Warning: This chapter is nothing but fluff and more fluff. No real substantial plot. You have been warned. ;)
Chapter 9
October, 1862
"Now, don't fret, sir. I'm sure everything will turn out all right," said Mrs. Briggs. She sat beside her employer, patting his hand while Arthur Kirkland sat on a chair leaning his head against his free hand. His other servant, Davies, had gone out about town, trying to gather information about what had occurred in the past couple of weeks.
After Arthur had learned that a landslide had obliterated the small village where Michelle and Henri lived, the man went basically mad with fear and worry. Some of the local men had him escorted from the site and he was transported to the city of Victoria and to the doctor that resided there. The man, in turn, sent him back to his lodgings to rest. Mrs. Briggs was ordered to dab his face with a cool cloth and to have smelling salts at hand until he recovered from the panic attack. But it was not rest, nor any sort of medicine that he really needed. All Arthur needed was news – news about the one person who meant the world to him. After a while, he had been able to get a word out and had ordered Davies to go inquire around about what had befallen the villagers.
Now he sat in his apartment in the city near the water, waiting. His dear housemaid continued to try and console him, being the now-elderly matron that she was, but even she was apprehensive. After what seemed like hours of nothing but insufferable waiting, Davies returned.
Arthur jumped out of his seat as the man entered the room.
"What news?" he demanded.
"I was told that a terrible storm had caused loose earth to fall from the jungle and went down into the villages. Because of the landslide and the winds, many people lost their homes. Some lost their lives. They're still trying to figure out how many have died."
Arthur passed a hand over his eyes. He knew that this had to be tearing Michelle apart. He figured that this was one of the first times that she and her people had experienced anything like a major loss of life, and he knew that Michelle would be heavily affected. Being both country and human, it took a heavy toll on them when their countrymen died, and when many lives were lost all at once, it was especially painful. Arthur knew that even if Michelle wasn't hurting physically, she had to be hurting mentally.
"Do you know where Michelle is? Have you seen her? Do you know how she is doing? Speak up, man!"
Arthur took hold of the man by his sleeves and shook him as he bombarded him with questions. Davies placed his steady hands on Arthur's shoulders in an attempt to calm him down. Sadly he could tell his employer nothing. He had not seen Michelle.
Mrs. Briggs gently ushered Arthur back to his seat. "There, there, Mr. Kirkland. It's going to be all right. Just rest now. You'll overexcite yourself again if you're not careful."
Arthur felt his temper rise. "I will not overexcite myself, good madam. I'm not a feeble old man!"
The room was silent until Arthur sighed, inwardly wincing at his harsh tone of voice.
"I am sorry. I should not have lost my temper like that."
The two just gave him sympathetic smiles. They knew his apology was sincere.
"We took no offense, Sir. I may not have found your lady friend, but I did find someone who knows where she is."
Arthur jumped from his seat again, eyes widened. "Where is he?"
"I'm right here."
In stepped Henri. He looked tired, but he was unhurt. His face, however, was more serious than Arthur had ever seen. It was quite unlike the jovial young man he remembered. Arthur approached him and laid a comforting hand on his shoulder.
"How are you, lad?" he asked concernedly.
Henri was able to manage a small smile.
"I'll be all right. I am a little surprised to see you here, though," he admitted, and indeed, he was. After his sister had told him of what had transpired between Britain and her, he figured that the two of them wouldn't want to see the other for a good, long time. In a way, he was right. Michelle didn't speak or ask about him. She admitted that they did sometimes write to each other, but the correspondence between them was spasmodic at best, and usually only consisted of business matters, such as requests from her bosses to become a colony independent from the neighboring island Mauritius.
Even so, here was Britain in their capital city, desperately concerned about Michelle's welfare. Fascinating.
He really does care for her, even after all this time… I wonder how she will react to this.
"I'm not surprised that you would be," he heard Arthur say. "No doubt your sister told you about what occurred between us the last time we were together. But…" he stopped and looked away. Henri, already mildly surprised, was even more amazed when he saw the stuffy British man try to actually conceal some emotion.
"I've said it before, and I am saying it again. I was a fool," he said angrily. "I ran away from the idea of being with your sister and it was cowardly of me. I was afraid, you see; afraid to throw myself into a commitment that I wasn't sure I was ready for. I wasn't sure that I loved your sister. I suppose I was unaware of my real feelings… until now.
