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The Decision

By Amy & Moira

She knew it was him she saw on the moor. She knew his slow stride, and the outline of his form. Night after night she saw him pacing out there, under the purple and black sky. A dark figure cutting through the mist, over the hills and down through the valleys, black, unkempt hair tied back in a loose ponytail, curls wafting about his face. His face, she could almost feel his blue eyes burning their way into her soul. But she wasn’t afraid, she knew he would never hurt her. He wanted her, she could feel it. And she was "safe" inside her husband’s home, fire always lit, pale shadows dancing across the sitting room.

She wanted to run to him, but could not. Every night she stood by the window, peering out through the curtain, hands pulling nervously in her skirt and bodice, running up and down the seams of her chaste white blouse. She knew she wanted him, too.

If she ran out into the night there was danger – the fog rolling over the hills, and the moor would become but a blackness, a vision of some strange place far removed from life, no one anywhere, the stillness and quiet would become so loud as to deafen her, and she would be lost. She would catch herself in a gorse bush and remain there, helpless, unable to cry or yell, as if the darkness would swallow her whole.

Once they were in love, as only children can be. Playing, running amongst the heather,, chasing family pets and laughing. Now, it had all changed, and when she saw his face in her mind, there was no trace of that joy they had shared, only anger. His eyes always holding secrets inside, a cruel twisted grin on his face. She knew there was a longing inside him only she might fill, but she was powerless, keeping her husband’s home, she was essentially a servant, a slave, and trapped.

She heard the howling of a wild dog, and the answering yowls of his brothers, a shiver ran up her spine. Suddenly there was a knock at the door and she woke from her reverie with a start. She peered out the window and he was there, at her door. Dare she? She went to the door as if floating, not in control of her own movements. She opened the door a crack. He stood on her doorstep. His dark, silky brocade shirt torn at his bleeding shoulder and neck, draped on his muscular frame, tucked loosely into his black britches, which were old, and tight on him. They fit snugly into his muddy, weathered riding boots. He wore a black velvet ribbon around his neck.

She looked up at him, his eyes were clouded and his face was twisted in pain. "You are hurt?" she asked, lips trembling. He looked at her, and reached his hand out to touch her cheek. She felt the softest of grazes across her face, and smelled a hint of musk.

"I got in the way of a wild mongrel, but I killed him before he did me." He spoke roughly, as if daring her to ask him in.

"My husband is not here" she paused with the anguish of her words, "I cannot ask you in Edward." She turned her attention to his shoulder "But I can bring you a warm cloth to tend your wound." She turned toward the hearth, and he clutched at her arm "No, don’t", his voice softened "I came to see you. I need to see you." He seemed to want to speak further and opened his mouth, but could not. He did not loosen his grip on her arm.

"Edward, I can’t...you know I can’t, please...." she pleaded with him, watching the flickering reflection of the fire in his eyes. He pulled her toward him, and kissed her, hard, fusing his cold lips with her warm ones. She resisted, then felt herself responding, despite the impending danger. She closed her eyes and let the warmth from her body wash over his icy soul.

Abruptly, he pulled away from her. "I would never hurt you" he whispered, "you know that. Come away with me now. We can always be together, now in the flesh as well as the spirit. I will protect you from him" He said that last word with a sneer.

She could not speak, but only look at him, her eyes filling with tears. "I know" she wept, and she flung herself into his arms, not caring if she became covered in the blood from his wounds, it would only cause to bind them closer together. She kissed him, and felt his arms go around her, and pull her to him. Her arms encircled his trim waist, running up and down his back, feeling every muscle contract, as she covered his face and neck with kisses. He moaned in pleasure, the devil leaving his side for a brief, unreal moment. Then, the pounding of horses’ hooves echoed in the distance.

She jumped back, "It is my husband!" she cried. Edward kept one arm around her as he quickly reached for his pistol with the other, slung low on its leather holster. "Edward, you must leave, now!", fear filled her mind.

"I am not leaving without you" he said, his voice thick with the passion she had stirred in him. "I will fight for you. No one will keep you from me again!" He drew his pistol, as the sound of the horses drew near.

She was torn. To run inside, toward a safe existence with her husband. Or to flee into the darkness of the moor with her lover, under a blanket of murder and disgrace. A tormented criminal, doomed to a dangerous and dark future.

The horses grew closer.