[CW: This chapter mentions a man making an unwanted advance on Catalina. She is neither compromised nor in real danger, but the mention may be triggering for some. If you want more information, a summary, access to the rest of the chapter without that portion, or anything else to accommodate you, please send a DM and I'll help you out. No questions asked.]

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A vast openness appears before me, the sky darkening with the influx of heavy grey clouds. A cold wind howls though there are no trees or buildings in sight. I stand alone in this foreign land until the small curly-haired woman who consumes my every thought slips her hand into mine.

She squeezes it gently, whispers drowned out by the screaming of the wind.

I try to speak to her, but the words are caught in my throat, forced down by the storm and the fear and the cold.

"It's okay," she whispers, turning me to face her. "Let go, mi amor."

"I can't." I grit out, tipping my forehead to meet hers and gripping both of her hips in my hands. Curling my fingers in on themselves, the silky soft fabric of her dress caresses my skin.

I close my eyes and her fingers drift up into my hair, gently rustling the edges against her fingertips. "Let go," she whispers again, lips against my ear.

The sky fades out around me and I'm weightless as her lips brush my cheek, grazing down my jaw and stopping at my neck. She peppers kisses along the edge of my shirt, working her fingers through the back of my hair, tugging ever so gently. Every move she makes sets me ablaze.

She draws her lips against my jaw once more, kneading her fingers into my tense shoulders.

"It's okay, mi amor." Her kisses languish, replaced by sensual delicate touches adding fuel to my ever-increasing need for her. "Let go," she says again, nipping at my earlobe.

There's no decision anymore. The wind presses her skirt into my legs and my hands find their way to her soft, giving hips, pulling her closer and longing to have her closer still.

Her lips feather against my jaw and she reaches her arms around my neck, pulling herself up until her eyes are level with mine.

My self-control wanes and I lift her against my chest, longing to be closer, aching to lean in and capture her lips in mine. But she holds me still, fingers tangled in my hair as her beautiful brown eyes assess my face. Her thighs press into my waist through the layers of her skirt and my hands grip at whatever she'll let me hold.

I'm desperate to have her but I dare not move. My breath comes in time with hers.

She breathes.

I breathe.

She moves.

I move.

Her supple lips are on mine.

I let go, falling to the ground with her atop me, muddy earth cooling my back and her hurried hands heating my skin wherever they touch.

Finally, I free my hands and tangle them in her long, curly locks, pulling her toward me once more and sealing our lips together. Every move she makes accentuates the pleasure radiating through every part of me. I can't tell where she ends and I begin, but the rain pounds down on us from the sky above and falls in sheets, searing our clothes and hair to our bodies, and melding us together into one mess of trust and lust.

Every part of me longs for more.

Eyes closed to guard against the rain, I reach out my hand and grasp at...

Absolutely nothing. Just as quickly as she appeared she is gone.

I bolt upright with a start, heart pounding in my chest and brow slick with sweat from the heat of the dream.

A searing pain shoots through my neck and then down my back. Each attempt to move is met by my body's protests.

I knew sleeping on the floor would not be comfortable when I decided to do it, but the demands of propriety are great. Given what just happened in my sleep, I shudder to think what I might have done if she were there. And she deserves the kind of man who will keep her safe and protected.

Every woman deserves that.

Slowly, my heart rate calms and I gently test the range of my neck, trying to look at the woman I know to be sleeping mere feet away in my bed. She has consumed my every waking thought since I saw her board the train and now, she consumes my sleeping ones.

Curse this train and this delay and everything that brought me here to temptation.

That's how I should feel. But as my heart rate returns to normal I'm just glad she's here. I can vividly imagine her dark curls falling over her eyes, chest rising and falling in a slow rhythmic motion.

What I wouldn't give to make my dream a reality. How I wish she would look at me the same way I'm sure I look at her. If only I could...

My eyes drift over to take her in.

She's not in her bed. My bed. Whatever. She's not there.

Trying to be rational, I rush to the bed and lift the covers slightly, as though she might have just slid down under the blankets by accident.

I can't help feeling like I need to see her. Safe.

Which is ridiculous. It's perfectly rational that she isn't here. Perhaps she needed to take a walk or find something to drink. Having brought no lady with her, she would have to go herself.

But maybe she's been found out. What if they took her? And why didn't she wake me?

There's no rational reason why I should care so deeply what's happened to her. She shouldn't be anyone to me.

I pace the floor until I can hold back no longer, flinging the door open, completely ignorant of what I'm wearing as I race through the train car, looking for any sign of her. The door rattles on its hinges behind me.

In the dim light of the car, I can't see much except that the train still isn't moving.

If it weren't for Catalina's things in my room, I'd almost have to believe she ran away in the middle of the night to avoid seeing me again.

Which would be exceptionally rational as I'd stuck her in a room with me in a completely inappropriate way.

Argh.

My pity party is interrupted by a muffled scream from the far end of the car.

I don't know how I know, but I know.

It's Catalina.

Racing toward her, I round a corner to see a large, imposing figure stepping closer to her.

"I'm married," Catalina pleads, voice quaking in a way I never thought I'd see from someone who was so easily matching my intensity earlier.

"Your husband doesn't need to know, Cariño." He snarls, holding her arm with his mammoth fist.

I take a careful step toward him and stop as soon as I know he can see me. An immense rage bubbles up inside me until it escapes my lips in a deep, threatening tone I've never heard before. "Take your hands off my wife."

