way and for good. The woman genuinely made him feel calm and muddled all in one, which was even more baffling to him than . . .

Knock, knock.

Danny stood and took three quick steps and opened the door, and was rooted to the spot as he looked at Anna standing in her simple everyday dress. The store owner did not lie when he said they were impoverished, but money did not matter to him when it came to his Anna. He just stood there watching her hypnotic body that had parts he wished he could explore utterly.

"Breath my dear or you'll pass out," Anna said as she touched his cheek, and he took a breath as she walked past him. Danny turned and looked at her, standing in the middle of his bedroom as he closed and leaned on the door holding the handle for security.

"I, I appear at a lost now." Smiling unsure as she turned from him, Anna was the one out of her province. Danny heard her, right? She was always the one to lead him, for he knew he was out of his element. He looked at her with her back to him and saw how fragile and trusting his Anna was.

Anna was scared she was making a mistake by coming to him. The woman in her knew he wanted her, for every time they were together, she would leave him with his trousers in a tent by his crotch. His physical desire for her was very much apparent, but would he want and care for her forever, as she wanted him? Determined to know, Anna took her advice, took a deep breath, turned, and saw Danny was behind her watching her with those eyes that wanted all of her.

"Anna . . ." Anna did not want to talk, she should, but she did not. With her heart racing, she wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him as if she was saying goodbye, but felt his body became rigid. Gad what had she done. Did all those stolen nights by the pond, made him cold to her now? Was she foolish to give him her kisses so freely? He was aloof and still in her arms. No, this was her Daniel. For months, she sat on his lap as they kissed, and talked about things they wanted, and of some things that bothered them.

Anna wanted this.

Braving further, Anna plunged her tongue into his mouth, stroking his making him shudder in response. She was on the right track he wanted her.

Danny always enjoyed their kissing. It made him overwhelmed when she started, and when he took over like now. With his hands roaming over her bosom, that was protected by her horrific dress.

Hearing his pained moan, Anna knew what he wanted and stepped back without breaking their kiss as she undid her dress.

Danny felt warm flesh as his hands moved back to her breast with her nipples harden, to yank his fingers away. In all his life, he never saw a woman's naked body or cared much for it in the first place, save when his gaze was fastened on her chemise.

Smiling and salivating, "Woman," Danny groaned as he kneeled in front of her taking her breast into his mouth. Wanting to have it without her chemise blocking her skin, Danny pulled it down her shoulders enjoying the sight of her perky breast, and squeezing it in his hands made him close his eyes to hug her in a crushing embrace. This was too much, Danny could not think straight.

Anna saw Danny was struggling. Holding his chin, she looked down, and saw that his eyes and cheek were wet. Taking a step out of his hold, Anna got rid of her last garment as Danny's eyes slowly traveled down her body that was exposed to him.

She was sinful, Danny deemed. She was shameful, but he wanted to share in her immoral shame as he stood and undress before her. He felt sick to his gut as he pulled down his trousers in front of another human, a woman. Standing with his eyes fixed on the floor, he heard Anna's intake of breath, and when he looked at her, she was staring at his crotch. Feeling more ignominy, Danny made to cover his penis. "No," Anna whimpered as she digested the space between them.

She moved his hand away from his crotch and brushed her hand on his cheek to look at her. "Never hide your body from me, ever. You are handsome, virile and . . . mines." Smiling on her tiptoes, Anna brought his head to her and so began the kiss that took his breath away.

Danny loved her. The woman made him feel normal, she made him feel like a man, and not as a boy, and he desperately wanted to show her, the power she had over his person. Touching her face and taking over the kiss, he caressed her tongue lapping at it while squeezing her behind, making her moan. Danny opened his eyes to see Anna with a frown on her face and backed away with her trying to hold onto him.

"I'm I doing something wrong?" Danny asked, feeling exposed and doubtful of himself again.

Anna had not a clue what she was doing, but she thought Danny surely knew and took a step towards him, to capture what she wanted. But he stepped back into his bed and fell, staring at him sprawled without a lick of clothes as his penis stood almost touching his stomach. And wondered how he could ask her, "If he was doing something wrong?" Did he think she knew? All Anna understood, is that she wanted him and she would wing it.

Straddling his leg, Anna stared at his penis looking like it came alive of its own accord, and wanting to do more than just watch she touched him, and felt a pulse. Sighing loudly, Danny backed up more on his bed, watching Anna play with his penis. He loved it when she caressed him, but her touch right now was torture to him, and it was beyond a pleasure.

Anna took a glance at his face and knew that his eyes were on her movement below his waist, so she pressed on. Licking her lips, she squeezed his penis with a groan escaping from him and took a glance to see his head fell back on the bed with a wicked smile forming on his lips. Feeling a bit devilish, she bent her head, tasting his tip and thought that it was wet with a tangy flavor. Wanting more, Anna took what could fit in her mouth, and almost yoked, but righted herself before her Danny could notice. Taking her time, Anna sucked the tangy flavor then nibbled down to its side, feeling his penis swell in size. Gad, this was great Anna thought, she had him, and he was . . . amazing.

Danny did not know how much he could take as he moaned her name in pain, "Anna." Sitting up, he looked at her beautiful head bent over his penis, going up and down. Groaning with a strange, intense pain and desire, he wanted something, but his inadequate instinct told him he should be doing what she was doing.

Not waiting for a second more, Danny flipped Anna onto her back, making her gasp as he kneeled in front of her exposed vagina. Instinctively he knew what should be done as he spread her legs wide, to hold his breath by her sight. Her vagina was freed from hairs and had a little sheen coming from it.

Leaning forward, Danny passed his fingers into her opening and tasted it. It was an exotic flavor, and he wanted his tongue to savor more so he widened her legs, descended his mouth, and began to lap the essence of his Anna. With his eyes closed and moaning, Danny could not believe he waited all his life to feel and find this passion that was coming from him. Yet as he drank greedily of her juices, Danny knew the wait was for the right person.

Hearing a sweet sigh escaped from her soft lips, Danny knew he was on the right track, but his pain in his penis stole something from him, and so grabbed his penis hard.

"Danny." Anna gasps as she wiggled under him, feeling a strange rumble build in her soul and body. "Danny." She cried out.

Danny heard her whimper his name breathlessly, much to his pleasure. Rising and looking down at her, he positioned between her legs with her heavy breathing, and placed his penis head to her opening, and thrust forward hard filling her utterly. Feeling his penis wolfed within a tight sheath, it was home, but something was not right. In all his joy of having Anna, he heard her whimpers, and looked down and saw tears running down her cheeks. "Shit." What the hell did he do wrong?

"Anna." Wiping her tears away, Danny was still buried deep inside her, he could not move.

"Please, Anna, I'm . . ."

Anna grabbed his hand by her face and kissed his open palm. She was more than "okay" she was "in bliss," and wanted her Danny to know with a smile on her face. Yet, Anna wanted more and began to squirm under him to do something, as he positioned his hands beside her head to move slowly. His movement was excruciating as she felt rent, but the feeling of him in her shifting made the pain manageable.

Danny drove forward until he felt he touched something in her and stilled at her whimper to look down to see her eyes closed tightly, biting down on her lips. Danny wanted to stop, he tried to pull out from her, but he could not stop nor free himself from her sweet core. It was evident he was a little too long and thick for her small entrance, but could not stop nor release her, so he moved again, pushing more into her slowly.

Closing his eyes, Danny allowed nature to take its course. He could no longer go forward but pulled out some and thrust back in again as Anna covered her mouth from a scream. Looking at her, Danny saw his ANGEL. Her face looked like joy and pleasure as he continued to thrust back and forth, rocking her body.

With his intense desire, Danny could not go slowly anymore. He was grinding his jaw as he picked up the speed as their bodies slapped at each other's connection. His heart rate raced along with his pace and felt the pinprick of Anna's fingers on his arm and back. Something was happening, he was feeling something was flowing out of Anna in a heated rush and his penis expanded in length with his balls . . . Gad. Danny felt a slow flow from him into Anna to feel a release gushed forth from him as he took the Lord's name in vain. Spent, Danny collapsed on top of her still buried deep within her walls, shaking from what he just experience.

Catching her breath and the scream that wanted to escape from her mouth, but biting down on her lips, Anna knew the walls could not withstand her ecstasy that she wanted to share. Still holding onto him as their bodies' quake was the most she could do, until their labored breathing became as one when he pulled out from her.

Danny watched Anna's chest heaving and touched her full perky breast to kiss it, making her shiver. She looked at him, leaning on her elbow to see Danny's expression at that moment. It was prized above all else for he appeared like the rat that ate its fill of cheese and wanted more.

"Anna," leaning on his elbow looking at her, "I'm leaving tonight."

"What?" smiling, confused by what he said. "What did you say?" she asked.

