The Only Rules That Matter: Afterlife (TheCorsair, Madam Mim)

Jenny's ears pricked when Adam mentioned the Horseman. Wasn't that what the fae queen had mentioned about these witches, too? She stayed out of the argument between father and son and made a note to ask Adam privately about it. It was interesting to note, however, that Van Holt--the elderly man who Ichabod Crane had been called in to replace--had apparently died of fright going down into the hollow to show that this Horseman was just a story.

She didn't have to wait long, however, to have a private word with Adam. Mrs. von Kalt found an excuse to get her husband out of the room and commanded Kaylee to bring the dinner dishes into the kitchen while they fetched dessert. Jenny felt her cheeks pinken as they were left alone. So they did intend to try to make a match! She was surprised that she either looked even younger than twenty-five, or that the von Kalts didn't think her too old for their son. Either way it was flattering to be thought of in such a way despite being a married woman. That wasn't the sort of compliment one got beyond the age of thirty or so and she was a lifetime from thirty.

"So...Miss Dolan..." Adam shifted uncomfortably, using the maiden name Jenny had given. If John was to go by another name then so would she.

"Oh, Jenny please," she corrected with an encouraging smile.

"Miss Jenny, then," he started again, smiling awkwardly. "How do you like it so far?"

"It's a beautiful little township," she said honestly, "and I think I'll like it even more once I've got Mister Crane's new house turned into a proper home. Bare cupboards and drafts and all that, but I oughtn't complain as it keeps off the rain. What's this Horseman all about then?"

"Oh..." He chuckled nervously. "There's folks in town who don't believe it, but others've seen 'im for themselves. He rides out from the hollow and back each night, looking for his lost head. Anyone he comes across...well, he just takes theirs instead." Jenny's eyes widened and he nodded solemnly. "I know. Few years back like Pa said here was some soldiers quartered here. Well, those soldiers went and kicked over a fairy ring and ever since the Horseman's haunted the town."

"But surely half the town'd be dead by now?" she asked, frowning. "Didn't your pa say Mister Van Holt died of heart failure? Was his head still on?"

"It was, but he'd gone into the darkling wood during the witching hour," Adam said seriously, "which is when the Horseman's about his business. I think it was the fairies what got him, and we still got a town coz everyone knows not to go about at that time of night. But there's still been murders. Heads never found, unsolved..." He shook his head somberly and cast his eyes down. Jenny ignored that his gaze was distracted by her decolletage.

"Do you know where the fairies are? Could you show me? I've always wanted to see one." Jenny leaned forward as though eager to go on some adventure with him. Adam leaned forward in response.

"Not exactly. But I can show you roundabouts where they play."

~*~

"You're a positively fine dancer, Ichabod," Katrina said with an inviting smile. Her pretty pink lips looked as though they had never been kissed but would like it very, very much. "Grace personified. So many men around here move like bears taught to stand on their hind legs, a girl is constantly in fear for her feet. Wherever did you learn to move so?"

Katrina listened attentively and responded appropriately as they danced. Her golden hair bounced as they moved as did other parts of her person, though in a pleasant way which might not be considered lewd. She was charming and witty and claimed the next dance with the new stranger as well, much to the chagrin of a brawny lad who went to sulk into his beer when she all but ignored him. At the end of their second dance she fanned herself delicately and took John's arm.

"After such exertion I'm parched!" she declared. "Won't you take a drink with me?"
 
It was an odd sensation, dancing with another woman. Without Jenny present, that is. Most dances they'd attended had been boisterous parties, with wild music as you passed partners back and forth to end up with the one you'd started with. Even the few more formal dances they'd been to, such as Lucy's marriage to a wealthy Cardiff banker, had expected that you wouldn't dance with the same person twice in a row. It just wasn't proper, and even though he'd never been ]i]proper[/i] he'd made the effort. But Jenny had always been there, his first dance of the night and his last, and more than once dance inbetween.

But now he was dancing with a beautiful young woman who was clearly taking great pains to display how beautiful and graceful she was. "Oh, I've done quite a few things in my life," he answered. "Learning to dance was one of them." He went into a turn, and Katrina took that as an excuse to mold herself to him - a daring move, but one that could easily be dismissed as the necessities of letting him spin her. He might have taken it that way himself, if he hadn't felt her lean in and press her breasts against his chest. The feeling was roused mingled desire and guilt - he was a married man, after all, even if his cover required him to pretend otherwise - and he was grateful when the dance ended.

So, naturally, Katrina claimed a second dance as well. Finally, when it was over, she made a great show of fanning herself before taking his arm. "After such exertion I'm parched! Won't you take a drink with me?"

"I would be delighted," John said by reflex, aware that Ichabod absolutely would be delighted, and that he certainly wouldn't be trying to make excuses to avoid the attentions of a pretty young lady. So he escorted her to the sidebar, and poured her a glass of punch before dipping one for himself. It was strong stuff, brandy and sugar and water flavored with citrus peel, but nothing near as strong as he'd consumed on a daily basis as a pirate. And now that he was dead - or undead, or reborn, or whatever he was - it barely effected him at all. "So," he asked, struggling for something to say, "have you lived your whole life in Sleepy Hollow?"

Katrina sipped at her punch, smiling. "Not at all," she smiled. "I was sent to a finishing school in New York, and only returned last year. Father had wanted to send me to Europe afterwards, but with the current unpleasantness..."

He nodded at that. "His Majesty's navy wouldn't permit a passenger ship to make the crossing, if they came upon it."

"Not at all," she agreed, nodding. "And then there's the pirates. Abraham Whipple, and the Brown brothers." She shuddered delicately, making a show of it. "Heaven only knows what they might do to a young lady, if she were to fall into their hands."

"Not much, most likely," John muttered. "They style themselves privateers, not pirates, so they'd not likely do anything to make themselves look bad to the colonies.

She looked suddenly interested. "You know them?" she breathed.

"A... little," John allowed. "Abe's stodgy, with the soul of a merchant. He plans to get rich on British goods, and retire when the war ends. And the Browns?" He shrugged. "John's a fine captain, but Nicholas is simply riding his coattails..." His voice trailed away as he saw her eyes go wide and fascinated, and he realized he might have said too much.

"Oh, my," she breathed, stepping a little closer. "You do know them." She rested a soft hand lightly on his arm. "I should so wish to meet a real pirate, Ichabod. I've read all about the exploits of Blackbeard and Morgan, and Barbossa and my favorite - Captain Jack Sparrow." She leaned a little closer. "Do you know him, Ichabod?"


