Renewal
by
Zerelda X
Charlotte belongs to me, Logan belongs to Marvel. No profit, no foul. For entertainment purposes only.
Charlotte consulted the map, then checked the road again. Now she could see why Logan told her to drive the 4X4. This was as winding a mountain road as she'd ever seen.
The county highway wound through the forest, not a house in sight as far as she could see over the snow piled on either side. Just trees and white snow. The entire world was frozen into a picture perfect postcard, reminding her of the Currier and Ives prints she used to collect.
A part of her hoped the threatening storm would hold off until after the long weekend was over. The other part she wasn't listening to.
The carefully typed instructions, along with the notated map, arrived last week with a written invitation to spend the weekend with her husband in a cabin in the middle of nowhere. Quite frankly, the idea made her uneasy.
Her time at the Academy, as strained as it was at times, was perhaps one of the best things to have happened to her, power-wise. She felt more in control, thanks to Emma, and she felt useful. The last four months had been invaluable towards rebuilding herself, but something still nagged at her. She was still missing something, somewhere.
Through it all, Logan had been a reluctant model of restrained patience. He didn't push her to come back, though it was apparent he wanted to every time she spoke to him on the phone, or saw him during their infrequent visits.
The road sign stood out clear from the surrounding snow banks. She smiled. The narrow, graveled road had been recently cleared, that very morning if she was any judge. He was here and expecting her. Her stomach did a few turns at the thought.
After bouncing and bumping along for nearly two miles, the road opened out into a small, snow-filled clearing. Very little shoveling had been done here, only a bare indication of the road beneath the snow. Pulling up to the cabin, she parked next to Logan's jeep. It wore a layer of snow, indicating he'd been up here for a few days.
Stepping out of the cab, she pulled on her parka and stood staring at the structure. It was small, with a porch running the width of the front. Just beyond was a frozen, snow covered lake. Smoke puffed lazily from the stone chimney to sail into the bleak, gray sky.
Six months ago she would have led the jump to be snow locked in a cozy place like this with Logan. Now the idea scared her silly.
Sounds from around the side drew her attention. Checking it out seemed more preferable than braving the front door, so she trudged to the other side of the cabin, the snow crunching under her heavy boots as she sank down past her ankles with each step.
Rounding the corner, she found Logan splitting wood. The sight of him stopped her.
The axe swung with a solid 'chunk', big muscles moving smoothly under bared skin that gleamed with a sheen of sweat, his shirt and jacket set aside as an afterthought. Steam wafted up from his body in the frigid air.
She stopped breathing.
Logan straightened, setting the axe down. "Hi, darlin'."
"Hi," she answered softly.
He picked up his shirt and wiped his face and neck before turning around to give her a half smile. "Gimme a minute to finish up here, an' I'll be with ya. Why don'cha go inside an' get warm?"
She felt warm enough right now. "Okay."
After getting her bag from the vehicle, Charlotte climbed the steps to the door, hesitating a moment before pushing it open and stepping inside.
The main room was small; log walls, sloped ceiling, three small windows, one with a nice view of the lake. The worn plank floor was covered by a large wool rug in earth tones to help keep the cold out. The stone fireplace took up most of one wall, a small fire slowly dying. A dark green couch sat in front of it, the only place to sit in here aside from the small table and two chairs in one corner by the cooking area.
Two doorways led off from the main room. After setting her bag down on the sofa, Charlotte poked her head in one and found the small bathroom, barely enough room for the old-fashioned claw foot tub with a shower curtain enclosing it. A small sink and mirror sat next to the lavatory. Fresh towels hung behind the door, and a selection of her favorite toiletries sat on a shelf.
The other doorway, sans door, led into the bedroom. Here a large four poster bed, covered with a thick pile of quilts and comforters, dominated the tiny room with barely enough space to walk around it. A chest at the end of the bed was the room's only other piece of furniture. The bed looked soft and comfortable, *inviting.* Dangerous.
Back out to the kitchen area, she poured herself a cup of coffee from the pot on the stove, noting the absence of modern conveniences. No coffeemaker, microwave or dishwasher. The small refrigerator was tucked under the counter, a cooktop near the sink. There was electricity here, so there had to be a generator somewhere, along with a water pump and heater, hopefully. A hot bath sounded good about now.