"Henri, you are her brother, and are the closest person to her. I am sure you have felt some resentment toward me for confusing your sister the way I did. But all I ask is to see her, just to make sure she is all right. I…" He stopped, unable to say more.
But Henri had heard enough. He stared at Arthur for a moment. At first, he was tempted to act coldly and tell him that Michelle was better off without him interfering in her life. The more he thought about this, however, the more he knew that he wouldn't be right. He could see very clearly that Arthur truly did love Michelle and who was he to stand in his way? He knew Michelle was still in love with the Briton.
Instead, he found that he was able to give Arthur a warmer smile.
"Michelle is all right, don't you worry. Well, that is to say… she's not hurt. If you want to see her I can take you to her."
"Please," Arthur answered quietly. He felt extremely grateful that Henri was willing to overlook whatever resentments he might have.
The younger man nodded and beckoned Arthur to follow him. After quickly assuring the concerned Mrs. Briggs that he would be all right, he quickly hurried after Henri. The two of them made their way past the main city and headed toward the beach. Scattered further away from the city and closer to the shore were small houses where fishermen resided. Henri led Arthur to one of these houses and they entered. Immediately Arthur saw that rocking back and forth on a rocker in the middle of the front room was Cleo. She looked tired and much older than when he last saw her. Her face was lined with care and worry. When the door closed behind the two men, Cleo looked up. A very small smile came upon her face.
"Well… look who it is…" she said quietly.
Arthur returned her smile with his own sympathetic one. He knelt in front of her and took her hand.
"I am very happy to see you are well," he said earnestly. After all, unlike him and Seychelles, Cleo could have really died. She patted his hand.
"Thank you, cher. You're very kind."
"Is there anything I can do?" he inquired. He was mentally making a note to write to his bosses in Parliament later to send supplies for those that needed it.
Cleo just shook her head. "I thank you for your concern, but don't you worry about me."
Despite Arthur's insisting on doing some sort of assistance for her, she just shook her head. "You're a good boy to care about an old lady like me, but I know why you're here…" Her smile widened. "She is upstairs."
Arthur's heart beat faster. After a moment's hesitation, he gave the lady's hand a gentle squeeze, stood, and followed Henri up the stairs.
"She's been very strong these past couple of days. I don't know how she does it…" Henri shook his head.
"She wasn't hurt at all, was she?"
"No. But… she lost one of her daughters… and one of her grandchildren…"
Arthur closed his eyes for a minute. He had lost people in the past – people he cared about – but he couldn't ever imagine losing a child, or even a grandchild, especially in such devastation like this. He didn't know what to say. He felt utterly useless, as he usually did when faced with so much death.
"I just wish…" he muttered.
"Yes. I know."
"We're such unique individuals… but we can't do anything to stop these things from happening… We can't save people…"
Henri nodded and gestured to one of two doors up on the small second floor.
"Here we are."
Arthur took a deep breath as Henri slowly opened the door. It was a small room with a bed, a small night table and a rug on the floor. A big window with a window seat was the first thing Arthur saw, and curled up in a quilt with her face looking out the window, was Michelle. Immediately his heart beat quickened and he wanted to scoop her up in his arms and just hold her tightly. He did not, however. He just turned to her brother who nodded.
"Michelle?" Henri said quietly. She didn't stir.
"She must be asleep," Henri said. "These days she doesn't do much but sleep and look out the window."
Arthur's eyes widened. "Has she been eating or drinking?"
"She's tried. It's been hard for her to keep anything down, though."
Arthur went over to the window seat and knelt down, now able to get a good look at her profile. In the sunlight, her color was a bit paler than it should be, but she was as beautiful to him as she had been the last time he had seen her. Her hair spilled over her face and shoulders and he smoothed it away to see her face better. He couldn't help himself and gently stroked her cheek. The skin felt hot and damp to the touch.
Suddenly, she stirred and Arthur drew his hand away. Taking a deep breath, her eyes drooped open and after a minute, she recognized Arthur. She gave him a delirious smile.
"Hello, there, Arthur," she murmured.
He knew she was sick and that she probably wouldn't remember any of this so he leaned over and kissed her on the forehead. It felt so natural, as if he always kissed her on the forehead when she woke up.
