Gun Brooke UBER CROSSOVER Advent Calendar 2014
Star Trek Voyager – The Devil Wears Prada – The Closer
Christmas at Dragonwolde
Yorkshire, England, 1882
Part 2
Miranda followed Andy through the south corridor, somewhere aware of the massive stone walls, the large oil lamps, and the thick rug in the center. Most of her focus was on the young woman just in front of her. Andy wore an emerald green dress with a tight bustier, short sleeves, which was madness in this drafty old castle. Glad she'd been able to offer Andy her shawl, she didn't mind being a little cold herself. At least she had the sense to wear a long sleeved dress.
"This is the oldest part of the castle," Andy said brightly, turning her head to meet Miranda's gaze. "It's from the tenth century, originally, but it's been rebuilt twice after different wars. We're close to Scotland here," she added by explanation.
"I know," Miranda said, slightly absent minded. This woman, what was it about her that could shatter her otherwise razor focus? "I can read a map."
"Ha-ha. Hm. Of course you can. Just didn't know how much you were interested or knew about our local history here." Flustered, Andrea smiled broadly and took Miranda by the hand. "Here. You have to see this!" Pulling at her guest, Andy opened a narrow door to their left, only to let go of Miranda and dart out into the hallway again. She took a small oil lamp from a narrow side table and lit it. "There are no windows in there."
Miranda was still trying to recover from the hand-holding, as nobody normally touched her, except her children. Ever. She barely finished that thought before Andy took her hand again and pulled her into the small room. Around her, metal objects reflected the oil lamp, gleaming mutedly.
"Aren't they amazing? They used to stand all along the corridors, but Aunt Kathryn refused to have them out after Uncle Jared died. She said it was a waste of time for the maids to keep dusting them. I admit, I sneak in here and polish one of the fellows up every now and then. I think they're just wonderful."
Blinking, Miranda finally realized she was looking at row after row of old knights' armors. There had to be more than thirty of them. Stacked together, they looked like a compressed army, ready to spring into action. Well, at least the first row looked ready, having been tended to by this curious girl. "They do look—imposing."
"I'll say." Andy sighed happily. "Aunt Kathryn hates them, well, not hates them, perhaps, but strongly dislikes them. Not sure why."
Miranda had her own opinion of why Kathryn would dislike these symbols for men wielding wars for centuries, but held her tongue. This wasn't for her to speculate. "Why do you like them so much?" She was much more interested in knowing that. And she wanted to know why she was still holding Andy's hand and vice versa.
"I admire the work the blacksmith put into making them. Can you imagine what precision behind the designs? These men didn't just need them for protection, they needed to be able to move, to use their swords and ride their horses. And there's the element of intimidation. You did refer to them as imposing. That's all in the design." Andy looked expectantly at Miranda.
"You're absolutely right." What a novel way to look at something like this. "I can see what you mean."
As if she only then realized she held onto Miranda's hand still, Andy let go, hiding her hand behind her back. What she failed to realize was the presence of the old, speckled mirror behind her. Miranda could easily make out how Andy closed her hands in a fist as if holding onto the grip in her mind. Looking down at her own hand, she wanted to moan in exasperation when she saw she'd done the exact same thing.
"We should keep going. I'll spare you all the bedrooms as they look the same and some aren't in use at all, more used for storage. I'm sure you want to see the ballroom, though." She looked hopefully at Miranda who no doubt would've agreed to see the barn with the cows if Andy kept those chocolate-dipped-in-brandy eyes trained on her.
"Certainly," Miranda said and moved out into the corridor. "And I want to hear about you. What you spend your time doing and so on."
"Nothing fancy at all, like shopping, or intricate needlework, or playing the piano. That's doesn't hold my interest. I do enjoy dancing at parties, but mainly, I teach."
"Teach." Miranda stopped halfway through the corridor, making Andy walk ahead of her a few steps before she also turned and looked questioningly at her. Her brown eyes scanned Miranda's entire length as if Andy was trying to figure out why she wasn't walking.
"Miranda?"
"What do you mean, teach?" Resuming her efficient stride, Miranda had Andy hurrying along her side again.