~*~*~*~*~
After filling the wood box, Logan double checked the rest of the pile. The weather report promised another storm was on its way. This couldn't have been better if he'd asked Ororo to make sure he'd get the weekend he planned.
He stood just inside the doorway to watch her look around, a cup in hand. She looked good, better than good. Her hair was shorter than the last time he'd seen her, but it was still past her shoulders. He preferred longer hair on her, secretly craving the feel of it on his skin. The lost weight was back; she no longer had that weak, stringy look of four months ago. She looked healthy and ready to kick any ass that crossed her path.
He just plain missed her. Missed having his wife around on a daily basis, missed talking to her, watching her, waking up and going to bed with her. The fact she was here now was enough to give him some hope everything would be okay.
Charlotte turned around to catch him lost in thought, his dark eyes gleaming. "Coffee?"
Logan took a deep breath. Damn, she even smelled better, too. Already the air inside had her scent. "Yeah. Lemme shower real quick."
Closing her eyes, she listened to the familiar sounds of him in the bathroom through the partially cracked door -- turning on the water, taking off his clothes, stepping under the spray, the water rhythm changing as he scrubbed himself down.
"Char?" Logan called. "Bring me some coffee, will ya?"
Okay, so we're going for normal, she thought. She could handle normal. Not a problem. She'd done this a hundred times, it was no different.
She filled a second cup and steeled herself before pushing open the door. A cloud of steam escaped, wrapping her in a moist cocoon. "Here you go." She thrust the hand holding the cup through the gap in the curtain.
After several seconds a warm, wet hand closed over her wrist while the cup was removed, then she felt a soft kiss in her palm, her fingertips brushing a scruffy cheek.
"Thanks, darlin'."
Then she was released to stand gazing at the blue curtain in bemusement, her hand still in the water.
"I'll be out in a minute, darlin'," Logan's voice chided gently, startling her back to awareness.
"Umm, yeah, okay." She pulled her hand out and left hurriedly.
Logan smiled to himself and drained the cup, the racing warmth of the coffee mildly compared to the satisfaction of her response.
Shutting the bathroom door firmly behind her, she wandered over to the window to stare out at the lake, letting her face cool from the sudden rush of embarrassed heat. *She* was embarrassed. By Logan. What were the odds? Okay, what were the odds this would've happened before the last six months.
The bathroom door opened again, and Logan padded over to the bedroom.
The noise caused her to swing back around, her eyes clinging to his bare skin before she turned away, dry-mouthed and heart pounding. "How long have you had this place?" she asked while listening to the chest open and close, the sounds of him putting on clean clothes.
"Long time. Ain't been here in a while." He hadn't given the place much thought since they'd been married, but it seemed made to order when he came up with his idea. After spending a few weeks getting it into shape and stocking the cupboards, he sent his wife an invitation for the weekend.
His idea was simple: he was going to seduce her.
With any luck, the last report Emma Frost sent to the mansion would be proven right. Charlotte had grown in control and was showing signs of wanting to go back.
So far, it was working. Charlotte was here, and while she wasn't exactly at ease, she wasn't running from him either. Right now he'd take what he could get and go from there.
"It's nice. I like the view."
"Kinda rough, but I like it." He came back out of the bedroom fully clothed, not that *that* stopped her chaotic thoughts.
Her slow smile confused him for a moment before he remember she had been around a lot longer than modern conveniences. 'Roughing it' was nothing new to her. If this was going to work, he had to stop confusing what she was with what she appeared to be. That's what started all this in the first place.
"Ya want somethin' to drink?" Logan poured himself more coffee. "Wanna beer?"
"No, thanks."
"Got some wine, if you rather have that."
Wine was safe. Grape juice. Fermented grape juice. She was raised on the stuff, she could stand one glass to help her relax. "That sounds good."
Logan poured her a glass of honeyed wine and handed it to her with a raised brow, challenging her to take it. He knew well the effect it had on her.
Her heart sank and soared in the same beat. "Where did you get this?" Why bother drinking this at all? Just apply it directly to any inhibitions she might still have left from over the centuries and be done with it.
