I was standing on a rise, watching an early morning mist drift up the valley and
kiss row after row of vines, heavy with robust grapes. My heart whispered. Maximus. His grapes. His vineyard. His land. As the sun glowed the colors of blood orange and melon, it slowly dissipated the Northern California fog from a nurturing cotton blanket, to a ghostlike wisp.

Practicality seeped into my mind, and I attempted to reconstruct the events that had brought me, unexpectedly (even to myself), to Max's home. Less than eight hours earlier, I was snug beside John in Vermont. He was asleep. I was baffled. Stunned by the power of the land now in our care. The amazing magic of it. The overwhelming responsibility and awe of it.

I closed my eyes and tried to formulate an explanation for Max. A solid reason as to why I had shown up unannounced at his door. I felt him move near, long before I heard his footsteps. As his heat and energy drew close, his gait slowed, I spoke softly. "Maximus, I need your help."

His big hand settled tenderly on my shoulder. "Are you well, Little Sister?"

I opened my eyes and turned to him. He blinked concern.

"Yes, I'm well. But Max, I'm so confused."

He squared to me, his head slightly tilted, eyebrows curled. "What troubles you?"

I sighed a long ragged breath, suddenly feeling exhausted and turned back to the lush green slope. "Tell me about this land."

His hand tightened on my shoulder, he tugged easily, pulling my attention to his eyes. "Why are you here, Dear One?" His voice was mellow and kind, but laced with distress.

"The land. Max, will you please come to Vermont. There is something strange about our land." Again my eyes drifted to the vines. "Something special. Like this land. I need your advice and your opinion." I returned a gaze to him, my heart begging.

His expression softened, he gave a solemn nod. "What does Brother John say?"

John! "Max, oh shit!" I fumbled for my cell. John had no idea where I was. I pushed buttons with shaking fingers.

"Riley! Where the fuck are you?" His voice raged through the phone.

"John, oh Jesus I'm so sorry."

"Are you all right? Jesus fucking Christ! Where are you?" He was shouting then took a deep breath. "Baby, are you all right?"

"Yes. Yes, I'm fine." I dropped to the ground, curled my legs Indian style and rubbed my temple. "I'm okay."

"Dammit! I was calling hospitals. Where are you?" I could imagine him pacing, running his hand through his hair, his eyes wild with concern. John worries too much about me. I looked around. Holy hell, maybe he was right to.

"I'm fine. I'm in California. With Max,"

He sighed then I heard the old wooden chair drag across the kitchen floor, envisioned him thumping down onto it.

"I needed to talk to him."

"About this place?" He sighed slowly then chuckled. "Baby, ever heard of telephones? Great invention."

I smiled, pushed a tear away. "I'm sorry, I needed to see him. To see this place. John?"

"Yeah?"

"I can feel it here too."

Silence. "Is Max there? Let me talk to him."

I handed the cell up into Max's waiting hand. He listened, nodded and grunted with a slight smile. "Brother, I will bring her home myself." He lowered on one knee, handing me the already disconnected phone. "Do you need to rest before we leave?"

I shook my head.

***

Throughout most of the long flight, I told Max of the odd, but comforting feelings I had about the property surrounding our Inn. Of the strange and inexplicable occurrences. The powerful dreams that both John and I were having. He leaned his ear close over the arm rest, occasionally patting my hand comfortingly. Nodding. His eyes far away. On the final leg of our journey, after changing planes in Chicago, I curled against the window, the flimsy airline pillow squashed under my neck, the ugly blue blanket lovingly tucked around my shoulders by a man who absolutely never makes a public show of affection.

We drove my car from the Burlington airport. Hell, I was amazed I even remembered where I had parked it. Without hesitation, Max took the keys from my hand. Not out of kindness or to be a gentleman. That my dear Sisters, was all about self survival. Most Brothers who have been a passenger of mine insist on driving. Even Colin, thrill seeker that he is, absolutely never lets me drive. It made me smile. Oh well.

As we traveled the mountainous, tree-lined roads toward Stowe, I began to feel the pull of Mount Mansfield. I looked at Max's profile. He was feeling it too, I was sure. He followed my directions through the quaint old town, climbing past the resort, down over the rustic pass, paralleled ten miles along the river, then making the sharp turn onto our property.

I dialed my cell. It was the first place for miles that the signal worked well. "We're here," I told John.

As we slowed and parked in front, John charged out the door. He was down the steps before I even got out of the car, sweeping me into his arms, burying a kiss deep into my neck. "Don't do this shit ever again," he reprimanded.

"I promise. I'm sorry. "

John reached out and shook Max's hand. "Thanks, man." Returning his attention to me, he squeezed a hug then smiled. "I got a pot of coffee on. Let's go inside, pretty nippy out here."

Max looked up at the house. His eyes took in the two separate buildings, trailed the arch of the connecting porch then rose to the profile of majestic Mount Mansfield looming behind the Inn. He followed us inside. I apologized for the condition, explaining that John and I were living in just three rooms at the moment. Construction wouldn't start until Spring.