"Teach. English, mathematics, history, penmanship, and drawing. Mainly. When the weather's nice, we do outdoor activities. The children love going on excursions to the forest or up in the hills. Not this time of year, obviously."
"Obviously," Miranda echoed faintly. "You are talking about teaching in an actual school."
Andy gave her a stunned look. "But of course. Where else would I be doing it?"
"You said going to the forest and the hills. So you teach when you're here in Yorkshire?"
"Yes, in the local village. I spend most of my time here at Dragonwolde. I thought you knew." Andy grinned broadly. "Or did you think I was one of those automaton debutants?" She grew serious. "Not that there's anything wrong with that, really, but—"
"But you have a brain and you use it."
"I do," Andy said, almost apologetically. "Can't seem to help myself."
And Miranda did something she hadn't done in ages. She laughed.
XXXXXXXXXX
Annika walked into the study, stopping just inside the threshold, her eyes trying to take in the entire room at once. She had never seen quite such a room before. Accompanying Miranda all over the world, she'd seen impressive estates that by far outshone Dragonwolde, but this room was something else.
"Come in. Make yourself at home," Kathryn said from behind her desk.
Annika nodded. Stepping further in, her shoes sank into the lush carpet that covered most of the stone floor. The walls were covered in bookshelves and tapestries, and on side tables and pedestals sat even more books. Thick drapes hung by the windows, which no doubt the maids covered in the evenings to keep the cold out. Being Swedish, Annika was used to the cold and the snow, but that didn't mean she liked it.
"Do you ski?" Kathryn asked, breaking Annika's reverie.
"Yes," Annika said calmly. "I do if required."
"But not as something you enjoy?"
"I used to. A long time ago."
"I see. So does that mean I can't persuade you to try it here? I'm thinking the cross country variety. I'm not bold enough for the hills."
Annika really couldn't care less about skiing, but for some reason, joining this intriguing woman could be worth it. It would also make it possible for her to map the terrain, something she'd intended to do anyway. "I would like to accompany you, Kathryn. I did not bring any skis though."
"Of course not. Why haul those long objects across the Atlantic? I have everything you need." She looked at the vicinity of Annika's shoes and blushed for some reason. "Perhaps not boots in your size."
Annika felt the corners of her mouth twitch. Not giving in to the rare chuckle spreading on the inside, she adjusted her features into her normal aplomb look. "I did bring boots."
"Oh, good. I must sound awfully rude. I didn't mean to suggest you have big feet." Kathryn watched Annika as she made herself comfortable at the unoccupied desk. She placed the large folder containing Miranda's correspondence on top of it.
"I have the correct size of feet for my length, I believe. How could pointing that out be rude?" She tilted her head and regarded the slightly flustered woman before her. This was rather entertaining.
"Because society insists women should have small and dainty feet." Kathryn sighed. "Which is indeed quite ridiculous."
"Your height suggest you possess 'small and dainty feet'. Are you saying this doesn't add to your beauty?" Now it was almost impossible to smile. Annika watched Kathryn's eyes grow wide.
"You are teasing me." Kathryn looked like she couldn't decide on becoming angry or laugh.
"I am. However, I'm also paying you a compliment." Annika opened the folder and began searching for the draft she'd previously written together with Miranda. Miranda had insisted on working while riding in the carriage, which made for impossible handwriting. Annika took pride in her penmanship. Having the inkhorn practically jumping around the carriage and that silly girl Emily squealing in horror in case she got any of the ink on her precious cape had not put Annika in a good mood.
"Then thank you." Kathryn's soft voice made Annika snap her head up. This woman, described by Miranda as an innovative re-thinker, had been given the honor of damehood for her work in science, was unique. Queen Victoria had clearly showed she favorite her, which also helped to make Kathryn less ostracized by her peers.
"Where is your laboratory?" Annika asked, curious.
"I have to show you the basement. I have a smaller laboratory down there, but most of the work takes place in London. Andrea stays here for the better part of the year, unless we miss each other too much. I'm sure she regretted travelling this time of year considering she was nearly killed last evening." Here blue eyes growing dark grey in the silvery winter light, Kathryn pressed her lips to a thin line. "I would never have forgiven myself. We've had enough accidental deaths in this family to last a long time."