Grabbing her face and giving her a deep kiss on her lips Danny sprang from the bed, still dripping come from his penis and started to don his clothes with Anna looking worried with a frown forming on her brow.

"Danny, what are you doing?" sitting up as she pulled the sheet covering her nakedness, Anna looked at him waiting for a reply.

"I'm going home."

"What? Why?"

With his shirt open and his trousers, half on him, Anna knew he could not leave the room in his state of desire still evident in his pants. "Danny you make no . . ." her words were cut from her as she looked on and saw he was not making a joke as he fastened his shirt and trousers, gathering his belongs in haste.

"Danny?"

"Anna." Danny stopped with all his belongings by the bed and sat with her as she crawled to hug him from behind to try to prevent him from leaving her.

"I found you as a joy no one could have given me, save God himself." Kissing her forehead, Danny kissed the tear that fell across her cheek, and kiss her soundly on her mouth, stealing her breath away so effortlessly.

"I leave to return in a week, so be ready by then," Danny said, grabbing his belongings again.

"For?" Anna asked so bravely, kneeling on the bed with the blood-soaked sheet wrapped around her with her innocence in plain sight, gone.

"To leave with me." Dropping his simple one bag by the door, Danny took one-step to the bed as Anna threw herself at him.

"I was sick, and now my cure is before me." Danny kissed her about her face as she cried. "Make ready to be my wife in a week, when I return and not a day later."

"Danny." Anna was beside herself with her future husband holding her.

"Now, let me go, so I can return." Releasing him with a groan, Anna watched him walked out and not look back to hear, "In a week my love." He shouted as Anna rushed to the hall to get a quick look at the man she loved and will be marrying soon. Danny was beyond elated as he took a last glimpse of her before she disappeared for a week. Anna knew the look he gave her was all the reason and trust she had for him and looked forward to the week to pass by swiftly.

This time, Anna could not help the scream that came from her as she rushed back and threw herself on her deflowered bed and yelled yet again from her joy.
Chapter Thirty-One

Anton could not believe his ears or his eyes. She gave herself to him, and he was leaving to come back for her. Anton stepped away from their door, losing the ability to breathe. She gave herself to that odd man when he tried to protect her all his life, and she just gave it away, "herself, her virginity." Fuming with hatred, Anton decided to fix her foolish mistake. If Anna thought, he was going to allow her to go off with that peculiar man. For the stranger to take her away from him, she was demented. As Anton followed the man that claimed his Anna's innocence, he knew what he had to do to keep her by his side.

Danny was in his glee, he was free, he remembered why he was there, but Anna wiped all of it away from him, from his heart and mind. Danny knew many in his village thought him sick or odd, but he did not care. He was cured, he had Anna, and she made all that was ill about him good.

He was CURED.

He was FREE.

It would take two days of hard-pressed riding to reach home and make the right arrangements for his return. He would waste no time. Lost in all his plans, Danny never heard a horse that was coming fast behind him, and as he turned and was knocked off his horse by a small mask. Landing on the solid ground, his breath was ripped from him, but righting himself, Danny tried to shove what knocked him off his horse away.

Grabbing his knife from his back, Anton knew he was a big surprise to this dog as he lay on top of him. Holding his knife hilt, Anton poised his knife over him pausing for a split-second and was kicked away hard to land on his side. Anton tried to scramble for his blade and was kicked in his gut, doubling over from the kick with blood splattering on the ground. He was not going to give this shit another chance with his Anna.

Anton was somewhat of an even built and did not know where his strength came from as he slammed a fist into the man's mouth. Seeing his potency surprised and overpowered the dog. Anton swung again and landed another fist in the fiend's eye as blood trickle down his eye.

With a bit of joy bubbling in his chest as he defended his Anna, she would see how much he cared for her honor as he came after this mongrel. Anton believed this would be easy as he took another swing, landing it to his cheek. When he began to feel breathless to stop and take a breath, looking at Anna's foul, sick puppy and saw a hand coming at him, but it never touched his face or his body.

Anton laughed to think he feared to confront this "thing." He took a step with his hand poised in a cuff to hit him again when he felt weak all of a sudden with his steps faltering. Becoming far worse than breathless, Anton did not know why he was moving in slow motion.

Danny watched him fall. He should feel sorry for the boy but could not when he did not instigate the attack, it was not his fault. Staring at the boy, Danny did not know who the individual was, but his face looked familiar, but dallying here kept him from returning to Anna. He had no care nor time, to bury the fool but felt a prick of remorse as he said a few words as William did over the dead. He mumbled the words with a touch of sorrow for the boy, whoever he was as Danny looked at the stranger bleed from his groin wound.

Gathering his things, Danny mounted his horse and took one last look at the boy, and thought he saw something but shook it off as he made his way home, wondering what his sister would say to his news of her becoming a sister to his Anna. He prayed she was still his very own Martha.
Chapter Thirty-Two

"Hurry up, woman," Faylen yelled. He loved his Martha, but she always went by her clock, which forever made him late. His belly was growling, for he was about to have dinner with his sister and the tramp. It was the first time after Irene's baby was born, and Martha wanted to see his niece. Faylen never cared to visit his sister when her husband was there, but he had no choice as his Martha requested it, and John demanded that he show up and make peace with the tram . . . his brother-in-law.

"Why?" Faylen wondered. John said the tramp was not going anywhere, and I needed him. She needed her brother back. Faylen smiled, just knowing his little sister still wanted him around which made him happy after all the shit he did and done to the tram . . . To Collin.

Pacing on the sidewalk waiting for Martha was a unique experience since her brother left months ago. He no longer had to hide or sneak in her store and bedroom, but walked through the front doors and stayed over every night. Faylen should be ashamed of treating Martha as a loose woman when he knew he should make her a respectable lady.

I told him, and John nagged him, but no one was going to force him into marriage. The thing called "marriage" was not meant for everyone, but when he chose to become a husband, he would gladly be tied to Martha. "You're making us late Martha," Faylen shouted for the sixth time.

"I'm coming," Martha yelled back at Faylen for the second time. She needed to have her gift for his niece and something for the proud parents, and she wanted to look the part of an unassuming sister-in-law to meet his sister. Ever so often, Martha would drop hints to Faylen, for him to make her his wife. She knew Faylen and his family were not wealthy. However, they owned three-quarters of the lands around the village. What they lacked in funds, they had in commodity, which sat well with Martha and her future children. Martha stood in front of her antique mirror, admiring the very plain dress that she selected. It was Faylen's favorite color, a baby blue with cap sleeves, which was hugging her ample bosom. Smiling at her image, she took one last look at herself before . . . "Wow."

Faylen was about to shout at Martha again as he pushed her bedroom open. Fed up waiting and ready to drag her out, even if she was in her undergarments, but his planned action was cut short as his eyes gazed at a "fairy princess." Gad, Faylen thought the woman knew how to hook him. Stepping behind her, Faylen wiped his hands on his shirt, fearing to touch her as he circled her like prey, waiting to go in for the kill.

She knew what was in his eyes, she knew him to her heart. Smiling ever so un-beguiling, Martha watched him from her standing mirror, as Faylen licked his lips behind her winding his hands around her waist snaking up to her breast. And with his talented fingers tugged the front of her dress down, exposing her to his hunger.

Licking his lips again, Faylen turned Martha around gently and latched his mouth onto her right breast that appeared to be his favorite side for he always stayed there the longest then moved on, giving her partner some of the attention. Martha knew her breasts were her Faylen's preference and her weak points as her feet began to quake.

Closing his eyes, Faylen knew when he took her bosom into his mouth the night would be over. He felt a pang of regret that he would not make it to his sister's dinner, but Martha's will over him was his flaw, he knew she had him, "hooked." Faylen felt her tremor and caught her as her leg gave way carrying her to her bed. Faylen wondered if he could make it a quickie, he could still make it to I's dinner.

"Fay."

Martha moaned, pulling his shirt out his trousers, and he saw they could not. He never did quickies with Martha; she needed all his attention, and he strove to give it to her.

***

Irene pulled her pink curtain for the fifth time and wondered, "Where the hell, the bloody fools were?" The meal she slaved over to make was getting cold, waiting for that no good, crappy brother of hers and his new girlfriend. Sighing, Irene turned to inspect her set table with her best wares she had from her mother, laid out waiting. "Where the devil is that shit?" Irene grumbled, looking at John, Collin, and Emily dressed in their finest. It took her a whole month in planning to make everything, the way she wanted, the house, meal, Collin and Em.

John held his granddaughter watching his Irene and knew she was pissed off, waiting to blow off some of that steam of hers. God help poor Collin for he would be the one to face it when he left.

"I, maybe he . . ."

"Don't maybe me old man," Irene bit back at John for even thinking of making any excuses for Faylen's tardiness, and regretted it when Em flinched and started to whimper then let out a loud wail.

