An Unchanged Soul Chapter Twenty-One Disclaimer, etc. in Headers It wasn't hard at all to give in to his persuasive words. Even more so, his consuming embrace and frantic kiss. The physical attraction that had always flared between them did so again, and she let herself be held and touched, like a kitten seeking a loving hand. She still didn't know why he'd left, but at the moment, it didn't matter. Da had been right. She'd not wanted to believe it, not even after Sam took her hand like a lifeline. She'd tried to distance herself, to pull back and watch for signs he'd been untruthful with his obvious yearning. Maybe she'd given away more than she wanted just by looking up at him with what she knew was sure longing. It wasn't in her to make the first move, nor to just go on as if he hadn't shattered her world with his departure. But damn it all, he'd done it to her again. Sneaked past her reserve before she could say her piece. Her denial of his statement that she'd come to see him was feeble at best; his eyes seemed to look into her ragged heart and find every little aching piece of it. She'd tried to summon some ire, tried to gather her pride and face him down. But it was useless. The truth she'd wanted practically shone from his face as he leaned in to trap her against the door. He was miserable. Even without his stumbling words of loneliness and apology, she knew he missed her terribly. Her plea for him to spare her more grief had fallen on deaf ears. The way he kissed her now, the way his whole body strained to get as close as possible - it all spoke of blinding, gripping need. For her. Dear God, she thought. All this was for her. She'd never felt so desired, so needed. Her fisted hands unfurled like the petals of a flower, the forgotten money fluttering to the floor as her fingers crept up his chest. Her mouth opened under his, and she felt his shudder of surprise envelop her in shocking warmth. They should talk. Clear the air and make promises to never part again. She really needed to kick his backside. Really. But later. Much later. The stroke of his tongue into the warm recesses of her mouth neatly cleared her mind of all else but the need to succumb. "Emma." Sam's murmured plea signaled a hesitation on his part, one she couldn't let happen. If they stopped now, if he asked her if she truly wanted this, she'd find a reason to shy away. She wasn't experienced by any means, and he knew it. But she recognized the feelings coursing through her veins as if she'd taken this step a hundred times. Passion, desire. Her skin shivering with the need to slide against another's as they joined in body and mind. "Yes," she whispered, her body crying out as she took an instant to shed her coat. The heavy thing thumped as it hit the floor behind her, echoing the furious beat of her heart. She came back, more intent than ever, the word now almost angry with determination. "Yes." Understanding now drove his hands, and she smiled at the success of her seduction as he stumbled with her to the door. Her blouse gave way to his sure fingers. The first touch of his mouth above her breasts brought forth a low keening from her throat. The sound startled her; she hadn't known herself capable of such blatant response. Sam reacted with a smile against her skin, then wasted no time shoving aside the strap of her bra. The first tug of his mouth in a place unused to a man's attention brought her to her toes. She bit her lip to keep from mewling like a wanton. He sucked, he actually nipped at her flesh with his teeth - God, she hadn't known such a thing could feel so good! A red tide of heat traveled up her chest as she cradled his head. More, she wanted to say. More. Her fingers curled into his hair and he answered her unspoken plea by uncovering the other, equally straining breast before giving it the same treatment. Emma's feet left the floor as Sam's hands lifted her. Distantly, she heard her shoes hit the expensive rug, then the slip of nylon over wool as her feet sought purchase around his calves. He no longer had to bend down, and she gasped when he stepped between her splayed legs. A foreign hardness settled in a most delicious spot as he rubbed and teased her with his hips. She wanted to touch it, to explore him as he continued to do to her with his mouth. She knew what it was. After all, she was a medical professional. Erections were not all that uncommon in male patients. Not even the pain of a broken limb could deter some of the randier ones from proudly displaying their lustful thoughts. But this... oh, this was different. Emma heard the faint introduction to the Act of Contrition float through her head as one of her hands drifted down. She was supposed to be a good girl, wasn't she? Little Emma, the neighborhood nun. Ready with a sharp word for the teenagers caught necking on the porch next door. Always first in line at confession every Sunday, whether or not she'd actually committed a sin. Just thinking about it was enough of a breach of God's law, so the sisters had drilled into her brain long ago under threat of a yard stick. But dear Lord... Sam felt so nice. His stomach under his shirt was rock hard