"Miranda has told me the recent family history. I understand."
Kathryn tilted her head. "I believe you do."
xxx-xxx
There was a shadow in those porcelain blue eyes that made Kathryn sure she was correct. Annika carried something dark with her and sometimes a word or a gesture seemed to emphasize it. "On a brighter note, we're very happy to have you here and today we expect Brenda Leigh today as well. None of us have seen her in quite some time."
"I see." Still locked on Kathryn, Annika's eyes seemed to examine everything about her. Kathryn fought against checking her hairdo, meticulously constructed by her ladies maid. She knew her dress was meticulously kept and fit her well. She didn't wear her bodice as tight as Andrea did, nor was her figure that curvy, but she knew she looked the part of a dame. "Honestly, Annika, you make me wonder if I spilt coffee on my dress."
Flinching, Annika returned her gaze to her folder. "I apologize, Kathryn, I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable."
"Apology accepted. So, no spills." She made a production of examining her front.
"No, none." Annika's voice was suddenly husky and her expression unreadable, unless it indeed was that of…hunger?
Kathryn swallowed back a gasp and gripped her pen harder. She looked longingly at her now almost empty, cold coffee cup. She could've rung for another cup, but the maids had enough to do with all their guests, so she relented. Coffee was not her only vice, but the one she most often indulged in. Occasionally she might smoke a cigar, something she was aware Miranda also did at times. As she allowed her eyes to surreptitiously glance at Annika, she thought of the one vice she never indulged in. Or, she hadn't in more than twenty years.
Kathryn could still conjure up the image of Raven. Black hair, full red lips and eyes a dark green; her roommate at the university was ever vivid in her mind. The feeling of those lips pressed against her own, with Raven's breathless voice in her ears as they clumsily, but with great enthusiasm, explored each other's shape on the outside of their clothes, made Kathryn press her legs tightly together. Raven had been her first love, and she, being a naïve fool, had thought her feelings were reciprocated. In fact, afterward she did think Raven had loved her, but chosen to break not only their romantic connection, but their friendship as well.
The day Raven and she graduated; Raven told her she was marrying a man she'd been betrothed to since she was fourteen. Now twenty years later, Kathryn could still feel the sensation of having a dagger piercing her heart. Admittedly, Kathryn knew it had been a utopian idea they'd be allowed a future together, but at least they could have been friends. After Raven refused to even see her, Kathryn locked herself into her laboratory and it was in that setting she met Jared. Knowing she would never truly love him the way he deserved, she still allowed him to persuade her to marry him. He'd been a good husband. Reliable, not too insistent on visiting the marital bed, or demanding too much of her. When he died, she mourned him as her best friend, rather than her beloved husband. As their marriage was childless, she'd welcomed the orphaned Andrea with open arms. The two had mourned together and built their own family unit, which meant Andrea was brought up freer and knowing her own mind than her peers.
Just the fact that Andrea preferred to work as a teacher rather than go to all the parties and balls in London, or make her debut at the royal court, was indicative of her niece being as much a re-thinker as Kathryn was. Even Queen Victoria, whom Kathryn had met on several occasions, asked about Andrea and her absence. Interestingly enough, the queen seemed quite understanding that a girl may have other dreams and goals than parading around the court.
And now, this woman. Why did Miranda really call Annika her 'henchman'? What in Annika's past made this informal title astute? Going skiing might be a great opportunity to pry a little more into this enigmatic Swede's secrets. If nothing else, spending more time with Annika would show if this immediate attraction on Kathryn's part was temporary or more of a lasting thing. If the latter, Kathryn knew she was in trouble. Annika would stay as long as Miranda did—for several months. How would she survive being around Annika all that time if she couldn't count on keeping her hands to herself?