"Hello, dearest."
"Was I asleep?"
"Yes."
"Oh. How silly of me, sleeping in the middle of the day and with you visiting…" She sat up and swung her legs over the side. Arthur instinctively took hold of her arm.
"Wait, Michelle. You have a fever. Careful, now…"
She feebly shoved his hand away and stood to her feet. She began taking a few steps toward the door.
"Oh, stop worrying like an old mother hen. Now… what was I doing?"
"Watch her, Arthur! She's going to faint!"
Arthur caught her just in time before she crumpled in a faint to the floor. Now he did scoop her up into his arms and carried her to the bed where he gently laid her down. Henri covered her with the quilt from the window seat and they both watched her as she fell back to sleep.
Arthur sat beside her on the bed, stroking her hair.
"I take it you'd like to stay with her?"
He looked up at Henri. "Just for a little while longer. I would also like to come and check on her tomorrow, if that's all right?"
Henri nodded. "That would be fine. I'm going to go downstairs now."
"Thank you, Henri."
The door closed softly behind Michelle's brother and Arthur continued to keep watch over the sleeping woman. Her fever worried him a little. Her skin was hot to the touch and sweat was beginning to cover her forehead. He quickly spotted a wash bowl full of water with a cloth soaking in it and dabbed her forehead with it in an attempt to keep her cool. It seemed to help, but then her brow furrowed and he heard her whimper in her slumber. Suddenly she gasped and her eyes flew open. She would have jerked strait up in the bed, except Arthur steadied her gently with his hands on her shoulders.
"Steady on, Michelle," he said quietly. "Everything's all right."
Gasping, she continued to look about the room in delirious fear. He knew it was the fever that was causing her wild behavior and he continued to treat her gently. She began to cry and her hands shot up into the air, seemingly grasping for something only she could see.
Arthur didn't know what to do. He tried to think of all those times aboard ship or on the battlefield when faced with sickness, but there had always been doctors at hand when the men were feverish or ranting from delusions. And he was no doctor. He was tempted to run downstairs to seek assistance, but he didn't want to leave Michelle alone. He was afraid she would unintentionally harm herself. Michelle began to cry harder and all he could do was pull her in his arms and hold her.
"Shh, dear one… It's going to be all right. I'm here. Everything's all right…"
His voice seemed to calm her and her crying slowly ceased. She began shivering, however, and he pulled the quilt around them both. She murmured something incomprehensible and she nestled into his chest.
After a few minutes, she actually spoke. "Arthur?" she whispered.
He was quite surprised that she knew he was the one holding her.
"Yes, I'm here. What is it?"
"Could you braid my hair for me? It's getting everywhere and it's annoying."
He couldn't help but smile. "Of course. Here, I'll help you sit up."
She was sitting up in front of him and he wrapped the quilt around her shoulders so she could stay warm, although her shoulders were still quivering. He swept the long, sweaty locks into his hands and gathered her hair together. He loved the feeling of it between his fingers. Soon her hair was pulled back into one long, sloppy braid (it had been a long while since he had been required to do such a thing).
"All right," he said. "There you go. Now, why don't you try lying back down?"
She didn't answer and remained hunched over.
"Michelle?"
A quick observation showed that Michelle had fallen asleep sitting up. This time, she was sleeping soundly. Arthur managed to get her comfortably under the covers and after assuring that her fever wasn't rising, felt comfortable in departing for the night. Before leaving, however, he bent over and gently kissed her forehead.
"I'm sorry," he whispered. "I'm sorry for everything that's happened… and I am sorry for my cowardly actions. Just … try to get well soon, please."
She smiled in her sleep and made a small sound of contentment. With one more lingering glance at her, he left her room and headed for home.
…
Michelle stirred from a very heavy sleep and felt the oddest sensation that she had not been alone the night before. She had felt like someone else had been with her in her bedroom. Well, apart from her brother, that is. She studied the tip of her braid pensively. Her hair had not been braided when she was lying on the window seat, and Henri didn't know how to braid…
Hold on. How did I get in this bed in the first place? Did Henri put me here?
Her throat hurt and her head was pounding, but she didn't want to keep lying in bed all day. She saw the sun peeking through her curtains and figured it had to be late in the afternoon, or early evening. Slowly she swung her legs over the side of the bed and began to stand to her feet. Her head began to spin. After a minute of squeezing her eyes shut and taking a couple of breaths, she found that she was able to slowly walk toward the door. It was almost too heavy for her to swing open, but she was able to after some effort.