The oaf almost leaps back, crashing into the wall behind him. Catalina runs into my arms, soft hair tickling my stubbled chin. Light sobs shake her small frame and my arm wraps around her back, pushing her behind me in case the beast gets any ideas.

I can't help allowing my lips to graze her temple on the way by. She's safe. That's what matters. I push her away only far enough that I can look into her eyes, hoping to convey everything in a simple phrase. "Go back now, corazón. I'll deal with this."

I gently nudge her with my hand, but her voice catches, inaudible through the sobs.

The oaf draws my attention back to him, crashing into a doorway when he scrambles to get away before Catalina leaves. He can see as well as I can that he doesn't want to be here when there's no one to keep safe. My arms twitch, and I push my sleeves up to hurry him along.

His feet scramble an uncoordinated tango as he finally fumbles through the doorway and out of sight.

"Please don't make me go on my own," Catalina whispers, her weak voice curling around me and drawing me toward her and wrapping her arms around my waist.

"We'll go together," I mumble into her hair. Why am I kissing her hair? I have got to get it together.

The low cracking of mallets against the track is a stark reminder of why we are here. Her stocking feet pad against the floor, dress swishing with every step we take. And the whole walk back through the car is complete with her arms around my waist and hair wrapping around my arm. Just like it was in my dream.

I keep it together only by distracting myself with thoughts of what I would do to that man if I ever see him again, conscience and reputation be damned.

Catalina, it seems, is holding together on a smaller thread than me, but I let her keep herself together, holding her tightly to my side to keep her upright until we are back in the cabin.

As soon as the door is closed and locked behind us, Catalina falls into my arms, sobs wracking her small frame.

Every ounce of restraint is locked in my arm, gently rubbing her back and refusing to do anything else to a woman so wholly fearful.

"I got you," I whisper into her hair. "You're safe now."

"I know," she says through her sobs. "I don't know why but I just know." Her eyes drift up to meet mine. A small sparkle glistens in the low light of the moon and her hands clutch the fabric of my shirt, holding me to her as she calms her shaky breaths.

I let myself believe my presence calms her because she feels a little of what I do. I let myself imagine what it might be like to have her in my arms like this without any terrifying encounters beforehand.

I breathe in the very essence of her. And I try to think of what I should do.

I'm not equipped to handle a young woman in this position. I have no right to do anything in defending her honour.

In public this would be simple: return the woman to her parents or chaperone and be on my way. Let them handle the rest.

She is not mine.

But there is no one to return her to. And nothing was simple when it comes to a woman claiming to be my wife and sleeping in my bed.

I'm not entirely convinced she's even figured out who I am. But she tightens her hold and presses her cheek into my chest. I'm certain she can hear my heart dancing against my ribs.

And then, her breathing steadies and her tears stop and with a deep sigh, she whispers a small, "Thank you, Marcos."

The simple phrase bursts my heart past capacity and I place a small kiss to the top of her head, smoothing her hair down with my hand and pulling her in closer. I'll never get over the feel of her relaxing into my touch.

If my father were here, he'd certainly have my head for it. But I don't care. All that matters right now is me and her.

Us.

If only it could be.

"I know so little about you," I whisper, maybe hoping she won't hear. Or maybe hoping she will. "Why am I so drawn to protect you?"

She doesn't move, and for a moment it seems my words have passed unnoticed.

"You could know me," she whispers into my shirt. "If you wanted to."

My breath catches in my throat. Of all the propositions I've ever received, this will be the hardest to resist.

I'm going to resist. She inexplicably matters in a way that I cannot express. I cannot allow myself to...

"I'd like to." Is all I say in return.

Her fingers draw a pattern on my chest, and then she gently rests her hand in her lap.

"My name is Catalina Juárez, and I am the daughter of el conte de Cudillero. I am here because my father announced my engagement early last afternoon to an awful man who has on occasion been crass. He gambles and lies and I cannot marry him. I am sure to be caught, but perhaps sneaking onto a train under a false name will delay him a few days while I figure it out. I have no property unless I were to marry. I have no relations who will not side with my father." She pauses for a moment before adding, "I'm scared and I don't know what I'll do."

I wipe the falling tear with my thumb and trace it down her cheek, alarmed at her closeness. I have to tell her who I am.

"Catalina." The word slips out cracked and raw. "I mean, Señora Juárez. It is an honour to make your acquaintance." I dip my head to kiss her knuckles. My mind fabricates a shiver in her as my lips brush her bare skin.

Her eyes catch the ring on my hand, and she brings her eyes to meet mine. "You are here as I am, then?" Her voice is stronger now, and she gently draws back to sit on my bed. "Or are you making a final trip before your betrothal is complete?"

She has heard of me, then. Or rather, she knows I am who I said I was. And she knows of my almost engagement.

Well, who doesn't?

I need to stop this from getting worse. I can't tell her the truth.

But the truth slips out, anyway. "I am here as you are."

Where the hell did that come from? 

~ * ~ Author's Note ~ * ~ 

The wonderful lemonhoax is one of my favourite comment-leavers and friends. And that's why I'm super excited to share this book, "Three's Note a Crowd," with all of you! 

When florist Anya's plans of renting a building for her business are thwarted by successful confectioner, Kaynath, she recruits the help of her best friend, Mirza, to help her. She never expects to have a sweet tooth not just for one person, but maybe two people after all, if she can handle their secrets.