and she skimmed her fingers over his waist, delighting in the way he caught his breath with every one of her forays. Though he still worked her breasts with a magic that spoke of unflappable experience, she felt him tense under her roving hand. She was doing this to him. Emma, who'd not gone farther than a few kisses with any man in her life. Power surged through her, and she grabbed his nape in a strong grip as her seeking hand finally dipped below his belt. Sam hissed at her bold touch, faltering a bit in his practiced moves. She felt his mouth go slack against her, felt his burning cheek replace the slick rasp of his tongue as he pressed his face to the valley between her breasts. A hungry groan accompanied the surge of his hips into her hand. She didn't blink when she felt herself slipping in his grasp; she trusted him to not let her fall. She was temptress, not virgin. Conqueror, not slave. Using her newfound knowledge, she plied him at will, taking great pleasure as she gave it. Her lips scattered kisses over his hair as her fingers gently shaped and caressed his erection through the fabric of his trousers. Slipping low, she familiarized herself with the high, firm sac of flesh beneath his penis. Soon, it wasn't enough. She had to have more. No barriers, nothing between them but the friction of skin against skin. Reaching for his zipper, she dug her nails into his nape, already anticipating the moment as she panted above him. Suddenly, she was pinned to the door with a steely press of his body, her hand crushed between them. His hot breath hit the pulse in her neck. "You really wanna do this here?" His menacing tone rumbled through her, but she felt his concern for her in the way he gentled his hold, as if her safety was tantamount. There was no talk of yesterday, or of tomorrow. No reasoning, no whispers of apology or promise. Just the moment, and what they both knew was about to happen. Emma had already thrown all inhibitions out the proverbial door the second she'd felt the carved oak at her back, and the all too human man warming her front. And he was, in effect, asking her if this what was she wanted? "I don't care," she said softly, breathing in the scent of sweat and lust their embrace generated. She leaned her head against the door, looking up at the bright glare of the overhead light that cast the room - and them - in bright glory. "Anywhere, Sam. Just don't let me go." She closed her eyes against the possibility of abandonment, the light suddenly harsh and unforgiving. "Never let me go again." He drew a shaky breath. "I won't." One hand settled high on her back, the other taking a firm grasp of her behind. "Hold on." Cradling her with ease, Sam moved her from the door. Emma, her face hot with a sudden rush of embarrassment, felt the fade of previous urgency bring her uncharacteristic behavior to the fore. She couldn't meet his eyes, her hands wrapping around his neck. "Lock the door, Emma," he commanded roughly, his form tense and unyielding, his words signifying the end to her innocence as sure as if he'd already done the deed. She did as he asked, hearing the bolt click home. When she slipped the key into his shirt pocket, she chanced a look up. The intensity of his heavy-lidded stare was shocking. In all her years, she'd never had a man look at her with such a devouring, plainly sexual gaze. It was impossible to look away from the bright green-gray pull; she licked her lips, sensing again his slide into indecision. The moment's respite from near oblivion had dashed him with cold water, and she saw his face relax as if the words of calm bubbled near the surface. She wanted the heat back. She wanted to lose herself again in the pure need to make love with Sam. She couldn't let him step away, not when she'd found the courage to give what she'd kept locked away until now. Damn her inner maiden, the one who knelt at mass every Sunday and wished for easy, uncomplicated love. This was real enough. It was nothing like she'd expected, or thought she'd wanted. It was dark and dangerous, a step off a cliff into the unknown below. The old Emma would never have attempted such a daring feat. But seeing herself as the object of his passion, watching him watch her with fevered desire... *this* was what she wanted. All it took was a kiss. A simple connection of their mouths to bring him back to where they'd been. Take me, she said with renewed fervor, her lips coaxing him into moving. She let her eyes close as he moved them from the light into the deep, insistent dark. It seemed like hours, but was only a matter of seconds until her feet touched the floor again. With a small moan of distress, she felt him pull away, her eyes opening to the dim confines of the bedroom. The bed covers were very much in disarray, as if he'd not allowed housekeeping in. They probably were drenched in his scent, a fine, male perfume. Her mouth went dry at the vision that rose in her brain - one of them putting that mussed bed to good use. Sam didn't say a word. He just stood there before her, his hands going to the buttons of his shirt. A small grin hovered around his mouth, and his gaze remained steady on her