She heard voices downstairs. It sounded like Henri and Cleo had company. After listening for a moment out of curiosity, her heart almost stopped. It was Arthur's voice she heard.
It can't be! I must be imagining it. Yes. I'm imagining it. My fever is making me hear things… I mean… He can't really be here…
She gripped the handrail as she slowly went down the stairs in an effort to steady herself from tumbling. Peeking around the corner, she saw Cleo in her rocking chair, Henri sitting in another chair and the back of his head. That's when the shaking increased. She couldn't help it. Just hearing his voice again was enough to have her trembling, especially in the state she was in already. She did not want to show herself. For one thing, she was sure she looked terrible, being in a rumpled nightdress with a mussed braid. She also was reluctant to talk to him. She had no earthly idea why he was back on the islands again. Their letters never indicated that he was planning on visiting her any time soon, and they hadn't exactly been cordial to one another, just polite and distant. Everything had gotten too awkward for anything more. She could remember being grateful that they were only writing letters to one another and not talking in person. And now…?
"Michelle? Is that you?"
She gulped. It was no good acting like she didn't hear them.
"Yes," she answered in a raspy voice. She tried to clear her throat. "It's me."
"It's good to see you awake!" Henri said happily. "Not to mention out of bed! Can you manage…?"
"I think I'll be all right," she answered as she walked slowly up to them. She kept her eyes on the floor as she sat down on the sofa a couple inches away from him. She could almost feel him watching her, and she didn't dare meet his gaze.
Of course, that meant that she was going to have to eventually.
"Mr. Kirkland came here to see you, chérie."
"Yes, I noticed…" Her hands began shaking and she folded them tightly in her lap. She looked up at him and she was immediately lost in his bright, green eyes.
Then her heart began hammering in her chest when he gave her a kind smile. "So how are you feeling?" he asked.
She dragged her gaze away from him and looked down at the floor again. "Better than I was feeling yesterday…"
"I was told about the storm." She froze. He placed his hand over hers and she felt embarrassed about the way her hands continued to shake.
"I sent for help and supplies. Your people won't be forgotten during this time, Michelle."
She nodded and thanked him, but she did not look at him again. The three of them were quiet and the mood of the room became awkward.
"Well…" Henri murmured. "Perhaps you don't know the details about everything that happened…" He looked at Michelle. "Do you want me to tell him… or …?"
"Wait. Steady on, now." Arthur held up his hands. "Neither of you have to tell me anything. I know you are all mourning losses and I don't want you to have to…"
Michelle stole an appreciative glance his way while shaking her head.
"No," she interrupted. "I will talk about it. It will do me good, I suppose." She looked up at Cleo, and the lady spoke to her in French. What she said seemed to give the young woman confidence and Arthur watched her as she closed her eyes and sighed.
"There was a terrible storm the whole day that lasted into the evening. There were torrents of rain and heavy wind. The waves were also incredibly high. We hadn't seen a storm so powerful for a long time, and the wind blew off the roofs of many houses. That's when the landslide occurred. I remember seeing it, coming down from the jungle, and it was fast. It swept over houses and…" Her voice began to quiver. "I could see people drowning…"
She couldn't say any more. Images of her people screaming, running, being swept away and struggling under piles of mud and debris were flashing before her eyes. Their faces and cries for help were burned in her memory.
I'm sorry! She wanted to shout. There was nothing I could do! I'm sorry I couldn't protect you!
She buried her face in her hands and began to sob. It couldn't be helped. The memories were still too fresh, the pain still too real. As she continued to cry, she could hear people shuffling about and felt a pair of strong arms embrace her. Before she knew it, she was weeping into someone's linen shirt. At the moment, she welcomed such a comforting gesture and clutched the shirt desperately. Hands were slowly rubbing her back and caressing the top of her head.
"There there," a voice said quietly. "Everything's going to be all right. I know how you must be hurting right now. It always hurts when we lose our people. I wish I could say it gets easier over time, but… What I can tell you, darling, is that you won't be alone. I will be here…"
Arthur whispered this so quietly that only Michelle could hear his words. She was able to stifle the tears long enough to look up at him. There was such tenderness in his eyes that she had never seen before. She flinched ever so slightly when his thumbs brushed away her tears, and when there were no more to dry and he continued to hold her face in his hands, she became incredibly bewildered.
