Author's Note: I move so quickly to new projects…don't know if I'll finish that other Bloody Jack fanfiction that I have posted. Maybe, maybe not…Anyway, I don't own any of those brilliant characters by L.A. Meyer; I am in no way associated with the amazing book series, blahbiddy blahbiddy blah. Well, enjoy & review, please, and if I'm not too lazy I might add more to this.
"Miss Howe?"
I don't answer and turn away. If he even thinks I'm gonna answer that door, why—
"Miss Howe!" He bangs on the poor slab of wood like he's trying to break through it. But no, I will not give in. I'm not one to give in to something as…as foul as he. I won't let him in here, not now, not ever—
"Miss Howe! Oh, I'm so glad I got in here, uh, well, not to stray from the point with any stupid introductions and whatnot…" I peek over my shoulder and see poor Addy, one of the servants, next to the door. She shrugs and looks at me with a pleading look, one that begs, Don't hurt me, Miss. He was banging on the door awfully loud, you know, and it is the middle of the night, I had to let him in! Oh, please don't hurt me!
"…and so I really don't think we should be angry at each other. Or, that you should be angry at me, rather, because I'm really not angry with you. In fact--"
"Daniel, shut up. You're gonna wake the rest of my family!" I hiss at him. He gives me a look, somewhat like Addy's but more helpless, and fumbles with the edge of his jacket. "You didn't hear a word I said, did you?" he asks quietly. Of course I didn't. Why would I? I think. He asks me if I heard him again. "No. And I have no intention to, you miserable bastard. Please leave my house, or I'll have you thrown out." He gulps at the idea of being tossed out on his sorry bottom.
He wrings the edge of his coat again, almost forcing a button to pop off. I'm sure if I wasn't myself I would find, deep in the depths of my cold heart, a way to forgive Daniel. But I am myself, and let me tell you, I will not forgive a person like the one in front of me for what he did.
He seems to realize this, and begins his slow journey back to the doorway, but not before reaching out and trying to grab my hand and kiss it. Like hell, I glare, and he recoils like a bloodthirsty viper is about to bite him. Hey, I somewhat like that. Bloodthirsty viper. It describes me right now, don't it?
I trudge up the stairs and nearly drop dead on my bed, I'm so exhausted. And, for some reason, my irritating mind insists on reflecting what I did to Daniel (and what Daniel did to me) as soon as I whisper the candle out. I made the mistake of yapping all about it to Jacky, and she, of course, thought I should forgive him. "Makes sense, Clarissa, since he warn't really in his right mind. You're not going to get a man that doesn't drink sometime, and it is kind of your own fault," she told me with raised eyebrows, and I suspected that her mind was flickering back to that time when I was so mean to her, at that Amy's party. So I gave Randall's cousin some sweet, smooth bourbon? Lots of bourbon…it warn't my fault. I only gave it to him because he was flirting with that prissy little Elspeth, the whore, and she fully succumbed to it all. So, Miss Howe, not only were you humiliated by Randall, you were stupid enough to trust his cousin with you're frosty heart, I think grimly. But Daniel kissed that Elspeth, he did—right in front of the whole party, dammit! And now he wants me back, he wants me to forgive him? Like hell.