"Our plan is to fully open for ski season next November. But we should be able to handle guests during the summer and fall," I said lightly.

Max nodded and sat at the ancient wooden table. I went to the cupboard and pulled out mugs as John poured coffee. He sat across from Max. I joined them and sipped from my cup, washed over with a sensation of completion, a contentment. Max was silent then he looked at John, who cleared his throat and shrugged.

"Max, she's right about this place. It feels like, I don't know . . . like something I heard about once, up in Alaska."

"What is it that you have heard, Brother?" Max sipped carefully then stirred, his spoon clinking against the sides of his mug.

John looked at me. "I remember hearing about stuff happening. It had something to do with the original caretakers of a particular piece of land. The first people to ever walk that place on the earth." He swallowed coffee, shielding his discomfort. Max waited quietly.

John continued, reaching across the table and holding my hand. "The house is its own entity. Pretty much alive with something. It's good though," his beautiful blue eyes caught mine and we smiled, nodding at once. "I mean, Riley's been dreaming about this fucking house forever. I don't mean dreaming about owning a Bed and Breakfast. I mean about this exact place. This house. That alone is freaky.

"But the land, Max," he leaned toward his Brother. "This land wants something from us. We both think you may be able to tell us if we're fucking nuts, or if it's real. God sakes man, we'll believe whatever you tell us. We trust you."

Max leaned back in his chair and ran a hand down his face. "I can not be sure that I will know anything, John."

I tilted my head. He was lying, he already knew something, I could see it in his eyes before we even got to the Inn. Catching my expression, he smiled. "I will walk the land. Alone. I agree, there may be something here, but I can not be sure I will be able to explain it. Or if I will even be able to identify it." He glanced out the window and sighed. "But that mountain." And he said nothing more.

With a groan, Max stood and we followed him to the door. John handed him a flannel jacket. Fall in Vermont is much colder than Max was accustomed to. As he shrugged into it, John gave him the boundaries of our property, standing on the porch, pointing in all directions.

"East to the road, south as far as the fence, about two, three miles out. West, as far as the base of the mountain. There's a marker there, a boulder with '1867' carved into it. And that way," John pointed north, "to the far side of the pond. It totals about twenty-seven acres."

Max nodded and started down the steps. "Hey, Max. Once the sun hit's that mountain, it gets dark real fast. Don't be too far. And be careful. There's a bear."

"A bear, John?"

"Yeah. A big, old black bear. Probably lived around here for years. He's not used to company, so take care, man."

Maximus nodded with a smile then turned and disappeared into the sunlit fall foliage.

***

I went and took a bath while John continued his ongoing battle with the fireplace in our pseudo-bedroom. As I soaked in hot water, my mind began to wonder. About Max, and how much I admired and loved him. How much I trusted him, his opinions, his integrity, his remarkable heart. I wondered about John, and the intensity of my complete love for him. And I wondered about how amazingly complete I was feeling, with these two very different and strong men so near. In my own space. My heart beat with a smooth contentment I'd never experienced in my life.

I emptied the tub and toweled off, still deep in thought. Dressing in warm, New England autumn clothes, I padded into the bedroom in wooly stocking-covered feet. I sat on a chair and yanked on my hiking boots, watching John's butt as he reached deep into the big fireplace.

"Fuck." I heard his muffled voice. Then he ducked his head out and smiled at me, his face covered with soot. "Fixed," he announced and I giggled. The flue had been stuck, leaving us to hope for warm nights, our only heat generated by a simple, inefficient electric space heater. He'd been able to fix the kitchen and parlor fireplaces, but our body heat had been the best form of warmth in bed since our arrival. No complaints, mind you, but the weather had been promising a serious cold blast for days. Every night dropping closer and closer to freezing.

He headed for the bathroom and I listened to the shower start, hoping I'd left him enough hot water to really squirt off the dirt. I pulled an oversized red sweater over my denim shirt with a sigh. Still wondering. About Max. About John. About love.

In the kitchen, I started a pot of beef vegetable soup; sure Max would appreciate something warm and hearty for dinner. I dumped flour, salt, yeast and water into my breadmaker and pushed the button. Looking around the kitchen, I imagined how different the space would be in just a few months. The 1949 gas Chambers stove and 1960's style turquoise colored refrigerator replaced with sleek stainless steel professional equipment. The room expanded, the hum of an exhaust system.

I shrugged, realizing that I'd probably miss the strange kitchen. Its mish-mash of equipment and the eclectic collection of furniture, left behind by the last tenants of the house, hippies of the Mount Mansfield commune.

John peeked into the pot with a delightful smile. He looked at the wall clock. 4:30. The sun would slip behind the mountain soon and we were both a little more than concerned. We pulled on heavy jackets and stood on the porch, waiting for Max to return. Even though Maximus was more than capable of finding his way back to the house in the dark, John was prepared to head out for a search. After all, there was the bear to consider.

John wrapped his arms around me from behind and I leaned back against his sturdy body, more than grateful that he'd found it in his heart to forgive me for disappearing. He nuzzled his face into my warm collar, licking a tickle on my ear lobe. I snuggled closer.