XXXXXXXXXX
Brenda Leigh pushed the heavy fur throw off and rose. The driver, a freckled man with the unusual name Mr. Neelix held his hand out to her as she stepped of the sleigh. When he showed up at the train station in Dragonwolde's pride and joy, the ornamented green and gold sleigh, she'd been quite relieved as the snow had continued to fall during her train ride. This made travelling by carriage almost impossible. The sleigh on the other hand glided along the road as on butter.
"Come on, Patricia," Brenda said and motioned for the large St. Bernard still in the sleigh. "I'm sure there's a meal for you waiting."
A muted woof and the dog jumped out, stopping next to her. The front door flung open, revealing Kathryn and Miranda. Brenda closed her eyes briefly. She really wasn't happy about spending Christmas with this many people—and children. Still, it was nice to see her late brother's wife. She was also related to Miranda as her former husband was Brenda's cousin.
"Brenda." Kathryn hurried out on the stairs and pulled Brenda inside. "And you brought Patty! The girls will love her."
Of that Brenda was certain. Her dog loved people in general and children in particular. She hoped most of the focus would be on her beloved canine and not so much on herself and why she'd moved up north. Her life was finally righting itself and she wanted to protect it from potentially critical voices.
"Kathryn. Miranda." She kissed the air next to the two women's cheeks. "Good to see you again." Amazing how one's voice could feel so rusty after barely talking to anyone for so long. When Brenda was younger, she was known to be such a chatterbox, but now, she kept to herself and minded her own business. It was safer that way.
"You're so thin," Miranda said, half sounding admiring, half accusing. "Have you not been taking care of yourself, or is life up north so unforgiving you burn all your energy walking that monster and keeping warm?"
Casting a glance on the snow, Brenda smirked, as a tall woman closed the door. Ah, yes. Madam Serena. Brenda had met her once before when she was new in Kathryn's household. "This part has its fair share of winter as well. I'm not thin. Just not as, hm, well-rounded as you recall, Miranda."
"Could be." Miranda didn't look convince. "You're in need of something hot to drink. What shall we have the cook prepare for you? Tea, coffee, hot chocolate?"
Kathryn was busy instructing the maids where to bring Brenda's luggage and didn't seem to mind Miranda playing hostess at all.
"Some hot chocolate please. Coffee makes me jittery this late in the afternoon."
"I'm going into the kitchen to talk about the menu for the upcoming days," Kathryn said. "Why don't the two of you go into the drawing room and sit by the fire?"
"Excellent idea. Please have cook make me some coffee with milk. Very hot," Miranda said.
"Certainly. A maid will bring it for you." Kathryn nodded briskly and strode out through one of the many doors leading to the hallway.
Miranda hooked her arm through Brenda's. "You're shivering." She reached out and felt the cape before the maids took it away. "Your cape's soaked. Did the snow permeate entirely?" She patted Brenda's back until she wanted to slap Miranda's hands away.
"No, no. I'm fine. Just a little cold." Brenda sighed inwardly. Miranda had always been quite overwhelming. Unlike most people who found her cousin's former wife intimidating, Brenda actually liked Miranda, in small dosages. Right now, Brenda wished she and Patricia had stayed home. She had work to do and very little time to do it in and being around all these people—these curious, no nosy, people, was going to be too much of a distraction.
"Then come with me. Andy is already firmly planted by the fire, wrapped up in a wool blanket after yesterday's ordeal."
"Andy?" Brenda tried to figure out who this was as they entered the living room. "Who's he?"
"Miranda means me, Aunt Brenda," a female voice said from within a bundle of blankets. "And honestly, I'm being boiled in here. And slobbered."
Brenda had to laugh. She hadn't done so in ages, but the sight of a flustered Andrea trying to work herself out of a cocoon of blankets, while assisted by Patricia, was amusing.
"Andrea." Bending down, Brenda kissed the top of Andrea's head. "How lovely to see you again. What ordeal is Miranda talking about?" Suddenly concerned, her smile left her lips as she sat down across from Andrea in the other armchair.
Andrea told her of being tossed from the carriage and the brief hypothermia. "I'm perfectly fine. Aunt Kathryn and Miranda are being overly protective."
"If you had heard her start to sneeze like she did while giving me the grand tour of the house, you would have wrapped her up in an instant as well," Miranda said imperiously.