"Bear sent it to me for Christmas," he answered, referring to the shaman who adopted him so he could claim the raven's woman without challenge.
Her smile returned at the mention of the elder. Taking a sip, she settled into a corner of the sofa and resigned herself to getting through this visit one hour at a time. "How are things at the mansion?" She could do normal, she told herself again, just like him.
Logan shrugged. "Okay." He sat down on other end of the couch, careful to keep a buffer space between them. "Nothin' much goin' on since Christmas."
Charlotte flushed slightly at the memory. Jubilee, in her youthful, idealizing, bulldozing way, convinced the others to help her hang mistletoe in every conceivable place throughout the mansion, including the laundry rooms.
While Remy and Hank enjoyed themselves stealing kisses from all *adult* ladies that passed beneath the gaily tied bundles of greenery, the teen's main targets didn't take advantage of her efforts, disappointing her attempts at playing Cupid. She was so sure it would work, too, based on Logan's behavior the previous Christmas when he'd hung a large clump of mistletoe in a quiet corner, then carried Charlotte over to it to hold her a willing captive for the entire evening.
This last Christmas saw them talking briefly but not touching other than the obligatory public peck on the cheek. It would have been nice to talk, but everyone paid too much attention to their every action. Their life had become a damned fishbowl, and he was determined to take it back.
"How's it been at the school? Kids drive ya crazy yet?" He smiled a little at her still flushed cheeks. He wanted to warm his hands on her skin, but he didn't dare touch her. Not yet.
"They're wonderful kids. Well, not on Sunday mornings, but they've been good for me." She peeked up at him through lowered lashes. "Don't your spies tell you what's going on?"
Logan didn't even blink. "They don't tell me enough," he smirked, "just how crazy yer makin' Cassidy."
Charlotte laughed a little. "You must be talking about the prank we pulled on him." She finished her glass and set it aside.
He got back up to refill it. "I hear it ain't just one, an' he ain't happy 'bout wha'cha got the kids to do last month." She was relaxing even further, he observed, encouraged by her attitude.
"It was a slow night, so I ran a few camp movies. It was their idea to copy some of the pranks."
"Like they would've thought of movin' Cassidy's bed to a different room every single night by themselves, with him in it."
"It would've been worse if I hadn't been there. They were all set to suspend him from a couple of trees. He might've frozen before morning." Charlotte chuckled again. "He should be grateful they took their cues from 'Meatballs' rather than 'Friday the 13th' or 'Sleepaway Camp.'"
"It would never've happened if you'd been home."
The fragile humor died on her face. Charlotte looked down at her glass clasped in both hands. "That's true," she agreed flatly. She finished the wine in one gulp and rose to her feet. "I'm going to step outside for some fresh air."
Logan frowned at her while she pulled on her coat and gloves, leaving him alone on the sofa, mentally kicking himself for saying that out loud. The door closed behind her quietly.
With a sigh, he decided to get dinner going and let her calm down alone. When she got back -- *if* she came back, an evil little voice spoke up -- there'd be a hot meal waiting.
~*~*~*~*~
Charlotte returned just as night fell.
She sat on the front porch for awhile before walking down to the main road and back, just for the time it gave her to pull herself together. It was silly to take that comment personally, but he'd meant it, and she knew he was right.
It wasn't just a vague unease she'd been feeling, she realized, it was fear. Stark, unadulterated fear, but of what? Logan? No, it couldn't be him. It was her. It was always her.
Opening the front door, she found he'd been busy in her absence. The fire had been built up to a satisfying blaze, candles flickered on the mantle, soft music played in the background. After a moment, she identified the performer and her heart sank even more.
'...Moonlight becomes you, it goes with your hair...'
Their song, if they could be said to have one. For a moment, she was transported back to that night in Austria, humming the love song to the new 'Road' movie while she laid on his chest in a haze of the first security and contentment she'd had in a very long time.
Sing it to me.
I can't sing.
Please?
Charlotte shook herself out of the reverie. He couldn't have remembered that, please, god, don't let him remember that! One more time she'd run away from him out of fear and pain.
The small table was set with linen, silver and more candles. Enticing aromas of venison stew, her absolute favorite meal, mingled with the faint candle scents of cinnamon and vanilla.
