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Mills and Mafia (LuanaXVictorian)

Luana_Blodwyn

Super-Earth
Joined
Jul 8, 2012
"Ah America. What joy and what rapture. See here the land of opportunity. A land where a poor Irish immigrant can lay claims to greatness. Sure as God himself made this country. This God's country says I." Column McTierany strode down the lines of the foundry. Dressed to impress he wore a pressed suit of dark grey silk, ever so faintly striped with dark blue. His button up shirt beneath starched to the rigidity of the steel his mills produce. A green silk tie a splash of color to his ensemble matching perfectly with his twinkling eyes. Hair the color of furnace flames was cropped short and slicked back with lavender scented pomade. Not that one could smell it over the oppressive odor of industry. Behind his his daughter smiled. No man could be more devoted to the land that had given him everything. She was the spitting image of her father. A cloud of red curls bounced and swayed with every jaunty stride. Her eyes, green as an Irish hillside, sparkled in a face as pale as fresh milk. The mill was hotter than hell, the oppressive summer heat still lingering though autumn drew near. She wore a high waited dress of a floaty, gauzy green that brought out the color of her eyes and clashed magnificently with her waves of red hair.

Column was well known to walk through the mill. He would pause and speak to the men. Thank them kindly for the work and ask about their families. There had been rumors of union labor, but those soon fled. Most were perfectly happy to work for the jovial man. Where went Column so followed Maeve. Some of the older men, foremen now, knew her as a small child. An impetuous and curious little thing grew into a fey and fair a beauty as Erin ever produced. Too dangerous a thing, letting a little one into a mill but Columb had insisted. She learned to be careful, not to bother the men when they were engaged in dangerous tasks. When able she would hound them with questions until they desperately searched to find work. Now grown she spent less time on the floor and more time in her father's office, learning the accounting and book keeping.

"Never a finer mill in all America, Da," she said with a grin. She had none of the brogue her father had, being just an infant when Column and his wife made the trip across the Atlantic in search of a new and better life. "Aye tis true. Now m'dear lass what say we look at books again then take lunch." Later in life and greater in girth Column rather enjoyed his meals. "As you wish, Da." They left the floor to his office, away from the noise, heat, and smell of the mill.

It was later in the day, near time for all to pack up and go home, when shouts rang through the mill. A blur of green, a cloud of red barreling through the mill. "Stop!" The men shouted, trying to catch the panicked, running girl. Her face was ashen, mottled with red and wet with sweat and tears. Eyes hardly seeing. A splash of wet red across her green dress. "She's hurt, catch her!" Hands reached out but the shrill scream when they near caught her made the men faulter.
 
Through the triumphant cheers one of the line workers caught Maeve mid flight. "Easy girl easy," he said as if speaking to a frightened animal. Maeve yelped at being caught but she was at least stilled. Her eyes were wide and wild. The cheers turned to murmuring as the workers gathered. Maeve was incoherent at best. "What's she saying?" One of the men demanded. The worker who held her still shook his head in bemusement. "I'm...not sure. Something about men...and...killed him..." "Look! Blood all over her dress!" The men huddled closer. Slashed across the front of her mossy green dress was a dark stain. A thick spray of blood across the very front. "Miss Maeve, you have to take a breath. What happened?"

Still her eyes were wide and wild. It played across her mind over and over again. The men in dark suits who stepped from the shadows. Their faces dark blurs as the forced her father to his knees. Something about the wrong family. Then the ear rending gunshot. It rang in her ears as much as her own scream. Brain and gore splattering her and the pavement. People shouting for her to stop. She couldn't stop! Were they mad? She needed...needed something. Fear had given her feet wings. Then a sudden stinging pain on her face.

The men around her. Not the men with dark, blank faces but the men of her father's mill. She touched her stinging cheek, feeling the heat and the throbbing. "Sorry..." One man said sheepishly, shaking his hand. "He...he's dead..." She said quietly, a hand to her cheek. "Who?" Several shouted at once. "Father." Chaos erupted. Shouts of calling the cops. All around her noise and yelling. "Cool it!" Someone shouted above the din. One Italian man shrank from the crowd and ran to Jimmy's office. "Ey, ah, Jimmy...we got a problem," he said, jerking a thumb to the scene. Slowly the men got Maeve to her feet. "Cal, you go call the cops. Dan, get some water for the miss. I'll take her somewhere quiet to sit."

Her head spun as one of the man, James, started leading her away. Her father was dead. Gone. In the blink of an eye, the beat of a heart.
 
Maeve was steered, not unkindly, into an office. Jimmy. Despite his involvement in the books she didn't actually know the man well. Not like the others in the mill. He kept books as well. Though why she had never been certain. Her father just said it was good to have another set of eyes for the accounting, in case anything was overlooked. She sat down and found a hot cup of coffee placed in her hands. She had never been partial to the noxious, dark drink but it was good to have something to hold on the. The warmth calmed her, even if just a little.

She started when he asked her about a funeral. For a moment she just stared up at the man. "Oh...yes I-I mean no...that is..." She stopped herself and took a long, deep breath. "I can handle the funeral. We will have the viewing on the estate. Father had said he wished to be buried in the grounds." She felt her throat tighten and her eyes burn. Control. She couldn't lose herself again. Her mad flight was embarrassment enough.

Then he spoke of the business. The cost of upgrades. She sat back in the chair, her face a mixture of surprise and revulsion. This hardly seemed the time for such questions. Before she could reply a roar of chaos came from out in the mill. Jimmy was quick to the door. With a quiet word the noise settled. Faintly she could still hear the men talking as Jimmy walked back over to her.

A frown creased her eyebrows as he spoke again. "I don't know anything you don't already know. Our books should be the same." Her voice grew steadier as she spoke. Somehow discussing business matters kept the wolves of grief at bay. For the moment at any rate. "As soon as he heard of the new smelting process he borrowed a little from the bank. Most of the money came from his savings. He keeps some money tucked away for just such events, you know this. Though...it wasn't enough for the safeties. He said as soon as the new equipment settled out and proved to be a useful he would invest in the safeties." She paused, thoughtful. "Jimmy...you realize this irregular to ask,now, of all times. The police will be here soon. I must speak with them."

Maeve got to her feet and put the mug of coffee on his desk. "I need to go home...plan the f-funeral. Tell mother...oh God..." She pushed her fingers to her temples. "How can I tell her? This will kill her...if she even..." Maeve shook her head. "I need to get ho-As ucht De! The car...it is still where.." She shook her head. "I am sure the police can take me home. We can discuss the books later. Will you tell the men to go home? The mill will be closed until the funeral. Two days from now I suppose."
 