"Hey, Baby. I think I'm gonna stay in town tonight. I need to head to Burlington first thing for that meeting with the engineer, anyway."

I didn't turn. I didn't say yes, but I didn't say no. My heart was starting a smooth rise into excitement.

"That way, you two can talk. Have some time alone together . . ."

"Don't leave, John."

His face came around, baby blues focusing in my eyes. "And where, pray tell, am I gonna sleep? That love seat is a bitch to --"

"In the bed," I swallowed hard.

John blinked then looked out into the trees. "And are we sending Max to a hotel?"

"No."

His arms tightened around me. "What are you thinking, Baby?"

I cleared my head, permitting only the most important words to filter forward. "I'm thinking that I would like to love both of you." I pulled away and looked into his face. "Is that an awful thing to think?"

His big hand brushed warm against my cold face. "No. It's not an awful thing to think. But I'm not sure Max would go for that, Riles."

I sighed, as I had been doing all day, over and over. Then shrugged and leaned back into John's wonderful embrace. Wishing I could love the two men I loved so very much at that moment. Love them together, give them everything I am, in thanks for all they give to me.

Max shuffled through the fallen leaves, turned the corner and stopped. He looked up at us thoughtfully, a genuine smile on his lips. "It pleases me to see you so happy." He propped a foot casually on the bottom step, and watched John kiss my cheek.

"See the bear?" John asked.

Max shook his head. "But there was an old man at the pond."

"That's Grandpa Luke," John explained. "He's harmless. Anything else?"

Max drew in a long breath, looked down at his boot and tucked his hands deep in his pockets. "I will take a room in the town for the night. We will discuss this tomorrow."

"Why don't you stay here, Max." John said smoothly.

"No, Brother," Max said, shaking his head. "I will not put you out of your bed."

"You won't be."

Max blinked, then focused again on his boot.

"Max, Riley has it in her heart to love us both tonight."

Drawing in a deep breath, Maximus straightened and stepped back. He looked to the right, then to the left, chewing the inside of his lip. Then his wonderful eyes focused on mine. "And this would please you, Little Sister?"

My hands slid up John's arms, then down to his hands. "Yes, Max." Jesus, my mind was reeling, terrified of what he'd think of me. Afraid I'd disappointed him.

He looked up at John. "And you Brother?"

I felt John nod slowly.

Max looked away again, then completely turned, took a few steps. His hand ran down his face, through his hair. Again he stepped, this time to the north, gazing into the leaves, painted brilliant gold and bronze in the last glimmer of sunlight flashing over the ragged summit of the mountain.

My heart was breaking, crying out to him for forgiveness. "It's alright, Max. Please. Let's just forget it." I nearly choked through oncoming tears of disappointment, fear of losing his love and respect.

His eyebrows bunched then he looked up at the mountain and released a breath, the sound of painful resignation. With a gentle move, he stepped up to me, his hands rested along my face, and his eyes toured mine in an intense search.

I blinked back a tear. His mouth slowly met mine, pressing warmth and sweetness onto my lips. He sucked tenderly at my bottom lip then slid the tip of his tongue along the inside of my mouth. John's hands easily slid down my arms, intertwining my fingers in his. And I reveled in the feel of John, strong and warm behind me. Max, gentle and loving before me.

***

There was no rush, no hurry to a passionate excitement, no demand for immediate gratification. Only the comfortable acceptance of an inevitable act. As darkness enveloped the house, settled in the shadow of the mountain, the men lit the fireplaces and I finished preparing dinner.

I set the table with the dishes I'd lovingly hand carried from Pittsburgh, my grandmother's elegant Lenox, sparking in the ugly bare light above the table. I pulled out candles and switched off the light, stepped back and wrinkled my nose. Grandma's Lenox wasn't right. I carefully re-packed the china then dug out the old everyday bowls for soup and placed plain flatware over paper napkins. In the candle light, it looked perfect.

Dinner was pleasant, spiced with laughter, good conversation and compliments to the chef. Later, after I'd cleared the plates, we sat and talked; John, a beer in hand, Max and I sipping a nice Cabernet. John told about some of his adventures as a secondary scout for the Pittsburgh Penguins. I babbled about the plans for the Inn. Max smiled as he spoke of Reagan and how pleased he was with his life. I watched John's eyes sparkle in the candle's glow, grateful that these two extraordinary men had come to a sure comfort with their past.

Finally Max left, asking permission to take a shower. I straightened the kitchen, feeling nervous. John stepped behind me and whispered softly. "Baby, it's up to you." I turned into a devastating kiss, my knees weak with desire and my heart going into overdrive.

As John carried out the garbage, locking it away in a shed, safe against our resident bear, I went to the bedroom. The bathroom door was opened, steam flowing out. Max was standing at the sink, beautiful, naked and glistening with sparkling drops of moisture. He was staring into the foggy mirror. I leaned on the doorjamb.

"Please don't think that you have to do this, Maximus," I said softly.

He turned to me, his eyes gentle, shining a deep blue. He took me into his arms. "I wish to do this. To please you. Do you not know how much you please me, Riley?"

