World Enough and Thyme
Dying sunlight warmed Will's bare back and glinted off the rings on Jack's hand, flung loosely over Elizabeth's pale shoulder. The scent of crushed thyme filled the air, and somewhere a bee droned lazily. Will plucked a blue flower from Elizabeth's hair, then gave it up as a lost cause -- the tiny leaves and flowers were hopelessly tangled in her curls; it would take Estrella hours to get them all out, when next she dressed Elizabeth's hair.
Something tickled his memory: Estrella. . .hours. . .dressing. . .thyme. . ."Time!"
Jack raised his head, blinking slowly. "I'm afraid it's done for, mate. Makes a nice pillow though."
"No, not thyme, time. What time is it?"
Jack waved his hand languidly. "Hell if I know. Why?"
"Elizabeth's father is supposed to dine with us at seven o'clock." Will shook Elizabeth's shoulder until she sat up sleepily. "Your father. . .dinner. . .get dressed!"
Turning, Will frantically dug through the clothes heaped at the foot of the lime tree, throwing aside Jack's coat, and Elizabeth's petticoats, corset and shift, until, at last, he found a shirt. He pulled it on, determined that it was Jack's, tugged it off, and, in his haste, caught his arms in the sleeves. With a loud rip, a sleeve pulled free, and Will, overbalanced, fell on top of Jack.
Elizabeth was still sprawled on the ground, as naked as the day she was born. Through her laughter, she said, "My apologies, Will. Father's not coming tonight -- his gout is troubling him again. I'm sorry, I was so distracted, I completely forgot to tell you!"
Will shook his head in confusion. "Then we have time?"
She stretched her leg out lasciviously and ran her toe up Will's calf. "All the time in the world. . ."