"A-Arthur?"
He cleared his throat, lowered his hands, and put some distance between the two of them.
"Forgive me," he said quietly. "I got a little carried away just now."
He would have rather just kissed her then and there and explained everything later, but he couldn't – not in this house, with Henri and Cleo so nearby.
Her face turned an adorable shade of red and she slowly rose from the sofa.
"I'm going to go… take a walk or something," she muttered.
"You're not strong enough yet. Look at yourself. You can barely walk to the door!"
She glared at Arthur. Curse him for being so blasted concerned about this!
"Then I shall go and see what Cleo is doing! I cannot stand to be sitting around any longer!"
Arthur watched as she slowly headed through a door that led out of the parlor.
…
Why, why, why?! Why does he always have to invade my life? I was getting along so well until he showed up! I had almost forgotten… well, not forgotten, but I was getting used to my life without him!
Michelle glared at the back of Arthur Kirkland as he made his way back to the city. He had stopped by again to see how she was recovering. This had to be the sixth time this week, and every time he had been spotted, both Cleo and Henri had made sure that she knew about it. Why? It wasn't like she cared!
All right, maybe I do care… a little bit.
Every time he visited he would sit and talk with the other two – they would laugh, Arthur would tell them about world affairs, ask Henri how the less-than-fortunate villagers were faring – and all the while, he would watch her very closely, as if she was the most interesting thing to him since sliced bread! It was almost unbearable.
She had made her two housemates promise that they would tell Arthur she was still too weak to leave the house. She didn't want to be asked to take a walk with him or anything. She wasn't about to let herself be alone with him. As a result, she became practically a shut-in and was even tempted to lock herself up in her room every time she saw his blonde head walking to her house from her window. It was on this day, after Arthur's sixth visit had come and gone that Michelle gave in to that temptation.
"Did you know that Mr. Kirkland bought an apartment in Victoria?" Henri said to the two women as they finished cooking dinner.
"He didn't rent out as usual?"
"No. This time, he bought an apartment for himself."
Michelle almost dropped her spoon.
"What?" Her heart began to pound.
"Yes indeed. Looks like he's grown quite fond of our little island." Henri winked at them.
"How very odd," Cleo said, albeit smirking all the while. "I wonder what would possess the man to do so."
"Your guess is as good as mine." Henri looked at his sister. "What do you think, Michelle?"
"I think I shall stay in my room whenever the blighter appears!" she snapped.
The other two stared at her.
"What?" Henri exclaimed. "But I thought…"
"Oh, hang what you thought, Henri!" Michelle cried, close to tears. She threw down her spoon and dashed out of the room.
The poor young man looked at Cleo in bewilderment.
"I don't understand. She still loves him, doesn't she? Or was I mistaken?"
Cleo shook her head.
"No, you were right. She loves the man, more than ever now, I'm guessing."
Henri scratched the back of his head.
"Then why… I mean…?"
"I'm thinking the girl just doesn't know how to react to Mr. Kirkland's sudden change in behavior, so she's putting herself on guard. Think about it, the man hardly writes, doesn't try to make contact with her, until now. And in addition, he's acting quite … dare I say it? Romantic. It seems that Mr. Kirkland has realized his feelings himself, and is trying to figure out how to express them. He should tell mon petite what is on his heart soon. I don't know how much more of this she will take."
Even as she said this, however, she began to chuckle to herself. Meanwhile, up in her room, Michelle was clutching a quilt while absently staring out her window.
He came to make sure I was all right and he bought an apartment in the city… That must mean he plans on staying for a long time!
She covered her lips, trying to hide an embarrassing smile that no one saw. Even though she was determined to stay away from him (for now, at least), she couldn't help but feel an immense surge of happiness at the thought of him living near her for an exorbitant amount of time.
…
"Why is she avoiding me?" Arthur inquired to Cleo. The two had run into each other in the city. Cleo was returning from the market bearing baskets of fresh fruit and fish.
"Well, I'm sure she is confused about your being here. After all, the last time you two saw each other it didn't exactly end in the best of circumstances, did it?"