"Me?" I pulled away, expecting sarcasm in his face, finding a softness that took my heart.

"Yes. You, my dear little one."

John came into the bedroom quietly. Max set his lips on mine, firing my passion even more, his tongue reaching deep into my mouth, dancing with mine, his hands soft on my breasts. He released me and smiled. I turned to John and slowly undressed him, taking each layer of clothing from his body as he kissed me with tender, expressive touches.

Max pulled gently at my sweater, brushing it up over my head, slid the denim from my shoulders and kissed my back, making me shiver. He removed my bra and jeans, slipping my panties off with an easy sweep of his big hands. Then he simply went to the bed, sat with his back propped against the headboard, a powerful knee raised, and waited; his eyes on mine, a smile of kindness and love playing easily at the corner of his beautiful lips.

John took my attention, sweetly brushing his fingers down my hips, kneeling at my feet and pressing his lips against my belly. His tongue traveled from my ribs to my crotch, then played there, his hands holding me steady. I gasped from the heat of his touch, my heart ready to explode with the abundance within. His tongue slipped into me, licking deep against the fiery trigger, nearly dropping me to the floor in one brush. He stood and pressed his mouth on mine, possessing me, sucking me deep inside of his big heart. Then he pulled away, a serious, loving look in those baby blues. He took my shoulders and turned me toward the bed and Max.

I went to the foot of the bed, watching Max's eyes carefully, seeking any sign of disapproval. Finding only acceptance, I crawled to him. My first desire, to taste his mouth. He reached for my face as I neared, cupping my cheeks, permitting me to explore the passion behind his lips, to move with my need and suck from his. Maximus, my heart thudded. His flesh. His heart. His energy. I kissed his neck, his ear. I licked down to his nipple, feeling his sigh beneath me, his raised knee lowered slowly. I licked and nipped, sucked, then trailed wetness down his belly, drawn to the beckoning heat between his legs. I knelt there, ran my cool hands smoothly along the inside of his thighs, spreading them further apart, watched him shiver, a hiss escaping his teeth. I reached up and held his hands in mine, his thumbs tenderly rubbed against my palms. Watching his eyes, I wet my lips and slowly lowered them to his straining cock.

A long lick slid the length of it, slow and hot. Max's knees trembled. His eyes never wavered from mine and I took him in, sucking evenly, until the straining head tapped the back of my throat. His eyes closed and he sighed. I pressed a gentle, even rhythm, using my tongue, my teeth, my love to please this man I loved. His hands loosened mine then tugged at my arms. I climbed over him, carefully positioning myself. Max took his cock in hand, my hip in the other and guided me on a sure slide, pinning me and my heart to him.

I gasped. The entry was easy, but tight and so deep. He waited till my breath settled, my heartbeat regulated, then pulled me down into a kiss, his hips rocking slow, smooth. His mouth moved to my breasts, making me shake from his touch, his suck, the tingling pull of his teeth. I felt it from my center to my jaw, arching for him. Aching for him. Finally, Max pressed me upright. I straddled his powerful body, breathing deeply. Wavering from the powerful weakness he had created. The depth of his penetration.

I felt the bed shift, sensed John moving up behind me, the heat of his body so near my back.

"Lean on me, baby," he whispered into my ear, then sucked a kiss on my neck. I did, relaxing, pressing my back against his warm support, his stiffened cock, hard against the small of my back. John's hands ran the length of my arms as Maximus smoothed his palms in a gentle trail along my thighs. With Max deep inside me, moving a steady press, John's hands tenderly took my breasts, molding them, squeezing, tugging tight on stiff, begging nipples. Through half closed eyes, I watched Max. He looked up at John and gave a nod. One of John's hands slid to my open pussy.

"Relax, baby," John said softly. "Relax. Let it come, Riles. Let it come good for you."

Watching Maximus, his hips rocking, feeling him deep inside. Hearing John's loving voice. My heart was wild, my mind scattered thoughts like the rustling leaves outside the window. Relaxation would be impossible, but for John I tried. I closed my eyes and felt the energy in the bed, the house, radiating from the earth. Into me.

John's expert fingers found the source, played there with an easy stroke, a movement in direct response to Max's powerful slide. As John applied pressure along the side of my raging clit, then lightly danced over it, a fire sparked deep inside, followed by a growing tremble. My head fell back onto John's shoulder and his mouth sucked my panting lips. Max's hips moved more intensely, his fingers digging deep into my hips, pressing me hard against him.

Images swirled behind my closed eyelids. Colors and forms, some strong, some simply wisps of memories. The firm richness of the grapes at Los Olivios. The sound of laughter in my dilapidated kitchen, the rumbles of the black bear as he ambled across our future parking lot. And I felt things. Things far beyond the passion encircling me. The sensation of all the Brothers, the safety they represented. The world I now lived in. Amazing. Pure. Empowered with passion and love. Passion. Love.

There was a sparking of sheer fire deep inside. It grew at an alarming rate as Max pounded into me. John's hand release my nipple, his arm encircled me, pulling me tight, back against his chest as my all encompassing climax exploded. I cried out as Max's hips rose to remain in contact with the rise of my body's arch. His hands held me strong and he too groaned, pulsing his seed deep into me, straining to the feel of my squeezing, aching path.