Maeve's spine stiffened as Jimmy spoke. Her mind whirled at this private individual whom her father had supposedly borrowed money from. That wasn't possible. She had seen the bank notes herself. Red mottled her cheeks but then she turned a vibrant shade of red when he spoke of gambling. She opened her mouth to berate him but he pushed a thick file into her arms. The books were familiar enough. If she had time to look through them she would see they matched all she knew. But he said these were the ones the police needed to see. We're there books they couldn't see? What was going on? Jimmy had to be crazy. This was her father. A better man few knew. He didn't holdw with gambling and shady private investors.

A knock at the door and his entire demeanor changed. That scowl could scare the wimple off a nun. As soon as he turned back a kindly mask was back. Who was this guy? She gave him her own vicious glare, eyes narrowed to slits. "We will talk more after I speak with the police." Her voice was quiet and came out as a small hiss. But at only five feet tall she was likely as threatening as a kitten.

Then the police came in. Irish as herself they glared at Jimmy as if he were the foulest thing on the earth. "Easy gentlemen, Jimmy is a family friend. I will speak with the detective now." They didn't seem eased at all by her words but escorted her out of the office.

Maeve wasn't gone long. "Yes gentlemen, thank you. I assure you Jimmy will see me home." There was some quiet dissent from the police as she opened the door to Jimmy's office. "Three days right? Very well, I will have the services ready by then. Good day." She closed the door with a heavy sigh. Her eyes were red again but she held herself rigidly. Recounting the events again did not make the pain easier to bear.

Seeing Jimmy pulled the pain back. Anger flooded through her once more. She strode to his desk and, rather unlady-like, slammed the files on the wood. "Where are the real books? Who is this "individual"? How is it you, some up-jumped Italian, know this but I, his own daughter, don't? Who exactly are you?" As she threw out question after question her face grew red again.
 
Maeve glared when he laughed and her cheeks turned redder. Not in anger. She looked down the the desk abashed. He wasn't wrong there. If her father hadn't come to America she would likely be digging potatoes out of the family field and herder a flock of sheep. Probably already married with a brood of fiery haired little ones. It was truly embarrassing to have that pointed out so quickly.

She read through the books, mouth opening and face palming with each line and page. A hollowness gripped her stomach, soon replaced with illness. If her constitution was that of a strong Irishwoman she might of vomited. 15% interest a week? Not to mention the names of strange women everywhere. Strange names too, they couldn't even be their Christian names.

Jimmy spoke to her and the words were mostly just a strange buzzing in her ears. Slowly she grasped the idea. The Italian Mafia. Her father had gotten himself involved with those viscous thugs. What madness was this? Another group of them had killed her father. If the mill failed then the family Jimmy worked for would lose their "golden goose" as he had called it. That meant a great deal of money lost to them.

Only as he put on his driving gloves and went to the door did she snap up and back to the present realm. "Wait. Go where? I can tell you what he looks like as you take me home. I have to go home. Ma needs to be-" she stopped herself, eyes going wide. "Oh God...Ma...you don't think they'd hurt her too do you? We-we have to go get her."
 
Maeve canted her head at him when he agreed, under the condition she cook him pasta. She had no idea how to cook anything. He took her hand to lead her out. Her face flared and she pulled her hand back like she had touched a hot brand. "Oh, alright. Well we do have wine and I'm sure Liam knows how to make pasta." She followed him out of the mill, the men had already left for home. He walked right up to a new Model T. Somehow she wasn't even surprised. Of course some goon of the infamous mafia would have a nice, new car.

The drive wasn't unpleasant. He certainly asked a lot of questions. She spoke of her upbringing, the finishing school she attended and the hunt club she and her father belonged to. Talk of the hunt club moved to speaking of the horses her family owned. She spoke affectionately of her geldin, Chulainn, named for the great hero of Irish myth. Speaking of easy things made her feel light. She couldn't forget the loss but having a distraction was nice.

When they arrived at the family estate she noticed Donal, the courier, give Jimmy an odd look. The distaste in his countenance disappeared when Maeve stepped out of the car and he saw the blood. "Lass! Yer dress!" Maeve held up a hand. "I know Donal. I need to speak with ma then I will inform the staff." Donal stared for a moment then nodded. "Thank you Donal." She headed up the stairs to their door and found it opened by an elderly gentleman. His hair was once fire but now was mostly snow. "Liam, could you please see Jimmy to the parlor? And I need the staff gathered in the kitchen to speak with them. All of them." Liam stared for a moment before curtly nodding. "Thank you Liam," she said before heading into the house. Liam looked to Jimmy, his snowy brows quirked up. "This was sir," he said stiffly and led Jimmy into the house. Still on the main level he led Jimmy to a large room filled with hunting trophies, stuffed kills from everywhere including a tiger pelt for a rug. "Please make yourself comfortable, I am sure the miss will be by when she is ready." He opened a crystal decanter of whiskey and poured angles for Jimmy. His eyes were narrowed in suspicion but stayed silent until he left Jimmy alone.

And left alone he was. More than an hour went by before the door opened. Instead of Maeve it was Liam again. "The miss has finished...giving us the news." The rigid man of before seemed melted. He couldn't even muster a glare of contempt for the Italian. "She is out back and has instructed to make a dinner of pasta. We will deliver it to you when it is finished. If you will follow me." He gestured and led Jimmy through the house. They passed a sitting room, sparsely decorated with all sorts of tools for spinning and weaving bin the middle say a frail-looking old woman. She sat before a loom but she slumped back in her chair. A wheel chair. He hair was thin and stark white, her elegant barely covering the skeletal frame.

Out back was no fancy yard or garden. A large stable stood in the center, surround by small, green paddocks. Maeve stood in the middle of the nearest paddock. She had since changed. Rather than a new dress she wore, shockingly, men's breeches, a white shirt and vest of dark blue. She rested her face on the muzzle of a handsome, dappled grey horse. He held himself elegantly, even by just standing in one spot. He held still as Maeve stroked his cheek.
 
Maeve tilted her head ever so slightly when she heard footsteps approaching. Chulainn whickered softly, flicking his tail and pinning his ears back. Her cheek still resting on Chulainn's snout she listened to his rants and demands. She knew none of this, by rights, was hers. Even Chulainn was technically owned by Jimmy's boss. The thought made her stomach roil and tilt. Even more so was his demanding attitude. She lifted her head from Chulainn and turned to face the bossy Italian. She puffed up to string together as many expletives and fouls in argument but as she stared at him she deflated some. His interest in her safety was for the money. But his goal was, despite that, to keep her safe.