The idea of her husband, a man's man, going to such lengths to provide her with the things she enjoyed in this little out of the way place was a humbling one, and completely unnecessary. All this place had to have was him to be her heaven.
"Take yer coat off," Logan said from his spot standing over the kettle on the cooktop.
In those four words, she knew his heart.
A moment of crystal clarity broke over her, leaving her shaking in its wake. She gazed at her husband with new eyes, seeing for the first time the stress and strain she'd caused him over her absence. She'd taken it all upon herself to solve the problem in her own arrogant, high-handed way and shut out the one person who'd taken a vow to cherish and protect her, the one person she could lean on and not have to hide the hurting, haunted woman she'd struggled with these last months.
She had dragged him through hell along with her, despite her intentions, and he was still waiting for her to find her way back to him. The first step was the hardest.
When she didn't answer or make a move to do as he instructed, Logan looked up from stirring the contents of the pot. "Char? You okay?"
She couldn't speak over the sudden emotions racing through her, drowning her ability to utter a single sound.
Logan set down the spoon he was using and turned off the heat. "Hey," he said with some concern. "Somethin' wrong?" He stepped over to slip her gloves off and unbutton her coat, his expression one of mild exasperation. "Let's get this thing off ya."
Yes! No!
Logan eased the bulky jacket off her shoulders and arms and hung it up on the rack by the door. Turning back to her, he peered at her pale face to find her eyes blazing. Tears formed at the corners of her eyes to trickle down her cold cheeks.
Frowning, he wiped them away. "What happened out there, darlin'?"
At the first touch of his hands, she closed her eyes to press her face against the warm, solid comfort of his palms. "Logan....." she breathed, then threw her arms around him, burying her face in his neck, bursting into fresh sobs. "I'm sorry."
Charlotte clung to him as he wrapped his arms around her, his hands rubbing up and down her back, his lips pressed against her hair, soft shushing noises raining softly on her. Her cries continued as she let loose the frustration and anguish inside. The walls she found far too easy to throw up against him were crumbling around her. She needed him to know it was over.
Logan picked her up and carried her over to the couch to settle her into his arms.
She finally stopped crying and lay weakly against his chest, using a sleeve to wipe her aching, wet face.
Still cradling her to him with one arm, Logan unlaced her boots with the other hand and slipped them off her feet. They landed with a muffled thud on the rug that had her chuckling through the hiccuping sobs still shaking her.
"What?" he asked her, settling her more comfortably in his lap so he could look down into the face of the woman he loved so much. A face that was red and tear-streaked but still the most beautiful face to him.
"Nothing, just the sound my shoes made when they dropped. It sounded kind of final."
"Sounds to me like yer home," he told her, kissing the sensitive spot behind her ear.
Her stomach rumbled loudly, causing them both to laugh.
"Gonna take care of that li'l problem, too."
Charlotte leaned her head against his. "I don't want to run anymore."
"Then don't, darlin'."
Maybe it *was* just that simple. She closed her eyes to rest on him, then ruined his dinner plans by falling asleep in his arms.
Logan didn't mind. He leaned back and held her, watching the flames dance in the darkening room.
~*~*~*~*~
The extreme warmth nudged her awake. She opened her eyes to find herself lying on the floor in front of the fire, nestled up to Logan as tightly as she could get. They were cocooned in a bed of furs, hers if she was any judge. She had no clue to how long she'd been asleep, only that she didn't want to move even one inch. This was what she'd been missing the last six months, the closeness of someone she loved.
Despite the warm fuzzies, Charlotte couldn't bring herself to look at him. This was too intense, too crazy. She fixed her eyes on his flannel shirt, on the slow, even rise and fall of his chest as he breathed. Close enough to see the fabric of his shirt pulse with each beat of his heart. She felt the lambent heat surrounding him, as thick and sweet as melted chocolate.
The smell of him seduced her, his own unique scent, fresh, sweet, warm male musk, the sharp tang of something that was him alone. She craved it, wanted to drown in it. Die in it, caught forever in this one moment.
He lifted her face to his, bringing her mouth to him. She closed her eyes, afraid to look at him. To see him, really see him, and realize he burned, that the passion and fire inside him was real. It warmed her in places she was hesitant to name, afraid that if she named them she would have to act. Even now, the flame called to her, promising to consume her completely.