John waited until Max and I were calm, breathing steady, but heavily. He lowered me to the bed and kissed my lips tenderly. I felt a frenzy of need for him. My mouth starving for his flavor, his touch. I scrambled over his chest. Sucking his flat, tight nipples, sucking his belly.

"Baby, wait," he whispered, his soothing voice reaching for my crazed heart. "Relax, sweetheart. Wait till you can breathe." But I couldn't wait. I slid his length, laying beside him, curled around his hip, my leg over his knee, my mouth reaching for his straining cock.

My heart wanted what it wanted. To love the man who was my life. I took him in with desperation. John had been patient; he had waited and deserved his reward. The feel of him in my mouth was perfection. The fit, the beautiful smoothness, the tangy sweet flavor of his beer tainted pre-come. I met his pace, his hands deep in my hair, his hips moving with the pressure he knew. He groaned, the vibration rumbling to his balls. I cupped tem, rolling, teasing as I sucked, opening my throat for John's offering.

The mattress shifted. Max ran a big warm palm along the rise of my hip then slipped his hand to the wetness that was his own gift. His fingers slid deep inside, curled and he pressed gently. He nuzzled my neck. "Come again for us, Little Sister."

I attempted to concentrate on all the sensations raging in my body. All the desires flashing in my brain. Maximus was tender, but persistent. John was close. So close. I sucked deeper, pressed my tongue flat, and prayed. I prayed for John's satisfaction, sure I'd lose all control if Max was to prevail. John's legs tightened.

"Jesus fucking Christ!" He shouted as he shot down my throat, pulsing forever. And then, I soared.

With both men attempting to hold me to the earth, I catapulted into the heavens. Past the ceiling, the golden leaves, far above the majestic mountain. And for a spit second, I looked down at its ragged stony peak, through my house and at the vision of the three of us. So beautiful. So true to the love in our hearts.

***

Climbing up from sleep, I sensed my face cradled against Maximus' sturdy chest, his arm gentle around my back. I heard soft shuffling in the room. A whisper.

"I'll be home on Thursday, Max."

I felt Max move and opened my bleary eyes just in time to see John reach to Max. Their hands clamped tight at the wrists. A bond tighter than a handshake, deeper than trust. John leaned down and brushed a soft kiss on my head. Then he left.

John had left early that morning, heading for an important meeting with our engineer regarding the greenhouse-style addition for the new dining room. I missed him already, but was so looking forward to the next few days alone with Maximus. When I came into the kitchen, dressed in a long flowered summer dress, he'd already made the coffee. I moved close, feeling his warmth as he poured a mug for me.

"Good morning, Riley." His deep voice created a vibration that soared all the way through my chest.

"Morning," I smiled and went out to the porch. Max had already been there; the newspaper was spread across the arm of an old whicker chair, his coffee cup on the porch railing, still steaming. And I realized that he'd left his comfort just to pour coffee for me. As he settled and lifted the paper, I gazed at him, remembering last night. The three of us had shared so much intimacy only a few hours ago. Now, I know that intimacy does not always create an ongoing comfort zone, and I couldn't help but wonder how the next few days would go.

I sipped perfect coffee and looked out at the brilliant, colorful leaves, rustling and glowing in the morning sun, belying the temperature of the air around us. A feeling of magic and energy washed over me and I sighed softly, sensing the pull of the land, the tug of Mount Mansfield behind me. As I turned to look over my shoulder at the mountain, Max did exactly the same thing. Ah, I thought and smiled.

He folded the paper neatly then turned his full attention to me. I straightened. Max is like a teacher, a guide, a mentor and of course the principal, all rolled into one beautiful man. And I am a willing student.

"May I have a tour of this house, Little Sister? Perhaps you can tell me of how it will be after the work is finished." His big hand cupped my cheek and a gentle smile pulled ever so slightly at the corner of his mouth. "I already know the home it will become in your loving hands, Dear One."

His eyes were so sweet I couldn't help but turn a kiss into his palm. I fetched all the keys and led him across the porch to the left tower.

"Max, this house was built in 1876 and moved here in 1902. It was one house, and they cut it in half to move it. Can you believe that?" I turned to him as I jiggled the rusty old key in the ancient lock. "This half of the house will be for the Family only." The door squealed open and we stepped inside. Years of dust and decay filtered through the sunlight pouring in the open door and uncovered windows. There was the skitter of a field mouse and the creak of floorboards beneath our feet.

I walked to the center and twirled on my feet, the hem of my dress flowing out. "This will be the family lounge. This wall will go and the room will be huge. This fireplace," I pointed to the damaged mantle, "will remain, only it will be a big round hearth, right in the center of the room. Won't that be perfect for Family get-togethers?"

He smiled and shook his head kindly then looked up at the ceiling, over to the window, back at me. "Your vision is extraordinary, my dear. I see but a shabby room, worn with age and neglect."