"I know your interest in my life is for the money my name provides. And I know you just want to keep me safe." She looked back to Chulainn and scratched his jaw. "How long will this take? I can't be taken away and hidden like a princess of fairy tales...and you're certainly not Prince Charming. What good is my family name if the mill isn't run? Maybe a couple of weeks but...I can't just disappear."

She stepped back from the handsome grey horse and made a little noise somewhere between a click and a his. Chulainn tossed his head and stamped his foot impudently. She made the noise again and pointed at the stable. With another head toss he turned and trotted to the stable.

Maeve turned back to Jimmy her arms clasped behind her. She appraised him for a moment. If nothing else she could compliment how handsome he was. He certainly looked the part of Prince Charming...minus actually being charming. He was smart too. Smart enough to run two sets of books for the mill. "Tomorrow morning then. You might think you hold the cards but it's my life, my mill and my family still. When this is over I will ensure the debts are paid then you are free to leave the services of this family. For now you will be provided the room you chose and access to my father's gun collection. After we eat I will be going riding. With luck all this will be over before the opening hunt and Chulainn has been idle nearly all summer. Shall we," she swept a gesture back towards the house and moved around Jimmy to march out of the pasture, her cloud of curling fire bounced and sway with every jaunty step.

Rather than go inside she veered right to a well built white gazebo. Wine had already been placed on the table and two places set. Just as she poured the wine Liam came out with a large bowl of pasta. It was simple enough. Spaghetti noodles with meat sauce. "Thank you Liam. Tell the staff they should clean up early and have a drink. Whatever you like from the cellars. Father would not wish the grief of his passing to be a dry occasion." Liam stared for a moment before nodding. "As you say miss. Are you not heading out...?" "I am, I will saddle Chulainn myself." She reached out and put a hand on his arm. "Stay strong...mother will need you." Liam swallowed hard, nodded and left.

Maeve served the noodle dish to Jimmy first then filled her own plate. Not familiar with noodle consumption etiquette she picked up her knife to cut up the noodles into more manageable pieces. "If it is know I am not here how safe will everyone be here? I assume it is only me they want now?" Being home, out near the fields and spending time with Chulainn had done wonders for her nerves and strength. She still grieved, her heart and guts ached, but there was strength to be found in the familiar.
 
Intent on cutting her noodle Maeve didn't notice him stand. Not until his reprimand did she look up from her plate with a start. Before she could protest or even breathe he leaned over her from behind. Now she really couldn't breathe. His hands were warm and gentle as he removed the offending implement from her grip. She watched his hands manipulate hers to twirl the pasta around the tines of the fork.

Chills crept from her ear to her tail bone at his whispered word. Yet her face and ears burned, turning the same crimson as her hair. She obeyed his prompt and opened her mouth. He place the tangy noodles on her tongue and she closed her mouth. He even went so far as to dab sauce from her lips. Though when he said not to chew she couldn't manage that order entirely. She'd gotten perhaps two bites in before trying to swallow them. It felt too strange and the lump of noodles made her eyes water. At least she didn't ruin the mood by coughing or choking.

Wait. Ruin the mood? The color flared in her cheeks before disappearing to a ghostly parlor. She was losing her mind. There was no mood. He was just some hired thug. With a fine face and words like honey...but still a thug! Her heart beat too hard against her breast. In a flurry of movement she dropped the fork and spoon. Her chair slid back, heedless if it might wind him. She was up and away from him faster than a cat dropped in a bath.

For a moment she stared at him, her face flashing red once more, her arms around her almost protectively. She muttered something about not being hungry before fleeing to the safest refuge she could think of: the stable.

Inside her sanctuary her heart stopped racing and her face cooled. She mentally berated herself for listening to him. Letting him envelope her, body and mind, even for a moment. This was madness. There were men after her life and no one after...whatever...it was he wanted. She growled to herself as she went into Chulainn's stall to brush and saddle him. Some time in the field would set her mind right.
 
Once Chulainn was brushed and saddled Maeve led him out of the stable. In her mind she still heard Jimmy's laughter. She couldn't decide if it had sounded derisive or not. A small growl escaped her throat as she swung easily into Chulainn's back. What should it matter? It didn't matter. The fact it might even matter a little set her blood boiling. Sensing her unease Chulainn shuffled back and forth, pinning his ears. Maeve let out a long breath and stroked his neck. "I'm sorry laddie...it's been a hard day." With that they wheeled around and took off for the woods where her practice jumps were set up.

Nothing cleared her head better than riding. Flying over hurdles and drops brought a peace to her mind. Focusing on the spacing and alignment made the gracious and confusing day melt away. But Chulainn couldn't keep jumping and wheeling for the rest of her life. She would need to face her problems sooner or later.

Chulainn was a good companion. He listened to her talk, comforted tears. Where would she be without him? Well, she would find out sooner or later. Before she knew it the sun was setting. They needed to head back. Certainly the nightly protector would be put out if she was gone too long. They took their time getting to the stables. Maeve brushed Chulainn down and settled him in for the night.

Liam met her at the veranda. "Maeve the-ah-gentleman has requested I escort you to your room?" Maeve blinked for a second as she pulled a twig from her wild mane of hair. "Why?" She asked with a puzzled frown. Liam cleared his throat and looked to the ground abashedly. "He...requests me to...lock the do-" "What?!" Her voice was sharp and shrill. "Where is he?" Liam's face turned redder. "Funny thing is miss...he's in your room." Ice coursed her insides. Everything from finishing school fled her mind. Fire erupted in her belly as she turned from Liam and stormed into the house.

The door to her room flew open with a resounding bang. Her face flushed a bright red as she stood there, her chest heaving. "You have-" she stopped abruptly as she took in the scene. He was half dressed in her room. If she didn't think his position clear before she was certain of it now. She marched right up to the man, aggressively prodding his chest. "Just who the hell do you think you are? How dare you embarrass this household you half fledge miscreant. Demanding to lock me in my own room where you stand half naked! What game are you playing here then, huh? And you got Liam involved in your ridiculous ideas!" Liam stood in the doorway watching the scene unfold with a mingled look of amusement and sheepishness.
 
If she hadn't been so irate she might have been surprised as she had managed to cow him. His posture and face said everything. A little fire of triumph if ignited in her chest. The sweet taste of victory was short lived, however. After he stammered that he hadn't know it was her own room they stood in he was back again. Didn't realize her foot! She opened her mouth for another verbal assault but he cut in first. Telling Liam to lock the pair of them in. Liam's face turned as red as Maeve's hair. "Liam...don't..." Maeve started, turning to her father's manservant. But Liam bowed his head. He seemed sad but resolute. Liam closed the door and locked it. Maeve's mouth fell open.