She trembled violently under his hands as he drew her to a sitting position and undressed her slowly, doing his best not to frighten her. Flashes of bloody red sparked across the deadened bond between them; he welcomed them as a sign they were reconnecting on similiar levels that they had before.
Once their clothing had been discarded on the floor around them, he drew her close to enfold her lightly in his arms. Goosebumps marred the smooth skin where his body touched her, yet she sat still and pale in the firelight.
"I ain't gonna hurt ya," Logan whispered hoarsely, scared himself that she'd spook and run from him again. "We don't have to do this now." She felt like ice against him.
"I..." Charlotte's voice faltered only for a moment, then came back stronger. "I need this. I need you, Logan. I love you."
The three words that held his entire existence at bay for the last six months. "I love you." They gave him the strength to continue. Releasing her, he took her hands in his and tugged her forward until she straddled his legs, then laid back to give her control. Her hands he placed on his chest. "Yers, darlin'. This is for you, an' you decide how it's gonna be."
She felt his heart throbbing under her fingertips, steady, reassuring. His eyes were dark with passion held in check. He was trying so hard to be especially gentle. That touched her more than anything else. His heat was irresistible. She moved her hands slightly, warming them on him. Resting her head on his chest, Charlotte relaxed her entire body on him, curling into his warmth.
Her body began to shake, he felt hot tears touch his skin. "What?" he asked hoarsely.
"I can't. It's not fair to you."
"I'll be decidin' what's fair to me." His arms closed over her. "What happened was bad. I won't be lyin' to ya, Char, I hated you for runnin' off like that. I hate what ya did an' what happened, but I never stopped lovin' you. I want my wife back, an' I'm willin' to do what it takes."
Charlotte couldn't help it. Fresh tears escaped with a soft laugh. "Anything?"
"Anythin' but the damned symphony." Logan smiled as soggy chuckles erupted from her. Truth be known, if that's what she wanted, he'd pull the monkey suit out of storage and go anywhere with her.
It was proof that she understood him better than he did himself when she took hold of his fingers and pulled his hand to her chest, laying it over her heart where he could feel every beat and every breath, holding his hand as if it were her greatest possession.
Her breath caught in her throat as Logan's hand cupped her face gently. His expression was unreadable, and all she could see were those eyes gazing at her as she gulped back a sob and shifted to face him. Then those eyes closed in concentration, and something breathtaking happened.
The pads of his fingers were cool on her skin, despite the heat of his body. She tried to say his name and found herself unable to speak, unable to think. Her body relaxed even further as he leaned in closer.
The space and time between them melted away, along with the sensation of flesh as the essence of Logan blended with her, whirling, interlacing, enmeshing, heat that was more than just a physical entity completing them. She felt the love he held inside, the love she never dreamed of finding again, waiting for her to put aside her fears and claim her life once more.
Forgiveness. Understanding. He gave her everything, offered her his heart and soul in this new bond they were forging between them, a bond tempered in the fires of doubt and anger, in belief and trust. All she could do was offer herself in return. He had always been here, though she was too blind, too human to see it. He was hers, a part of her, and she a part of him. Separate but never without each other again.
Blinking, her eyes open to see his face wiped clean of expression, his hands still pressed to her flaming cheeks. His eyes were closed. She pulled him close, twining her arms around his waist to hold him as close as she possbily could.
"Logan," she whispered, afraid to ruin the purity of this moment with something as harsh as a voice, but she needed to say the words aloud as much as he needed to hear them. "Make love to me."
His eyes open, sleepy and dark. "I think I just did," he growled at her, his words hoarse from the wash of emotions resulting from the re-awakened mind link.
"Maybe we could try it the old-fashioned way?"
Logan nodded slowly as though her question was cause for deep contemplation. "All right. How old-fashioned ya want it, darlin?"
Some things haven't changed at all. Charlotte didn't realize until that moment how much she'd counted on him being as infuriating as usual. "Don't get all excited or anything," she whispered lightly, pressing butterfly kisses to his jaw. Did he realize how difficult this was for her? How much she needed him to understand?