Collin looked at his wife, shook his head at her, and went for his daughter to appease her wailing. "Come, my love," Collin cooed as he took Em from his father-in-law and tried to rock her back to sleep. Yet his daughter's temper was like her mother's, as she fidgeted in his arms. Collin could rock and coo his darling girl all he wanted, but she would only stop her loud wailing when Irene's sweet breast was in her mouth.

Irene knew she was going to get an earful from Collin and John for her outburst, but what the holy crap did they know. Tired, hungry, sleepy, and pregnant again, just a few months after giving birth to Em. Her monthly had stopped, and Irene knew to her heart, Collin was going to be a father once more. She did not mind, but not so soon. She and Collin could not get enough of each other. Sometimes twice a day he or Irene would start, and they both would finish together.

She loved Em, but in the nine months, she was carrying her she was treated like a child by her men, all three of them were cuddling her like, she was some infirm. Irene hated it. She was not sick, just pregnant like women around the world. Collin would raise his voice and clearly state, "She was not all women around the world, but his," and with that, it would shut her up.

Shaking out of her thoughts, Irene heard her Em's weeping and took her from Collin.

"Em, mommy's sorry," Irene said, kissing her baby's cheeks while Em hiccupped and was inching down to her comfort. Irene knew what she wanted.

"John," sighing loudly, "I made your favorite, do not waste it, sit, eat, or take as much you'd want." Irene kissed John's cheek, walking away to her bedroom to feed Em.

"And daddy . . . I'm sorry."

John stood fixed and shocked. His baby girl apologized and called him "daddy." Her new family life was most agreeable to her; she changed before his eyes in so many ways, which made him proud, but Collin still had a lot of work cut out for him. Shaking his head, he watched his son-in-law and knew he would weather whatever storm, came their way.

"Right," John said, clapping his hand as he piled a plate filled with all that was his favorite indeed. He was starving and did not want to be around to see Irene in her hailstorm for Faylen's absence. He would rather hear the after effect than be around it. "Right son, take care." Those were always his parting words to Collin with his plate piled with food.

Collin opened the door and watched as John walked away without a backward glance. Groaning loudly at his wife outburst and wondering what it was really about. Collin locked up and turned to hear that his daughter was silent for a few minutes as he fixed himself a plate, sat and picked at it. He was hungry, but not for food.

He knew something was wrong with his wife. For three months, she was fussy, angry, and stayed away from him, which was the worst of it. In his lifetime, he never believed life could be so complete. Having Irene and Em was as if God himself placed him in his heaven on earth.

Irene sat rocking Em asleep, even though she was snoring her baby's heart away in slumber for a while. With her eyes glued on their closed bedroom door, Irene knew what awaited her on the other side, but she just did not want to face it. He knew her too well to know something was up. She refused to make love to him in months. They would kiss, touch, and he would do the devil's trick with his mouth that would always lead to him inside of her.

Nevertheless, she just could not sleep with him until she figured out how to tell him he was to be a daddy a second time so soon again. It made no sense hiding in their bedroom because he would know in the months ahead, so Irene laid Em down and opened the bedroom door to share her burden with her husband.

Collin watched as his wife stood leaning on the closed bedroom door. He was always good at staying silent, but not today. "Three months and . . . and what is wrong with you?" Wishing he could swallow his tongue by what he said, for by the look of Irene's face. Father, he knew he jammed his foot into his mouth real good. And she knew what he was talking about when he said "three months."

"And what makes you think something is wrong with me?" she yelled at him with her hands on her kimbo pacing in front of him. "Go on, answer me? Maybe . . . maybe it's you, something is wrong with you? Have you thought about that?" she asked while Collin just sat there watching her pace, not saying a word. He knew that his silent tongue would lead to her becoming physical.

With her voice raised high, he knew his silence was wreaking havoc on her already.

"I . . ."

"Don't I, me." her voice cracked, she was going to cry, and she hated crying.

Collin pushed away from his food, taking two easy steps and stood holding Irene's shoulders to see tears forming in her eyes. "Love." that one artless word had her wrapping her arms around his waist wailing like Em, with him holding onto her tightly.

Irene was not, upset to have another child, but the treatment she would have to face from her men again. Holding onto Collin, Irene said, "I'm pregnant," and felt Collin stiffen. She never thought Collin would be unhappy, but as he pulled away from her, turning his back to her made her question if she was wrong. "Collin?"

Collin was in his glee, but another baby so soon. May's child would always be in the back of his mind. He recognized that he was overprotective with Irene for the nine months she carried Em. He watched what she ate, drink, the color of her pee, her sleep time, and the size of her feet, he watched everything driving her mad.

Never sharing why he did so, and to his death, he would never share why. Nonetheless, to take another chance so soon and have another child made him sick. It was hell to stay in their home and not have his Irene, Collin could not remain near his wife and not want her every day. And the three months without her was pure torture.

After Em, he knew he could not take the risk of Irene having another baby, and pulled out every time he came close to spur his seed in her, but alas Collin was late or too slow and now . . . Now she was pregnant. "Where are you going?" she asked with his eyes closed, Collin could not show what he was really feeling with the news of another baby and walked away from Irene.

"Collin," Irene shouted at his stiff back, and head bent watching him disappear. The night was horrible from the moment Faylen did not show up until now. Irene knew it was not her brother's fault for what was happening at that present, but he was easy to blame.

"Fuck you," Irene screamed after her husband, slamming the front door crying as she slumped to the floor to hear Em's high-pitched voice also.
Chapter Thirty-Three

Danny opened the front door happy to be home, anxious to see his sister again and share the news of his cure. He knew Martha would be overjoyed to have a sister-in-law as she always chides him for being alone for far too long. As he flung his bag on the floor by the front door, he rushed to Martha's bedroom, with his hand poised to knock, when he heard, "Yes Fay love, yes." coming from his sister's mouth. Pushing her door open, Danny saw the same scene playing out yet again, but with his sister on top of that sheep boy, Faylen Galway.

"Martha."

Faylen could not think he was getting so much pleasure from Martha on top of him as she rode his cock, making him come twice in her. He could not believe it, but he swore someone called her name. Faylen opened his eyes and saw her bedroom door open with someone casting a shadow. "Mar, Mar . . ." Faylen tried to look past Martha and saw him standing there again, with his releases but a grunt away.

"Shit, Danny."

Martha was beyond caring what Faylen was trying to tell her, all she wanted was to reach her end of pleasure, and it was near, it was so close. Feeling it was a hair's breadth away, Martha looked down at her man and saw something was off. Stopping, Martha looked around and saw what Faylen was staring at. "Fucking shit," Martha screamed as she scrambled off Faylen pulling a sheet around her naked body. "Dan, Dan, Danny," was all Martha could muster to say.

Angry as hell, Danny clamped his jaw shut, leaning on his sister's doorframe and waited to see what new scene was going to play out.

"Martha, I see you're an apt pupil." To find some semblance of control, Danny closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and envisioned Anna upon his return to her. As Danny walked off, he realized she was his absolute cure, for he would have ended that man's life without a thought. Still, how do you deal with a fellow who seemed bent on latching himself to his sweet sister?

Sitting on the counter, Danny waited for sheep boy to leave but this time, sheep boy was brass enough to exit by the front door, and he let him. He smelt and looked clean, and he held his head high as he walked by him. Danny gave him props; sheep boy grew some balls, to walk through his front door with him watching. Feeling a bit nostalgic to be home, and with the news of Anna to share, Danny wanted, to say something to put a hiccup in his arrogant steps. "Faylen," was all he said, which made sheep boy pause holding the doorknob tightly.

Martha threw on some clothes quickly to see Faylen off but was greeted by her brother sitting on their counter, staring at the closed front door with a strange, smug smile on his face.

"Dan, Danny, what have you done to my Fay?" Martha asked breathlessly, looking around the store to run out and scanned the empty street. Closing her eyes and resting her forehead on their glass door, Martha let go a sigh of relief at seeing Faylen walking away in one piece. Martha turned with her hands on her hips, ready to say her portion waiting for months to do. It may not have been the right time, but Danny was going to hear her out.

Danny watched his sister and saw that she indeed grew up before his eyes, or behind his back as the case may be. She was standing up for her man. He could not help hide the smile that tugged at his mouth as Martha gave him the eye of venom.

"I'm glad your home, but you will not enter my bedroom ever again unless I say so. You will treat Faylen as someone more and stop calling him sheep boy. His name is Faylen Galway, and he has more land than we will ever have and own." Martha had to stop and take a breath, then press on before all her courage failed her. "He will be my husband soon, and I will have his children if it is God's will, and, and, and . . ." he was smiling, God help her, Danny was giving her a genuine smile. "What the hell is so funny? I'm setting my . . ."