face. He challenged her with that look, silently prodding her to keep pace with his undressing. One eyebrow raised, she kept her own eyes locked with his, her hands making quick work of her blouse and bra. Her breasts, now freed from the strict binding enforced on her ample bosom, seemed to swell and sway before his scrutiny. She bent slightly at the waist to dispose of her skirt, but was interrupted by his hands. "God, Emma," he muttered above her, his palms cupping the flesh with reverence. Brought up by his roaming hands, she purred and swayed into him, feeling him soothe the lines cut into her skin by the constricting undergarment. Her nipples puckered into uncomfortable little pebbles. No, not uncomfortable, she amended silently. More bold in their agressive stance, almost begging for his touch there once again. They betrayed her command as easily as if she'd voiced her surrender. His thumbs brushed over the tight buds and she gasped, wanting to cover herself. "That's enough of that," she admonished shakily, squirming from his grasp to give him her back. On unsteady legs, she walked to the hissing radiator, her arms coming up to cross her chest. "You seem to be unnaturally enamored of my..." She couldn't get the rest past her lips; she'd always thought her body too florid, too curvy and heavy to be attractive. "You're beautiful," she heard behind her. "Everywhere, Emma." She cast a doubtful glance over her shoulder. "I am?" Sam swallowed hard. His bare chest rose unsteadily with his deep breath, and his smile was blinding in its sincerity. "You're the most beautiful woman I've ever seen, and that's no lie." She could have decried his statement and almost did. But one look at his face made her believe, though she asked for a temporary reprieve. The afternoon's excitement was building to a crashing, life-altering moment, and she needed to catch her breath. "May I finish... over here?" She saw the 'no' flash in his eyes, as if he couldn't bear another instant away from her. But he slowly nodded, his hands going to his belt. Oh, dear, she thought. She was about to lay eyes on a naked man. A very naked, very aroused man. Closing her eyes, she prayed for the strength to follow through on her overtures in the sitting room. A chuckle tickled her chest as she waited for lightning to strike... something told her the Lord wouldn't be too sympathetic in this case. If her family could see her now, her father and brothers... holy Mother of God, her priest! "You're not keeping up." A pair of warm, big hands settled on her shoulders and she jumped. She could feel him pick up on her thoughts, and she shoved them down quickly, reaching for the button of her skirt. "Emma, we don't have to -" "Yes, we do." Her skirt fell as soon as she reached the end of the zipper. "I want to, Sam. I want to feel you... I want..." Words of physical desire and sex were foreign to her, and she wished he'd just understand. "I know what you want," he said softly, his hands going to her hair. The loose braid fell apart in his fingers and her hair tumbled free. A gentle pull on his part, and she relaxed into his chest, her head lolling. "Let me give it to you." His arms went around her from behind as his mouth searched out her neck. He stepped closer still, his hardness pressing into the low curve of her back. She squirmed against it, wanting to turn. But he shushed her, his teeth nipping at the lobe of her ear. One of his hands found its way back to her breast. The familiar tug brought a fresh heat to her body, a steam that rivaled the radiator's warmth. Eyes half mast, she watched the street below through the gauzy curtains of the frosted window. People walked below, huddled in their coats and hats, their movements shimmering in the growing mist of rain. If she'd thought there was even a slight chance she and Sam could be seen, she would have moved away from the glass. But the room had turned dark in the waning afternoon light, and the clouds had hurried in the dusk. They were only shadows high above the ordinary, gray bustle of workers heading home. Colors faded as his free hand slipped beneath her panties. It seemed as if he drew all light to her with his touch; all sound from below and above to the point just below her navel. Her plump belly twitched with anticipation. "Easy." The word settled her for a moment. It allowed her to listen to their breathing, to savor the feel of Sam's arms around her, to take a deep draw of warm, golden air into her lungs. Then it all changed, all closed in to a tense point of feeling... as his fingers delved deeper into flesh that had never felt a man's touch. The rush of slick warmth drawn from her made him groan. He moved into her, his legs splaying to either side of hers. Dropping her chin in fascination, she watched his hand move beneath the cotton, felt one finger dip inside. No, he couldn't do that, could he? But he did, with unerring accuracy. The gentle rubbing hit a spot that made her arch, her hand grabbing his arm. "No, don't -" she protested, unsure of the tumult making her heart pound. "Yes, let me," he answered in a low, gentle plea. Her head seemed as weightless as a puppet's, falling