"Don't worry 'bout that," he told her with a trace of rare humor in his voice, "gettin' excited ain't a problem."
She loved his humor, that he could bring it to their bed and share it with her. "Prove it," she whispered in an almost childish challenge.
Logan nodded again, the otherworldly look in his eyes gone, replaced by something more intense. His hands slid around her waist, and he sat up to kiss her softly, gently, pulling her closer to feel his own excitement, to prove to her he did want her.
"Charlotte," he whispered. "Charlotte."
Only her fear and guilt stood between them, but she was determine to push those away as he grasped her hips in his hands, positioning himself and then --
Bliss.
Sweet bliss. Rocking slowly, tenderly together, her hands tangled in his thick black hair. His hands gripped her gently as though she might fade away, or shatter in his arms. How quickly she disremembered the tender lover inside the man that growled his way through this world.
Their pace was slow. They had time now, all the time in the world. He paused, trying to prolong her pleasure, and he kissed her again, so softly, his fingers dancing over her skin. She felt the effort this cost him, and she wanted, needed to see him lose himself to her, surrender to the luscious fire racing through the two of them. Slowly, then with more strength, she tense around him, abandoning herself to this union of body and soul.
With a guttural cry, Logan was lost, and with a final thrust, so was she. They collapsed in each other's arms, finding the way together, newly bonded souls no longer seeking for a way to reunite, only to renew.
~*~*~*~*~
Charlotte opened her eyes to find her husband staring down at her, a shattering sort of vincibility shining in his gaze. They had just shared the most intimate of acts, and she had not wanted to look at him for fear of what she might see. Afraid she would see revulsion and hatred for her, for what she'd done. The emotions swimming in those dark eyes poured over her now, drenching her with their intensity.
He lay sprawled over her, legs tangled with hers, elbows firmly anchored on either side of her head, caging her with his body. A mild shudder found its way through her, but she suppressed the urge to struggle against him. He would never hurt her, not after showering her with such tenderness.
For the longest time he watched her in silence, lightly combing through her hair with his fingers. He lifted the silky strands while he looked at her, as if he hoped to catch a glimpse of something in her face, rubbing the strands against his mouth. The small, secret smile on his face told her he found whatever it was he searched for.
"Do ya know what ya mean to me?" he finally asked, his voice a hoarse growl in the silence around them.
She reached up and traced his lips with her fingertip, lingering on the curve of his lower one, then nodded. She finally knew, and the power of his love humbled her with the responsibility of caring for so great a gift.
"Everythin'," Logan told her with a faint smile.
"Not everything, Logan," she disagreed, resting her palm against his cheek. She shook her head slightly in protest that such a thing should be possible.
"Everythin', darlin'," he assured her, then bent his lips to hers for a long, melting kiss before gathering her up to carry her into the bedroom.
~*~*~*~*~
Logan woke gently, on some unconscious level, to the soft, rustling sounds of another person moving around the room, comforting sounds he'd lived too long without. Not a dream, or a long-forgotten memory. Now. Here. Safe.
Coming to awareness slowly, luxuriously, he opened his eyes to dim light and the smell of hot coffee to find Charlotte dressing, her back to him. She had already traded her towel for leggings and thick socks, one of his flannel shirts buttoned over a thermal top. A mug of coffee sat nearby; she picked it up to sip while she searched her bag.
He blinked and sighed quietly, never so aware of the unrest evaporating away as he was at this moment, leaving peace in its wake. The tangible, physical feeling of depression dissipating in her presence.
She turned and caught his eye, a slight smile curving her lips. With a wink, she left him to go back to sleep.
~*~*~*~*~
At the front door, Charlotte stepped out into the coldest air she'd experienced in a long time. The cold went straight to her head, into her lungs with the first deep breath. It hurt, burning her with a white icy flame, but she inhaled again, greedy for the sensation. The profound silence made every footstep through the drifts seem louder.
Standing at the edge of the lake in the eerie silence, the glistening icy-white and green surrounding the whole, the outside world didn't exist. Nothing existed but her and Logan, and this world they rediscovered for themselves.