"Not exactly. But I can show you roundabouts where they play," Adam said, trying not to stare at Jenny's breasts. "It's not far, actually. Maybe an hour's walk. If you're not... uhm... if you're not busy tomorrow afternoon, maybe... maybe I could show you?" He swallowed, hoping he wasn't blushing. Sure, she had a couple of years on him. But that hardly mattered, did it? She was really pretty, still, and he couldn't figure out why she wasn't married yet. Did the schoolmaster just not like women?

At that moment his parents returned, ma carrying a pie and pa carrying a tray with a pitcher and a wedge of cheese. Kaylee, bored by the grown-up talk, perked right up at the sight and fairly applauded as her mother cut into the pie. Soon everyone had a slice of apple pie topped with cheese, and almost everyone had a foam-headed mug of beer to wash it down with. Kaylee didn't get any beer, much to her annoyance. "You'll be taking Kaylee with you, if you go," Mister van Tassel said.

Adam blinked, confused. "What?"

"If you take Miss Dolan to go see the 'fairy ring' in the hollow," his father said. "Then you'll take Kaylee with you. Or a few of your friends." He took a bite of the pie. "Wouldn't be proper, otherwise."

"Pa..." Adam groaned, embarrassed.
 
Was he courting her? Had he just asked her on a date? Were they courting now? Jenny tried not to think about all the implications of this as she tried to formulate an answer.

"Well there's lots to do to make that old place livable," she said slowly. "But Mister Crane's a lenient taskmaster. I don't think he'd grudge me getting about town for a couple of hours. I'd dearly love to see it." She smiled charmingly and told herself it was just so he'd warm up to her more and not because she was flattered.

And yes. Yes this appeared to be a courtship. Mister von Kalt's insistence that they take his sister or some friends was all too familiar. Nearly a hundred years ago her own father had insisted upon the same, though that hadn't kept each couple from giving the others privacy. Jenny smiled again after swallowing her bite of pie and waved a hand dismissively.

"I don't mind," she insisted cheerfully. "It wouldn't be proper, and I doubt Mister Crane'd be too pleased if rumors went flying when we hadn't been in town not even two days. What a delicious pie, Mrs. von Kalt." She tried to get the attention taken off of them, but the woman of the house appeared just as upset as Adam that her husband had insisted that someone go with them. Clearly she wanted a wife for her son and fast.

~*~

Katrina's heart skipped a beat when Ichabod started talking about the pirates as though he knew them intimately. Well, he did know them intimately, it seemed. She had always dreamed about the adventure that might come from sailing on a pirate ship. Her bosom heaved lightly with excitement, her tight corset pushing them to be more prominent as she stepped closer to him.

"Oh, my," she breathed before resting her hand on his arm. "You do know them. I should so wish to meet a real pirate, Ichabod. I've read all about the exploits of Blackbeard and Morgan, and Barbossa and my favorite-Captain Jack Sparrow." Katrina leaned in a little closer, hopefully close enough that he could smell her perfume. "Do you know him, Ichabod?"

She was already half-convinced that he was a pirate. If he knew Jack Sparrow then she would know he was. Why a pirate would want to be a school teacher she had no idea, but she would feel free to ask him. After all, she had heard from some of the children in town that he'd said he was a seaman by trade. What was a pirate but a type of seaman?
 
"Why thank you, Jennifer," Mrs. von Kalt said, shooting a quick hard look at her husband. "It's a family recipe, it is, but I'd be glad to give it to you."

Mr. von Kalt looked startled. "Are you sure. You always swore that..."

His words cut off with a grimace as his wife took his hand, 'accidentally' digging fingernails into the ball of his thumb. "Oh, quite certain," she said sweetly. "It's such a delight to share with those who appreciate good things. Would you care for some more to drink?" she added, topping off Jenny's mug.

"I would, mommy!" Kaylee said cheerily.

"It's sweet cider for you, poppet, and you know it," her mother chided, picking up a different pitcher and laughing at her daughter's face. "Wine is a mocker, strong drink is raging: and whosoever is deceived thereby is not wise."

"But I wouldn't be deceived!" Kaylee protested. "I'd know it's beer!"

Chuckling, her mother topped off her glass with the sweet apple cider. "Do you know?" she said, refilling her own mug, "I believe I once saw the Horseman myself. A few years ago."

"Really?" both Kaylee and Adam asked it together, the young girl leaning in as she added. "Where? Was he scary?"

"Elizabeth," Mr. von Kalt groaned, "let's not fire flights of fancy, shall we?"

"No harm in a few ghost stories," his wife laughed. "It was... two years back, now. I was returning from quilting at Goodie van Ryke's house, later than I'd anticipated, and I heard hoofbeats behind me. Slow and steady, like the beast was walking. Well, I paid it no mind - there were no soldiers in the area, and this is civilized country, after all - and I kept walking. Then I heard a voice, deep and hollow. 'Whither goest thou, madame?' it asked."

She sipped her beer. "'To my home, good sir,', says I, 'where waits my strapping son and good husband and a brace of muskets.' For this was civilized country, but I saw no need to take risks. Well, the stranger man rode behind me for a dozen heartbeats without speaking."

She sipped again, and looked at her daughter. The little girl stared, wide eyed. "What happened?"

"Well, my poppet, the stranger man spoke again. 'Tis well, madame. For there are those abroad tonight it would be best not to meet. Se that thou goest home swiftly, lest thou come to harm.' And I glanced back at that, for it was a strange thing to say. And do you know what I saw?" She watched her daughter. "A man in a cloak, silhouetted against the moon, collar drawn up so that I could not see his head."

Kaylee gasped. "Then what?"

"Why then, little poppet, he...." She lunged across the table and grabbed at her daughter, making her squeal and jump. "CUT OFF MY HEAD!" Then both mother and daughter collapsed into laughter, as Mr. von Kalt shook his head desparingly.


"Yes, I know Jack Sparrow," John said. The words just sort of slipped out, and the minute he heard them he regretted them. Because there was a look of amazement and wonder in Katrina's eyes.

"You do?" she gasped, stepping even closer. "How do you know him, Ichabod?" There was a sly, conspiratorial look in her blue eyes as she looked around. "Your secret is safe with me," she whispered, resting a hand on his chest. "Whatever you wish to say to me will be locked in my heart."

"Uhm..." Shit. This was bad. Quick, what would Captain Jack do in this situation? No, that was a bad strategy, because it would end with getting slapped. "I... uhm... met him. Once. That is, he... uhm... oh!" Inspiration struck, and he gestured to the surly young man who'd been watching him all evening. "I've monopolized your dance card unfairly, Katrina, and it could be a scandal. Here," he stepped back, gesturing towards her erstwhile suitor. "Enjoy yourself. We can talk more, later."