What in the name of heaven was happening? Liam, staunch Liam obeying Jimmy? She was broken from a long line of questions in her head when the lights were snuffed and they were bathed in near darkness. The only light a watery silver from the moon. She looked over in the direction of Jimmy's voice at his question. At this point she was too dumbfounded to be irate anymore. That Irish fire quenched as quickly as it has flared. "Well you do all look similar...but I don't' quite remember. It is still a bit of a blur. I just remember dark faces, like in a nightmare. The one that held me had an odd smell...like...low tide and garlic." She might not know it, but it was a decent clue. Only one of the families had their base of operations at the warf. Dinaploi, the family who hailed from Naples.

Time passed slowly in the darkness. After some pacing Maeve finally settled herself near the window and stared at the dark fields. She could hardly make out anything in the darkness. His sudden movement startled her out of a doze. Clearly something was out there. She stared hard and could barely see figures making their way toward the house.

His finger went to the trigger and she shoved her fingers into her ears. He went preternaturally still then the gun went off. One of the dark figures fell. The other three began to scramble, running about to find cover. Maeve cocked her eyebrows at Jimmy's question. How odd he was so calm when he just took a life. "Yes, Prince Charming, we have a few horses besides Chulainn," she said, biting back a retort about camping. No, she couldn't help it. "You aren't serious, are you? Camping?"

The scurrying on the grounds had ceased. Though with no more shots the bravest of the three, or the dumbest, came out from his cover. He walked slowly, waving his gun back and forth. The other two weren't so foolhardy. They remained behind what little cover they could find.
 
Did his job? Maeve didn't quite understand. Why was this guy praising Jimmy? Was he an enemy? Maybe even of the of the men who had a hand in killing her Da. Her brows furrowed as she peered out the window at the man who was shouting up.

It was faint but she had heard the sound too. The rustle of a drape, the creak of a floor board. Maeve's heart pounded in her chest. There were more in the house. Suddenly she felt foolish for yelling at Jimmy. They were far better off barred in the same room. Jimmy moved and she heard the click of a round being chambered. He placed cold metal into her hands. This wasn't one of her father's guns. He coaxed her around to face the door. She held the gun tightly and nodded at his instructions.

She could hear the other man shouting up at Jimmy again. Her face flared with heat. "Look who's talking, Dego trash," she whispered in a soft hiss. She didn't know what a bordello was, exactly, but she got the idea. Worse yet she felt an odd pang when it was suggested Jimmy marry a nice Italian girl. Her jaw began to hurt and she realized she had been clenching it. Mentally she berated herself.

Then chaos. The punctuated chittering of their guns sliced through the air. Suddenly Maeve found herself underneath Jimmy. She held perfectly still, painfully aware of where his hands held her. Just as quickly he was gone and returning fire.

The gun fight ceased and silence hung heavily. Her ears rang and buzzed from the sound. Slowly she pushed herself up and faced the door again.

A floor board creaked. She closed her eyes to listen. Something scraped the wall then swung back. The painting, she had run into it plenty in the dark. Then it grew eerily quiet.

The door flew open, crashing into the player with a bang and a crack. Maeve didn't hesitate. She ignored one part of Jimmy's instruction. She aimed and fired. There was a grunt and a clatter as the first man running in fell, a hole right through his left lung. The second hesitated too long, seeing his comrade fall. He got a shot through his right lung and his gut before falling. Faint wheezing grew quieter and quieter and then silence.

Out on the grounds one figure seemed to decide this wasn't a gun fight worth having. He took his chances and fled for the woods.
 
Maeve struggled to keep her breathing even. She flicked the weapon safety on and slowly lowered it as Jimmy shouted his warning. The pause seemed to take an eternity. A clatter of metal on stone rang across the yard. She tilted her head back to look at the dark form of the man, David. His crass words made her ears burn. Worse than that were the names he called out. Who were these people? More members of these families Jimmy had spoken of?

Finally there was quiet when David fled the scene. Jimmy's comment garnered him raised eyebrows. In the dark, however, there was little effect. He rose and went to the two dead men. Men she had killed. She took a breath to steady herself. Men who would have killed them if they'd had the chance. She had to remind herself of that.

"The mess I got us into?" For a moment she felt a flash of anger. As quick as it came it left. She leaned her head against what remained of the window behind her and laughed. Nothing about this was funny but the rush of adrenaline had left her limbs weak and tingling. All she could do was laugh had the insanity of the day.

"Yes I have a better plan. Let's go to sleep and pray when we wake this was all a bad dream." Her temporary insanity quelled itself. She stared into the dark with a small frown. "They'll look for us there though, won't they? If I am understanding correctly...it is now your crime family against four others? I think it is a lost cause." She heaved a sigh. "You would have been better off letting the police handle this." Of course she would likely be dead already if that had happened.

"I don't suppose your boss has some convienant villa upsta-" Suddenly she sat up. "The cottage. Da built it for Ma before...before she got sick. He built it himself, no money borrowed from your boss. So no one knows we even have it. It is far though...and isolated, near ten miles to the small town. The thatch is probably in rough shape too...and being so far won't help solve the problems here...but it is safe and I doubt we'd be found."
 
Jimmy said nothing in response, not at first. Then he went to her closet to grab clothes. Her face flared for a moment as he rifled through her personals. She got to her feet as he reminded her of her toothbrush. She rolled her eyes and huffed. "Yes Ma," she said irritably. Clearly a man picking her clothes he simply grabbed what he found. The old riding cloak he flung at her was the only semi-practical article he found. She left some of the clothes he pulled out on the bed and packed what she thought wise. Comfortable dresses, easily washable, ones her mother had made for her that were more to the style of a common woman in Ireland. Jimmy left the room, to where she didn't know, as she finished packing up. She paused, looking at her jewelry box. Pursing her lips she grabbed what she could inside of it. Jewelry held value, if they needed money they could sell the items. As she left she paused and turned to go to her father's room. The clothes were roomy, as her father had gone a bit to fat, but that would make up for their height differences. She had to sit on her suitcase to close it but the clasps held. Barely.

Before leaving she stopped to say goodbye to Liam. She wouldn't wake her mother though. "Once they learn we've fled you should be safe. Take care of her and yourself." Liam nodded and crushed her in a hug before she ran out to meet Jimmy. One more pause at the door. She ran back into her mother's sewing room and grabbed the sewing box her mother had. Maeve quietly thanked God for being Irish. Though fiery they were a rather practical people and she had managed to inherit that legacy.