"I sneezed because I was trying to show you the secret door behind the tapestries in my room. I had forgotten how long it was since someone actually dusted off those things. That's why I sneezed." Andrea frowned at Miranda, but still smiled, oddly enough. Brenda thought she saw a completely new sparkle in Andrea's eyes. Gazing over at Miranda, she had to blink several time to clear her vision. In her recollection, there had never been such a glimpse of tenderness and concern in that woman's eyes before.
"Ms. Johnson? Your hot chocolate." Madam Serena stood next to Brenda without having made a sound as she entered the room.
"Thank you." Brenda gratefully sipped the hot chocolate as Madam Serena placed a pot containing coffee and two cups on a small table next to Andrea. She gestured for one of the male servants to pull up yet another armchair, but Miranda waved dismissively at them and merely sat down on the wide armrest on Andrea's chair. As Andrea poured the coffee and added some milk, Miranda turned her focus on Brenda.
"Now, you must tell us, dear. Why on earth are you hiding in that godforsaken place in a house no bigger than my bathroom from all I hear? Why won't you stay in the big house in Inverness?"
Brenda stared at the blunt woman, uncertain what to say. It wasn't a surprise that Miranda didn't beat around the bush, but she hadn't expected to be put on the spot like this.
"Miranda," Andrea chastised and looked up with a frown. "I'm sure Brenda will share details of her life when it suits her. She just got here and she's cold and tired. Give her some space and time to find her equilibrium."
Brenda gaped. Nobody, nobody, corrected Miranda Priestly and lived to tell. She was about to give in and just tell Miranda what she wanted to know to rescue her young niece when Miranda merely waved her hand.
"Oh, all right. Have your little secrets, Brenda. For now." She pushed a lock of hair out of Andrea's face. "And you— sit still and keep the blanket in place." She pursed her lips, a sure sign of her disapproval of Andrea's attempt to free herself.
"It was just dust," Andrea muttered.
"As I said. Keep it on."
And despite Miranda's commanding tone, there it was again, Brenda thought. Tenderness. This reluctant Christmas gathering might have some interesting moments after all.
XXXXXXXXXX
The evening came with yet more snow and wind. Andrea gazed out her window and pulled the shawl closer around her. She had several shawls of her own, but still clung to the one Miranda had lent her. An internal voice teased her, she was infatuated with the much-older woman and not likely to ever give the shawl back.
Turning down all the oil lamps but one, Andrea stood motionless, at a loss of what to do, in the center of her floor. Should she give the garment back? Suddenly it almost burned where it lay around her shoulders. It would only be the polite thing to do, wouldn't it? Miranda might need it, especially since it was getting colder and the snow was coming down harder by the minute.
Deciding this was the right measure, Andrea pulled off the lovely piece of fabric, looking mournfully at it as she donned her own shawl. She missed the light, fluffiness and Miranda's scent already.
As she tiptoed through the empty corridor, Miranda's shawl in one hand and a candle in the other, Andrea heard giggles and murmuring from the twin's room. Clearly, the girls weren't asleep yet even if they'd been sent to bed already at eight o'clock. Miranda had insisted as they were not used to being so physically active—and in the cold at that. Now, Caroline and Cassidy hushed at each other, perhaps they'd heard Andrea's steps and mistaken them for their mother's?
Andrea stood by Miranda's door, nervous about knocking at this hour, but unable to convince herself this could wait until tomorrow. She raised her hand and lightly rapped on the door with her fingertips.
Sure steps approached and Miranda opened the door. "Andy?" Miranda was dressed in a long, lilac nightgown, not of cotton like Andrea's, but of silk. She wore a white, crocheted shawl, thin, yet so lovely looking, like the one Andrea had borrowed.
"Good evening. Eh. Hello. I've come to return your shawl." Andrea held out the garment to Miranda. "As you can tell, I have my own and—"
"And I want you to keep the one I gave you." Miranda leaned against the door. "I thought you understood that."
"Understood what?" Andrea frowned. When had Miranda spelled that out? She certainly couldn't remember her saying anything like that.