She pouted, but allowed herself to be led out to the floor with a modicum of ill grace. As she danced, he chugged down two glasses of punch and dipped a third. Then a large hand clapped him on the shoulder. "Enjoying yourself, Mr. Crane?" Van Tassel boomed.

John coughed as punch burned down the wrong pipe. "Y... yes," he managed. "It's a lovely party."

"And some aspects lovelier than the others, hey my boy?" Van Tassel laughed "And my daughter Katrina seems quite taken with you."

John managed not to cough again. "It's... well, she hardly knows me."

"Ah, but that is easily remedied." Van Tassel threw an arm around him. "I'll be honest, Ichabod - may I call you Ichabod?"

"Of... of course."

"Good. My daughter is my sole heir, and I mean to see her married well. Sadly, with the war on, there's a certain lack of suitors." He looked at John meaningfully. "A clever man with some schooling, even if he makes but a teacher's wage, could do quite well for himself. Particularly if my daughter finds his company agreeable. Do you understand me, Ichabod?"

"Ah... yes, sir. Perfectly." John could feel his stomach sink at the comments, but tried to put a brave face on it. After all, the single Ichabod Crane would find this an incredible opportunity.

"Good. Then may we expect you for dinner tomorrow?"

"Yes, sir," John managed.
 
Jenny thanked Me. von Kalt for the recipe despite knowing that she probably expected a daughter in return. Well, they'd be long gone before that ever came to fruition. Now seemed to be the time for telling stories and Jenny racked her brain for a good ghost story. All of her own personal horrors would be inappropriate to recount in front of a child, and might get her a bad reputation besides, and then no one would talk candidly to her. Finally she decided on a course.

"In Ireland we have something like this horseman," she said, "but we call it a Dullahan. He rides about on a carriage drawn by horses from hell with his head on the seat next to him, and wherever he stops is where someone will die and he carries their soul off in his carriage." For Kaylee's sake she skipped over the fact that the Dullahan's carriage was covered with human skin and the wheels were spoked with thigh bones, that the lanterns were skulls burning bright with human fat, that if you looked upon him he'd lash out your eyes with a whip made of a hanged man's spine, and that he was terrifyingly real. "Well, years ago and miles away my hu--brother John had a girl who was real sick, so he went out into the woods seeking a witch by the name of Josephine Sumner, having been told she could help." She paused with a somber look but paid attention to see if the name rang any bells. "Now we Dolans are good Christians one and all but he was desperate. John found the witch, but not before avoiding the Dullahan once already and it was dark so he couldn't see that there was no head on the seat next to him."

"Where was it?" Kaylee asked, leaning forward with wide eyes.

"You gotta let me tell the story to find out," Jenny chided with a smile. "So John found old Josephine and she offered him a deal: if he'd sign her book in his blood, damning his soul to Hell once he died, she'd cast a spell that'd save his girl. Well, my brother was real tempted for a second... But then he did what he'd come to do. Instead of signing his name he stole her book! This made Josephine a might sore for sure, and my brother never was too observant so he didn't notice on a table that there was a skull. Josephine had stolen it from the Dullahan and when she whispered in its ear he'd do whatever she said. You can imagine she sent the Dullahan straight after John." Kaylee gasped and Jenny nodded. "He got away though. Crossed a covered bridge and found on the other side he wasn't being followed anymore, as demons can't cross running water. It all happened long ago, and believe it or not it's absolutely true." She nodded solemnly and looked around the table to look for any reaction to a modified version of what John had told her about his encounter with this witch.

~*~

Katrina danced her dance with Bron, who had always had designs on her. She hadn't minded. Bron was strong and handsome, after all, even if he wasn't very smart. But Ichabod was exotic. He was a pirate masquerading as a school teacher, and what could be more interesting? Once their dance was over Bron tried to talk to her but she pretended not to hear him as she made her way back to Ichabod.

"Well, that's quite enough exertion for now I think," she said, taking his arm. "You haven't told me yet how you come to know Captain Jack Sparrow. Some of the school children have said you told them you were a seaman by trade. Were you one of his crew?" Katrina looked up at him with wide, eager eyes and she pressed her body close to his.
 
"A real witch!" Kaylee gasped, then looked worried "Is she really a witch?"

"No, no," Mrs. von Kalt assured her daughter, giving Jenny a sharp look. "It's just a coincidence." From her tone of voice, it was clear she expected it to be a coincidence.

Adam cleared his throat. "I'm certain it was, mother. Jennifer is newly arrived in Sleepy Hollow, after all. Although, uhm..." He cast about, trying to think of a way to change the subject. "I was, uhm, well... there's a social, this evening. Well, a get-together, over at the Coles. I'd promised to play fiddle." He swallowed, looking nervous. "Maybe you'd like to come, Jenny? Meet some of the town?"


John was acutely aware of the slim young body Katrina pressed against him, and it roused thoughts that were hard to ignore. "I... sailed with him," he heard himself say, the words slipping out before he realized what he was saying. "Involuntarily," he added hastily, hearing her gasp and seeing her eyes widen, "and... some time ago."

"Oh, my," she breathed, resting a hand on her breast. "Tell me?" Then she took his arm, steering him towards a door. "Outside, of course. I imagine it's ptivate."

He thought fast as they stepped outside onto a covered porch. "Not much to tell," he said. "I was a younger man, and aboard a prize ship he captured. His crew gave me the choice of sailing with them, or being pitched overboard." He gave her his best pleading look. "You can't tell anyone, please. I've tried to put it all behind me, and... well, it could ruin me!"
 
"Oh everybody in the village said she was a witch sure enough," Jenny said slowly as though thinking on it. "But lookin' back I think she was probably just some old hermit woman scared the local kids and they started tellin' tales. Besides, I told you the story same way as John told it to me and me other brothers...but my brother John always were a right liar." She nodded sagely before shrugging. "True 'nuff he had a sick little girl, but as he had a black eye and no book I expect he got lost in the woods as he had no excuse gettin' lost in or sommat and was tryin' ta save face tellin' some outlandish tale."

Jenny hadn't expected Kaylee to get that scared by a simple story. She didn't know whether kids these days were just being raised to be too soft, or if by virtue of their upbringing and their father's profession her children had been less gullible than most, but her little nestlings had always had the sense to be afraid of what they'd seen and generally couldn't be scared by ghost stories about bogeymen and bodachs. Of course, bodachs had turned out to be real so that went to show what she knew...