"It will be wonderful, Max." I pointed behind him. "This floor will have two suites and the next two floors will house an additional eight suites." He followed me up the stairs. "It's really hard to envision now, but the blueprints are easy to read, you can look at those later if you like."

He pushed gently on the banister. It swayed under his touch and he pressed a protective hand on my hip, moving me away from the danger as I trotted up the steps ahead of him. At the fourth floor we both stood, silent, jointly sensing the energy of the mountain fully visible behind the wall of rotting French doors, the glass wavy and slightly discolored. The room was void of partitions or walls. One large space. I opened a few of the doors and let the fresh warm air flow in. A small, rather hazardous balcony hung precariously just outside the doors and I giggled. "Lots of work to do here, isn't there?" I turned.

Maximus was transfixed, still as stone, his beautiful blue eyes locked on the ragged, hooked peak of Mount Mansfield. Carefully, I stepped out of his line of vision, circling behind and sitting silently against the wall. For a full hour I watched Max's solid back. Not a muscle twitched or flexed beneath his tight black tee shirt. I curled my legs to the side and closed my eyes, as Maximus communed with Spirit.

"And what are your plans for this room, Little Sister?" He spoke softly without turning. I stood beside him, his arm pulled me close. I could feel the electrical charge of the energy that had passed through him. It flowed into me then dissipated into the air around us.

"This room is special. I'll keep it for prayer and meditation. For Isobel, and Cort." I turned to him, "and for you."

He blinked, his face lowered to mine. "And for you, Riley." His lips pressed gentle on mine.

***

Max and I walked the land, following paths in my imagination. I pointed out areas of special interest, where a gazebo would be placed, a picnic area, the clearing where John and I planned to build an outdoor stone grill. We walked and talked easily and I wondered about my original fear of him. Kicking fallen leaves as we strolled I looked over at his amazing profile, felt his strength, even as he bend to lift a beautiful leaf, examine it, then twirl the stem playfully between his fingers.

"We'll turn the carriage house into the stable."

His eyebrows rose. "Stable?"

"Yes, we're planning to have at least two horses. Horse drawn sleigh rides in the snow, you know."

He stopped. Obviously he didn't know, so I explained. "It's real popular here. Riding in a sleigh, a warm blanket over your lap, snow falling. Romantic. Really."

He nodded.

"Of course the pond freezes over, John's happy about that," I chuckled.

"And he would be. There will be ice skating and hockey, I presume." Maximus looked pleased with himself for recognizing such a trivial thing and I smiled.

"Right."

We continued a bit further in silence. Then I stopped and turned to him. "Max?"

He looked at me, eyebrows raised comically. "Riley?"

I giggled. Max made a joke. "Why was I so afraid of you that first time we met?"

"I do not know. But I will confess that I too was afraid."

"You? Good Lord, why?"

"The pull is different with you, Dear One."

I blinked.

"It speaks of things other than the pleasures of the body. It moves with another energy. Vis vires, phasma phasmalis. The power of the Spirit."

"I've heard those words before. From Jack. But I don't really understand . . ."

"You do understand, Little Sister." I stopped dead, sighed and looked into the trees ahead. Soon the beautiful leaves would be gone, but I was grateful they were still there, holding on to their last hurrah, giving me something to focus on, to ponder as I listened. He continued. "You understand, probably more than I or the good Captain do, I would think. As is evident by this land. That mountain. And your clear sensitivity to it. A sensitivity that I will only presume drew you to this place long before coming to our world."

"But what does it mean?" I looked into his eyes, wanting answers, hoping for directions, for instructions.

"Only you can determine that. The true meaning has to do with you and you alone. With your path, and your learning of such things. I fear I will be of little assistance on this matter."

Well, at least he didn't call me Grasshopper. Frustration settled in my stomach like a rock. A red tailed hawk soared above, crying the sound of my growing despair and I turned away, not wanting to seem so weak in front of Maximus. I swallowed back the lump in my throat. His hand settled tenderly on my shoulder, but I wasn't ready to turn yet. Not ready to face him. "But the mountain calls to you too, Max."

He pulled gently and I looked into his eyes. "It does, Dear One. But that is for me to discover, is it not?"

"Yes, yes, of course." I stepped ahead, but he clasped my hand and drew me back under his gaze.

He slipped the gold and red speckled leaf into my hair, looking at it, then into my face. "Little Sister, this place is very special. And you are meant to be the keeper of this land. You and John."

"How do you know?"

His eyes rose to the mountain, the rocky summit and he sighed. "You are welcomed here," is all he said. And we walked hand in hand, deeper into the blazing forest.

He stopped suddenly. "And what will be here?"

I looked around. "Ah, I don't think anything is planned for this spot."

"Good," he said softly, turning me into his arms. "Then you and I shall make it a place for our memories alone."

