A/N: Ms. Grey, you are officially my favorite reviewer (and it's not because you're my only reviewer. I hope you do write your own addition to the wonderful world that is The Libertine. I'd very much like to read it if you ever did. Hopefully in this chapter, I've kept up to par with all the actions and character traits. Review only if you feel compelled.
Always your literary slave,
McFadden-
Chapter Three
John made good timing in tearing through the crowds of the theater, but he slowed down when a rare moment of self doubt stabbed him in his side. What if she refused to see him? She had to have seen that he sent Rose away! Rose...what a conniving little slut. Any loss of happiness to John in the past year usually attributed to that straw-haired mistake of fornication.
One thing, and one thing only could quiet this demon known as a conscience. Consumption. Getting drunk...
Winding through the cheap streets, he came across the back entrance to a ruddy pub where the dregs of society convened. Thinking quickly, he crept into the main cellar, eying the entire awaiting loot. Each bottle begging him shamelessly for their selection. However difficult, he chose a fine and familiar red port and pulled it from the mildew-laden case. John inspected the ruby color briefly and stowed it away in his coat. Retrieving a small velvet satchel from his pocket, he laid 30 British pounds in its place. Plenty more than what the wine was worth. And, although he was sure no one would notice its absence, he paid for the source of his convictions. He had never been accustomed to stealing. He left the thievery up to those of nobler blood.
He wondered down the main road, tapping his silver cane across the cobblestones. Taking needy gulps of wine to stave off his nagging inner monologue. He was starting to annoy himself, and that was hard to do. He must've been really stressed.
After about 4 drags of wine, his head started to lighten as the divine brew coursed through his veins. He felt pleasantly careless and mumbled to himself.
"Now we're getting somewhere..."
Looking around, he realized he was still a good whole block till he reached the end of the main road where Kathryn lived. How slow had he been walking? He could care less by that point. From his view, he could see the building with its soft light. She was there!
He hauled his cane beneath his arm. It was more of an accessory than anything, and he began to run. When he reached his destination, he stood outside, contemplating on how he should get her attention. The melody of the song she was humming earlier came to the surface as he created new prose to go with it.
"The moon's your eyes...
And like the starry sky,
Touch your fingertips, like butterflies in flight.
My love, the night is young,
I'll be by your side.
You can spread your wings,
The moon is up and he will be your guide.
The lonely night,
Has never been so clear,
The beating of my heart,
Will tell you I am near.
Take to the skies,
You shall not fear...
Our dream is made to come true.
Close your eyes,
The night will see us all through...
And when the wind,
It whispers in your ear,
Time is on our side,
And we can turn the tide.
The time is now.
The heavens above.
Come closer to me,
The silver moon, it shines for you, my love.
The moon's your eyes...
An all the stars tonight,
Will send you down the light,
Heavenly butterflies.
My love, the night is young,
Come closer to me,
For I need you near
La luna, mon amor, brille por toi."
There, in the window, was a shift in the gauzy curtain. He could only make out her form, but at least she was listening. The only thing he saw before a sharp pain came to his head, was a small woman's black boot. Shaking off the pain and not to be discouraged, he picked up the shoe and headed to her door. He saw that the door was unlocked and allowed himself the common courtesy of knocking even through his head was throbbing now because of this woman. He didn't expect her to answer, and when she didn't, he let himself in.
There she stood in the pale light of the oil lamp on the armoire. Dressed now in a night robe made from the same type of silk that she mended so carefully each day. Kathryn couldn't believe his audacity in showing up! Let alone adding insult to injury by deprecating her favorite lullaby. Okay, honestly, his verses were as beautiful as she expected. How could they not be! That's his forte. He even added a closing line in french that was so romantic. She knew she wouldn't forget that line. It meant, the moon, it shines, for you tonight My Love. Admitting this even to herself made her furious with him. John watched her perplexed expression. She was stunning. Appearing to grow more furiously angry and pallid in color. All of which, was directed on him.
"I liked that song ,God dammit! Until you ruined it."
With a sudden flash, he saw the leaded crystal glass fly past his head and shatter up against the wall. He looked at her insanely. He was too drunk for this. She had aimed it not to hit him, just to come close. She moved closer with a chilling fluidity and spoke, her voice eerily calm.
"What? Did I scare you?"
She picked up another glass, this one filled to the brim with a bloody liquid. She drained it languidly of its contents, all the while staring at him with glowing eyes. One she consumed the last drop, she weighted it gently in her hands, looking at it and then back to him.
"This time I won't miss, I promise..."