Danny could not take it anymore. It was years in the making. Martha had a mind and tongue, and now she was letting him see it lose. Stepping down from the counter, Danny took a step to his sister, making her step back. "Danny, I . . ." and hugged her. In all his life, Danny never really had any physical contact with the opposite sex until Anna.

He never actually hugged Martha the way a loving brother would, when she cried, or when she was happy. He would just pass and tap her back and walk away. Embracing his sister was a strange feeling knowing she was the only woman in his life for so long. Even though it was the second time, he tried to embrace her.

"I'm glad to be home, Martha, and I have some news for you. Some good, no, excellent news." Danny said, smiling from his heart as he walked away from his speechless sister to sit on a footstool staring at her.

"Wha . . . what, what news?" Martha stuttered as Danny sat down and thought how easy it was in his head of how his cure came in the form of a woman. Chewing the inside of his cheek, Danny just sat there staring at Martha.

"You're going to have a sister at the end of this week." Martha remained shocked yet again and needed to pull a seat to sit before she fell.

"What?"

"I've, I'm . . . I'm no longer the same man. I'm restored." Danny said with a huge smile on his face that made his sister uneasy by the look on her façade.

"What, what do you mean you're restored?" Martha questioned.

"Anna she freed me, and now I don't . . ."

"Anna?" Martha asked, confused to look at Danny from head to toe. "Were you sick, Danny?"

That got him to his feet. Danny did not think it would be so hard to explain that he had fallen in love with a woman. It troubled him to consider his only sister did not see the change in him, making him pace like a caged animal.

"Don't play blind for me, Martha. Don't you see, I'm different?"

"I see something is different, but . . ."

"Don't you fucking play blind Martha," Danny yelled, grabbing Martha by her arm shaking her, losing what little calm he held onto. "I've been sick, so, so sick with this . . ." pulling his shirt, hair, hitting his forehead and cuffing his heart, to drag his sister to her bedroom to look at himself in her tall mirror pointing at himself.

"Do you see the difference? I am not . . . I am not the same. Martha, please . . ." Danny held on to his sister's arms tightly, praying she could see the change. His Change. But when he looked at her, all he saw was fear in her eyes. Shoving her, Danny walked away feeling worse than ever before, his meeting Anna. This was not the homecoming, he had expected, and it was because of that sheep boy.
Chapter Thirty-Four

This was the last time that sick dog would make him leave his Martha. He would have her as his wife before the end of the month. Faylen would have her under his roof, in his bed, and on his land like I and that tramp. Yet how can he face him? Martha's strange, sick brother Danny. He wanted to take his Martha away from him.

"I, Irene," Faylen said, smiling. His sister would know what to do. If she got John to say yes to her marriage with the tramp, she would know how to approach Danny, but snubbing her and her dinner. How the hell could he face her now? Groaning, Faylen figured the best time would be forthwith, and so Faylen walked off to face I's wrath.

***

Irene could not sleep since Collin took her in his arms, making her his wife, she could not fall asleep without his arms wrapped around her. So here, she sat on the couch waiting for the shit to return home, which she knew he would. They would argue, and he would walk off, and leave for hours making her stew with her thoughts so much so, that when he came back even if it were his fault. Irene would apologize for what so ever, crappy mistake it was that took place.

She knew her Collin could not blame her pregnancy on her alone. She was not Mary to do it alone, and she was not going to stand for the treatment she had when she was pregnant with Em. When he came back, he would hear her and heed her well.

Knock, Knock.

Irene stood and looked at their front door wondering why the hell, Collin would knock. Trying to be calm, she inhaled deeply and sat back, folding her arms across her chest as she stared at the front door pushed open slowly with him poking his head in. "You're a damn . . ." Irene was ready for him.

"I, I'm sorry bout the dinner, but I've come for some of your ad . . ."

"Fay?" Irene stood staring at her brother with a headache coming on. "What the hell you want?"

"I've come to say sorry and beg . . ."

"Beg, beg for what now?" Irene said as she dropped back down on her couch, rubbing her forehead. "Fay I have no time for you right now. Go home to John." She whispered as Faylen watched his sister and knew something was wrong. She was not ranting and raving about how he stood her up for dinner. Something was off as he stood in front of her with his hands in his pocket, looking penitent. Faylen saw that her eyes were puffy with tears and her nose was red.

"I, where's that tramp? What did he do?" Faylen asked, raising his voice looking around and seeing the forgotten dinner, his sister made with everything still on the table. Feeling guilty, Faylen dropped to his knees and grabbed her hand bending over her hand. "I, I'm so sorry, I . . ."

Irene snatched her hand away from Faylen looking at him as if she did not see him before, but saw him now. "Don't you start with my Collin, you, you. . . Where the hell were you tonight? Fucking ruddy Martha?" Irene was feeling sorry for herself until Faylen called her Collin a tramp, again. She stood towering over Faylen, making him rise to take a step back. "I . . ."

"Don't I, me boy," Irene said with her voice rising. "All you men are the same. I give, and you take, and take, and take, leaving me . . ."

"Your voice love, you'll wake up Em." Irene turned and looked at Collin standing by the front door looking calm like he did not walk out on her hours ago.

"And where the hell were you?" Irene was overjoyed to see Collin standing there, but she was mixed up and angry to let Collin feel all was well with her or make him feel welcomed.

"I, Irene . . ." Faylen looked at his sister and saw her confused expression, but was shocked by the powerful hold she had on his collar and was dragged past Collin, "Get out."

"But, but I wanted . . ." Irene tried to slam the door on her brother's face, but he held onto the door and shouted, "I'm sorry I, I wanted to. . ."

"Come tomorrow for dinner" Irene yelled as she slammed her door on Faylen, and turned to see Collin observing her.

Faylen smiled to himself, he was forgiven and had a second chance to make it up to I and Martha. He needed to speak to Martha's brother and lay his cards on the table, and tonight would be a good night to see about that. As Faylen walked off, he knew he was on a roll, repairing his absence at his sister's dinner and now to get Martha to say yes to his proposal.

Collin stood with his heart cut to pieces as he watched his wife tears run down her cheek, and he knew it was because of him. He took a step to Irene to hug her looking so pitiful when he felt his cheek throbbing from his wife's heavy hand, leaving her fingerprint on him for sure. Irene sidestepped him and walked off, locking their bedroom door on him. He knew his Irene was a good drama queen, but he was not going to spend another minute away from her, so he took the hinges off their bedroom door and looked at her sitting on the bed, and looked over to see Em sound asleep in her crib.

Collin tried to touch Irene, and she flung his hand away and stormed out the bedroom, which was a good idea knowing how heated this conversation would get.

"Irene, I was . . ."

"Don't talk to me." She hissed, trying to calm her dander, crying again. Irene could not get around how he walked out on her when she told him they were going to have a second child as she stood by the dying fireplace.

"I need to say this, you need to know why . . ." Collin took a step to his wife and placed a hand on her stiff back. Whimpering, Irene tried to wipe away the tears that would not stop.

With her voice raised, "You walked away from me, from us. What could you say to make me feel . . ." Irene turned and got a glimpse of Collin and saw his frown.

"Your voice, darling."

"Don't fucking darling me." She whispered, grinding her jaw.

"Em's asleep, watch your tone."

Irene looked at the open bedroom door that he hastily removed the hinges. Closing her eyes, she felt tired already by the conversation that had barely begun and sat with her shoulders slumped, and arms crossed her chest.

"How could you? Is this all a joke," Collin looked at her confused. "If things become harder, or something else comes to your disapproval, you'd walk away again? And will there be a chance you'll never come back?" Collin took a quick step to kneel before her so she could look at him, really see him. For since he came back, not once did she rightly gazed in his eyes.

Grabbing her hands, "I would never leave you or any of our children. I . . ."

With her eyes swollen and sniffling, Irene needed to wipe her nose that was running, "But you walked away from me."

"And I came back." Collin stood as he strode away from Irene with his back to her. "I walked away because . . . I, I . . . I," he tried to express his genuine feelings and stumbled. However, knowing his angry pregnant wife, there would be no rest until he said his piece. Taking a deep breath, Collin began, "I can't lose you . . . I can . . . Cannot . . . I will not survive it."

Now it all dawned on Irene. For the nine months she carried Em, he treated her like a frail doll that could break. With his earnest revelation, the weight that was on her heart and mind was lifted from her shoulders. Irene stood in front of Collin to see between the lines of his grief and words. He feared she would die in childbirth.

Touching his face, Irene gazed at her husband's deep blue eyes, as a perfect cobalt day with the red blotches in his white. It was strange that his red spots would come and go so bizarrely, but as Irene watched his eyes, she knew why. In the short time they were wed, not once did her Collin shed a tear in front of her, but it would seem he did the when he was alone. It was the first occasion Irene saw his eyes shone so bright with sorrow as if his eyes were crying blood. Now it was up to her to assure him she would be utterly safe giving birth to this child or any more that will come from their love. Irene led her husband to the couch and sat on his lap, holding his face.

