VODKA

by Eliza
elizawpg@shaw.ca

CATEGORY/RATING: Helm/Marta PG13 - sexual content
LEGAL STUFF: The Doc and Marta don't belong to me, it seems that Fireworks Entertainment has the paperwork. No copyright infringement intended. No money made.
FEEDBACK: Appreciated, as always.
SUMMARY: Helm figures out a way to settle a disagreement. 7th in the series.

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Helm shook hands with an officer from the ship in the bay. Officially, the Russian vessel had been allowed to drop anchor for emergency repairs, but there had been more than one visitor to Santa Helena that shouldn't have been there. Not only was there a threat of tactical information arriving in the wrong hands, but the Spanish trade restrictions for her colonies were very strict. To this point Colonel Montoya had managed to keep himself above suspicion, or more accurately, beyond proof of treason.

With the officer on his way back to his ship, Helm looked warily at the surgery door. At the arrival of the sailor, he had ushered Marta in to the room with great haste, and no explanation. The door had remained ajar, so she was sure to have heard the whole exchange. What she had understood of it, he didn't know, but she would have figured out the identity of the visitor.

"He's gone," Helm called out.

When Marta came back into the office, her disapproval was obvious. That she would be annoyed at the interruption crossed Helm's mind, but after the amount of time they had spent circling each other in the past few months, another few minutes shouldn't matter. It was more likely she objected to him being involved in any secret meetings with the men from the ship. He started to explain, "Supplies are becoming increasingly difficult to acquire, we need to find other sources. I'm not a Spanish subject. The only person I answer to here is my commander. Montoya ..."

Marta stopped him. "I do not want to hear anymore." She tilted the bottle that had been left on the table. The word on the label was unrecognizable, even some of the letters were unfamiliar.

"Vodka, he called it. His French was not very good, but better than my German. Anyway, I'll put it away as a pain killer. It's definitely not to my taste." Helm grimaced at the thought as he put the cork back in the bottle. He had joined the Russian in toasting their agreement with the stuff.

The interruption had broken the... encouraging... mood that had been quickly established upon their first meeting in three weeks. Between medical emergencies and the busy spring season at the ranch, they had been unable to get any time alone. But now, it did not look like today would be the day to further their relationship.

Marta's silence was worrying him. Words were the one thing that had always been easy between them and the lack of them was almost unnatural. She collected her shopping basket and moved toward the door. Helm thought that it would be best just to let her go. As soon as she closed the door behind her, he knew he had made a mistake.

Helm was sure he would see her in the square when he opened the door but Marta was not in sight. He went left and checked the narrow alleyway that ran along that edge of the building -- nothing. She must have taken the road then. When he rounded the corner on the other side of the building there was also no one in the street. Where has she gone? The woman can't disappear into thin air. He sprinted down the road and, as he passed the back of wall of his building, he heard a cough. This halted his dash and he turned to see Marta leaning against the back wall of his quarters, her basket held in both hands in front of her. She was grinning.

Blast and bloody hell! Helm wasn't sure whether to be angry or elated. She wants to play games, does she? I can do that. He grinned back, but didn't let the smile reach his eyes. Hers faded, exactly the reaction he was looking for. He wanted to make her wonder if she had pushed him too far.

He walked back to her and stopped a few feet away. "You think you know me..." He didn't finish the thought but stepped closer and leaned an arm against the wall, blocking any easy path of escape.

"At times I do. I think I know you well enough to judge your sense of humour." She grinned at him, trying to get him to smile, to evoke some kind of positive reaction to her little jest.

Helm moved closer and continued to stare at her; Marta was having difficulty meeting his eyes. She was also slightly flushed and fidgeting. He found he liked the idea of truly unnerving this usually poised woman. He knew that she was not always comfortable with his compliments, but she usually recovered quickly and with her sharp wit ready. This time he was going refrain from showing any reaction until she was through talking.

She looked up at him through her eyelashes, doing her best to look contrite. "I won't mention your business dealings if you won't hold my teasing against me. It would be a shame to spoil a day that had such promising beginnings." Helm agreed, but he was not about to let her take him for granted. Silence seemed to be rather effective so he continued to watch her with a calm expression.

"You can really be a stubborn pain sometimes."

Helm started to wonder if this was a wise course of action. Marta's chin had come up and she was no longer having difficulty meeting his gaze. He had the impression that she may be getting angry.

"Damn it, talk to me!" No, she was angry but he was not about to give in now.

"That's it. I'm leaving." Marta pushed him away and stalked down the road that would lead her right past one of the garrison's stables.

That went really well, Robby! But Helm quickly saw a way to salvage the situation. With his longer stride he easily caught up with her and timed it so that as Marta passed the stable door, he passed her. He caught her around the waist and steered her into the building. He closed the door as he propelled her in a gentle arc so that she ended with her back against the door, effectively holding it closed. She tried to glare at him as he removed the basket from her grasp, but the smile that kept appearing on her lips spoiled the effect.

