"Would you like for me to stay with you?" Matthew asked, staring down at a visibly shaken Sharon. She sat on the bed before him, tears streaming down her cheeks as she shook her head.

"Please."

He nodded, understanding her need to be left alone. He wasn't certain what George Freelance was doing on his farm, neither did he understand Stanley's reason for pinning the old drunk to the ground, but Matthew knew there had to be a good reason for it; not only was George Freelance bad news, Stanley was a sensible man. If Stanley saw the need to keep George restrained, then surely there was some sort of sense in it.

Still, he could barely fault Sharon for standing up for her father like that. He knew it was her instincts to protect him that kicked in and it was those same instincts that seemed to be weighing her down right now

Leaning down, he planted a kiss on her head, before turning to leave the room. He made his way down the stairs and out of the building where his entire family still stood glued to their position on the porch. They turned to look at him, a frown on all their faces, but it was the new face among the bunch that forced Matthew to a halt on the porch; his father.

Stunned to find his father on his front porch, he shrank back at the look of disapproval that dimmed the older man's eyes. When did his father get here? How long had he been standing there?!

Dread immediately raced down Matthew's spine at the realization that his father was witnessing the incidence with Sharon's father. He could only imagine what his father would think. Knowing his father, he knew he would judge Sharon based on the scene he had witnessed today.

Groaning, Matthew did not dare consider the implications of his father's presence on such a terrible day. He didn't dare consider what it would mean for him or for his inheritance. He instead turned stiffly from his father, taking the stairs two by two until he was standing before Stanley who still held George Freelance prisoner. Only, George was no longer on the ground with his face buried in the sand, he was instead on his feet, his hands still bound behind him.

"What happened?" He directed his question at Stanley, running a weary hand through his hair.

"Old fool showed up here yelling something about his daughter. Tried to get into the house, but Nana wouldn't let him through. Then he attacked her with a knife."

Wincing, Matthew jerked his head up to Nana Lois who simply shook her head in response to his unspoken question; she was not hurt.

He let out a soft sigh of relief, before turning his attention back to Stanley.

"Got into the building and went about kicking furniture to the floor. It was a good thing Nana Lois got to me before he could cause any major damage. I dragged him out here kicking and screaming just as the rest of your family returned from town. We were about to send word to you when you showed up. I kept him pinned to the ground because it was the only way to keep him from causing further damage." Stanley finished.

Nodding, Matthew let out a tired breath. He turned to George who simply stared back at him through eyes dazed by liquor.

"What do you want, George?" He asked.

"First you take my house, then my Sharon." George slurred, kicking his boots in the sand. Matthew imagined it was his feeble attempt at trying to kick him but he appeared too weak to reach him.

"I didn't take anything. Your showing up here is a trespass to my property; a crime for which I can get you arrested." He threatened, seriously considering going through with it. It seemed logical to have George locked up for a few days. Perhaps then he would get his act together.

But George didn't respond. He instead staggered forward, nearly falling face down in the sand if Stanley hadn't maintained a strong hold on him.

"What would you have me do with him?" Stanley asked, glaring at George as he struggled to keep him upright.

Matthew considered the question for several seconds, unsure of what to do with George Freelance. If he returned the man to his home, there was no guarantee that he would not show up again to cause a much more terrible scene. And didn't Stanley just say George was wielding a knife when he arrived? Who knew what George planned on doing with the knife, or what could have happened if someone had gotten hurt?

No, Matthew could not let George Freelance go just yet. He needed to sort things out and he couldn't do it with George roaming the streets unchecked.

"Nana, please take the rest of the family back inside." He said, turning slightly to Nana Lois. He waited until she nodded in agreement and began ushering his family into the building, before turning to the other farmhands that stood watching the scene curiously. "And the rest of you can get back to work —except you, Steve."

When he was left alone with his two farmhands and a now snoring George, he faced Stanley, "tie him up in the barn and lock the doors. I want everyone out of there. No one goes in there but me. Do you understand?" Stanley nodded his agreement. "Good." He murmured, before turning around and making his way to the stable. He busied himself with feeding the horses, dreading the thought of facing his father that evening. He was simply exhausted and the last thing he needed was a scolding from his father.

He stayed in the barn all evening until he was certain his family would have retired to bed. Then, he made his way into the building through the back door, nearly bumping into Nana Lois.

"Are you alright?" She examined him, concern creasing her features.

He shook his head. "It was an awful day."

"Indeed, your father's arrival being the worst part of it." A small smile tugged on his lips at her attempt at making a joke.

"I believe the worst part was the thought of you getting stabbed."

She scoffed, waving him off. "He was too drunk to aim right."

"Hm," he leaned forward, pulling her into his arms. "I cannot be more thankful for that fact. I might even consider rewarding him with a bottle of whiskey."

Nana giggled, patting him on the back. "Of course," she pulled away, her eyes searching his. "How are you, really?"

"Tired," he admitted.

"You should eat."

He shook his head. "I can't, I believe I'm too exhausted to force food down my throat."

"You and Sharon."

Matthew nodded, knowing he should have expected it from Sharon; with all that had happened that day, it was understandable that she was reluctant to eat.

"We just need to rest." He sighed. "Would you please have Stanley take food to George? I have him tied up in the barn."