"I am a Galway. We have never had a female die giving birth, over a century, in this family. That's why our clan is so large. There's a Galway everywhere." Irene smiled, caressing his cheek. "So never fear. I'd not be leaving you anytime soon." Wrapping her arms around his neck, thanking God, he was here with her again.

Irene was genuinely grateful that he loved her in his extraordinary, obsessive way and that he would always come back to her. Moreover, she was thankful that she now knew why he feared and treated her like a fucking fragile doll during her pregnancy.

"Don't ever walk away from . . ."

Collin could not take any more talk of walking away, he needed to feel Irene wrapped around him. To end her speech, he dove for her mouth in a hungry feed, sucking her lips, making her groan as he plunged his tongue into her mouth, caressing hers. For the period, they were married, both Collin and Irene knew how powerful and passionate their connection was. They both could not get enough of each other.

Turning to straddle Collin holding his face, Irene felt his hard penis pressing into her already. Groaning, she could not get his trousers off fast enough, and he was always free from underwear. Irene released his face and looked down at his penis, standing hard and tall as it was not in use for a while. "Oh," she missed it.

In the month's Irene kept away from him, she got snippets of his beautiful cock but stayed away from him coming inside her. Now, that she knew and understood why he treated her like a delicate flower, Irene was free to have her husband in another fashion, between her legs.

Collin lifted his wife's skirt and saw she picked up his habit of no underwear sometimes since they were married. There were times when he would come back from grazing the sheep with John, sweaty, tired, and hungry, and she would corner him. Pulling his trousers down and lifting her skirt to straddle him in front of the sheep.

And there were times when he would lay restless in bed when she was asleep, and raise her nightdress, and eat her sweet essence then take her until she woke and join him in his unsettled moment. Irene was his partner in all and everything that made them into a family and feeling her impatience as she lifted her skirt and sat on his anxious wet penis.

Irene did not want to move; all she wanted to do was have him in her and not move. Wrapping her arms around his neck, Irene held him feeling him grow inside her as he labored to remain still for her to make the pace that she wanted. And at that moment, Collin whispered those words. Smiling from her heart's soul, Irene knew those were words that were rarely shared, "I love you." It was all in the action of how they showed their love for each other that mattered.

Collin feared he could not keep still for much longer, though. He was in pain, he wanted to move and drive his penis deeper into his Irene making her riding him, but he wanted to make her happy. If she wanted him to stay still, buried in her sweet, precious core until Em woke up, to her heart content, Collin would happily do it. Even if he would have to pay for it in the days to come. He would keep still.
Chapter Thirty-Five

Faylen could not believe his luck when he knocked on Martha's store and was welcomed in by her brother. And another shocker, Danny said yes to his wish/demand to wed his sister. Faylen thought something was wrong; he knew something had to be amiss to get his wish for his Martha's hand so easy, and without a fight. However, for Martha's brother to agree to meet his family was beyond too easy and strange for his liking. Nevertheless, Faylen was not going to look a sheep gift in its mouth.

As Faylen walk hand in hand with Martha with her brother behind, feeling his eyes gouging holes in his head, Faylen prayed the night to go without a hitch. He needed to make up for last night no show to his sister dinner, and to show off his Martha to John and I. And for them to see he was serious about making Martha his wife. Martha already said yes and now, for his sister to welcome her into the family.

With his hands in his pocket, Danny could not believe he agreed for Martha to marry any man. There was not a soul good enough to have his sister, and sheep boy was on the top of his list that was worthless. Chewing on his cheek, Danny prayed the night would go fast so he could go back and pack to return to Anna.

Martha felt nervous as hell to meet Fay's sister. Irene was his all, the only woman who mattered in his life. Faylen looked up at his sister as a mother, even though she was younger than him and a semi Saint and if there was a woman that could keep Faylen away from her, it was his sister, "I" he would call her.

Irene was not your simple average girl to Martha. She always appeared to have a bit of fire and spit in her tongue and eyes, which kept her from speaking to her when they were young. She seemed to be a tough, no-nonsense woman, but if "I," believed she would come between her and her man she was dead wrong and was ready to fight tooth and nail to have Faylen shackled to her side.

Faylen looked at Martha and gave her a quick kiss on the cheek, squeezing her hands to give her some courage that she needed, by the look of her face as they approached Irene's home.

Knock, knock . . .

"Well, I'll be damn," John said as he opened the door to look at his son standing next to sweet Martha. "Come on in, come in," John stepped aside for Faylen and Martha to enter closing the door behind them.

"No, wait," Martha said, stopping John from closing the door. "Danny's outside." John opened back the door and peered out to see Danny standing tall and handsome with his hands to his back, staring at them with a peeved frown on his brow.

Smiling feeling a bit embarrass closing the door on a guest, John just stared at Maratha's brother not knowing what to say. It was Danny after all.

Tired and anxious to see the night on the way, so he could have Maratha for himself, Faylen ushered Danny in the house closing the door behind him. To gaze about his sisters' modest home, and saw she went all out again, two nights in a row for him. He was grateful she forgave him, and held no grudge, as he would have. "Where's I?" Faylen asked, taking Martha's hand in his and giving it yet another squeeze.

"She's in the bedroom," John answered, standing with his hands in his trouser pocket, feeling nervous with their additional guest.

"And where's the tr . . ." Faylen was about to utter tramp when he remembered I would be flipping mad to hear him call her no-good husband, tramp again.

Faylen had to admit, the tramp was his enemy for breaking up his happy home, making his sister a mother and wife, leaving John in that old house alone and making him grow up. It was the tramp's entire fault, but he was proud to see his sister well taken care of.

John stared at Martha and her brother and saw they looked nothing alike save their grey eyes, but the boy was very protective of his sister and wondered what the hell Faylen thought to bring him there to I's house. "So," clapping his hands to make any sound, to crack the silence that was booming. "How are you, Danny?"

Danny gazed around the small shitty house that was sheep boy sister's home and wondered what fool would marry a poor, gullible girl like her. She was not a looker in Danny's eyes, with her unruly red hair, pale skin that was over-tanned sometimes, too much lip, and a loudmouth that can be heard over an unseen hill. Gad, Danny wished he did not agree to come to this crappy dinner.

Groaning inwardly, Danny knew it was because his sister had blackmailed him using Anna. He saw how his sister was beyond happy and the changed sheep boy made in her. Martha did not demand he come, but merely stated, "Welcome my Fay, and I'll welcome your Anna." Staring him down, waiting for her answer before sheep boy came. Martha made no move to relent in her request.

"Evening all," Danny turned to see sheep boy sister, standing with a baby on her hip staring him. The child had her unruly red hair but looked nothing like her mother. The baby looked gorgeous, and it made Danny surprised to see he liked watching the infant.

Never in his life, he ever cared for the little people; "babies," but the idea of having one with Anna would make a perfect conclusion for him to be completely ordinary.

"Please have a seat," Irene shepherd her guest to sit waiting for Collin to come in and wondered where the hell was the man? And by a gust of wind, the front door slammed open producing Collin looking wind-beaten as everyone turned to see he had a bucket of something in his hand. Irene wanted this dinner started, and over from the moment, she saw Danny cast his evil eyes on her husband.

"Well everyone's here, let's get started," Irene said giving Em to Collin as he pulled out his chair to sit with Em on his lap while his wife began to dish out their meal.

"No, no, before we start," Faylen said holding Martha's hand to his chest, "We have something to share with everyone." looking between his sister and John, with a smile on his face, "Martha said yes. We're getting married." Faylen pronounced kissing Martha's hand waiting for congratulations, staring at John and Irene, but the tramp was the first who got up and kissed his Martha on her cheek.

"Congratulations, Martha." The beggar said slapping Faylen on his back and sat back down. Yet Faylen waited for the two most influential people in his life to give their word of blessings.

"I . . . John?"

Smiling, John, went around the table, hauling Martha to her feet, giving her a bear hug and a loud smack, on her both cheeks. "It's about time. Thank God, someone is taking him off my hands." John declared, smiling.

Martha felt a heavyweight released off her shoulders as John took his seat making her feel welcome in his family, but there was one more as Maratha sat back to see Faylen and his sister, glaring at each other.

"I," Faylen whispered, staring at his sister wondering what in heaven's name she was waiting for. "You're not going, to say something?"

"Like what?"

"I need to tell you?"

"Did you say anything good about my choice of . . ."

"Irene," Collin muttered making Faylen glance at the tramp holding his niece playing with her, to look back at his sister standing next to Martha kissing her on her cheek.