With the cloak hood over her head she ran back out to the Model-T with Jimmy. "Well I brought clothes and necessities for you too Prince Charming. You are welcome." As soon as they were off she heard the blaring whine of sirens. Hopefully the police could protect her family.

Maeve canted her head as they arrived at a bar. This hardly seemed a good time for a drink. Still she stepped out of the car with an amused and confused look to Jimmy. She pulled her good down as far as it could go, tucking in her wayward curls. The din when the door opened made her hesitate in the threshold for a moment. She'd never been to such a place. Swallowing her trepidation she followed Jimmy in as he ordered two shots of...well of something. Once she was seated he left again. She didn't touch the drink just yet. Her hood obscured most of her face but she observed the patrons.

A man waved Jimmy over to him, jerking his head to the door to the back room. Joe Abarre was one of the underbosses of the Frucelli family. Don Frucelli's youngest brother. Once they were alone in the back room Joes peered through the small window. "That's her eh?" He humphed and turned back to Jimmy. "Posted up here, closest to McTierany's manor in case we got any word on an attack. The Don's livid. Dinaploi's been gunnin' for our assets, never made a move till now. For now the Don wants her kept alive, good you've done it so far. War's not declared just yet but the storm's commin. Posting guards at the mill for now. You got a good place to go? Don't tell me. Less we all know the better. Sure you've got this Jimmy? Just you to fight off thugs if yer found ya know."
 
Maeve sat quietly alone while Jimmy was gone. For the first time that day she was utterly alone with her thoughts. Chulainn and, to her surprise, Jimmy had both been expert at keeping her mind occupied. The the attacks on her home. Everything had changed quicker than a pratie wagon in a peat bog. The noise and chatter did little to help her nerves. Her teeth rattled and her ears buzzed. It all stopped when Jimmy sat across from her. She gave his quip a wan smile in response, lifting the tiny glass in salute. "Sláinte mhaith," she said before knocking back the drink. Fire wended down her throat cause her eyes to water. She put the glass down and coughed. If v that wasn't the worst thing she's had in her mouth.

Jimmy got up and left again. A beer was brought over and left at the table. His hair a little wet Jimmy came back once more. He seemed so comfortable in the bar. She felt out of place like a hen in a fox den. His world was so peculiar. The violence and the underhanded dealings. She couldn't wait for life to return to normalcy. If it ever did.

Finally he was ready to go. She took his hand and rose from her seat. "You're not wrong. You aren't half bad when you aren't boorish and acting a cad," she said with a small smirk. As she looked to him she noted the fatigue in his face. The smirk fled when she realized it had been a trying day for him as well. Perhaps not personally trying but at least physically. She supposed she could stand to be a little nicer to him.

"You know, Da taught me the rudiments of driving. I could drive a bit out of the city," she said with a small smile as they got into his car.

The drive took them well out of the city. The roads grew bumpy and pavement ended. Occasionally they passed through very small towns. Mostly the towns were dark, all their denizens fast asleep. At one point Maeve had fallen asleep despite the jarring drive. It had to be close to two in the morning when she woke. "Sorry...dozed a bit...shall I drive some so you can sleep?"
 
Perhaps driving handy been the best of ideas. She could hardly see and was more tired than she ever remembered being. Her posture while driving was one of inexperience. Both hands at the tops of the wheel, leaning forward. It didn't help that she barely cleared the wheel and the pedals were hard to reach. Her eyes were heavy and her head buzzed uncomfortably. Still she was determined. Briefly she glanced over at Jimmy who had fallen asleep with the gun in his lap. Sound asleep he looked gentle, almost boyish, despite the weapon he held. He had to be far more exhausted.

Then everything went wrong at once. The road was smaller and the turns sharper. It was so difficult to see. She was struggling to hang onto consciousness when a turn appeared she didn't see. She tried to break but wasn't nearly fast enough. The car came to a jarring halt thanks to an old pine tree. Jimmy came awake suddenly. She apologized fervently but he was likely too tired to be overly angry with her. He pulled out a map to try and figure out their location. With no signs or landmarks it was nearly impossible. Soon enough sleep overcame her again.

Morning light filtered in through the late summer greenery of the woods. Maeve blinked and gave a small groan. She ached in places she didn't know she could ache. Her hair in a wild, tangled state she slowly sat up, running her fingers through the curls. She was in terrible need of a comb. The blanket fell off her. She had been laid on one blanket and another pulled over her. They were over in the woods, the car barely visible through the trees. Looking around she saw Jimmy, shotgun in hand and sound asleep against a rock. The events of the night came back to her as she pressed a hand to her forehead in remembered embarrassment.

For a little she watched him sleep. Her appreciation for the man only grew. Maybe she had been wrong about him. Just a little. He had done his utmost to take care of her. His own life now in just as much danger. Maybe it was just how sweet he looked while asleep but she suddenly felt terrible for any of the things she'd said to him in a temper. Somewhere, deep down, he was actually a gentleman. Quietly she got up and folded the blankets, shaking the leaf litter off them. Crouched down by him she gently shook his shoulder. "Jiiiimmyyy," she cooed quietly. "Time to wake up Prince Charming."

Luckily she had a small idea of where they were. Not on the map, she had never really looked at one before. Not for direction anyways. But this winding dirt road was a long one and had few turns. It would eventually lead them to a small town by the name of Carlsbad. From that town she remembered the route to the cottage.

Carlsbad was indeed a small town. The surrounding area was chiefly farmland. It had an old, rickety bar, a gas station, a surprisingly large farm market and what they called their convienant store. The area wasn't wealthy but the store carried basic necessities. If someone wanted something else they had a massive catalogue that one could order almost anything from ice boxes to clothing.

From Carlsbad it was roughly another hour to their destination. Maeve surprised herself at remembering the way, but it seemed that little changed in the are. West from town then a right at the dairy farm, then a left at a rather large orchard. Then a long stretch of road and finally a left down an almost invisible drive. Overcrowded with weeds she nearly missed it but for the carving in a poplar. A swirling design her father hard carved as a young man to mark where to turn.

The drive was fairly long and they had to go slow for nature had tried to reclaim the area. Then they broke into a massive clearing. The lake wasn't large by any means, a determined person could swim across, stopping at the very tiny island that sat placidly in the middle with its single willow tree. The cottage stood pristinely close to the lake. It's white washed, daub and wattle walls were dulled a little but had held up through the years. The forest canopy seemed to have done well in protecting it and its thatched roof. The well groomed flower garden in front had grown wild over the years but the stone path was still intact. The cottage itself was bigger than your usual Irish home. Leave it to Columb McTierany to still build bigger and better.

