Riley's machinations

Peter looked straight ahead as he walked. Mayra looked down at the sand instead of the man beside her. 

"About that–"

"I'm sorry–" 

They spoke simultaneously, and then both looked a little startled. 

"Ladies first," Peter smiled slightly. 

"I was just going to say… Riley's ridiculous. I grew up under his teasing, but it's not fair to you. He's your commanding officer and should behave better towards you than he is. I'm sorry that you're being treated this way on my account." Her face flushed slightly. 

On her account? She honestly thought Riley's actions were her fault? 

"You have nothing to apologize for," Peter replied, but she shook her head vehemently. 

"I have plenty to apologize for, Peter." She insisted. 

"That's true, I'm sure, but this circumstance isn't one of them." His mouth twitched in mild amusement at his own joke. 

It earned him a heavy sigh. 

"Peter, I–" 

"I brought most of it on myself, if you must know." Peter interrupted her. "I must have talked about you too much in front of him. Given him ideas. Made him come up with his schemes as a way to make sure you're protected and taken care of. It worked, really. Even if you never love me back, he's guaranteed I'll stay next to you and make sure you're safe as long as you'll let me. It's my fault, entirely." 

"You can't let him goad you," Mayra advised. 

"I don't." He replied. Normally, Riley's taunts rolled right off his back. 

"You did the other day," She spoke more softly. 

"When?" He defended himself, and then realized very suddenly what she meant. "Oh, you mean when I yelled at him that I love you and am not toying with you?" 

"Yes… that." She pressed her lips together and he sighed. 

"Do you want to talk about it?" He asked quietly. 

"Do you?" She turned the question back on him. 

"Me? I'll talk about it all day, if you'll give me the chance." He teased lightly, but his stomach suddenly twisted in anxiety. Was he finally about to receive the rejection he both feared and craved? Would this be the end of his hope? 

"Then talk," She glanced around, seemingly making sure no one was in earshot. Further down the beach, preparations continued for the ships that constituted the second half of Mayra's plan. Their steps had wandered up near the tree line, so it was unlikely anyone was watching them. 

"Just like that? Just talk?" He asked. 

"If you want," She shrugged, and he stopped walking. 

"All right, I will." He took a deep breath, and grasped one of her hands in his. "It's true. I love you. I have for longer than I've known. You accusing me of jealousy was my first hint at it, but… there it is. I can't take it back, nor do I want to." 

He looked into her face, which was full of concern. 

"Does it hurt?" She asked, and he blinked in confusion. 

"What?"

"Does loving me hurt? I… I'm not sure how I feel, and then your outburst at Riley, that you weren't toying with me, that you love me… it… it's hard to describe. Like my stomach is all tied in knots. It hurts a little." She frowned. 

"It hurts me in the best possible way," He smiled. "Like you're holding a piece of me, and I know you could crush it, if you want to, but there's nothing I can do to take it back." 

"I didn't ask for it." Her eyes widened. "What if I drop it? Why did you give it to me?" 

"There's no explaining why." He shrugged. "It just happened. So take care of it for me." 

"How?" Her voice had an almost desperate edge to it. 

"By taking care of yourself. Don't do anything too dangerous, and I realize how big an ask that is for you," He grinned, "and… don't go falling in love with anyone else, if you can help it." 

The last request hurt him a little bit to make, but the fear was there, underneath everything. There were still so many men ready for a wife, and Mayra was far prettier and smarter than any of the women sent by Rhone. 

"I would never," She frowned at him. "For goodness sake, Peter, I'm having half a heart attack thinking about falling in love with you, and I've known you longer than just about any other man I'm not related to." 

"So you're thinking about it?" He asked, intrigued by the admission. What exactly were her thoughts on the subject? Was she in favor or opposed? 

"I haven't been able to stop! You've invaded my mind, and that kiss–" She stopped and pressed her lips together again, suppressing whatever statement she was about to make. 

"What about it?" Peter tilted his head and tugged on her hand, trying to pull her closer. He liked this line of thought. She stepped back instead, but he refused to be discouraged as long as they were talking about kissing. 

"It–I can't get it out of my head." She admitted. "It gets in the way of my thinking." 

"Who needs to think?" He challenged playfully, stepping with her as she backed up again. 

"I do! Thinking is the most important thing I do!" Mayra insisted, taking another step backward. 

Apparently she didn't realize she was backing up into the tree line. Her foot caught on a root, and she tripped backward. Panicking, she pulled on his hand for balance and overcorrected, falling against Peter's chest instead. 

"You think far too much, sometimes," He chuckled. 

"I think you're right," She admitted, her palms splayed on his chest. She straightened to pull away, but his arm had already come around her, holding her against him. A warmth filled him as she looked up with startled, beautiful eyes. 

"So tell me about why such a little kiss gets in the way of your thinking," He invited. "While we're talking about it." 

"Is that what we're talking about?" She squeaked. 

"Is it not?" He looked down at her. 

"I don't know," She shook her head as if trying to sort her thoughts by force. 

"Maybe if the first kiss confused you so thoroughly, another might clear things up?" He blinked at her as innocently as he could manage. Her disorientation was adorable. 

"Umm…" She blinked rapidly, as if unsure how to respond. "Or it could make it worse." 

"I think the risk is worth a try, don't you?" He took one of her hands and kissed each of her fingers, slowly, delighting in the way her breathing caught each time. 

"I thought you didn't like risky plans," She stared at him with some trepidation. 

"And I thought you adored them," He countered, lowering his head until his face was a breath away from hers. 

He held himself there, inviting her to close the distance. It was a difficult exercise in self-control, but he wanted so badly for her to be the one to bridge the gap between them. It was worth the effort to wait. 

"You've got me there," She whispered, before closing her eyes and tilting her chin ever so slightly towards Peter.

Shyly, tentatively, she touched her lips to his, and his heart leapt. Somehow he allowed her to withdraw without protest, while still keeping his arm around her waist, his other pressing her hand to his chest where his heart beat wildly. Surely that was evidence enough for her to confirm his feelings. 

"Did it help?" He asked quietly. 

"It didn't hurt," Came her thoughtful answer. 

"Good enough for me," He could stand the closeness no longer and crushed his mouth to hers. She gasped, and he almost panicked and drew away, but her arms found their way around his neck and kept him near. 

His soul rejoiced, and he deepened the kiss, lifting her feet from the ground. She pressed closer and he reeled at the strength of feeling that welled up in him. It was like being struck by lightning, having his bones shaken and electrified. Every sense he had was consumed with her. 

The sight of her face burned into his eyelids, the taste of her lips, the smell of her hair, the feel of her hands pulling him closer, the sound of his heart thundering in his ears. 

Tearing himself away, he pulled in a ragged breath and set her feet on the ground. She was looking at him with something akin to alarm, and he worried he'd gone too far. 

He dropped his arms and stepped away, causing hers to fall to her sides. 

"Should I apologize?" He asked, a little fearfully. 

"What does a person say, after… that?" She blinked at him. Was that a no, he didn't need to apologize? 

"I love you," He responded without hesitation. His hand ached to take hers, but he held it out in invitation instead. "But only if it's true. Otherwise, or if you're not sure, you just say, 'let's go get on a boat to carry out my insane plan.'" 

A grin crept across her face, and she put her hand in his. 

"Let's go get on the boat to carry out my insane plan."