Forbidden Heart

“Watch out,” Lawrence hollered, but it was too late.

The horse and rider did not see them; the rifle shot went harmlessly over their heads, but the blast startled the already skittish horse coming along the steep icy river bank.

With a whinnying terror the stallion reared on his back legs, fore legs pawing in the frigid air. Stunned at the unexpected turn of events the rider tumbled down the slope in a furry of petticoats. She landed on the frozen river, and for a minute the two men with the rifles sighed a prayer of relief that the ice held, but the relief was short lived, as they rushed down the bank to aid the poor woman, the ice began crack. The lady looked up and her large doe eyes caught them, then her face blanched in sudden terror as the ice gave way beneath her.

Quickly the icy water sucked at her petticoats, drawing her down more effectively than any magnet. Her head dipped below the surface leaving a trail of fiery red hair. The men redoubled their pace at the risk of breaking their own necks. A slender white hand, almost blue with cold clawed at the near by ice. The younger man reached the bank first, “Steady there Tom,” the other called out, “I don’t want to rescue you both.”

Tom reached the frozen bank and slowly, on his hands and knees, inched his way onto the precarious ice, gingerly trying to balance his weight so as not to crack the ice further. He stretched out his long arms, fingers straining, leaning forward as far as he dared. He could almost reach her failing hand, he inched out further, and his mind registered the creaking of the ice beneath him. The other man, his brother, reached him and wrapped his arms around Tom’s waist. Just before the ice gave way Tom’s strong hand locked around the delicate wrist and in unison born of a life together the two brothers pulled; quickly before the ice took them all under.

Tom laid sprawled on the snowy bank, the wet shivering woman half on top of him, the water from her clothes being to seep into his. Tom looked down into her face, where it rested near his. Her lips were a solid blue already. Her open eyes stared blankly into his before fluttering closed. “Lawrence,” he called out “I think we are losing her.”

The elder brother, Lawrence, scoped the sodden form up, straining under the weight of the wet clothing. The horse pranced near by; Tom approached it carefully using soothing words to calm it. Luckily once he had a hold of the bridle it gave him no trouble, and followed him meekly.

Lawrence was already half way up the river bank, and his arms were beginning to tire, when Tom brought up the horse. Lawrence eyed the awkward side-saddle ruefully, there’d be no way he could mount it with her in his arms, but he felt she was slipping to fast to simply dump her over the rump of the horse. He would have to carry her. Thankful the small hunting cabin was not far. “Tom, run on ahead and stoke up the fire,” he advised as he reached the end of the steep incline, “and put that horse in the stall.”

A few minutes latter he reached the cabin. Kicking the door open he staggered in, as Tom rushed to secure the door behind him.

“Were going to have to get these wet clothes off her, or she will catch pneumonia” Lawrence said.

For a second Tom stood there, a look of shock spreading over his youthful face as the meaning of his bother’s words sunk in.

“Don’t just stand there, Tom, grab a quilt off the bed,” Lawrence ordered.

Tom bounded to the bed and snatched off a quilt. He stood there holding it dumbly as Lawrence lowered the woman to her feet. Her eyes opened once again, and Lawrence found himself staring down into their depth. Their dark brown depths stared back at him and for a moment Lawrence found himself unable to move. How could he strip twomawoman bare while she stared at him? Thankful her eyes closed again and he released the breath he was unconsciously holding.

Gently he turned her in his arms where a line of little jet buttons ran down the back of the velvet riding habit. There was no way he was going to be able to undo all those little buttons. Grimacing he motion to Tom to hold her as he took the fabric in his hands and with a hard tug the buttons gave way, flying violently about the room. The action was so brutal in nature, that immediately he felt like a dog.

Quickly he began to strip the sodden riding habit away from her body, reveling yet another obstacle, a damnably laced corset. For a moment he fumbled with the laces, but they were already frozen; and as much as he hated to use any more violence on her person, Lawrence saw no other choice but to cut it away. Gingerly he shifted her weight to Tom once again as he pulled from his pocket a small knife. Sliding it under the laces he cut them from bottom to top as fast as possible with out hurting the poor woman. As the blade slit through the last of the laces, the corset fell to the floor. Holding her in his arms, Tom felt as though the woman began to breathe a bit more deeply.

The lady was now covered only in her light chemise, that too was wet and plastered to her skin and Tom could clearly see the cruel red marks of the corset. Blushing he looked away, but the image of her lush body was burned into his memory. For a moment Lawrence debated removing her chemise or not. He was a married man, and the feminine body was nothing new to him; but the woman was affecting him far more than he would like to admit, and poor Tom was blushing like a school boy. He began to pull the flimsy thing up and over her head; it too was wet and he saw no sense in keeping it on since it did nothing to conceal her body.

Tom began to wind the quilt around the lady. His did so in a clumsy fashion, not knowing where to put his hands and tried to advert his eyes at the same time. As he was trying to secure the lose ends of the quilt the woman began to shiver violently. The tremors ran through her body with such cruel force that Tom was worried he would lose his grip on her. “Damn,” he muttered under his breath. He lifted the shaking woman in his arms and carried her as close the hearth as he dared. He lowered himself to the floor in an ungraceful heap, wrapping his arms around her, vainly trying to ease her trembling. Her head lolled on his shoulder, pressing her face into his neck. He almost jumped in surprise at the cold touch of her face, and then a faint whisper reached his ear, “so cold.”

“Lawrence,” he called out, but his brother was already there holding her feet steady as he removed the boots. Once he had done so, his own hands were shaking almost as badly as the lady as he reached under the blanket to remove her wet stockings. The warmth from his hands burned like a brand on her cold flesh and she moaned unconsciously in pain. Lawrence’s heart went out to the poor soul, as he knew that the warmth returned to her skin with painful tingling sensation. He knew she must fell as though she was being pricked by a thousand little needles.

Without thinking Lawrence began to stroke her calf with brisk movements hoping to ease the pain and encourage the flow of blood. He could see that her skin was beginning to lose the deathly blue shade and return to a more normal flesh color. Tom too was trying his best to comfort her, rocking her gently in his arms and murmuring gentle words to her. It touched Lawrence to see him so tender, he had been afraid that the war was hardening him, turning from the sweet youth he knew into grim young man.

The lady’s tremors began to subside, and she lay still and pliant in Tom’s arm. Her heavy, luxuriant weight, resting so trustingly against him was intoxicating. The lust was rushing though his blood and hit his groin like a fist. He had to fight his urge to hold her closer and just inhale her sent. He tried shifting her weight from his lap, but the friction was nearly too much for him to bear. He was nearly undone by her.

Lawrence himself was not immune to her beauty, and was surprise at his body’s reaction. He tucked the blanket back around her legs, a fussy gesture more to hide his mortification at finding himself so affected by her. A good brisk walk in the snow would cool his fervor he thought to himself. He was a good deal more worried over what they should do with their unexpected “guest”. Who was she? Where was she going on such an inhospitable morning? And how would she react to finding herself in such a state with two strange gentlemen? He worried too, that Tom was becoming just a bit too enamored by her.

His mind was so racing with all these questions that when he looked back up he was taken by surprise to find him self staring back into her eyes. For a moment he was too surprised to say anything.

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Ok that is about all I have for now. I\'m not 100% sure just where I\'m taking this; so anyone out there who may have suggestions, feel free to suggest! I have no idea about the woman either. Like what is her name? Where was she going? Is she running to or from somone or something? Maybe she could be a spy? I don\'t know yet........