He wryly chuckled. "No. We didn't exactly quarrel but we did part rather awkwardly."
Cleo hummed and nodded.
"I would advise letting her know of your intentions, Sir."
"Oh, don't you worry. I fully intend to tell her as soon as possible. The only problem is, I haven't been able to talk to her. She always holes up in her room when I visit and refuses to see me."
Cleo nodded again in agreement. She began to think.
"Ah. I have an idea. Come to the public dinner that is scheduled on Saturday. There is going to be music and dancing. Michelle will be there and you can tell her then. She won't be able to avoid you that night."
"How do you know?"
"It will be a dinner to help feed those who lost their homes in the landslide. Michelle will be one of the dancers."
A surge of anticipation rushed through him.
"Capital."
Cleo winked at him and chuckled.
"Ah, you young people… Well, I guess I shouldn't say young people, should I? I mean, considering who the two of you really are… Ah well. Being the old woman that I am, I cannot fathom such a phenomenon. You look younger so I shall see you as younger. Like I was saying, you young people and your love affairs are so amusing."
Her words honestly made him laugh out loud.
"I'm glad that we can offer such entertainment for you, my good lady. Do you need some help with those?" He gestured to the baskets she held. "I can carry one for you."
She good-naturedly shook her head.
"Thanks, cher, but I can manage. I'm not that old yet!" She grinned. "We shall see you Saturday evening, yes?"
"Most definitely."
And with that, they bid the other goodbye until then.
The beach was alight with torches and lamps that Saturday evening. Large tents were set up to shelter long tables laden with food, drink and such goodies that promised to be scrumptious. All around were people sitting on benches and talking, drinking, and just enjoying each other's company. Many who had lost their homes were enjoying a wonderful meal – a better meal than they had eaten for a few weeks. The British (at the request of the island's governor and Arthur himself) had sent food and other supplies as well, which added to the merry-making. The waves were slowly rolling up onto the shore as the tide came in and the sun began to set. As Arthur sampled some of the food and wine, he watched as everyone happily ate and talked together. Even some of the higher officials could be seen happily conversing with fishermen. He could see some children romping around in the sea and making hills in the sand. A couple of dogs were barking and running along the shore.
Yes. Everything was good. Now the only thing that would make this scene even better for him would be the sight of her, dancing before his eyes.
Then some men began to pluck their musical bows and beat on drums as they sang a lovely tune in their exotic Seychellois Creole. It was an emotional song, sorrowful yet hopeful, about the lives that had been lost and the hope that the days to come would be brighter. When the dancers came out in a flurry of twirling skirts, they moved with the music gracefully. They were lovely with flowers in their hair and on their wrists. Michelle was among the dancers. She was spinning amidst them and dancing in movements that went along with the words. Each dip of the head and twirl of the skirt was full of emotion and elegance and Arthur was captivated by her loveliness. When she spread out her arms in a gesture to embrace those that had died, he longed to envelop himself into her arms. With every gentle sway of her hips, he fell more and more under her spell. When the dance became more hopeful and less melancholy, her face lit up with a smile and it seemed as if her smile could have only been for him.
"Your drink is going to get warm," he heard someone chuckle.
"Hm? Oh. Yes. Quite."
His eyes drifted down to the glass in his hand but soon went back to the twirling dancers. His heart bucked against his rib cage. He couldn't take his eyes off of her again.
"Quite warm indeed…" he murmured.
The light from the lamps made her skin glow and her hair radiant. The rest of the world disappeared. The music and chatter of the people faded away and for Arthur, there was only him watching her dance.
I love this woman, even if she is a colony and even if I would be old enough to be her father. I cannot help it. Everything about her, I love. Her temper, her joyful nature, her beauty…
He clenched his fists. I can't stand it any longer. I need to tell her the first chance that I'm alone with her.
Even as he made that final decision, however, he began to inwardly argue with himself again.
You can't be sure that she's still in love with you. You've seen the way she's been acting. She won't even see you! It looks like your temperamental behavior scared her off for good this time.
Even if that's the case, I have to tell her. Even if she rejects me, I've been rejected before. I can handle it.
You fool; you know that this is entirely different. You'll be torn apart if she refuses your declaration. Is it really worth the risk?
He gave one last long glance at the dancing woman before whispering, "Yes. Yes it is."