to one side with his urgent kisses. The press of his mouth on her jaw, the caress of his hand on her breast, the slide of his fingers in and out... all in perfect, seamless harmony... she could no longer watch, giving up the fight to blindness as she soared into the hazy red fire of pleasure. Higher and higher she climbed, the sounds coming from her throat distant to her ears. Sam spoke as well, but Emma only heard broken pieces, fragments of words laced with love and sex, beauty and desire. His voice, his scent, his touch... she caught her breath, her nails digging into his arm as the fury consumed her. All was silent when she came back to herself, save for the hissing of the radiator. A fine sheen of sweat covered her, and she gulped in air, feeling Sam's hands rub her belly. "You okay?" Sagging against him, she nodded wordlessly. The gift he'd given her was nothing short of amazing, and she wondered if she could possibly return the same mind-blowing sensation of complete fulfillment. She didn't know such things existed between men and women; all she knew was procreation, not pleasure. Love and kisses were freely given among her family and friends, but no one had ever explained the sheer joy of what had just happened to her. Not even Dana had hinted at - God, did Dana do this as well? No wwonder her dependable, down-to-earth cousin walked around now and then with a distant, knowing smile... Emma suddenly felt the floor drop away, and she met Sam's pleased eyes with a laugh. Her legs dangled over his arm, and she quickly locked her hands around his neck for safety. "And just what d'ya think you're doin', ya big oaf?" she chided, feeling all at once more glamorous and adored than all the Lanas and Joans and Avas of the world combined. "Taking you to bed. Any objections?" Good gracious, the man was too handsome for his own good, and for her sanity. How could she ever deny him anything? Not that she wanted to at the moment. He could have asked her to lick his toes and she'd gladly comply. Emma looked down with distraction... they *were* such nice, slender toes, too. Disappearing in an instant as he didn't wait for her reply, walking to the bed with her. When he laid her down, she felt covered in his essence. She'd been right - the bed linens smelled of him. Wholly masculine and arousing. She stretched, curling her toes with pleasure. The coquette lived again, satisfied and eager for more. With a short puff of air, she blew her hair from her eyes as she peered up at his smiling face with a mock curl of her lips in dismay. "I suppose it's too late to demand a bit of champagne?" "Yep." Sam worked quickly, stripping her of panties and stockings. Damn, but he was good at this sort of stuff, she mused with consternation. "We'll have some with dinner." His eyes, almost black in the darkened room, swept back up from their rapt inspection of her legs. "You are staying for dinner, aren't you?" Her gaze drifted down as he crawled over her. God, he was going to put *that* in her? She licked her lips, all playfulness gone in an instant. "Sam..." "Look at me, Emma." He slowly lowered his weight until his body lightly draped over hers, his hands parting her legs with calming insistence. She obeyed, though her fists remained firmly entrenched in the pillows beside her head. His solemn gaze was reassuring, his tone that of a man soothing a prized thoroughbred. "I won't hurt you," he said. "You know that, don't you?" Swallowing, she nodded. Sam's face loomed closer, blocking out the meager light from the window. She felt a probing down low, a thickness demanding entrance where his fingers had been. Except this was nothing like the rough, slender warmth of everyday things like fingers. This was a thing of stretching invasiveness, a searing brand that pinched until she felt a slight give of flesh. She couldn't hold back the hum of pain, her hands flying up to keep his face steady. "It's okay, it's okay." His eyes stayed with hers, demanding a communication she found hard pressed to continue. "Stay with me, Emma." Then the ache was gone, replaced with a fullness she felt touch her womb. Sam let out a shuddering sigh, his face relaxing as he dropped down for a kiss. The hard planes of his chest lowered as well, the fine hair teasing her nipples as he rested. One hand slipped under her back, the other stroking her hip as he gave her time to adjust. "Feel good?" he said at last, between kisses growing more ardent with every second. "Mmm." Emma almost drowsed beneath his warmth, reveling in the feel of a man's - this man's - skin and muscle. He began to move, a slow slide in and out. A lingering tenderness faded quickly, the moisture he'd brought to her earlier making his thrusting easy. She brought her legs up to cradle his hips and felt him go deeper. Sam groaned into the pillow, making her smile. Her hands touched him in a hundred new places, each more tempting than the last. The soft spot behind his ear, the hollow where his arm met his shoulder, the ripple of his spine, the bunched power of his buttocks and thighs. That was her favorite, she quickly decided, hearing his breath hitch when her fingernails