His lips took mine with gentle persuasion and I gave myself to his easy desire. "I feel I must explain myself," he said into my neck, his tongue trailing a shivering tickle below my ear. "When I spoke of a pull different than that of the pleasures of the body," his lips kissed softly. "I did not mean to imply that those pleasures do not call to me." He brushed his lips across my forehead, and to the other ear. "I think often of your warmth, the smallness of your form, your tight flesh around me, holding me to you. And I am pleased that you no longer fear me. That you desire my presence." His hands smoothed down my shoulders, to my breasts, pressing a squeeze that drew a sigh from both Max and I. I melted against him, rising on my toes to reach his lips, my arms around his strong neck.

His hands smoothed along my hips, then grasped the fabric of my dress and lifted it over my head, dropping it heedlessly aside, his immediate focus returning to my lips. His fingers undid my bra and he also took that from my aching body. Then he looked down into my eyes. "Dear One," his voice was soft but strained, the warmth of his breath rushing over my cheek. "I have always been gentle with you, but I fear I may not find the resilience to maintain that control this day."

"I love you Max," I whispered, reaching for his lips, his passion. "Love me the way you wish."

His arms tightened around my waist and he lifted me from the ground, grinding his mouth hard against mine, his tongue demanding and searching, his hands pressed deep into my skin. He lowered me to a cushion of leaves then stood and removed his tee shirt, his jeans, carefully setting aside his ever present blade, the dagger of his past. Already his breath was heavy, huffing to retain control. Maximus was beautiful, his shoulders and chest a mass of toned muscle, sleek in the sunlight that speckled through the trees. His powerful thighs, his erect, demanding cock. I felt an ache in my chest for him so intense that I imagined myself rising from the ground to meet his need. To answer to his command. Kneeling on one knee, he slid my panties off in one sweep. With the rustle of leaves, a breath from the heavens, Max moved between my legs, he opened me, lifting my legs high and setting them on his massive shoulders. He kissed my ankle, the inside of my thigh, sucking hard, marking me. Then his mouth moved to my opened sex. He drew in a deep breath, releasing it slowly; I could see him shake with desire. And I braced myself.

As one hand took my breast captive, moving with desperate attack, another pushed, fingers fast and precise, deep into me. His mouth took me, battling to bring me to his level of impassioned frenzy. I cried out as his fingers, confined and tight inside, curled and pressed against the thrum of his urgent tongue.

Madness must be like this. The sudden loss of control, the complete demise of one's illusion of restraint, dissolved in the blink of an eye. His teeth clamped on to my swollen clit as he sucked mercilessly. I couldn't tell you how long I hovered, screaming, arched from the ground, only his strength holding me secure.

And I cannot ever describe the gentleness of his rescue. The soothing tone of this deep voice, the tender strokes of his hands. His mouth found mine, kissing softly as I panted, my lungs begging for air, my heart desperate and pounding.

"Sweet Little Sister," he whispered, as he pressed his knees between mine, commanding, dominating. "Let me in."

My mind was mush but my body belonged to this conqueror. Shaking knees rose, trembling feet locked above his hips and Max pressed a surprisingly gentle drive. Still vibrating from the depths of my belly to the boundaries of my flesh, I could feel his cock reacting, straining to reach its distance before retreat, before the repeat action. He groaned then tapped the deepest edge. Looking down into my eyes, I saw his growing demand, his subtle apology for what was to follow and I smiled, encouraging the General to take his prize.

Is this the true reward of deep passion? Of love? The surrender of ones heart and body to a soul worthy of such honor? It was animal, beautifully painful, blessedly fulfilling. Sweat dripped from his face onto me, baptizing me with his giving, and his powerful climax was one of true conquest. Maximus strained then dropped over me, careful to place his weight to the side, his head resting on my heaving breasts.

I panted and stared above me, marveling at the kaleidoscope of light and color, the sun, the brilliant blue sky, the gold and red of autumn leaves. A canopy befitting the teacher and his student reaching complete understanding and I smiled, smoothing my hand over his heated face, kissing his hair. Maximus. My heart whispered.

When our bodies became placid and our minds grew peaceful, he tenderly helped me dress, cared for me, gave me his handkerchief to catch the abundant overflow of his seed. He dressed with a deep sigh then helped me to my feet. I smiled and he chuckled, leaning his face down to meet my gaze. "I thank you, sweet Little Sister."

"Thank you, Maximus." I wrapped my arms around his neck. His arms tightened and he lifted me, my feet drifting from the earth, my sensations soaring to the heavens as he kissed with soft lips and a languid tongue.

"I will be sorry to see this place finished," he said, setting me down, his big hands resting on my hips. "It will be alive with guests, leaving little space for such beautiful, private moments, will it not?"

I grinned. "Jeez, I hope so. We do need to show a profit, don't we?" I glanced around. "But this place right here, will always make me think of you, Max. I will probably spend many private moments here, remembering."

He smiled, kissed me one more time then picked leaves from my hair.

There was a rustle and a rumble and our eyes met, wide. Max turned as the bear emerged from the trees. With a swift, sure movement, Max tossed me away with one hand as the other reached behind, drawing the dagger. The blade glistened in a shaft of sunlight and I watched in terror. The old black bear came close, reared up on his hind legs and bellowed a substantial roar at Maximus.