Thick layers of dust covered every surface on the inside. The small kitchen was rife with cobwebs but with a little cleaning would gleam as if new. A sitting room with a fire place made up the majority of the space when they first entered, the kitchen barely quartered off with a counter. Three rooms jutted off from the main area. One for her parents, one for her and one for Liam.

Maeve waved a few dust motes away from her face. The windows were dust and a little grimy but once cleaned up they would let in a great deal of light. "Father would be proud it held up so well. I haven't been here in years. Not since-" she drifted off a moment and shook her head. "Best kept family secret. Da built it for Ma a while back. She missed nature, held up in the city. No loans, mostly built by him and Liam. Few of the other staff even knew about it. No one would think to come all the way out here to find us."
 
"Make yourself useful red," she said under her breath in a mocking tone. With a small snort she opened up the case with her clothes and pulled out a simple dress of thin, dark yellow wool. A white kerchief did well enough to keep her wild curls out of the way. She rolled up the sleeves and got to work. First and foremost the kitchen needed a good cleaning. She dusted and scrubbed, sneezing through the clouds of dust. It took time and in the warmth of late summer she felt sweat drip down her back and between her breasts. Not used to such work and chores she actually found the task oddly relaxing. Finally the kitchen was cleaned to perfection. Jimmy had brought in some wood. It was still wet and hard to light but she eventually got a smoke fire going. She filled a stew pot with water and set it to boiling. On a wing and a prayer she added a ham bone and chopped up vegetables. She had never really cooked before but a stew shouldn't be too hard.

While the stew cooked she set about cleaning the rest of the cottage. Dust was banished and windows were hard scrubbed to let in streams of vibrant sunlight. Covered in dust and sweat she stood in the middle of the room with her hands on her hips, admiring her handiwork. Just the bedrooms to go. She went over to the soup to check on it. Stirring she hummed to herself, adding some pepper and salt to taste. It wasn't great as far as meals went and was very thin. She frowned at the pot. It was supposed to be stew, supposed to be thicker. As she pondered how to thicken a stew Jimmy appeared behind her.

His command made the hair on her neck rise. Perhaps she should remind the mental apology for being mean to him. He was right back to overbearing and boorish. "I am not sleeping with you." She paused and felt her ears grow warm. "In ANY capacity. The rooms are right next to each other and no one knows about this place. We're safe." She didn't even bother turning to face him as she spoke. "I'm not your wife or your property. I appreciate what you are trying to do but sleeping with you when we have plenty of space is out of the question." A tactful subject change. "Do you know how to thicken stew? I can't seem to make it thicker, no matter how long it cooks."
 
Ever fiber in her body seized when his arms found their way around her waist. Suddenly he brain seemed to cease functioning. It buzzed, filled with fluttering moths and bees. Despite the mental numbness every nerve seemed to fire at once. A hot chill courses from her neck to her fingers and toes. A shiver wracked her body as his tongue left a scorch mark on her neck. His breath on her ear burned and tingled as he spoke. Oh she was quite sure he could teach her a great many things. For a brief moment her mind delved into just what he could show her. She berated the image down as he withdrew.

Sense and mobility returned and she spun around with the ladle in hand. Jimmy was already well away from a good slap. She flung the ladle at him but it clattered against the door. Her face was on fire her stomach in a whirl. She put her hands to her face. Maybe coming out her had been a terrible idea. What in the name of God had she gotten herself into?

Her limbs trembling she received her weapon and went back to the stew. She didn't want to add too much in and waste their vegetables. She grumbled to herself unable to stop feeling his hands around her waist, his teeth on her neck. No! She was a good, Irish-Catholic woman. They were not wed and she couldn't have those thoughts.

The soup never thickened and she gave up her hopes of that happening. It didn't taste too terrible. It was thin but the ham bone had flavored it well enough. While it cooked she went through two of the bedrooms and cleaned up. Sheets were hung outside on a line to air them out. She was determined he wouldn't get his way and she would sleep in her own room.

Night settled and she lit a couple of the oil lamps. The soup was as ready as it would be. The dining table was small but she sat their bowls across from one another. She had been careful to keep space between them. "I hope you like soup...not sure I can really make much else," she said as she ladled out the soup, keeping out of arms reach from him. "so besides being Italian, why are you in the Mafia? Why not find more honest means of work?"
 
He sat in silence for a while. She stared at him as he reach into the recesses of his mind. For a moment he seemed offended. Pensive but affronted. Then angry or perhaps jaded. She spooned up some of the soup as he thought. The soup was certainly not good. Well she had never really learned to cook. Relatively bland but for the pepper and mild flavor of the ham bone. Plus the vegetables were utterly soggy. Finally he spoke and she sat back. The Irish wanted to keep them down? That was how he saw it? This was the land of opportunity, so her father had said. Besides, wasn't it Jimmy's boss who had loaned money to her father, putting her family wildly into debt? It seemed an odd stance but she wasn't about to begin a debate.

His thumbs up to her soup made her laugh. She knew it was terrible but he ate it anyways. It was all they had. A full belly was the more important task anyways. She would have time to practice, they could be held up in the cottage for a while. She waved her hand, refusing the alcohol. Wine was alright but she was hardly a fan of beer or liquors.

Their meal done he gathered the bowls to go wash them out. She smiled a little at him. "I'll bring a lantern out. Can't have my protector falling and breaking his neck. Besides, I wanted to wash up a bit before bed." Taking up one of the oil lamps she walked out to the pond with Jimmy. Luckily it was quite dark out. She set down the light on the shore near him. A small copse of hawthorn made a perfect screen and wasn't too far. "Stay here and don't get any funny ideas," she said with a warning wag of her finger.

Leaving the light with him she picked her way to the bush and sidled behind it. The darkness and bush would provide enough cover and she was more than willing to take her chances if it meant being clean. She removed the simple dress and her shift, draping them over the bush. Naked and shivering she waded into the water to rinse and scrub her body and hair. The water was chill but it felt good to have a modicum of cleanliness once more.
 
For a little Maeve was blissfully unaware that she could be seen. The sliver of soap went far to wash the dust and grime of travel and the task of cleaning the cottage from her body. Her hair was another matter entirely. Wet as it was she knew it would be a frizzing mass of wild fire if she let it dry without any oils. She sighed as she scrubbed her scalp. Curly hair could be quiet the burden. Kneeling in the water as she rinsed her hair goose prickles rose on her skin. It wasn't just from the chill water. Glancing over briefly she saw Jimmy staring right at her.