His hand went to her hair, curling it around his fingers as he had done a number of times before. This time though he moved close and began to speak -- softly, in tones slightly deeper than normal. "I have imagined how your hair would look loose. Falling down your back, over your shoulders. Curls resting on the curve of your breast." The fingers of his other hand were following the path that his voice was mapping. "You scent the rinse water, don't you? Sometimes with jasmine, sometimes roses; it always blends enticingly with the scent that is all your own. It's so tempting. I want to bury my face in your hair and just breath you in. But then I would be too close to your skin, which I now know is even softer than it looks. I know I wouldn't be able to resist a taste. To find out if there is a difference between the flavour at your jaw and your collarbone. Is it softer behind your ear or at the base of your throat? Then, of course, there are your lips... "

"Robert," Marta interrupted and Helm moved back a little to look in her eyes. "Shut up."

"Whatever my lady wishes." He moved slowly and when their lips met it was with the lightest of touches. Whenever she tried to increase the pressure, he retreated to tease her with quick darts of his tongue along her lips.

After the third attempt she pulled back, narrowed her eyes at him, and said, "You are getting even for my little game today, aren't you?"

He didn't answer, but the lowered eyes and little smile where to let her know she had caught him out. The next kiss was a promise to make up for the teasing. His touch was still gentle as the hand in her hair moved to cradle her head. The fingers that been feathering her neck and shoulders now caressed her spine between her shoulders. She slid her hands under his coat. They moved up his back as he took the last half step that brought her against him.

It was if that the elimination of physical distance was the signal they had both been waiting for. The soft caress of the kiss turned demanding. Who was making the demand, Helm couldn't tell; all he knew was that every deepening of the kiss was met with an even more passionate response. It was not frantic though. There was no hurry in the thorough exploration of each others mouths. Tongues would tease and caress, lips would move gently against each other, although there were moments when Helm just wanted to devour her, or felt like he was being devoured. Sometimes he would retreat a little to nibble on her lower lip or she would invite his tongue into her mouth and create a gentle suction. The latter would always remind him that his mouth was not the only part of his body taking an active interest in the proceedings.

He released her head and his hand moved down her back. It eventually stopped on the upper curve of her buttocks at the base of her corset. He pressed her closer and she did not hesitate to take a small step so that her thigh came to rest between his. He wasn't sure if she could feel his erection through the layers of skirt and petticoats, but the added pressure caused him to gasp.

At this reaction, Marta completely broke the kiss. Helm continued to hold her close; breathing her in as he had said he wanted to. His mouth returned to her skin, traveling from her ear to her shoulder then along her collar bone. He began to place single, feather-light kisses along the edge of her bodice, reveling in the softness of the flesh under his lips. He could also feel the strong beating of her heart and noted that her breathing had become quick and shallow. In any other situation the doctor would have been concerned at these signs, but now, they only encouraged him.

It was not only her involuntary responses that were prompting him for Marta had removed her hands from under his coat. They primarily rested on his shoulders but would sometimes caress his arms down to the elbows or would tighten when Helm assumed he had encountered a particularly pleasurable spot.

Both of his hands were now at her waist and moving firmly against the barrier of her corset. From time to time they would linger on her hips, even through the layers of cloth he could feel the heat from her body. The light kisses were becoming ardent and moved up the column of her throat as his fingers found the laces of her bodice. He felt the vibrations of her soft moan against his lips.

Then Marta froze. Her change in mood immediately caught Helm's attention, but it was the snort behind him that caused him to turn. To his surprise he met a pair of large brown eyes, as Montoya's black nodded his head over the gate to his stall as if to say don't mind me, go on about your business. Not again! Helm rested his head on a nearby post with a low groan.

"I am not a cheap whore to be taken in a convenient barn."

Helm quickly turned back to Marta and said angrily, "Of course you're not!"

He took a step toward her, but she held him at bay with an extended arm and a pointed finger. "You stay over there. It wasn't you I was trying to convince." Marta peeked out the door, checking if anyone was in sight. "I knew, from the first time I saw you, that you were a dangerous man, Robert Helm." She retrieved her basket and slipped out. Her face immediately reappeared in the doorway, wearing the cheeky grin that he had learned to be wary of. "We must do this again sometime," she said and then was gone.

Helm stayed in the stable, collecting his thoughts and his composure. In the space of minutes he had gone from desire to despair to anger to hope and now, after some time and distance, was starting to see the irony of the situation. It was at this point that Colonel Montoya entered the stable and found Doctor Helm leaning against a post, shaking his head, with a wry smile on his face. The whole scene was so odd that Montoya was momentarily at a loss as to what to say.

Helm saved him the trouble. "Don't bother asking, Colonel. Some things cannot be explained."

THE END