"Welcome to the family," Irene whispered and sat back down, dishing out food.

Faylen felt flipping mad to see the tramp held so much power over his sister but was thankful he did whatever it was to make I welcome Martha to the fold. Taking a deep breath, he thought that his sister had no grudge against him, but he was wrong and wondered how long whatever grudge she had against him would last?

Danny ate in silence, watching everyone make polite banter. At least, he was not alone in not wanting his sister with the sheep boy. He had his reason, but he did not know what sheep boy sister had against Martha, for Danny knew his baby sister was perfect, too perfect for sheep boy.

And as the forced get-together dragged on mercilessly, Danny's eyes kept falling on Collin. There was something about him, which made him think they met. Yet, Danny could not remember ever seeing him, but there was something that drew him to Collin, and he needed to know so asked, "Where you're from Collin?" sending the room into complete silence by his first question for the evening to anyone.

Collin looked up from Em, to see Danny staring at him, feeling his eyes goring on his frame, the entire night.

"England."

"First time here in Galway?"

"No."

"When did you . . ."

"Danny." Saved by his sister, Collin looked at Danny unflinching eyes piercing him.

"Sorry about the twenty questions," Martha said, smiling trying to alleviate the tension in the room by her brother's inquiries.

With the dishes cleared, Irene took Em while Collin served dessert he made. Again everyone ate in silence, savoring each bite of Collin's creation.

"Hummmmmmmm," Martha murmured taking her last bite. "Irene, I loved this so much and should feel ashamed to ask for another, but can I . . ." Martha finished with a broad grin on her face, gazing at her future sister-in-law.

Irene smiled at Martha, the girl was not an evil person, and she saw how Faylen was brighter in spirit with her around and knew she would make Faylen a happy man. Feeling happy for her brother, Irene got up to give her soon to be sister-in-law another of Collin's dessert when the questions began again.

"You have family Collin?"

"Danny." Martha looked around nervous that her brother asked so many personal questions to Faylen's brother-in-law. He spoke to no one, save Collin, and the way he looked at Collin, made Martha uneasy.

"Tell . . . tell us about your trip." She turned the tables around, with Danny looking peeved she would ask him his personal business in front of the Galway's.

Collin did not know what Martha's brother problem was, but he needed to be active, to get away from his watchful gaze that was latched, onto him. "I, let me do the dessert, and you put Em down," Collin said rolling up his sleeve to serve Martha some of his desserts when a loud gasp was heard, and every eye turned on Danny staring at Collin's hand.

Breathing harshly Danny stood on shaky legs as he stared at Collin's left palm and his face and saw those eyes that . . . It was him, the boy who took William away so early. Danny could not breathe and felt weak, dragging his feet to the front door, yanking it open.

"Dan, Danny?" Martha looked at her brother, changing so fast before her, feeling mortified by his strange behavior. She grabbed her shawl with a fake smile, and took a step to follow him but stopped. "I, I'm so, so, sorry." and rushed after her brother. As soon as Martha stepped out of the warmth of the house, she was lost to which direction he went, but she needed to find Danny before he got himself lost in this wasteland. "Danny, Danny," She shouted, with her voice waning. Martha tried one last time. "Danny."

"Fuck, fuck, fuck." Martha whipped around, attempting to locate Danny by his angry cuss.

"Danny," Martha shouted, looking around again, "Where in heavens . . ."

"Martha," Danny whispered behind his sister, sounding so dangerously calmly, almost making her jump out her skin and soul to see Danny standing before her looking pale as death.

"Danny, what's going on with . . ." Martha lost her train of thought, becoming anxious by the minute as she stood observing her brother's expression. She knew her brother had a stare that can freeze ice, and he shared his famous stare to strangers and those he hated but seeing it turned on her, chilled her blood.

Yet she knew those cold eyes were not for her, so she held his hand and felt that it was cold as his stare and whispered, "Danny?" jarring a response from him as he walked away from her. "Where are you going?" Martha shouted to his back. "Danny, Danny, Danny, stop."

Running to catch up with him, almost losing sight of her brother, Martha ran right into him to see a malicious smile plaster over his face. "You know who you're fucking eating with?" Martha took a step back from her brother, only to be hauled against his hard chest and shook, making her teeth rattle.

"That's my new family in there."

Danny could not believe his ears or his eyes. "Your family?" Danny rubbed his eyes and took a deep breath, to calm his raging, raw soul. "Yours?" walking off, but stopping with his back to her. "We need to talk." and marched away with Martha staring at him.

"Talk?" she repeated, feeling drained by all her brother's antics and so ran after him to have "this talk" shouting, "Danny," for him to slow down at least so they can reach home in one piece together.
Chapter Thirty-Six

Danny could not believe his luck if you can call what he found a godsend. He thought he was free; he was ready to move on, move away from his sick past to start over new with Anna. He found his cure, and she was waiting for him to return but found his fate was never to have someone like Anna in his life. Danny sat on his bed in his dark bedroom with more hate for him.

COLLIN.

The fool came back, to end his new way of what could have been a wholesome life worth living. Danny took a deep breath and found all that he had buried, now came to the surface, his promise, his past, and his sins to end his life.

Martha walked into the shop breathless holding her sides as she walked and ran, to see what in heaven's name was going on with her brother. "Danny, Danny," Martha shouted as she saw the shop was completely dark, with not a light lit, stumbling around a bit before her eyes adjust to her space.

To see goods off the shelf flung on the floor in anger, mumbling she was not going to clean Danny's mess up. Martha knew the one place he would be and knocked on his bedroom door waiting for an answer and got none. Pushing open his door, she paused a while as her eyes adjusted to the darkness, to see her brother sitting on his bed looking composed. "It's blasted dark in here, Danny."

"Do you know who's in your new family?" Danny asked more tranquil now than how he felt. "You know who they are? William's murderer."

"Who?" Martha could not understand what her brother was saying as she tried to find some light. "What you're talking about Danny? And why you're sitting in the flipping dark?" Martha mumbled, hearing him stand rather than see him move, but also felt the energy off him, that made her anxious. "Danny."

Grinding his jaw shut, Danny did not want to frighten his sister again. "Father William is whom I'm talking about Martha. He killed him, you're fine young English lad, who's to be your new brother-in-law, slain, no," raising his voice, "Murdered him." Danny yelled at her.

"Danny, I cannot stay in this dark room any longer. Where's your light?" Martha searched as she found and lit a candle, holding it above her, to see Danny with a wicked knife to his heart. "Danny . . ."

"Did you hear me, Martha? That boy killed William."

Martha took a step back to get a better look at her brother, thinking he had lost his mind. Giving a weak smile by the mere thought that Collin could do such a thing. "Collin? Collin could never . . ."

"And what the fuck you know about him?" Danny shouted, making her flinched stepping back into the wall.

"Nothing," Martha whispered alarmed. "He's, he's Fay family, that's all I know," Martha said thinking how far and how fast she could get to the front door.

"And what about my fucking father?" Danny screamed, making Martha jump again.

Tired of her brother making her feel like a prisoner in her home and all the twaddle he was spewing about a sick bastard that was dead for a decade-plus.

"William, that sick shit?" finding her voice, "That's what all this is about Danny? That bastard deserved to meet his end, should have been sooner." Martha saw Danny take a step to her, but she refused to back down from his twisted rage.

With deadly calm, Danny took another step to Martha, "Shut up."

With her hands on her hips, "Or what?" sighing loudly, "No one would have dared touch that sick, demented man of the cloth or far less move his sorry ass."

"Shut up."

"He screwed around with too many of . . ."

"He never touched you?"

Martha looked at Danny feeling sorry she raised her voice at him as he slumped on his bed with his head bent resting his wicked knife beside him. Kneeling before her brother, she held his hands to her cheek. "No. No, Danny, he never touched me. Nor you, my love."

Danny looked at his sister with shame and guilt in his eyes that any man could read. And Martha saw it. "Dan, Danny? Daniel did . . . Did he . . ."

He could not stomach the look his sister gave him. Her pity was the last thing he wanted from her and needing to be free from her disparaging gaze. Danny rose towering over her, making her stand. Martha resented the fact she was short as she stood with fear in her eyes again. With her legs quaking, as she stepped back from her brother as he grabbed his knife, her heart sprinted, dreading the possibility that her loving, protective brother may have been . . .

"Dan? Danny?"

Danny could not think straight, he needed to getaway. He had to end it, his promise. Walking away, he felt Martha's hand on his arm, gently touching him.

"Danny?" looking at his sister concerned for him, but he needed to complete the promise he made so long ago. Holding her hand and pulling her into what felt like his last embrace, Danny kissed his sister on her cheek and walked away, locking her up in her store now.