"Come in. The corridor's awfully drafty." Miranda stepped to the side and looked expectantly at Andrea.
Not sure why this gave her heart orders to thunder away in her chest, Andrea lingeringly stepped over the threshold and looked around. She hadn't been in Miranda's bedroom as it hadn't been part of the house tour earlier, which would have been silly, of course, but now she understood it may have been a great mistake to come in. Miranda's scent surrounded her immediately and Andrea closed her eyes briefly as it overwhelmed her senses.
"Good Lord, please tell me you are not about to faint at my feet." Sounding exasperated with a strangely tender undertone, Miranda took Andrea by the hand and pulled her over to a velvet settee. "Sit down."
Obeying, even if she wasn't the least bit light-headed, Andrea flinched as Miranda took a seat right next to her, placing an arm around her shoulders. This type of proximity was not what she was used to. Kathryn didn't mind an occasional embrace when they'd been apart for weeks, sometimes months, but this rubbing of her arm and the support around her shoulders, was a wholly new sensation.
"Your color is returning," Miranda said and smiled. "In fact, I have to say you blush the lovely shade of pink I've ever seen." She chuckled and this of course made Andrea blush harder.
"I'm all right now," Andrea tried to convince Miranda. "I'll just head back to my room and go to bed. Tomorrow Kathryn's friend—"
"Yes, yes. We'll have more guests tomorrow." Miranda waved dismissively with her free hand. She looked Andrea over, her eyes glittering. "Or do I make you uncomfortable?"
The question was innocent enough, but the tone wasn't. Andrea tilted her head, not sure if she should be annoyed at the teasing or merely laugh it off. Something told her Miranda wasn't as casual as her voice suggested, but in fact truly asking.
"No. You do not make me uncomfortable, Miranda," Andrea said, keeping her voice soft and non-committal. "I think you're teasing me though. Honestly, would you really care if I actually was uncomfortable? I have a feeling you instead find it infinitely humorous how easy it is to bewilder an English country-girl."
Miranda's expression grew stormy at Andrea's last sentence. She moved her hands to cup Andrea's cheeks. "Never. I know full well you're not easily bewildered as you have deliberately chosen a different path in life—teaching instead of spending your time at the queen's side at the court. If I bewilder you at all, it's on a different level, because I can't help but find you infinitely charming and so very fresh and delightful. I agree I can be a sarcastic tease, but it's something I try to harness when I'm around you. I would never hurt you on purpose, Andy."
Melting under the cool, soft touch, Andrea leaned into it, rather than pulling back, which she should have done, if she'd used her head instead of her unreliable heart. She raised a hand and placed it on Miranda's left, holding it close to her burning cheek. "I believe you."
"Then do you believe me when I tell you, I've thought of little else but your haunting eyes since last night?" Miranda whispered.
Andrea's heart clenched hard and seemed to forget to open up for its next contraction. So, it wasn't just her. Miranda had felt that confusing connection as well and perhaps she knew more of its nature. Andrea kept looking into Miranda's dark blue eyes.
"I've thought of you also. I'm sure you realize this." Andrea's chest rose and fell as she vaguely remembered how to breathe. "What I don't understand is why holding on to you like this steals the very breath from me…and makes me tremble?
XXXXXXXXXX
Miranda couldn't resist the young woman before her. As much as she realized the multitude of unfavorable repercussions that may occur, she ran an unsteady thumb across Andy's lower lip.
"You put it very well, Andy," Miranda whispered. "I too feel as if your proximity has derived me of oxygen—and kept it. I wonder…have you ever experienced any such thing before?"
Andy wet her lips with the tip of her tongue, something that made Miranda's entire abdomen tense up and her legs press together under the silk nightgown.
"No. Not like this." Andy moved the hand holding Miranda's against her cheek. "I've never met anyone like you before and certainly not responded in this confusing manner."