"A...a social?" Jenny hadn't been to a social in ages! Her last one must have been nigh on forty years ago and even then her knees and hips had bothered her so fiercely that she'd had no choice but to sit and watch all the others dance. On the one hand she shouldn't be encouraging young Adam to pursue her in such away. She didn't want to hurt his feelings, after all. On the other hand it would give her an opportunity to see if anyone else had more information about the horseman since her probe into Josephine hadn't yielded anything, and it had been decades since she'd had proper fun the way she used to. "I'm a fair hand at the bodhran, if you need a drummer," she admitted bashfully.

"Knew a gypsy once," Jenny reminisced as she walked with Adam over the dark hill past the church. He was starting to grow on her, and she had to admit he was handsome. Perhaps if she'd belonged in this time with these people, if she weren't married and madly in love, she would have considered hitching herself to him. "Could fiddle like a madman that one, couldn't hardly keep me feet up with him. Sometimes he'd fiddle so fast I'd fear his bow'd catch fire." She chuckled and looked sideways at him. Maybe encouraging him a little wouldn't do much harm; it was good for her self-esteem at her age.

~*~

"Oh, my," Katrina breathed, her eyes widening with wonder when Ichabod admitted to sailing under Captain Jack Sparrow. "Tell me?" She didn't give him much choice as she took his arm and steered him towards the door. "Outside, of course. I imagine it's private."

Out in the chilly evening she remained close to him and looked at him expectantly. "Not much to tell," he admitted. "I was a younger man,a board a prize ship he captured. His crew gave me the choice of sailing with them, or being pitched overboard."

"You were on the Parson's Pride?" she asked breathlessly. It was the only ship that made sense and she'd read about it extensively, considering it had happened only a few hundred miles from New York's coast.

"You can't tell anyone, please," Ichabod pleaded. "I've tried to put it all behind me, and...well, it could ruin me!"

"Your secret is safe with me, Ichabod," Katrina promised solemnly. She shivered and stepped closer, using the chill as an excuse to press herself against his warm, strong body. He was stringy but she could tell beneath those clothes was hard muscle just made for holding someone. "I promise I'll never tell. Oh it must have been so exciting though! What was he like? What were you doing aboard the Parson's Pride? How I wish I could go sailing one day and meet a pirate like Jack Sparrow!"
 
"Don't know if I can play the fiddle quite that fast," Adam laughed. "Maybe if you tap out the rhythm on a drum, though, I can keep up." He let his gaze linger in her for a moment, then glanced back at the house. "And sorry about mom. It's just, well, Kaylee's got a real imagination, she does. And we've got a Josephine Sumner, moved into town a couple of years back." A shrug. "Mom just doesn't want her getting any funny ideas, you know? About witches, I mean."

They rounded a turn in the path, and the church came into view. I was tall and whitewashed, the front lit by a bonfire and a number of oil lamps set around. A score or more youth, mostly around Adam's age, were gathered around drinking from a cask and laughing and talking. "About time you arrived!" one of them shouted, waving. "And who's that?"

"What?" Adam laughed. "Your guitar isn't enough? And this is Jennifer Dolan, our new schoolmaster's maid. Jennifer, this is..."

"George Vanderberg," interrupted the other man, bowing dramatically. "At your service. May I get you a drink, or...?"

Adam shoved him lightly. "Get her a drum,bwhile you're at it. She's offered to help with the music!"


"No, you don't," John said by reflex, then caught Katrina's puzzled expression. "I... was on the Black Pearl herself, and even though Cap'n Jack prided himself on being a gentleman it was no place for a lady."

She pressed a little closer, and John found himself utterly distracted by the feel of her body. He loved Jenny dearly, but things were getting a little... boring, maybe? It had been a while since he'd been this turned on by the mere touch of a woman, and dear God what was he thinking! "They really aren't romantic, you know. Bad teeth on most pirates, and worse hygine."
 
Jenny's ears pricked at the mention of a newly-arrived Josephine Sumner. "Aye, I understand," she said, nodding. "New folk moving into a small village like this have it hard enough already as outsiders without the children spreading nasty rumors. Besides," she added with a chuckle, "witches live in the woods and are old and ugly; I'm sure if she were any of that she'd have already got a reputation by now."

When George Vanderberg introduced himself Jenny curtsied politely, amused by his pomp. "A drink and a drum'd be a right glad sight," she answered with a smile. She debated inwardly for a moment whether to surprise them by drinking them all under the table before deciding that drawing attention to herself--and impressing the boys besides--probably wasn't the most prudent path to travel. "I best not be about all night, as Mister Crane might be a bit cross if I'm out late and rise late. But I don't see what a good few hours would hurt."

~*~

Katrina frowned when Ichabod contradicted her, that she never wanted to meet Captain Jack Sparrow. When he pointed out their poor hygiene she laughed. "Well you have quite perfect teeth," she pointed out, "and smell just fine. And if this Jack Sparrow is a gentleman then surely he would protect a lady aboard his ship?" She toyed distractedly with the fabric of his sleeve, her fingertips tracing patterns over his arm as if quite by accident. "If nothing else I'm certain you would protect me, dear Ichabod."
 
"A drink and a drum? Right away!" George headed for the cask, and Adam watched him go with a feeling of relief. Sure, Jennifer was a little older than him. But she was pretty, and he liked talking to her, and he sure didn't want George hanging around. Not that he disliked George, but the man had a way with the ladies that he envied.

But then George returned, lugging a small drum and three mugs of cider, and that washed away a little of the resentment.

"Nah, I can't be out all night either," Adam agreed, checking the tuning on his fiddle. "The cows won't milk themselves, after all." He tightened a string, checked it again, then looked around. Tom had his flute, and Walter his guitar, and Jenny had the drum. "What say we start off with something simple?"

"Portsmith?" Tom suggested.

"Sounds good." Adam raised his fiddle. "Ready?"



"I would at that," John agreed, distracted by the feel of her fingers. She really was quite pretty. Not a candle to his Jenny, mind, but if he was a single young man? Well, then he'd be trying to figure out a way to act on some of the ideas his brain was conjuring. "Not that seems necessary, around here." A grin. "No pirates, after all. Or anything else dangerous, really. Sleepy Hollow seems a good name for the town."
 
Jenny took a long drink of what to her may as well have been apple juice and flexed her fingers, twirling the drumsticks experimentally. It had been years since she'd played, since her hands had gotten stiff and arthritic in her age and they'd been working ever since. Jenny couldn't help but grin. It felt good to play again, even if she was always better on the bodhran. After moving to Hag's Head she'd made her living as a music teacher, giving mostly singing lessons but also a bit of drum or piano if the parents had one. Between her siblings and John and his father their children had acquired talent on a variety of instruments and she'd taught them to sing so that, as she said, no matter where in the wide world they went even if they hadn't a ha'penny to their name they could always sing for their supper.