***

Irene opened her eyes and looked up, thanking God for a blessed day that was meant to be good. She just felt it in her bones as she looked over and saw her naked husband asleep beside her. Touching his smiling lips, Irene was grateful he came back to her, giving his heart and making her secret dream come alive, her very own family.

Turning to her left with a happy smile, Irene sat up on her elbow to look at her precious daughter, but she was not there. Looking around, "Em?' What the hell was going on. Irene flew out of bed, searching Em's little crib. "Collin."

Collin yawned stretching for Irene to feel empty space to see Irene looking about the bedroom frantic. "I?"

"Em's not here."

Collin sat up confused as he looked at Irene searching for Em. "What?"

Irene stopped her frantic search, as her gaze fell on their bedroom and living room door open. Dressing quickly with Collin's shirt over her naked body, Irene ran bare her feet to the front door to look around their vast land and saw no sign of her baby. What the . . . what was going on? Em was a baby, she could not creep far less walk from the house. Feeling sick as she held her stomach, Irene flew to the side of the house and emptied what remained of her late supper. Wiping her mouth, Irene stood to see Collin in his trouser, staring at something.

"Collin." Touching his hand, Irene looked out to the cliffs and saw Danny standing with his back to them. Wasting not a second, Irene took off after Danny with Collin close behind reaching a few feet behind Danny breathless. "Dan, Danny . . . have you seen . . ."

Danny turned around, and he was right. To hurt this dog was to wound his loved ones like he killed William. He could not take his eyes off Collin's, faux brave visage as he took a step to him and the baby with his wife chattering away, making his tension headache hurt some more. The baby stayed in his arms without a fuss until it saw her mother and started to cry, gnawing at his already dreadful headache.

"Danny, how . . ." Irene watched as Martha's brother squeezed her Em's body to him, making her whimper turned into a wail. With her fearful heart, subsiding, Irene held out her arms for her baby, taking a step closer to Danny, "Give me my Em, Danny."

Smiling, Danny saw the bitch frightened as she shook, reaching for her brat. "Danny, give me Em . . . stop this, she may catch a cold." Withdrawing to the edge of the cliff, Danny closed his eyes as tears fell like the night when he found William. It was all playing over in his's mind with his eyes closed.

"Will, William always said, 'I was good with children.' I don't know why? He never saw me with any." With silent tears running down her cheek, Irene tried to talk to Danny as she saw Collin make his way closer to him.

"I, I see . . . I see my Em's very picky about who holds her. You're excellent with . . ."

Danny was no fool as he saw the dog making his way closer to him as he squeezed the brat tighter than he wanted to, causing her wail to pierce his broken heart. He needed to end his promise. "William always said you people breed like rabbits too." Smiling, Danny knew she was pregnant again and saw her covering her small rounded stomach. "He was right, right about a lot of things," going closer to the edge with his back to them.

Crying, "Why are you doing this?" Irene asked with her hand on heart and her small swollen belly. Danny could not believe his ears, the fuckers did not even know.

"You killed William," Roaring as Danny tried to get his point across, "You killed father William, my priest."

Taken aback, Irene knew what this was about and found her voice steady. "That stinking mongrel tried to rape me. I was a . . ."

"And you had your husband kill him?" Danny turned to see her face.

Irene listened to the mad fool that had her baby, speak of a sick mistake that happened almost a decade and more. Of how Collin was her savior then and pray God, would be Em's now.

Collin could no longer watch and say nothing. He had to try and reason with the man that held his baby. "Your William would have taken Irene's innocent from her. I could not allow it."

Danny turned to see Collin standing with his hands up as in submission. "And I should be happy to lose the only friend I had in Father William?" Sincerely laughing, Danny was tired of all the talking and needed to end his promise with one foot off the cliff, he heard her voice over a deafening band, "Danny."

Danny turned in time to get a glimpse of his beloved sister when he felt a sharp burn in his thigh. He stumbled back, holding the baby tightly to his bosom, falling with a sad smile on his face. It was happening, he was fulfilling his promise at last, but it felt wrong. Danny should be holding the person who took his William. Therefore, he made up his mind that the baby was innocent like he was when he saw Collin dived after them. Smiling, Danny knew one of his knives was tucked in his shirtsleeve while he held onto the baby, for he did not want her death to be on his shoulders too.

Collin could only hear his wife scream after Em he dived for his daughter and saw the ocean reach up and swallow her hold. Wasting not a second, plunging faster as he reached Em before she sank, clutching her to his chest. With his heart beating wildly, Collin tried to swim ashore only to feel a piercing pain in his back. It was him at his rear, as he swung around to look at Danny, and saw that he dived beneath the water.

Irene saw what was happening. The water around her Collin was red; he was hurt and swimming to shore. Scanning for Danny, Irene saw nothing but Collin holding Em safely. "Em," Irene yelled as she pushed pass Martha and Faylen at her side and ran to the shore below.

Martha could not breathe as she saw everything played out in slow motion when Danny fell into the ocean bleeding because of Faylen's gun. Gazing on, to see her brother stabbed Collin in his back while holding his child. This could not be real. Her brother was odd at times, but to want to harm someone willingly was not her brother. "Danny." Shouting made no sense from where she stood and follow suit as she went to the shore like Irene.

Faylen stood by his sister's side-scanning over the waves, having a hell of a time seeing Collin, or his niece in the raging ocean. Yet, thank God his niece's mouth was big as her mother and swam out blind, but not deaf to fetch her. As Faylen found them, he saw Collin was in horrible shape with the water around them red, looking drawn out by the loss of blood.

Grabbing Em, Faylen swam back to shore to turn for a second to see if Collin was behind, but he was yanked below the water. From the time his brother-in-law came into their lives, Faylen could not lie and say he did not hate the tramp, but he did not want to see him die in front of his sister or niece. So, he swam like hell to deposit Em into Irene's arms, to return and help his brother-in-law.

Before, Collin never really cared how or when he would have died. There was never anyone or anything to care for or love, nor did Collin have anyone depend on him. Until now. He found his real reason for living, why he endured the evils of the world, and his pass. It was in his small family. Irene and his babies were the whole reason to fight, to battle, and live for them.

Even though he had a little strength left in him, Collin would fight to see his second child born and perhaps make a third, and as many God would give him and his wife. All he knew, he was not going to die and leave his new life undone.

With his eyes adjusting to the salty sea, Danny knew this would be the end of him. Anna and Him. He knew somehow, his one time with her was his first and last experience to be ordinary, and feel what a man and woman had from the beginning of time. When he was accosted leaving her, Danny had a bad feeling that never failed him, except the day when William was murdered. Danny sensed this was it, but he would not die without taking William's killer with him, so he went about his final plunge.

Danny saw Collin was barely moving trying to stay afloat, so came from below him and tugged William's killer by his bare feet, thinking the stab he gave him to the back was fatal. But he had some fight in him as Collin kicked Danny's hand away trying to swim to the surface.

Collin kicked and kicked at Martha's brother's hand, and every strike was a bit of his life departing from him. It was a fact he was weak from the lack of blood from the knife wound, and the seawater was not helping with every action to free himself, but something had to be done.

Kicking did not work, so Collin went in for an attack of his own, but he needed to get to the surface for a life-saving breath of air, so he dived down and pulled Danny to the surface startling him.

Danny did not know why Father William's killer lunged for him and brought him up to the surface, but he knew it would not save him. With the move he made, Danny was distracted for a second as he was seized from behind with both his hands locked in. Yet Danny refused to stay still, as he bucked his head back into Collin's and was freed for a second. To flip around quickly, slicing through the water with a precise position, aimed at his heart.

Shocked that his enemy had the strength to do anything, sheep boy brother-in-law; dived into the water below pulling him down by his feet with such force, making Danny swallow so much seawater going down and began to feel light-headed as death was pulling him to hells door. His end would not come so effortlessly.

Collin had enough air saved as he held onto Danny's foot, pulling him down, but neither men wanted to die as his attacker slashed at his hand, drawing more blood, making him shout. At his tipping point, Collin saw more blood drawn from the deep gash in his wrist but swung around slapping the knife from Danny's grasp. To yank at his hand, spinning him around and seized him in a death grip around his throat, crushing what little air he had out of him.

Danny was done for it as he was sinking and felt his eyes closing with his heart rate beating lithely. He was going to die without fulfilling his promise to those that matter to him, William and Anna. Even in his last thought, the image that came to him was not his beloved sister, but of Anna's cheerful face lying beside him in bed. Anna's visage was the only image that mattered to him, as he made his way to death's door.

Collin looked at him. The man that took his baby, while she was asleep from her crib and did God knows what before they found him. Staring at the sick man, he saw a smile came across his malicious face as he sank below his damp burial tomb.

With his eyes closing on its own, Collin made a mad dash to the surface for air when he heard whispers like angels calling his name. Floating on his back, he looked up at the morning sky and thanked God his family was safe as his eyes began to falter. He was fading away with only one thought in his mind that his family would be safe.