Nana gawked, her lips falling open as if she intended to question him further about it. Then, as if seeing the fatigue in his eyes, she closed her mouth and nodded instead. He turned his attention to the stairs, reaching the room and pushing the door open.

Sharon's figure laid motionless on the bed, her knees curled up to her chest. Believing she was asleep, he closed the door gently behind him and entered the room. He had barely settled on the chair and taken his shoes off when the sound of her soft sobs reached him, tugging on the strings of his heart.

Rising to his feet, he made his way slowly to where she laid and settled on the edge of the bed.

"Blondie," he frowned, slightly worried. The events of that day had been bad enough, it was especially worrisome to know that not only had she endured a tough day and completely neglected to eat dinner, there was also the possibility that she hadn't stopped crying since he left her side a few hours ago.

He touched her hair, feeling sorry for her. A strong desire to take her pain away washed over him; a desire so strong, it caused him to take hold of her arm and pull her forward until he was wrapping her in his arms. She leaned into his embrace, her arms tangling around his neck.

"I'm sorry," he breathed.

Her body trembled slightly in his embrace as she shook her head. "It's not your fault."

"It's not yours either." He kissed her neck, her arms tightening their hold around him as she leaned further into his embrace.

Matthew felt himself respond to her closeness, a low groan forming in his throat.

"Blondie," he whispered, knowing he needed to pull away, yet finding it impossible to do so. Sharon remained in his arms as well, further weakening his resolve.

Slowly, his hands moved up her back, her soft moan urging him on until his fingers were combing through her hair. His lips found hers, her lips parting to welcome his. He tilted his head to the side, their kiss deepening as his eyelids flickered shut.

He urged her forward until she was seated on his lap, both knees on either sides of him as her hands moved slowly up and down his chest.

Knowing full well that if he didn't stop now, he was never going to stop, Matthew reluctantly pulled away. He knew she didn't want the marriage and he feared if he took advantage of her weak emotional state, she would wake up the next morning to regret it. And what was even worse, he feared she might never forgive him.

"Blondie," he breathed, opening his eyes. She sat before him, her face only inches from his, helping to heighten the desire that pumped through his veins. He swallowed. "You do not have to do this."

He watched as color sprang to her cheeks, turning it crimson. She ran her tongue over her bottom lip in a manner that made him desire to claim those lips once again. Shaking the thought away, he instead replaced her on the bed and rose to his shaky feet, his emotions cursing him as he turned his back to her and made his way to the window.

The room suddenly felt stuffy, his lungs seemingly incapable of receiving oxygen. His body ached for her but he ignored it, leaning instead against the window as he took a deep breath.

The longer he stood by the window with the cool evening breeze washing over him, the more his folly became quite apparent to him. He should not have kissed her, he groaned, inwardly cursing himself. He should not have let things go as far as they had gone tonight. The kiss they had shared a week ago was bad enough, its memory sticking to him and plaguing him wherever he went. He could only imagine what the memory of tonight would do to him in the coming days.

He was so lost in his thought that he did not hear her light footsteps against the floorboards until her hand was settling on his shoulder.

Gasping, he turned sharply around, stunned. She stood before him, her hair falling to a mass on her shoulders and helping to frame her oval face. Her eyes shone like sapphires in the dim light, the look of unconcealed desire in them knocking the air out of his lungs and slowing his heartbeat.

"Perhaps I do not have to," her soft whisper drifted to him, sending a shockwave of beautiful emotions down his spine. She stepped forward, closing the space between their bodies as her gaze held his captive. "Yet, I want to."

Matthew shook his head in a failed attempt to push his nearly maddening desire aside. "You're sad about your father, Blondie. Maybe you simply need time to clear your head?" Even as he spoke the words, Matthew immediately regretted them. He watched the light in her eyes die out, pain flashing through her eyes briefly before she concealed it once more.

Nodding, she straightened. "Perhaps," The word came out as a broken whisper, helping to tear his heart further apart.

She turned stiffly around and Matthew watched her make her way to the door. He groaned, hurrying after her and pulling her into his arms just as she made to leave the room. For the life of him, he could not let her go, he thought, pushing her hair aside as he ran his lips down the length of her neck. Common sense be damned! He let out a low groan as she leaned back into him, throwing her head back so that he had better access to her neck. He grabbed her hip, pulling her further against himself as his lips traveled up to her ear. He bit down gently on her earlobe, evoking a soft moan from her lips.

"You're going to be the death of me, Blondie," he said as she turned fully to him, extinguishing the words from his lips when her lips laid claim to his.

She clutched his shirt, his fingers warring with the buttons of her dress as he fought to take it off. The damn thing seemed to fight back until what seemed like hours later, when Matthew was nearly certain he could rip it off. It was then he undid the last button, shoving the dress off of her shoulders. It fell to a heap around her legs, leaving nothing but bare skin for his fingers to explore. And explore they did; every inch of her.

Hoisting her up in his arms, her legs wrapped themselves around his waist. He carried her across the room, their lips still connected as he placed her on the bed. Then he ripped his own shirt off and tossed it to the side. Once he had succeeded in completely taking his clothes off, he leaned down once more, claiming her as his wife.

Hey guys, how are you?

Really, HOW ARE YOU?

I look forward to reading your thoughts.

Also, thanks for reading this story❤️