"I haven't played in years!" she said once they'd done the first song. "Oh that felt wonderful!"

~*~

Katrina smiled brightly when Ichabod confirmed that he would protect her. "Always the gentleman," she purred, leaning in closer. When he suggested that there was nothing dangerous around, however, her lips turned down into a small, pretty frown and she shook her head. "Oh I wouldn't say that," she said darkly. "Not with the Horseman riding nigh on each night. He preys mostly on anyone unwise enough to go about on the witching hour but there's been a time or two he's broken down doors. So they say, anyway. I'd much rather take my chances with Captain Sparrow, especially with you here to protect me."

She shouldn't have brought up the Headless Horseman. It was stupid and killed the mood, and so Katrina tried to rescue it by bringing the topic back around to how strong and handsome Ichabod was. She'd almost managed to steal a kiss, after all, and how inappropriate would it be to try that while talking about the deceased?
 
"The Horseman?" John asked, showing a touch more interest than he'd intended. Even now, a century on, he could feel the the pulse-pounding terror of that midnight run, hear the thunder of hooves and the voice that warned him to fly for the bridge. It had very nearly been his death, and news if it caught his attention. "What do you know of it?"

"It's just a silly story," Katrina huffed, clearly annoyed. "A local ghost, to frighten children."

"But that's fascinating!" John replied, giving her his best smile. "Folklore is a... a hobby of mine. It began..." he made a show if looking around, then leaned in conspiratorially. "It began well before I ever sailed on the Black Pearl," he whispered. "But I collected many a ghost story among the pirates as well."

He felt like a heel, playing with her like this. But he and Jenny had to deal with the witch and her Horseman, right? And he needed infirmation to do that, right? So he swallowed his misgivings and let just a hint of Caotain Jack off the keash. "We should return to the dance before our absence becomes a topic of conversation. But perhaps," he added, taking her hand, "if I may call on you tomorrow, we may trade tales?"


"Years?" Walter laughed, flexing his fingers. "You make it sound like you're an old woman."

"And you'd best be looking at her like she is, Walter Hoek!" laughed a young woman as she poked him in the ribs.

Walter laughed again, then threw an arm around her waist and kissed her. "And you know you're the only lass for me, Jo."

She kissed him back. "And don't you forget it!" she demanded, voice filled with mock anger as she jabbed him in the chest before looking at Jenny. "No offense, I hope. Only my fiancee here has a roving eye."

"Only an eye!" Walter protested, fingering a chord and starting to play. Tom joined in with his flute as Walter began singing. "In Amsterdam there dwells a maid,
"Mark well what I do say;
"In Amsterdam there dwells a maid,
"And she is mistress of her trade."

Jo made a noise of irritation, resting her hands on her hips. Walter's response was to launch into the chorus. "I'll go no more a-roving
"With you, fair maid,
"A-roving, a-roving,
"Since roving's been my ruin,
"I'll go no more a-roving
"With you, fair maid!"

As the two playfully bickered back and forth, with Jo taking up the woman's lines in the song, Adam cleared his throat nervously. "Jenny... uhm, would... would you care to... to dance?"
 
Ichabod was simply darling when he was talking about something that he enjoyed. That smile...by God that smile could turn any woman's knees to jelly! Was it any wonder Katrina herself was disappointed when he suggested that they return inside. She sighed, knowing that he was right and that tongues would wag if they were out here very much longer.

"Well let them talk," she said, pushing herself onto her toes to place a sweet kiss on his cheek before taking his hand and following him inside. "I would be delighted to hear about the sorts of lore you collected from pirates. I hear they're a very superstitious lot."

When they stepped back inside there were knowing looks from one or two people, with Bron looking sullen and sour but her father nodding approvingly. He was very red-faced by now and his belly shook when he laughed. "I'm afraid my father may be too far into his cups," Katrina giggled. "Would you care for another dance, Ichabod?"

~*~

"Life makes you old before your time," Jenny said sagely before a young woman joined them. It didn't escape her that the pretty young lass was called Jo--no doubt short for Josephine--but she didn't think it prudent to inquire as to her surname at this time. She smiled at the teasing banter of courtship and shook her head when the other woman's attention was turned to her. "Oh none at all," she said, waving a hand dismissively.

Adam finally managed to get up the nerve to ask her for a dance and she smiled. The dear lamb! He was handsome and strong but lacked a certain sort of confidence that had seemed much more prevalent in her day. Standing she took his hand and tried not to lead as they danced.

"All these English chanteys," she teased, shaking her head as he spun her. "Give me time and I'll teach you lot some proper Irish music. The lovingest love songs and saddest sad songs you'll ever turn an ear to."
 
For the first few seconds Adam, acutely aware of the pretty young woman he was with, danced awkwardly. But he swiftly fell into the rhythm of the song, and proved to be a reasonably skilled partner. And when William and Jo finished their impromptu duet, he joined in with the applause and cheers before taking Jenny's arm for the beginning of the next dance - an enthusiastic Roger de Coverley that gave everyone present an opportunity to dance with everyone else. Technically, as the fiddler, Adam should have played. But William kept up a blisteringly fast reformable on his guitar that left nothing lackluster no.

"Your turn," William called as he finished, setting his instrument down. "You don't get to have all the fun!"

"Right, right," Adam called back, drawing a mug of cider for himself and mother for Jenny. "Be right there!"

Jo join Ned the two at the barrel, carrying two mugs as well. "Aren't you going to introduce us?" she asked.

"Sure," Adam agreed. "Jennifer, this is Jo Sumner, Sleepy Hollow's apothecary."

She blushed at that. "You make it sound so formal," she said with a giggle. "I just know herbs, is all."

"Jon, this is Jennifer Dolan, maid to the new schoolmaster."

Jo bobbed in as small curtsy. "It's good to meet you," she said gravely, then added with a small grin: "And to finally not be 'the new girl in town'."


John felt guilty as he danced. Not just for flirting with Katrina - although there was plenty of that, for all his awareness that he needed to learn more about the town. He felt guilty because he hadn't enjoyed dancing this much in years. And because the way Katrina pressed against him as they danced made him begin to idly imagine what she might be like in a different kind of dance, one where...

Stop it! He was a married man, after all!

"Sadly," he said as the music ended, "I must take my leave. I've got classes in the morning, after all." He hesitated. "May I call on you again? I have some stories to tell, after all. And I'd love to learn more of this Horseman."

"Then you should stay a little longer," Brom said, inviting himself into the conversation.

"Oh?" John lifted an eyebrow, curious. "Why?"

The big man chuckled grimly. "It lacks an hour to midnight, Mr. Crane. Wait a trifle longer, and perhaps you'll see him ride."
 