raked the smooth skin. That subtle crease where hair-roughened leg met baby fine roundness... oh, she promised herself a Christmas kiss in that very spot. All this and more she thought as he labored over her. He was big, bigger now in nakedness than he'd ever been with the concealment of clothes. His arms were bulging with muscles as he propped up on his hands. She missed the solid feel of his chest at once, then made do with the sight of his face. It was lovely. Tight and shiny with sweat, his cheekbones carved with grimacing concentration, his lower lip suffering a bit under the constant, rhythmic bite of his teeth in tandem with his rocking. She loved to watch, as he moved above her unknowing, his eyes shut against some unknown thing. So silent was she in her observation, she failed to notice he'd slowed down. His eyes opened, and he gave her a grin. "You can stop watching me now." "I can't help it," she admitted, knowing this was for him. "I find you terribly fascinating. The way you sound, the way you look, the way you feel inside me..." She blushed, feeling silly for the too-late sentiment of embarrassment. "You do, do you? Then how about this?" He circled his hips, grinding against her with the next thrust. "Do you like that?" Oh, God. The feeling she'd had at the window came back, curling up in her to steal all thoughts of watching him. She couldn't - not again. Closing her eyes, she wished it away even as she embraced it. It was sinful, it was delightful, it was destined to bind her to him to the point she'd never be free. Which was what she wanted. He was relentless, hitting that spot with wicked purpose. "C'mon, sweetheart." He urged her on with subtle movements and whispered words, things she'd never heard except out of the mouths of her brothers, and only when out of earshot of her father. The combination was lethal, and she spiraled out of control, her inner muscles clenching as she cried out. Sam suddenly stiffened above her, and she felt a rush of warmth bathe her inner being. She held him close as he collapsed upon her, finally replete, finally still. The world looked the same when she opened her eyes. But it was definitely a finer place. A peace she'd not known before now wrapped around her in the form of Sam Mulder, and she stroked the damp hair at his nape, her lips giving him one last gift. "I love you." He tensed, but didn't move. She waited, wondering if he'd allow himself to say the words in return. Compliments and quips came easy to him. Not so the true expression of heartfelt feeling. She'd seen it in his eyes, and it was enough for now. "It's okay," she said, echoing his words spoken in passion. "It can wait." "I'm not... I can't..." He stumbled, his words almost lost in her hair. "I know. Later, all right?" The tenseness left his body and she felt him smile, his hand tilting her head up for a kiss. "Guess this means you're staying for dinner, huh?" His happiness was palpable in the silent room, and she basked in it, lifting her face to his kiss. "Do I get dessert, too?" "Sweetheart, you get anything you want." "Then I'll take you, thank you very much." The satisfied, beautiful face above her sobered. A soft flush tinged his cheekbones and she marveled at the sight, seeing his eyes skitter away. She'd never seen him so emotional. "Be careful what you wish for," he said in a hoarse, unsure voice. "Because I'm pretty hard to shake sometimes." Her touch brought his eyelashes up. Missing him this past week had proven to her he was not the type of man one could easily forget or dismiss. She gave him a clear, decisive look, her lips parting in a serene smile. "I know." ********** "So much rain," Emma sighed. "Usually by now we have a snowfall or two to give us a white Christmas. So different this year." Sam was content to surround her in the dark, to concede to her wish for the light to remain off as he held her. The tray of unfinished dinner sat beside the bed and the mist outside had blossomed to a steady shower. He looked out over the top of her head as it lay on his arm, watching the rivulets of rainwater stream down the window. Her body fit perfectly in the cradle of his chest and legs, spooned into him beneath the covers. Now and then, she'd settle her backside closer, as if she couldn't bear to have more than a hair's breadth between them. He understood. The week had been hell without her, and he still wanted to pinch himself about the afternoon's events. He was one helluva lucky man. To have her come to him, then stay... to give herself to him with such innocent eagerness. At once seductress and seduced, she'd certainly challenged him like no other. If he'd had to guess before, he'd have said she was a shy miss, one step away from the rigid confines of the Catholic schoolroom. Then again, he'd felt the passion within her when they'd kissed, had been the recipient of many an angry look and sharp, emotional word - that she turned out to be such a natural lover wasn't surprising at all. Emma was born to fire and had within her the capability to offer unconditional love. The first step, once taken, could not be taken back. It was with this in mind he told her all. She