Her tone was stained with repulsion for him as she ended the sentence. John just watched her cautiously.
"And I always keep my promises."
He knew exactly that she was referring to their final words at the theater. So she had thought he left her to go gallivanting with Rose. Why did he have to take so long in getting there? He sighed. This was going to be a long night.
"You've got it all wrong Dear-heart."
His voice was soft and endearing Kathryn eyes saddened at him. John knew then that she had the wrong impression. He watched as her anger built back up
"You've been with her before...why not now? Because of me? Don't blame it on me. My heart will not pay for your actions Johnny! I'm no prize."
The fact that she had called him Johnny was not lost on him. It was a name so rarely given permission to use that he couldn't even remember the last time he heard it. Hearing it from her, even in this context, he consented to himself that she could've called him that all she ever wanted. Even though he knew that she must've been feeling her own wine by now, she was not so much drunk as he and he could tell it in her voice. He literally felt bad. She imbued so much anger and then followed it with so much pain. He could see now that she genuinely thought she was no worthy prize. He felt sorry for her. And for the first time, he felt guilty. He knew that the best response was none at all, so he endured to wait in silence until she spoke again.
As she calmed down, the Earl looked down, noticing immediately the same label wine that he just lifted from the port. A woman who knew her wine, I could love her more now. Contemplating his next move, he surveyed his surroundings. They were motley decorated in a way that charmed him. Their vivid color had a pleasant effect on his inebriated state. Judging by all of the books littering the shelves in her drawing room, she was much more than he initially pegged her for. The ice in her voice when she uttered her next words make the hairs on the back of his neck stand straight up
"You're nothing but a bottom dwelling debaucher dressed in expensive clothing and masked with beautiful prose. You must think me so simple minded, don't you? Well, I can tell you this. Just after one day of knowing you, I don't believe you anymore John."
It was a verbal knife that pierced his being. She certainly saw this and reveled in the fact that she had hurt his inflated ego. But the final blow was to come seconds later. Her voice was a mere hiss.
"All you are... is a lie."
Her words were unmerciful, but they were true. All he could do was stare, opened mouthed. John's mind reeled from all the heightened electricity in the air due to their way of sparring, or perhaps all of this was heavily influenced by the wine, didn't know, didn't care... The Earl was livid beyond control, and right then, that's all that mattered. He was prone to let his emotions take full advantage of all sense and reasoning. And if anything, she had been the weightless feather that pushed him over the edge. She sat on a shabby and piled chase lounge that stretched in front of him and dared him with her eyes to say anything to dispute her comment. John leaned over and grabbed the end of her seat while still remaining in his. He then jerked it sharply till it rested between his legs. The sudden and abrupt movement caused Kathryn to dig her nails into the cushion to stay put. Wilmot proceeded to get up from his high-backed chair, placing one knee on the chase lounge and then the other. He crawled slowly, reaching her legs and then up her body. She watched him, growing more terrified. With each hand resting on either side of her shoulders, he lifted his one leg teasingly, across and over. Complete with his best enticing smile, he slowly straddled her body and pressed down. He could hear the air leaving her lungs and catching in her throat. The warmth between them was enough to scald.
"How do you know everything about me is a lie if you haven't tried me before?"
His eyebrow crooked in a seductive way as he rubbed his lip with his finger, dragging his tongue across it in the process. Kathryn looked away for a split second and felt him tip her chin up and pushed his index finger past her lips and into her mouth. She tasted the salt of his skin and the fermented alcohol in his saliva. It was a deadly combination. How did this happen? One moment their at each other's throats and now it looked like he wanted to be down hers. Kathryn felt it hard to remain still and unaffected by this drastic change of events. She could see the lust covering his pupils, but buried deep inside of them, was conviction. In their depths, his anger waited. He had something to prove. She watched as his eyes fluttered from her face, to raking over her body, and back again.
"Perhaps, if only I could lick away that chilly disposition of yours with my warm tongue..."
His face was only millimeters away, deeply laced with alcohol, but none the more intimidating. His eyes burned into her, violating every cell. His lips hovered towards her when he muttered against the small space that was left.
"...If only you'd let me"
Without any presage, he lifted himself off of her, grabbed his discarded jacket. All the enchantment and thickness of the moment was broken and Kathryn blinked rapidly, caught off guard. The loss of his body heat made her cold. John turned around when he reached her door. His sardonic and cocky tone returning to his voice.
"You know where to find me when you want to stop lying to yourself."
He tapped his cane twice on her doorframe for extra flare and disappeared into the night.