"They say he was a mercenary in the war a few years back," Brom said as people gathered around. Everyone always loved a good ghost story and Brom was known for being the best at telling the Horseman's tale. "Some soldiers ran him down and he hid in the darkling woods. But there was nowhere the Horseman could hide; he was caught! For his traitorous ways they cut off his head and buried it in the woods, then buried his body on unhallowed ground. Now he rides each night during the witching hour searching for his head. And if he can't find his head? Well...he might just take yours instead." He graced them all with a ghoulish grin. "But worry not if you find yourself in the Hollow at that dreaded hour. The demon cannot cross running water and the covered bridge that spans the brook will be your salvation. Once you've crossed that bridge, my friends, your soul is safe for one more night."

"Doesn't it just chill you to the bones?" Katrina whispered, looping her arm with Ichabod's in an attempt to make him stay. She was, after all, sixteen and deeply smitten with the idea of such a worldly and handsome an as Ichabod Crane. She wished she could pass the whole night with him. At the wording of that thought she blushed and turned her face away but didn't let go of his arm.

~*~

Jenny took her cider with a smile, laughing along with the others. She shouldn't feel guilty for having a good time without John; she was allowed to. She was her own person, after all, and it was nice to have the attention of the young lads again. She liked the way they looked at her, all shiny and new, an unknown. She knew that being new and foreign made her all the more intriguing. She had never been a flirt or very extroverted in her previous life...but why not in this one? John had a part to play and would have to put himself out there to get the job done--she knew better than to expect that Captain Jack would stay away forever--so why shouldn't she? Why couldn't she play the part of the coquette, especially when they wouldn't be staying very long anyway? So long as she gave herself only to her husband, saved her heart only for him the way she had always vowed, there was nothing wrong with a self-esteem boost.

Was there?

Instead of thinking on it and ruining the party she shook hands with Jo Sumner while doing her best not to look like she recognized the name. "Well, I've been 'the new girl' so many times, what with how Mister Crane travels, I'm happy to take the torch." She smiled and took a sip of the cider which was having no effect on her sobriety whatsoever. That was sort of nice. "So you're an apothecary? That must be so interesting! Surprised they let women get a proper education here, or trade rather. What sorts of medicines do you mix up?" She put her chin on her hand and looked interested, though she too knew herbs from what John had taught her. Perhaps this Jo Sumner was stupid enough to get bold and tilt her hand.
 
"Once you've crossed that bridge my friends, your soul is safe for one more night."

John barely registered Katrina's words, lost as he was in his own memories. Josephune Sumner howling curses ast him as he sprinted from her hut with her Black Book. The desperate midnight race with the unseen horseman, and the hatchet he still owned. He'd assumed the Fairy Queen had spoken some approximation of the truth, of course, but it was disconcerting to hear it spiken aloud by ordinary folk. "Yes," he agreed absently. "Chilling."

The words seemed to galvznize him. "Until tomorrow, then," he said, bowing and kissing Katarina's hand. Then he collected hat and coat. Brom waited at tge door, glaring at him. He stopped and waited, staring at the (much) younger man.

"You be careful, Mister Crane," Brom said, stepping close. His voice dropped to a fierce whisper. "Who knows what you might run into, there."

Jack smiled back. "Sir," he said, swaying a tiny bit as he leaned on his cane. "I've yet to meet anything so dangerous that I couldn't outhink it if I couldn't outfight it or outfight it if I couldn't outthink it, so your concern is noted but I assure you I'll be all right." He swayed forward, looking Brom in the eyes. "Will you be?" Then, without waiting for a response, he swaggered past.

"Is that a threst?" Brom barked at his back.

Jack turned, surprise writ large on his face. "Does it need to be?" Then, whistling the tune to High Barbary, he swaggered and swayed off down the road.



"Apothecary's a grand title, and one I don't have the schooling to claim," Jo laughed, blushing a little. "I just know the herb lore my mother and grandmother taught me, and do what I can."

"You're too modest," William protested, slipping his arm around her waist and letting it roam a little. "You do wonders fir the town."

"It's not the town you're thinking if!" she laughed, slapping his hand. "And behave yourself!" Leaning back against against him with a contented sigh, she studied Jenny closely. "Have... have we met? Before, I mean. You look... familiar."
 
The walk home for John was quiet. Almost silent. Suspiciously silent. Frogs didn't croak, night birds didn't call, not even a bat out for its breakfast squeaked. A shadow flitted across the moon too quickly for him to see.

~*~

Jenny made herself smile at the lovers' playful banter, but couldn't bring herself to feel the happiness at their good fortune that she normally would. Poor William! Courting a witch and not even knowing it! She made a mental note to try and make Josephine Sumner disappear as quietly as possible, that folk might think she'd run off instead of accusing William of knowing the whole time that she was a witch. At the question of familiarity Jenny raised her eyebrows and tried not to look guilty.

"Don't think so," she said honestly. They hadn't met, after all. "Not unless you've been to Killarney in the past few years." Her ears pricked at a noise and she hushed the others gently. Horses hooves. "Are we expecting anyone else?"

"Everyone's here," William said slowly. "Why?"

She didn't need to tell him why. Illuminated clearly by the light of the full moon was a great black horse with eyes of flame. Its rider seemed to have misplaced his head. Jenny mouthed wordlessly for a few moments before scrambling to her feet. She didn't know what would happen if she died--or even if she could die--but she didn't intend to find out tonight in front of all these witnesses. She pulled at Adam's shirt to tug him to his feet while trying to shepherd the others as well.

"The church!" she finally managed to get out. "Get in the church!" Demons--or whatever this was--couldn't touch hallowed ground. God knew whether the ministers had ever thought to bless the land around the church, but the building itself was surely consecrated. As she shouldered the door open a throwing axe embedded itself in the wood just above her head. The message was clear: this had been a warning, and there wouldn't be a second. Still, she was the last inside after ushering everyone in then slamming the door behind them and having Adam help her bar it with a pew. "Chalk...chalk! I need chalk! Or ink! Something!"

A confused teenager found some chalk for her, and with it she drew the symbols of Saint Brigid and Saint Eligius, scrambling to mentally think of any sort of occupation she could have missed that might be in this church. She had been devout in her first life, and with the free time granted by an eternal afterlife her knowledge of saints and their patronages was nearly encyclopedic; it didn't occur to her that these Protestants may think these to be perversions of the cross. The horseman beat on the door, startling her away from it, but couldn't break it in. Her heart was in her throat when he appeared by the window.