…
It was well past sundown when the dance had ended and the dinner was slowly breaking up. Children were sleeping on their parent's laps or down by their feet. Some people had gone home or began cleaning up. Others continued to talk. Arthur, however, was looking for a certain someone, and he saw her heading for the beach.
When he caught up to her on the shore, he called out to her.
"You've been avoiding me," he said.
"I've simply been busy."
"Doing what? I highly doubt there is much you can do in your room, Michelle."
In that moment, when she slowly turned to face him, she had never looked more beautiful. Her hair fell down past her shoulders and her eyes smoldered with an angry fire. The far-off lights from torches faintly illuminated her features. Arthur had to catch his breath.
"What's it to you?" she demanded.
He opened his mouth to speak, but was stopped when she marched up to him and continued glaring at him with those big, shining eyes.
"I don't need this, Arthur! I don't need all this confusion and these sudden visits! Tell me why you are here and why you bought an apartment in Victoria! After all this time when you didn't even…" She stopped. Her fists clenched and she looked away.
"You know what? Just forget it. I don't think I want to know. It probably has to do with some governmental business or something… Just do what you like, Arthur."
She began walking away from him, but he was not about to let her go.
"Do what you like," she says. I plan to.
"I will tell you why I am here," he exclaimed. With a couple of strides, he caught up to her and grabbed her arms, spinning her around to face him. He was admittedly a little rough, and inwardly hoped he hadn't jostled her too badly.
"What do you think you're doing? Let go of me!" She shouted, seemingly none the worse from his forceful actions. Instead, she angrily struggled and squirmed. She even pounded her fists against his chests a few times and kicked his shins. He did his best to disguise his grunts of pain while his temper rose.
"Not until you listen to what I have to say!" he shouted back. He had planned to give her a magnificent long, flowery speech that declared his ardent love and admiration for her. He had even written it out and gone over it several times, editing the parts he thought were a tad too verbose or effusive. But now, when faced with this woman and her anger as well as his frustration, all those words were forgotten.
"Well, what do you have to say?" she snapped.
"For one thing, I did write to inform you that I was coming! I suppose the letter got lost on its way to the island."
Michelle stilled.
"But that's not all I want to say. I want to tell you that I've spent these last several years utterly perplexed and torn about you; that I needed the words of a drunken Welsh, Scottish and Irish man to see how much I've been an idiot; and that I did something completely unlike myself and bought a blasted apartment out here when I have two perfectly good (and much larger) houses back at home."
She studied his face thoughtfully while trying to process all of this. Was he implying that his feelings had changed? Even though she remained skeptic, hope was slowly wriggling its way into her heart.
I can't believe him, she inwardly objected, not unless he comes right out and says that he loves me…
"So what are you implying?" she asked. "Why should I care that you've bought an apartment, realized that you're an idiot and have been perplexed about me? You've perplexed me enough and I've known for a while that you are an idiot!"
He gritted his teeth and pulled her closer. "Because you have come to mean more to me than just another colony that I can govern and lord over. You are not like a daughter to me. You are not even just another woman that I am on speaking terms with. Even if others may frown upon it in the future, I don't care. You, you insufferable, mischievous little woman," he gently shook her, "must know what I truly feel." His chest heaved up and down.
"I'm in love with you. It has taken me a considerable amount of time to realize it, but there it is. You can accept or deny me as you wish, but I had to tell you of my affections, or else I would have gone mad. Now that I have done so, I am at your mercy to deal with me as you will."
His tight hold on her slackened and he silently, anxiously waited for her reply.
Michelle just gawked at him. She couldn't believe what she was hearing.
"You… you love me?" she breathed, staring at him in astonishment.
"I have said as much. Do you doubt me?"
Her stare turned into a slight frown. "Admittedly, yes."
He didn't blame her. He would have doubted as well, had he been treated the same way she had been. Even so, his blasted temper began to rise again and he tightened his grip on her arms.
"Then perhaps I should demonstrate in actions rather than in words." He pulled her to him and roughly smashed his lips against hers. Her eyes flew open and she was frozen in place. It was the third time he had kissed her, and she found that she enjoyed it more with each kiss. Rough though it was, this kiss indicated that perhaps he was truly sincere. It also indicated a passion that she hadn't known was so deep.