"So I do confuse and bewilder you? Perhaps not so much by being a tease, but how I affect you physically?" Miranda had to help Andy navigate through this. Somewhere inside a rarely heard righteous voice told her to leave the girl alone, extract herself and let Andy go on and find these feelings with someone of the right age and the right gender. The expression of undisguised and confused desire in Andy's eyes, so damn alluring in itself, made Miranda clamp down on the disruptive voice. She allowed her free hand to slide from Andy's cheek, down to hold her by the waist. The soft cotton in Andy's nightgown didn't do anything to mask the warm seeping through from Andy's skin.
"I suppose," Andy murmured, obviously distracted by Miranda's hand. "I'm not a child. I know relationships between women exist. Aunt Kathryn has been quite candid with me and told me of how she herself loved a young girl once, before she met Mark—perhaps it's the scientist in her that makes it easier for her. I had not expected to experience anything like this. Ever." She glanced up at Miranda through her black eyelashes. "Do you wish to kiss me, or did I misread your intentions?"
A log shifted in the fireplace, making Andy jump, and Miranda stared at Andy, surprised at how bold this woman was. She wrapped one arm around Andy, her other hand still against her cheek. "I can't think of anything I desire more at this moment." Acutely aware of her body's response, and how yet another inner voice, this one lecherous and lustful, came up with several other ideas of what Miranda wished to do with Andy. Her entire body ached to press Andy against her in a head-to-toe embrace. Her previous female lover has certainly never made her feel this…ravenous.
"Then, please?" Andy's lips trembled now, but her warm eyes looked steadily into Miranda's.
Slowly, Miranda leaned in, careful not to startle Andy. Breathing even ly through ner nose, she prayed for Andy to meet her halfway. It had to be mutual. Equal. If not, Miranda would be forced to pull back, smooth over this entire event, make excuses that would eat away at her yet again. Trembling now, Miranda knew her soul could not sustain any further cracks or it might shatter her soul a little more. Having lived in a sham of a marriage and looked for—for something more, in so many wrong places, she was wary of lowering her guard. But Andy had begun to peel away Miranda's armor before she was even aware of it happening.
Andy shifted closer, moving both hands to Miranda's shoulders. There, they didn't remain still or pull Miranda closer, but caressed her in small, almost instinctive circles. Soft, plump lips pressed against Miranda's mouth. Clearly inexperienced, they lingered there, as if awaiting guidance.
Miranda wanted to weep from sheer relief. She brushed her lips back and forth against Andy's. The satin texture of Andy's mouth made her lusty inner self demand entrance. Not about to be rushed, Miranda held Andy closer.
"Oh!" Andy gasped against Miranda's lips.
Their upper bodies pressed together and this, together with Andy breathing faster through slightly parted lips, made it impossible for Miranda to keep the kiss chaste. She tilted her head further to the right, ran her tongue along Andy's lower lip.
Andy's tongue reciprocated, perhaps by instinct, and the sweet, shy way with which it caressed Miranda's, turned it back to innocent and romantic somehow. This was what Miranda wanted. She hadn't planned on kissing Andy, well, not already, but the woman in her arms had her own will and desires.
They kept up the caresses, but Miranda recognized in the back of her mind she had to find a way to stop this before they went too far, too soon. She pulled back and her lips still touched Andy's as she whispered, "Darling, we need to stop. For now."
"No…" And moaned. The sound nearly killed Miranda's resolve. She ran her hands up and down Andy's back.
"Yes. Listen to me. We need to go slower or one or both of us will do something we regret and I already promised not to hurt you. Surely you promise me the same?" She tipped her head back to meet Andy's gaze.
"Of course!" Andy held Miranda's hands in a firm grip. "I'd never." Looking aghast at the idea of hurting Miranda, she frowned.
"I know. I know." Miranda soothed her. "If you're willing, we will kiss again. I know you're aware of the rules society place upon us, especially as unattached women. I've long decided to carve my own path in life, but you're very young and thus more vulnerable. You have a lot to think about and decide." She ran her fingers through Andy's silky hair. "And no matter what you choose, I will understand. No decision on your part is wrong."
Andy regarded her in silence for what seemed like an eternity. Then, her broad, luscious smile appeared, growing until it blinded her. "I have done what thinking I require, Miranda."
Continued in part 3