"Naomh Bríd," she prayed aloud, "Bhí tú bean na síochána. Thug tú dul áit a raibh coimhlint. Thug tú solas ar an dorchadas. Thug tú dóchas don downcast.
Go raibh an maintlín de do tsíocháin a chlúdach iad siúd atá buartha agus imníoch, agus féadfar an tsíocháin a bheith fréamhaithe go daingean i ár gcroí agus inár saol. Spreagadh dúinn a bheith ag gníomhú go cóir agus go reverence léir chruthaigh Dia. Bríd bhí tú guth don lucht créachtaithe agus an traochta. Neartú a bhfuil lag laistigh linn. Calma sinn i quietness a heals agus éisteann. Is féidir linn ag fás gach lá i wholeness mó i gcuimhne, comhlacht agus spiorad. Amen." Jenny crossed herself fervently, ignoring the looks she was getting, before beginning again. "St. Eloi, le do lámha saoirsithe tú áilleacht agus le do chroí a bhuaigh tú cairde agus tríd an dá glóire tú Dia. Befriend dúinn, naomh daor, agus guí go mbeidh muid úsáid as ár mbuanna Dia-tugtha chun freastal ar Eisean. Amen."

It was all a bit premature, if she were honest, but if the saints would intercede on their behalf then they could live to do the things she asked in these prayers. Besides, what better way to get a saints attention than by their own prayer? She repeated these prayers several times, interspersed with Our Fathers and Hail Marys and unstructured prayer asking for safety until, eventually, the sounds of the Horseman trying to gain entry to the church faded away. Jenny let out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding and stood, her young knees aching in too-familiar ways.

"Thank God," she breathed.
 
There was a brittle edge of near-panic to the voices of the young men and women as they huddled in the chapel. Eyes were wide and breaths caught as they heard the hoofbeats outside, circling the church. Heard the doors rattle as something tested them and recoiled when Jenny chalked the symbols on them. One or two, Jo among them, watched in uncomprehending confusion as she repeated her unintelligable phrases.

Finally, the sound of hoofbeats faded away. Steeling himself, Adam cracked the door and peered outside. "He... he's gone," he announced, shaking just a little.

"I... never thought he was... real," William said softly.

"I didn't think so either," Jo said, still clinging to him. She looked at Jenny. "But... she sent him away. How... is that something Mister Crane taught you? Some kinda... spell?"
 
Jenny looked at her blankly for a moment, uncomprehending. "A sp--! Madam!" She flushed angrily, knowing what this woman was doing. "We're good Christians both, Mister Crane 'n me! That is for Saint Brigid," she pointed to the square-ish cross, "and that for Saint Eligius. It was prayer not a spell! I didn't send it away, God did. How else d'ya think it couldn't come in? Chalk isn't nothin'; it's what's done with it matters."

She shook her head and muttered darkly to herself as she wiped away the symbols on the doors. It wouldn't do to have those still there come Sunday morning. Trying to frame her as the witch! Who did this Sumner woman think she was dealing with?

"Catholics aren't witches, despite what you may've heard," she said testily, wiping away the last of Saint Brigid's cross. There were still powdery white smears on the doors, but the crosses themselves are gone. "We're God-fearing folk just the same as you. Promise."
 
Adam looked around, the expressions on a few of the faces making him nervous. Most of the gathered youths just looked relieved, but a few regarded Jenny as if she really were a witch. "She said grace with my family," he added, feeling awkward even as he tried to rise to her defense. "And set foot in the church."

"There's that," Jo agreed thoughtfully. "Everyone knows a witch can't speak the name of God, or enter consecrated land."

A general air of agreement swept through the sanctuary, although a few faces remained hard and wary. Slowly, the life gone out of the party, people began to filter out and recover scattered possessions before departing. Adam, who'd held onto his violin, poked about for the case he'd discarded.

"I should walk you home," he said, glancing at Jenny. "I don't think it's safe out, not right now." He nodded towards Arthur, who watched them both with hooded eyes. "And not just because of him. The Horseman might still be out and about." He shuddered a little, trying to look brace. "So, let me see you home? Just to make sure you get there safe?"


John opened the door of the cottage, noting with some concern that it was dark and silent inside. "Jenny?" he called softly, feeling slightly foolish as he did. Yes, she was his wife. But she was also Red Jenny, for all that she'd sworn that part of her life had been a desperate attempt at survival. She could take care of herself.

Against the Horseman? questioned a traitor thought, making him shiver. Memories of that nightmare midnight run had returned with the tales of the evening, further inflamed in imagination by the galloping horse he'd heard as he walked home.

A few minutes of fumbling in an unfamiliar dark room and a barked shin later, John was rewarded by the cherry glow of an oil lamp. And by a note on the table, informing him that she'd been invited to a neighbor's home for dinner. Relief washed through his as he realized that his concerns had been foolish. "Horseman," he snickered. "Worst thing she's probably had to face is bad cooking."
 
The silence between them as Jenny allowed Adam to walk her home was palpable. She herself was wondering how Josephine had gotten into the church, and whether they'd been spared the Horseman's ax by her will or by God's. It didn't help that half the young folk thought she was a witch now, and Adam himself didn't seem quite as comfortable around her as before. Perhaps part of that was because of the Horseman, and although she wasn't obligated to explain herself to him, it might help. Letting the right bits of gossip get around may take some suspicion from her, or at least ameliorate the fact that she was a practicing Catholic.

"I...wasn't entirely truthful earlier, with your family," she admitted, sighing heavily. "The story I told, about John and the Horseman...it's true, or at least John said so and I believed him. He ah...he wasn't my brother. He was my husband. Our little girl was sick and he was fool enough to go looking for a cure where he oughtn't have, we were that desperate. He got killed in the war when it first broke out--conscripted, y'know--and our Anne died soon after. My family worked for Mister Crane's and we were brought up together, so when he heard I was all alone...well, that's when I went back to Belfast and started working for him again, then we came here." On the other side of the hill she could see a light in their little cabin and wondered how long John had been home. Deciding to ham it up a little, she slowed and looked at Adam. The tears in her eyes glittered in the moonlight.

"Please don't let them take me for a witch," she begged, her voice cracking. "I just...I did what my John said to do. H-h-he said he prayed to God 'n Mary 'n the Saints and they kept 'im safe from the witch and the Horseman, an-and it gave up the chase once he crossed the bridge 'cross Saint Brigid's Well. So I figure if they kept him safe they'd keep us safe. Adam please..." She sniffled, trying to look every bit the helpless female. "I know how sommat like this can ruin a woman's reputation, and I know how I look...some unmarried foreign Catholic girl traveling alone with a man...and then speaking words no one here understands. B-b-but I'm not a witch and I dunno if Mister Crane'd ever forgive me if we got run out because of me. Oh and if he let me go because of it--!" Jenny allowed tears to stream down her cheeks as she sniffed and wiped at them with the heel of her hand. Finally she took a deep, shuddering breath and made a show of trying to get a grip on her emotions.