Martha could not abide to have Faylen touch her, not when she saw what he did. Even though her brother went mad in the heat of the moment, Danny did not deserve to be gunned down before her eyes. Having her hands over her eyes, searching the ocean for any sign of her brother, but saw nothing. She could not shout anymore, for she lost her voice a while ago. Looking around, Martha saw her Faylen close to his sister and niece, doing the same, looking for their man. Even though she could not bear to have Faylen touch her, she still wanted him near her in her time of need.

Irene was tired, soaked, hungry, and frightened for her Collin. From the moment, he dove into the water for Em, and she saw that he was stabbed in the back. It gave her a bad feeling, that would be her last sight of her husband being knifed in the back by a crazed man. Closing her eyes, Irene prayed while she crushed Em to her chest with one thought in mind, for "God, to keep her husband safe and bring him back to her." Taking a deep breath, Irene opened her eyes as she looked at Faylen, staring off at something not far from them onshore.

"Christ," Faylen whispered as he took off leaving his sister behind with Em, fearing it could be Danny. As he slowed, he saw he was right, by the clothes the person wore. Collin had nothing on save his trousers. Faylen turned just in time to keep Irene from seeing it was not her tramp but was slow to stop his Martha, as she ran past them to see it was her brother.

"Danny," Martha croaked as she ran past the Galway's to the body of her brother thrashing about by the unforgiving waves on the shore. Faylen took a few steps, yearning to comfort his Martha but stayed close by his sister. Turning back to Irene, Faylen saw her walking calmly towards another body. Faylen tried to run past her, but she grabbed his hand, stopping him, to hold his niece. Holding Em, while she wailed for her mother, he watched his sister walk on to see if her husband would make her a widow.

Irene looked at his body swaying onshore by the surfs as she stood over him with her knees quaking. She could not stop the dread that was weighing down her body as she covered her mouth with shaky hands, fearing to touch him. Dropping to her knees, Irene turned her husband around to see death was with him.

Bending over him, Irene kissed his cold lips with a pray over him, touching his face as pale as the day they bought him home. Feeling a surge of anger at what she, they lost, Irene screamed pounding on his chest repeatedly, making her daughter cry louder. With her heartbroken, Irene could not stop herself as she felt all the emotion of the morning hit her hard falling on top of Collin's cold chest.

"I," in all her hysterics, Irene heard a voice and felt a touch no other can give and make her heart skip a beat.

Irene rose and saw Collin staring at her with her eyes swollen and red, sea blast hair and wet clothes, exposing her body. It was the most glorious vision he could have ever seen in his life. With Irene crying over his cold and battered body, he was thankful to be alive to see his family.

## Epilogue

Three months later . . .

Irene sat with her men around her table for supper. They attended looking like well breed gentlemen. Her Collin made her favorite and served while she took care of Em. Everyone seemed happy, as it was something of a Thanksgiving of what happened with Danny, and what almost happened to her Collin and Em.

She could not help herself, every time Collin would move, her eyes would be on him as if he was a dream, that would disappear from her sight. Every touch, kiss, and even raised voice was a blessing to her, and she cherished it every second of every day.

With a full heart, Collin looked at his wife sitting with their daughter, thanking the Lord for keeping him alive to be with his own family. He would be showing his wife later how thankful he was that she was in his life; she was his life, his blessed life by the Fates.

However, when Irene looked across at her brother, his face did not hide his disappointment by not having his Martha, with him.

Three months since her brother became crazed, Martha shunned Faylen. Everyone knew she loved him, but she could not get over her brother's death and stay locked away in her shop. When Faylen had seen to Irene and her family safely home, he came back to help Martha with the body of her brother, to see her standing alone hugging her body looking out into the wild ocean. Faylen asked her, "Where her brother's body was?" to have her ignore him altogether.

As the sun rose higher to show midday was approaching, Faylen desperately wanted to hold and comfort her. He needed to take her away from what happened, and if she did not go free with him, he would drag her away. Placing his arms around her shoulders, Faylen felt her body cold and shuddered at his touch.

Tugging, her along, Martha relinquished what breath she held and was pulled by strong, safe arms. She knew whose arms she was wrapped in, and went with him, never looking back at the shore or ocean that took the last family she had.

***

Three months since she yelled, and condemn him for treating her as a young girl and not a grown woman to make whatever choices she wanted. Anna felt betrayed as she was left alone. She never thought their last argument would lead Anton, to abandon her for so long. She only wanted Anton to stop treating her like a little sister, but who she was, his cousin. Both men that meant something in her life had promised to always be there to love and keep her safe. And yet, no one showed up after that fateful night when she gave herself to the only man she wanted.

She loved.

Ninety-two days of wondering and feeling rejected as she waited at home to hear Anton's heavy footstep approach their door. In all the years of their strange relationship, where he protected and claimed her as his sister, she knew he would never abandon her for anything she would say or do to him.

He was her shield, her friend, her teacher, and the enemy at times. He was her cousin Anton, who rescued her from an orphanage and took her as his sister. He told her, he would always protect her from all harm, even if it was him he needed to safeguard her from. Now she was alone, without her protector.

In the months after Daniel said he would come back to her, she waited like a fool, looking out more for his return. She felt her heart give way to a deep cut that made her cry herself to sleep at night. She could not believe what he said, meant nothing. Her heart told her something was amiss, for his word had value to her soul, his promise to come back in a week to make her his wife.

For a short time in knowing Daniel, Anna knew he was honest and noble as any man could be. Yet, she did not know much about men save from Anton's advice and lessons. But deep in Anna's heart, something felt wrong as she knew she would be alone from now on. Anton would not leave her alone for a day, without getting word to her.

Sighing loudly, Anna pulled off her day dress and kept on her chemise to pull the covers over her exhausted body. Looking at the curtain that separated her bedroom from their small living room, Anna closed her eyes and welcomed the darkness as she expelled the candle by her bed. She was thankful that she met Daniel and would not regret her first touch of love.

By God's hand alone, he was alive. Danny tasted death, and it had its hands firmly on his body, but God had saved him, and he was standing by her door. It took him three months to heal and gather his strength to reach her, and he was not leaving her side. With his hands poised to knock, Danny heard someone whimpering like a child crying behind the doors.

Not waiting for a second longer, he pushed open the door to see a small room, which was above a washhouse. It was spared with a few things to make it a home. A table with two chairs and a small stove in the center of the sidewall that was barely casting any heat from its potbelly. There were two curtains, which hung in what must be the bedrooms, and from one of them came a child's whimper, drawing him to it. Pulling the dark curtain away revealed a small body under its covers shaking. Kneeling beside the bed, he placed his bony hand on the body, and it stilled.

In her sleep, she would fall in a hole to be caught by his arms and held her so gently, cradled to his warm bosom. In her sleep, she would know his touch, even though it was for a short time, she knew his caress as the touch of the sun on her bare skin. With a deep groan and drawing away from her hairy dream of never having him again, Anna felt a gentle touch, which stopped her nightly fits.

Pushing the covers away, Anna saw the outline of someone kneeling beside her. Something gripped her heart, it should be fear, but it was not. As she sat up, her heart stopped to see him there, looking so frail and wanting. In that space of a moment, Anna did not know joy could blind a person as she leaped into his arms, catching him off-balance, but held their bodies firm from falling.

Embracing him, she knew his body felt different. It was frail and slight than what it was before. He had his frame but lacked the hold he had on his body mask. Anna did not care one wit how slim he was, only that he was holding her and she would remedy his size in mere days. Pulling away, Anna looked at his face and saw the want, love, and passion ablaze in his eyes, as if three months had not passed before them.

"Anna," He said on a sigh with his eyes closing to feel he was falling but was held by his Angel's hands as she laid his head on her thighs with her hands running through his hair. "Daniel," He heard her whisper his name. Her voice was of an angel, to his jaded heart and soul. Falling half-asleep in her lap, Danny knew he was now and forever home and at peace.

The End

"Fate's Touch"

Written

By:

Sophia S. Sterling

2016

©

Acknowledgment:

Thank you, Father and Family

About the Author

Sophia S. Sterling hails from the sweet Caribbean island of Trinidad and Tobago, where the stinging sun and cerulean sky is her daily view, as the breeze whispers endless pleasures. She's a lover of Romance / Drama in historical and modern tomes. Her first taste of reading was from Jane Eyre, at a young age that had her hooked, to the art of writing and reading love stories.

Other Books from Sophia S. Sterling

The Science of Romance

Coming soon 2019

A Gypsy's Love 1 "Jeffery & Hailfa"

A Gypsy's Love 2 "Alex & Mary"

A Gypsy's Love 3 "Vincent & Jessica"