I scrambled up onto my hands and knees, breathless. Time stood still. My eyes struggled to focus. The blaze of one spear of sunlight conflicting with a strange veil of color and brought a chill of premonition. An other-world sensation rippled through me.

"Maximus. No!" I screamed. But the soldier was prepared for a killing attack. The bear stepped forward, within a few feet of Max, easily as tall as his enemy, proving the fairness of their battle. And suddenly I saw. Clearly. Precisely. "No!" I cried again.

What I saw? There was Maximus protecting me, weapon in his very able hand. There was the bear, nearly six feet tall, huge, angry. And there was something else. Something amazing.

Within the form of the bear I clearly identified the ethereal, standing figure of the old man, Grandpa Luke. And he too was protecting me!

My heart thudded and my mouth opened, speaking the only words appropriate. The only words to be spoken. "Mato Wakan!" I shouted.

The bear seemed to take a breath. He lowered to all fours, slowly turned to me. Max crouched, his legs ready to spring, the dagger twirled in his hand, his eyes burning into the bear's back, seeking the perfect angle for a killing drive.

"Mato Wakan," I repeated softly. The animal was still, then slowly moved his massive head up then down before he turned and calmly ambled back into the foliage, the rustle of leaves and cracking twigs in his wake

Maximus dropped to his knees and scrambled to me. "Are you harmed, Dear One?"

"Mato Wakan," I whispered, dazed and watching the place where the bear had left us.

***

A man aware of the Spirit world and ever respectful of the experiences precipitated by it, Maximus said nothing. He walked me to the house; made sure I was alright and comfortable then went to the top floor of the left tower, alone.

I sat on the porch, far below him, also facing the mountain. And I thought. Gandpa Luke. The old man who showed up mysteriously to help John haul fallen tree trunks, stayed for dinner occasionally. The man who spoke to John in his dreams. Our bear.

When Max joined me, tenderly placing a blanket over my shoulders, I was surprised. I never heard him leave the left tower, never felt him pass me to our part of the house or return with the blanket. I blinked. He knelt at my feet, gently pushing my hair back. Asking nothing.

"He's a shape shifter," I said quietly. "The old man you saw at the pond yesterday."

His head tilted. "Is he a man who becomes a bear? Or a bear who becomes a man?"

"Both," I sighed; looking onto Max's concerned eyes. "He was protecting me. He didn't understand. He knows John. He thought he knew you, but wasn't sure. When you readied to attack, he just . . ." I looked up at the mountain, shook my head. "Wow," I whispered.

"What did you say to him?"

"I honored him."

Max stood and looked down into my eyes. "You understand, Little Sister. Far more than you know." And he smiled, his expression softening, eyes twinkling.

And suddenly the spell was broken. We both relaxed, melting into the real world . . . well our real world. I leaned back, snuggled under the blanket as the sun slipped behind the mountain and thought. I thought about shape shifters, about Max and John. About Russell Crowe, their creator. Then I had an ah-huh moment. Crowe. His extraordinary talent. The many different and varied creations, alive and breathing in this amazing world, because of it. And the presence of the bear. The shape shifter.

Ah-huh.

***

We went into town for dinner that evening, running across several of the other, more seasoned innkeepers of Stowe, Vermont. They were all very friendly, especially the women, asking to be introduced to my husband's handsome brother, noticing the absence of a wedding ring on Max's hand. He was polite, even charming, but often turned that save me look my way. I had to smile.

Before heading home, we strolled around town, bought a few bottles of wine, an almond crusted cake. As we headed toward the car, I looked up and stopped dead. My heart thumped and I blinked several times. Max too was a statue beside me, his mouth slightly open in surprise.

Grandpa Luke smiled and came close, reaching his hand to me as he always does. There were several small twigs and crumbled leaves in the collar of his jacket, the scent of the earth drifted to me from him. A pleasant, pungent scent I had always wondered about. Suddenly clear. I set my hand inside his warm palm and tried to smile.

"A ho, Riley," he said softly, his dark brown eyes twinkling with his ever present grin. "And how are you this evening?" His hand released mine and he turned to Maximus.

Max's head tilted and he blinked, accepting Grandpa's hand in his own. "Good evening."

"Are you enjoying your visit to Vermont?" Grandpa focused a curious look on Max.

Max cleared his throat, blinked again. "Very much," was all he said.

The old man crossed his arms with a thoughtful curl of his brow. "I like Vermont, but I'm from the mid-west myself."

"You are?" Max was still staring at the old man, looking as though he was seeing a ghost.

"Yes, yes. Nephew, I'm from a place near the Black Hills. But I was called to be here years ago." He passed a knowing gaze into Max's eyes. "And we go where we are called, don't we?"

Max blinked then smiled a half smile that twinkled his eyes, and he nodded.

I cleared my throat. "Grandpa, Luke. Will you join us later? For coffee and cake?" I foolishly lifted the white bakery box.

"No, no thank you. I'm very tired. I'm afraid it's time for me to retire."

"Will we see you tomorrow?" I persisted.

"Not till spring, Riley. Give my best to John." He winked and walked off.

Max and I just stood like idiots, staring behind him, our mouths open. "Wow," I whispered.