"I'd be ruined," she said at length, "all because I was trying to help and someone thought me a witch just because they don't understand..." She looked up at him through her eyelashes, trying to gauge whether her performance was working to set the rumor mills turning in the other direction. If she could be branded the poor, misguided young widow in need of saving from her devilish Catholic ways instead of the red-headed witch, she could handle things much more easily and hopefully undo some of the damage tonight had done.
 
"I..." Adam hesitated, shocked by her confession. "I don't think you're a witch, Jenny. I know that Catholics have different beliefs, but....well, you were tge first to think of the church. And you were able to enter it, and I heard you praying with the rest of us."

God, but the fear on her face was heartbreaking. As was the tale of the death of her husband and daughter. Without stopping to think he gathered her into his arms, holding her close. "You won't be turned out," he murmured, squeezing a little in what he hioed was a comfirtu,ing fashion. "Not if I have anything to say about it."

He'd meant the embrace to be comfirting, but he was suddenly aware of the way she felt through her dress as she pressed into him. Of the scent of woodsmoke and likac in her hair, and the way her eyes shimmered in the moonlight. He found that he very muvh wanted to kiss her, in that moment.

Instead, suddenky awkward, he let her go. "Uhm... that is... I, I'm sorry. I... presume too much. You must, I mean, you're probably still in mourning. And I..." He hesitated, warring with himself. She was a widow, and she'd borne a child. Yes, but she wasn't that much older, and the fact didn't make her any less pretty. And, wel, he'd enjoyed being with her. Catholic or no, widow or no, what did any of that change. "Uhm. May I, I mean, after my work is finished... can I call on you? Maybe... show you ariund town?"
 
Jenny hugged Adam tightly, sniffling and shaking a little in his embrace as though scared or nervous. She seemed to have become quite the actress, seeing as Adam promised her that she wouldn't be run out of town and they fell into that tense silence which always seems to punctuate the courtship of two young people, just before someone makes a move. Suddenly he let her go and she sniffled again, wiping at her eyes and shaking her head.

"It's okay," she assured him. "I miss 'im, my John, but that was five years ago. He's been dead longer'n we were married." She smiled nervously. The only reason that was even technically a lie was because he'd only been dead half as long as they'd been married, at least in life. Really the only lie she'd told him was when John had actually died, and how. "He told me before he left, 'Jenny,' he said, 'if sommat happens to me, go out and be happy. You mourn my death then you go out and live best you can.' So...that's what I'm doing." She gave him a watery smile before taking his hand and gently steering him down the hill into the valley. When he asked to call on her she nodded. "I think that would make me very happy, Adam." She needed to go into town anyway to stock their pantry; surely having someone to show her where to get things would make it that much easier.

Jenny ignored that she was finding herself becoming fond of the boy young enough to be her grandson's grandson. She felt a twinge of guilt as she imagined those farm-strong arms wrapping around her, hiking her up and pinning her against the wall, or how the muscles of his hips would feel beneath her fingers as he pl--

No. Regardless of the lies she told Adam, she was a married woman. Besides, they were at her door now and it wouldn't do for John to know think that slickness between her legs had been caused by anyone else. Standing at the door, Jenny bid Adam goodnight and promised to see him tomorrow before standing on her toes to kiss his cheek chastely then slipping inside. John had waited up for her, of course, and she gave him a sly smile as she sidled up to him.

"Well, Mister Crane," she said, draping her arms around his neck, "I've met a few people in the neighborhood, found our witch, and I do believe I may be engaged to the van Kalt boy before the year's out. Have you been as busy, sir?" Jenny grinned and leaned up to kiss him.
 
John kissed his wife enthusiastically - scandalously, realky, if he had truly been Uchabod Crane and she his servant Jenny Dolan. "Engaged, hm?" he said, offering a playful frown. "You've been busy, then. But, no busier than I have. Magistrate van Tassel has an eligible daughter, it seems." He kissed Jenny again, trying nit to think of Katrina. "And somehow, I - well, Ichabod - is considered a prize." He hesitated. "Am? I suppose I should get my tenses right, if I'm to be a schoolaster. Anyway, I'm supposed to call on her tomorrow, when I plan to get more information on the Horseman."

God, but he was turned on. Katrina had been pretty, and something about the accidental flirting had gotten into his blood. He knew that they were playing roles, that he was supposed to be Schoolmaster Ichabod Crane and she was supposed to be his live-in servant, and that they needed to avoid the apoearance of scandal to pursue the Fairy Queen's demands. But somehow, right niw, that just made him want her more.

Without stopping to think he pushed Jenny against the wall, pinning her wrists abive her head as he kissed her roughly. "You're a wicked wench, Jennifer Dolan," he growled. "Courting without permission." A dark, hungry gaze burned into her moss green eyes. He pressed against her, feeling her body mold to his as he devoured her lips. "Maybe I should remind you of your place?"
 
Jenny grinned at their little game, turned on by the scandal it might cause if the van Kalts should see them through the window. "Well, I've seen the Horseman," she offered. "Damn near got taken as the witch just for protecting them once we all got into the church, and--oh!"

John pushed her against the wall, pinning her wrists over her head and kissing her. Their game, it seemed, excited him too. She tried not to imagine Adam--slightly taller than her husband, and broader from a different sort of work--pinning her there and pressing his young, hard body against her. She shuddered in excitement when he threatened to teach her her place. Would he use the same switch he used at the schoolhouse? How like a servant would he treat her?

"That's probably for the best, Mister Crane," she breathed, pressing her body against his. "I'm a wicked girl, courting a farm boy you've never met; it's only right you should punish me for it. I...I suppose I ought to tell you..." She groaned as they moved against each other and she took his earlobe between her teeth briefly. "Ought to tell you," she continued after forcing herself to focus on her husband once more. "I held his hand, Adam van Kalt. And I kissed him goodnight, right outside that door there. Just on the cheek. But I told him he could call on me tomorrow. I'm sorry Mister Crane. He's just so handsome and strong..."

It was partly a confession, partly an attempt at transparency. If they were both going to "court" others then she might as well be completely open about what she'd done and planned on doing. Jenny felt bad about it--infidelity in her heart was just as real as if she'd actually done it--but if she hadn't allowed Adam to court her she would have never seen the Horseman, and perhaps all those kids would be dead. She spread her feet, both for stability and to encourage Adam John in their game.

"Mister Crane..." she breathed, breasts heaving. "Punish me, sir. Absolve me of my trespasses against you."
 
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