For a moment the guilt and shame washed over her. She hadn't even realized she had moved so far beyond the safety of the hawthorn. Standing calf deep in the water she was funny exposed. The white light of the moon reflecting off her pearly skin. She felt her cheeks warm as she continued to wash herself of grime. God could hear her thoughts, this she knew. Yet deep down, hopefully beyond what the almighty heard, she was strangely pleased. Not so humble she knew she was fair, pretty even. Perhaps a little small but her mother had been a small woman as well. These thoughts shamed her some. Knowing he watched her bathe by the crescent moon. Still they wouldn't go away. For the moment she could pretend not to notice he watched her.

He had been stock still for a time but went back to scrubbing. Then he simply left. Apparently he'd had enough. It was strangely wounding. She mentally berated herself again. Foolish and conceited. With an exasperated sigh she waded further into the water, striking out far enough that her feet no longer touched the mucky lake floor. It was strangely freeing to swim in the nude. Bathing costumes were a sham. On hot summer days they were almost more uncomfortable than a dress.

For a time she glided in the cool water. She would have to do this more often. Feel the cool water slide right against her bare skin. Oh to be a selkie as in the tales mother told. A creature of the deep to swim and dive in the water. Shedding their skin to walk among men until the draw of the ocean pulled them home again. Though finally chilled enough she headed back to shore. In the barely moonlit water she had swum much further away from the protective bush than expected. When he feet could touch the slick mud/sand mix of the bottom once more she waded to shore.

With the lamp gone she assumed Jimmy was I the cottage. Likely settling in for bed. She shivered I voluntarily. The back of her neck seemed to sear where his tongue and teeth had teased her flesh. A throb echoed suddenly through her body at the memory. Wading to shore, now waist deep in the water she came upon a shadowy figure. Barely outlined in the watery moonlight it could only be Jimmy. Distracted by the fierce, aching burn at the back of her neck and between her legs, she didn't realize she was wading right up to him. Her hair had draped artfully, just barely hiding her full, round breasts.

She stopped only a couple feet from him. How she hadn't noticed him was nearly a mystery. She came to a halt, the water just reaching her hips. Now that she realized he was there she couldn't help but stare. The pale moon set his skin off to a glow. He was well made, she could hardly deny that. She had known that she he was I slacks and an undershirt. But seeing that full expanse of decadent skin was an utterly pleasant surprise. Her cheeks grew warm again. He had seen her nude already, both now it was different.

"I...I'm sorry," she said as she tucked a lock of hair behind her right ear, nearly revealing her breast fully. What was she sorry for? She couldn't remember actually. Her feet seemed to move of their own accord, closing the space between them. What did one say to someone they saw in only what God gave them? "I should...leave you to your bath," she said with a shy smile, barely visible in the darkness. "Sorry, yes..." What in the name of God was wrong with her? Normally she considered herself quite quick. She shook her head, trying to clear the cobwebs, forcing her feet to move forward and around him.
 
Just as she moved to go around him, back to her own little shelter, he moved towards her. His movements were slow but not calculating. He had the look of a man lost in a dream. Her face warmed again and the deep ache throbbed her lower stomach again. She should have moved, should have dodged him and fled like she had when he taught her such a unique way of eating pasta. Instead of doing the right thing and fleeing she held still. His hands, warm and gentle, trailed fire on her waist. A chill trickled down her spine as his lips found hers.

Instantly she was shivering but warm from head to toe. Her body held stock still a moment. Thoughts whirled through her mind fast enough to make her dizzy. It was wrong, so very wrong. Everything about this shouldn't be happening. Yet she could find no true reason to protest. Ever nerve of her body was tuned to where they met. Slowly her body relaxed and she took a small step towards him, pressing her body against his. The prod on her hips from his manhood should have shamed her. God would strike them down for this act. But no lightening came, no leviathan from the deep. How could this be wrong? It was thrilling and beautiful.

One arm wrapped around his waist, fingers lightly tracing his spine. Her other hand reached up and laid gently on his neck. A little sound of surprise left her throat as she felt his tongue graze the inside of her mouth. Her hand slid behind his head as her tongue met his. They tasted and delved, her tongue dancing with his. She was fully aware of her body pressed against the hard planes of his chest and stomach. Every inch of alive with the feeling of him against her.

A few moments, minutes, hours or years passed she wasn't entirely certain. But she pulled her lips from his. "We...we shouldn't," she managed to say. A small moment of clarity. But still she hung onto him, unwilling to let go. Yet there, in the moonlight, thigh deep in water she wanted him. It was utter madness but as she gazed up at him she couldn't think of a single reason why it was wrong, why they shouldn't. Her fingers played lightly in his hair. Something inside of her said jump. Up on her toes, without a thought, she took his lips once more. This time not so gentle. She pressed all the closer to him, her chest pressed to his stomach.
 
Bliss. Heaven. No word seemed strong enough. Maeve had never felt so alive. So in tune with anther person. Sure tearing up the country side and flying over fences with Chulainn was a thrill and the bond between horse and rider was deep. But this was utterly different. The deep, aching need seemed to swallow her whole. All senses attuned to just one person.

Her feet left the muddy lake bottom. With an impressive ease he had lifted her right out of the water. Her legs wrapped around his hips, her muscles strong and tight from riding. She clung to him with ease. His length pressed against the most intimate part of her body sending a wave of desire through her. Already she was slick and more than ready for him. Her hands clung to his shoulders, nails just lightly scraping his skin. When his thumb brushed her nipple she gave the tiniest of gasps and shivered. Her breasts tightened and the nipple became a hard nub. Her nails ever so slightly bit into his shoulders.

Slowly, gently she pulled away from his kisses. Her hands moved to his cheeks, her thumbs gently brushing his cheek bones. Her eyes were bright in the moonlight as she looked into his eyes. She had never really looked at him before, she realized. The finely sculpted planes of his face. His eyes strangely kind despite the attitudes he tended towards. The lashes full. Desire was well written on her face as she gazed at him but she gave the tiniest hint of a smile. "Make love to me, Jimmy." He voice was barely a whisper. It was a request and a command all at once.
 