deserved the truth, had come seeking it with the setting aside of pride and anger. He spoke softly, keeping her with him - and unable to face him - with an arm firmly wrapped around her waist. He told her of the faceless man, the one who wouldn't leave him alone. He braved the chance she'd pronounce him crazy, holding his breath as he half- laughed over the possibility. But she said nothing, just entwined her fingers with his in a gesture of acceptance. It was then he let it all pour out, slowly but surely. His fear, not just for himself, but for those around him, bled into his words, despite his attempt to tone down the danger he faced. The way he just knew it wasn't over, and wouldn't be over until he'd come to some sort of resolution with his ghost. It pained him to tell her he had to remain apart from her, at least until his brother had some answers for him. Emma stiffened when he said that, but he remained adamant. The hotel is where he would stay. And in the end, he wanted to tell her he loved her. It had been on his lips constantly in the hour he'd made love with her, and had hovered just below the surface in the hours since then. Her commitment to him was obvious, and he'd reveled in the simple truth of her words. But he was still a man without a very important part of his past, one that could destroy without warning. He wouldn't give her the words until he could be sure he was free to give her all that came with them. Marriage, children... God, she could even now be pregnant. The thought filled him with joy but more so, dread. What if tomorrow he learned he was an evil man? One who'd done all sorts of criminal things and walked one step ahead of the hangman's noose? "Stop it." He forced himself to relax behind her. "Stop what?" "Stop thinking. You *will* remember one day, Sam." Her certainty covered him like a warm blanket. "You will remember, and you'll discover what I've known all along." "What's that?" He dropped a kiss to the delicate shell of her ear. "That you're a good man. You've always been a good man, and nothing could change that. Not even what you may have done in the last two years. Inside, you know it. You were given a strong, brave soul, Sam. That's something that never dies." He felt an unwanted press of tears in the back of his throat and he clung to her, his head dropping to the pillow. He'd as much as told the same to Dana the day before - deep down, his heart wouldn't let him believe the worst. But his heart had been wrong before; it always thought his father would love him for himself and not his athletic accomplishments. His foolish heart had cried for his mother's sympathy and love. He'd let his body use women and never once had he opened his heart to a loving hand. And his soul? He stopped believing in salvation years ago. Reliance on a steady man at his side, in his own ability to defend his country and his fellow soldiers - that was the stuff of courage. He realized now he had found the same with the woman in his arms. His soul had been reborn the moment he'd met Emma. His nose nuzzled her hair; he breathed in the scent of their union in the silky strands and knew he couldn't face another day not knowing if she'd stand with him in case his soul proved to be as wrong as his heart. "You'll be there when this is over, won't you?" It was the closest he could come to revealing the raw need that surged through his veins. She sighed, accepting his gift as she always did, with a reply designed to lift his spirits. "And just where would I go?" When she made to face him this time, he let her. What little makeup she'd had when she arrived was long gone, and her face in the darkness was pale. But her eyes were bright and happy, going a long way toward easing his fears. Somehow he'd made her that way. It amazed him he had the ability to please her so. "To someone who deserves you more than I do." "Oh, you mean someone who needs my nagging, bossy, high-handed ways more than you do? If ever anyone needed me to straighten him out, Sam Mulder, it's you." She had a point. Sam chuckled, dropping a kiss on her pert nose. "Do you have to go home now?" She snuggled closer, one small foot making a space between his calves. Her thigh made inroads as well, nudging a part of him that would never get enough of her. It responded in a heartbeat, rising against her abdomen. Her eyes darkened. "I should try to be home by ten, well before Da." By his reckoning, they had a few hours. Time he intended to be well spent on things besides watching the rain outside. "Then why are we wasting time talking?" He rolled her to her back, happy to hear her tinkling laughter. "Dear Lord," she said breathlessly. "I'll not get a moment's peace again, will I, you randy beast." "Well, that's what you get for coming after me." "How many times do I have to tell you? I did *not* come after you, you conceited -" Kissing Emma was the only way to shut her up. Of course, he knew her well enough by now to know she wanted him to silence her. For once, he allowed himself to picture future arguments - and the love that would follow. With Emma beside him, he now had the future. His soul rejoiced. End Chapter Twenty-One