Charlotte lifted her face to the sky and the intermittent sun, feeling a peace settle over her like the security blanket Logan made of himself in the night. She felt it, felt the burden shift off her even more, the *alive* sensation strengthening her even further. Closing her eyes, she opened her mouth and screamed out "I'M ALIVE!" and continued screaming out her defiance of anything that stood in her way.
~*~*~*~*~
Logan pulled on his clothes and boots, preparing to go outside, then padded through to the kitchen area for coffee, a bemused smile plastered on his face. It worked. He took the risk, and it paid out. His wife was his again, mind, body and soul.
He wondered how long they could manage to stay here without the outside world rudely intruding on them and destroying this fragile peace. The storm should be arriving sometime this evening, and if it didn't he'd contact Ororo and plead for a favor. They still had a great deal to talk about, and he wanted to do it curled up in front of the fire together, if possible.
Even the coffee tasted better this morning, whether or not because Charlotte made it or if the euphoric mood he was in flavored everything in his life right now. He couldn't tell. He didn't want to try.
Taking his cup out to the front porch, he breathed in the cold air. Good. This was very good. Not for the first time he thought about giving up the fight and retiring to that piece of property he had in Colorado, finally get down to ranching as he always promised himself he would. He was old enough to deserve it. Hell, they both were. Something else for them to talk about today, along with her moving back home.
He heard a scream from the direction of the lake as he set his cup down on the rail. The cup fell, spilling coffee in the snow as he raced off, his heart in his throat.
~*~*~*~*~
The sounds of a body fighting through the piled drifts stopped her vocal celebration. Charlotte stopped yelling and listened, a brief moment of panic flooding her as she reached for the knife in her boot, dropping into a defensive stance.
~*~*~*~*~
Logan leaped over the next snow drift, claws bared, to land in front of a crouched Charlotte. She had already begun her strike, the deadly blade aimed at his heart.
He deflected the blow, taking it in his shoulder to tackle her into a deep bank, the force of his charge sinking them both into snow. She wouldn't let go of the knife, kicking at the heavy body crushing her. A scream was building up in her, but she choked it back down.
"Charlotte!" Logan yelled in her face, ignoring the hot shard of pain to get her attention. "It's me, darlin', it's just me!"
A long minute spent breathing heavily, then a panting voice spoke up. "Do you... think.... you could get off me? I'm getting cold down here."
"Let go o' the knife, will ya?"
Charlotte was surprised to find herself still hanging on to it. She released the handle. "I'm sorry, Logan."
He shifted himself off her to his knees, then grimaced at her. "Hope this is just yer way o' sayin' ya missed me." He grasped the hilt and pulled the knife out, dropping it into the snow to press his hand against the wound.
She struggled her way up to a standing position, then helped him to his feet. "What in the world possessed you to jump at me like that?"
"I was tryin' to save ya." He tried for a pitiful look.
"From you?" Reaching down, she picked up her knife, then grabbed a handful of clean snow and pulled his hand away to slap that against the wound and press hard. "Come on, I'll clean you up."
"Ain't ya gonna cry a lil' for bein' so mean to me?"
"Is that why you threw yourself on my knife? Just so I'd cry?"
He grinned at the twinkle in her eyes, giving up the wounded attempt. "Gumbo had a bet goin' on when you'd get mad an' put a blade in me."
"Really? I'd have liked to have placed a bet on that one myself." They made their way back towards the cabin. "Who won?"
~*~*~*~*~
"You expect me to cry over this?" Charlotte washed the blood off his shoulder to get a look at the wound. It was already knitting up, just messy.
"It hurt."
"I think it hurt me more than it hurt you."
"What was goin' on out there? I heard screamin'."
Charlotte blushed. "I was...um... just feeling good." She peeked at him from under her lashes. "I was letting off some steam."
"Ya might wanna warn me next time, darlin', so I don't go jumpin' on you again."
"Oh, that!" Her color deepened. "I wasn't expecting you to rush in and save me."
"Don'cha know I'll always be here for ya?" He raised her chin to look her in the eye. "No matter what."
"I know you'll try." She turned to throw the bandage she was using in the trash. "Why don't you go take a shower and I'll make some more coffee?"
His hand on her arm brought her back around to face him. "Come with me?"
She swallowed, then put her hand in his.
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