He carried her with ease. Out of the water and to the tiny, sandy beach. By God he was strong. He didn't seem to strain himself in the least as he carried her and laid both of them down, ever so gently. It made a pleasant warmth spread through her. His lips found hers once again. This time far more gentle and sweet than the hungry meeting of teeth and tongues. Her breasts tingled as he gently fondled them, the nipples hard beneath his hands. Between her legs she felt him rocking himself, easing himself inside of her. Warring moments of bliss and pain shot through her.

Then his tongue found her nipple. She shivered almost violently with a throaty squeak. He didn't spend long on the taught peak. Once more their lips joined and he pressed further into her. This time it was more painful than pleasurable. Her body seized a moment and she let out a small cry, quickly stifled. She had heard it hurt the first time but she still hasn't been entirely ready.

All at once he stopped and pulled out. Her heart gave a massive thump in her chest. Had she done something wrong? For someone usually so confident she had lost all her boldness. This was utterly new territory. She looked to him with worry creasing her brows. Yet the gentle expression eased her some. The muscles under her skin flexed and contracted as he kissed his was down her body. She was puzzled but the sensation of his lips along her stomach and hips outweighed it.

When she cried out again it wasn't in pain. His gentle lips and tongue between her legs set off an chain of explosions across her body. Her back arched and her hands drive into his hair. He licked and teased her, spreading her with his tongue. Even talk from some of the few girls she knew didn't discuss this act. Suddenly she couldn't hold still no matter how hard she tried. Every movement of his lips and tongue sent sparks and wave of pleasure through her. She panted softly, first between clenched teeth. Finally she couldn't hold her silence. She panted and gasped as he licked and delved into her. Her body relaxed around his probing tongue as she writhed to his ministrations.
 
He was relentless. Maeve's fingers dug and grasped at his hair as she writhed under him. When he stopped she felt momentarily dizzy. Her chest rose and fell as she took deep gasps of night air. She lifted her head ever so slightly as he prowled up her body to lay across her. She wrapped her slender arms around him, encircling his lean hips with her legs. This time when he slid himself into her there was no resistance, no pain. Her back arched, pressing her hips to his. Air slid past her clench teeth while her nails lightly dug into her back.

His rhythmic thrusting made her toes curl against his thighs. Each thrust was accompanied by a little gasp, a squeak, or moan. She felt him not just between her legs, filling her utterly, but in every corner of her body. Her hips matched in time with his with it her even needing to think of it. Everything was pure feel, sheer instinct. She couldn't possibly think beyond the pleasure.

He sped up and her nails dug deeper into his skin, creating small dents and scratches. His warm breath on her ear tickled and tingled, adding to the pressure that built in her abdomen. Every touch to her neck and breast sent warm chills across her body. Her pitch grew as she held to him, gasping as he pushed himself deeper and faster into her body. His whispered word, though perplexing, did nothing to change the intense joy she was feeling.

Then all at once the world reeled. Her body tensed, tightening around his manhood. The pressure released and waves of pleasure washed over her. Nails raked down his back as she cried out, her body shaking and shivering in the throes of orgasm. As quickly as it came on it was gone leaving her weak and still shivering. Her breath came in deep gasps. Though her limbs felt cumbersome and heavy she still clung onto him. Her mind reeling from the experience. There truly were no words. How could something so beautiful, so powerful be so condemned?

He was right. Indeed her taught her some things. It was a lesson she was not likely to forget.
 
Maeve felt his body tense. Then he suddenly yanked himself away and she felt droplets of his warm seed fall across her belly and hips. They had been careless and yet she didn't particularly care. Still her mind reeled at the experience. He tried to joke but she just grinned at him a little. He was careful and gentle, trying to clean up the bit of sticky mess. His arms came around her and lifted her from the ground with ease. Back into the lake to clean up again. She let him bathe her. It made her heart light to watch him so gentle. Caring. Who knew this Italian with his gruff exterior could behave like that. In turn she cleaned him off, letting her fingers trail across the flat planes of his chest and abdomen.

His comment brought out a laugh. "I can't get myself pregnant. It does take two." She said with a smirk. Heading out of the water he took her hand. She smiled and laced her small, thin fingers between his far larger hands. They went inside and to the larger bedroom. Clearly he was intent on spending the night with her. After their escapades outside she could hardly protest now. Not that she really wanted to.

Snuggled down into the soft bed she curled up close to him. No thought was needed. Her head on his chest, one leg wrapped around his. There was only one way they could possibly be closer and she wasn't certain she had the energy for it. She wished it could stay like this. Forget the mill and her house. Forget the debts her family owed. She could learn to cook...hopefully. They could have a simple life there at the cottage. But it was impossible. What if her mother and Chulainn? Surely Jimmy had family as well. She sighed sadly and nestled her face against his neck. Just a couple nights, maybe a week if they were so fortunate.
 
Maeve slept peacefully that first night, and subsequent nights. Nestled warm and secure in Jimmy's arms she couldn't remember ever sleeping better. In the morning she woke to an empty bed but a savory smell wafting in from the kitchen. Quickly borrowing a shirt she went out to the kitchen to find Jimmy cooking breakfast. It gave her paused and she laughed. "Maybe you should be the cook from now on."

Through the days time was spent making sure they would have food and wood for fire. The cottage was also made a little more defensible. The biggest undertaking was digging out some of the drive so that cars couldn't swarm in too close. If anyone arrived they would have to make the final 50 feet on foot. Maeve found time in the evenings to alter her father's clothes for Jimmy, all the while thanking her mother for teaching her some wifely skills. Other wifely skills she had to learn partially on her own or from Jimmy. Their first night together was a prelude to the next few days. Maeve was more than willing to listen and learn. Comfortable enough to giggle at mistakes and lose herself in his arms.

Four days of bliss and peace. She tried not to fool herself into loving him. This was temporary and she knew it. She wasn't the type of girl Jimmy would go for. He was worldly and crafty. She grew up with servants. But, for the time being, she would enjoy her time with him and worry about moving on later.

Maeve was at the side of the cottage hanging laundry to dry when she head the rumble of cars in the distance. "Jimmy!" She shouted for him, dropping the wet laundry and skirting into the house. The rumbling drew closer. Then a series of bangs and screeching metals. Well, at least their trench worked. The men staggered from their ruined vehicles. It would take hours to get them out. But first they had marks to persue. Most gathered around the front while a few walked around the back.

"Here we are again Jimmy!" Came a shout from outside. Dan, the one shouting threats and demands last time, had led another group after Jimmy. "You're gonna die in there Jimmy. You know that, doncha? Sad to survive the Great War but die hold up like a coward in some ramshackle little hut. Why doncha come out? Bring that pretty little cooze with ya. Promise we'll take real good care of her."
 
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