"I can't talk about this right now!"  The door slammed closed on more than just 
the doorframe.

Muffled footfalls echoed through the floorboards and she knew he'd gone to the edge of the porch.  There in the quiet of a corner he'd stare out at the miles of 
open ground before him. Lonely and desolate, it would fit his mood and allow him 
a momentary peace from the maddening thoughts in his head. It was his sanctuary, his isolation.

Even though she was inside the house, it felt as if a heavy layer of air fell about 
her shoulders when the sky opened up overhead with a torrent of rain.  Beating against the shingles on the roof, the storm sent shivers of sound through the 
small house. A gust of wind rattled the windows near the door and slowly, she moved forward to look outside.

There, still cossetted in the corner of the porch, was the lone figure of the man 
she loved.

Anger still flowed hot in her veins, but as lightning blazed through the sky she 
saw the haunted look in his eyes.  The jagged lights splitting the sky were somehow a reflection of his own feelings, the storm within his mind.

A light haze had begun to spread around the outside of the glass and creeped across the pane, nearly blocking her view. Drawing her dressing gown tightly over her chemise, she struggled to block the chill that seeped unerringly into her 
bones. Resting her shoulder against the wall she leaned closer to the window, sliding her hand across to clear the pane. The storm grew and closed around them... there in silence she watched.

He could be so irritating at times, shutting her out of  his troubles even when she knew he needed her.  The rain began to slow; the currents that had buffetted the roof now lay across it in waves of undulating sound.

Movement from beyond the frosted glass caught her eye.  Standing unaided by 
the wall, he shrugged out of his coat and he dropped it on the wooden railing beside him. For another long moment he stared out at the dampening landscape before he climbed over the rail and walked out into the rain.

The storm surged to life and another vicious gust nearly made him stumble back 
as the warm rain battered at the fine cotton threads of his shirt.  Each new drop seemed to seep deeper and deeper until he thought surely it had gone through to his heart as well.

Drop upon drop smashed to the ground around him but his ears could hear only 
the doubts in his own mind.  The dark clouds had shut out any semblance of light 
on the horizon and the thunder rolling in across the plains seemed like cannon fire from a distant battle.

What was calling him away, some misguided sense of loyalty?  Which would win, the call of the land or the call of his heart?  There would be other rainy days like 
this and he wondered if his loyalty would keep him warm like the weight of her body or fill his arms like the passionate woman he'd just argued with.

Somehow, he doubted that any call of a bugle could rouse him like the sound of 
her voice calling out in a moment of abandon.  The memories of the night before nearly doubled him over.  She'd clung to him through the wild currents of her release and clawed at his back. He'd bled, but the pain meant little when faced 
with the look in her eyes.  Thousands of unshed tears had glittered in the candlelight and he'd nearly given in.  Instead, he'd forced himself to look away as his hands stoked a new fire in her blood.

A light cloud of dust kicked up at his feet before it was battered down into the muddy grass beneath his soles. The weight of the water in his hair pulled him down, bringing the line of his sight to the tops of his boots.  He was shaken. His decision to leave, once solid and sure, now wavered in the dying light of the sunrise.

On the other side of the glass she fought the urge to join him outside. She was angry, she reminded herself, and there was a principle involved.  She watched 
him swipe his hands over his face, pushing back the droplets of water that coated his skin.  He leaned back and lifted his face to the rain, parting his lips as a new sheen of water kissed his skin. Thick drops rolled to the ends of his hair and clung there for what seemed an eternity before they let go their desperate hold and
fell down to the earth.

From her vantage point she could only imagine the water sliding down his neck 
and into the open collar of his shirt and felt her hand rise to the button at the neck of her dressing gown. One image brought another, unbidden, into her mind. Last night, like many nights before it, she'd slid her hands along the same skin and felt the strength beneath her fingers. Precious breath caught in her throat as the 
image held her captive. Her traitorous mind wouldn't stop there, and her memory continued, rolling like a guilty pleasure in her thoughts.  The feel of his bare chest beneath her hands always had the same effect. Like admiring hands on a statue made of marble, she'd touched every inch she could see, and had explored the areas left shadowed by the candlelight with an unskilled though fervent touch.

Sliding her hand down over the rise of her breast she felt an instant longing stir 
and awaken inside of her body.

Turning her gaze to watch him again, she felt a strong sensation pulling her 
toward the door.  His body, the lone figure visible in the rain, stood stock still in 
the middle of the relentless downpour.  He stood alone, but she could no longer 
let him face it without her.

Forgoing the added comfort of a coat she opened the door and let her feet lead 
her down the steps.  From there it was only instinct and the unerring call of her heart that led her forward when the rain clouded her sight.

He stood sentinel and silent before her, the outline of his back loomed like the summit of a far off mountain. It was only the slight movement of his shoulder blades that convinced her that he was at once alive and breathing.

Quietly, she touched a hand to his arm, feeling the warmth through the thin layer of chilled cloth.

"I'm sorry."  It was little more than a groan from between his lips, but she felt it like the flow of blood under his skin.

Biting back a sob she laid her cheek against his back and felt the water seep through her dressing gown and into the fine lawn of her chemise but none of it mattered. "I'm sorry, too."

Somewhere off in the distance, thunder rumbled over the hills and she felt his shoulders sink into submission.

"Come inside," she whispered, her hands kneading the taut muscles of his arms.  When he didn't answer she looked up to see his gaze focused on the distant horizon.  Her lips formed the words even though her mind pleaded for her to stop. "You're still going."

It fell like a challenge between them, an accusation born of a desperate attempt 
to sway his decision.

Still, he was quiet... and it nearly killed her.

"Answer me.. please."

He didn't move, except for the intermitant breathing beneath the pelting sheen of rain.

She opened her mouth to whisper his name, forming the word against the wall of his back, and felt him shudder. For a moment she began to wonder if the chill of 
the wind had caused the reaction or the heat of her own passion.

A moment away from another plea, she felt him pull away and her heart began to break again.

Lightning spilt the sky and she could see the darkness in his eyes as he turned to her. His hands reached out and clasped closed around her waist as he sank to his knees. His head bowed and icy rain slid from the fringe of his hair, dripping against her gown. His hands pulled the fabric taut and it pressed against her belly, making her skin burn like fire.

"How..." his breath burned through the fabric, curling over her skin like tongues of smoke, "how can I leave you?"

Opening her mouth to answer she could do little more than gasp out a breath as 
he pulled the edges of her dressing gown open and pressed his lips to her.  The 
wet chemise did little to dampen the sensation and she felt her knees go weak when he pulled away.

Through the rain, they looked into each other's eyes and spoke more with that single look than all the arguments had ever accomplished.

She held out her hand and felt the brush of his skin as he grasped her hand with 
his. He stood, wary of the mud slipping beneath him, but holding onto her hand he never faltered.

Taking his face between her hands she wiped the water from his face, crooning to him in a low tone, "Come inside...come with me."

She took his hand again and tried to lead him toward the house. He stood rooted 
to the spot, his gaze turning back to the eastern horizon. The call of war, it's own siren song, still had it's own pull on him... searing his blood and building a fire that little could quench.

Her thumb slid against the palm of his hand and she felt his gaze turn back. He didn't wait for her to walk, instead he pulled her into his arms and made his way back toward the house. The bang of the door slamming into the frame echoed the thunder smashing into the ground.

Alone, they made more promises... some they could keep.

Still, the rain continued outside their door.