When he pulled away, she saw desire in those darkening green eyes, and she was beginning to wish she had at least kissed him back.
"Do you believe me now?"
His actions did speak louder than words, but instead of accepting him so readily, she tested him one last time.
"You've kissed me before. How am I to know that what you say is real?"
He actually smiled in response. "All I have is my word, Michelle. And I swear to you that I am in earnest. I do not recklessly throw my affections around, and I have not been with a woman for quite some time. I say this again. I love you. I want you to be mine. Will you give me a chance and let me become yours?"
Suddenly a smile began to form on her face. It was small at first, but grew until it was a wide, cheerful grin. He loved her. He truly, honestly loved her! It was almost too good to be true.
But it is true! Arthur Kirkland loves me…
"I have longed for nothing else," she answered, wrapping her arms around his waist.
Arthur's stomach fluttered in excitement. She had accepted him! Everything he had imagined and hoped for was now happening and suddenly, he felt stunned and overwhelmed. "T-Truly?" he stuttered. "In that case…can I kiss you again? I mean…" He wasn't sure why, but all of a sudden, his Victorian sensibilities were kicking in.
Her melodic laugh drifted in the air. "Of course you can! Why so formal all of a sudden? You can kiss me all you want!" She happily tilted her head up and closed her eyes.
She heard him chuckle. "Sorry. I suppose my sense and customs returned to me. I am not accustomed to rashly kissing someone like that. But now that I have your permission, Mademoiselle…"
He gently pressed his lips against her neck, under her ear.
"I fully intend to kiss you as much as I want."
She shivered in delight and clutched the back of his shirt. When he kissed her on the lips, she felt his hands run through her hair. But what brought her true pleasure was the realization that a man, this man, loved her and wanted to kiss her. What's more, since he actually had bought a place to stay, she knew she wouldn't have to worry about long separations unless they were utterly necessary. The thought of it all left her giddy and she fervently kissed him back, tilting her head to the side as their lips brushed against one another's.
When the kiss ended, they laughed together and held each other tightly. It was as if they had never known such happiness before and were uncontrollably dizzy with it. No one would have guessed if looking at him, that this man, who was hugging this woman so tightly and whispering words of devotion and love to her, was the dignified British representative for the Great Empire of the nobility of Britain and Ireland. He soon would wonder at himself as well, and try to comprehend how he could be so (as he would put it) lovesick and unbearably ridiculous. That would all end, however, when she would appear and he would soon be "under her spell" again, as he would put it.
"I would not be surprised if you were actually a siren in human form," he said to her on more than one occasion.
"Oh don't be silly. You cannot believe such things exist," she would scorn, even as an almost otherworldly smile came over her face.
"I was a sailor once, remember, darling. We believe in fantastical things, and I believe that such creatures could exist. One day I am fully expecting to catch you in your true form amidst the waters."
"You cannot think that I want to lure people to a watery grave, do you?" she exclaimed, a bit resentfully, all the while nestling in his lap with her arms about his neck.
"Of course not, but I could believe that you would want to entice me into forgetting myself. You are still somewhat French, after all," he murmured as he nuzzled her face and neck. She smelled overwhelmingly good.
He heard her giggle. "It always comes back to the French roots, doesn't it?"
"Well, you were influenced by that moron. I can imagine that you get some of your behavior from him."
"Do you hate France?" she asked, suddenly curious. He looked up at her.
"No. Not anymore," he answered. "I still don't particularly like him, but I've come to accept him for who he is. He was like an annoying big brother to me at one point, after all."
"Really? Considering how long you two have been fighting, that must have been when you were quite young."
"Oh yes. Considerably young."
She grinned. "I should like to hear about a young Arthur. Were you chubby and shy?"
His face actually turned a shade of red and she found him more lovable than ever.
"I don't know. Look, let's not talk about it," he barked. "There are better things to talk about…" His glance became mischievous. "Like what we're going to do now that you and I are so… intimately acquainted."
It was a few weeks later, after that momentous Saturday evening, that Arthur was waking up to the sound of rain pattering against his window. He slid his eyes open and noticed that the room was dark, even with the curtains drawn. Suddenly he had a fleeting sensation that he was back in his old room in the city of London, on another rainy morning. His eyes widened, and he began to fear that everything that had happened in the past couple of days had been nothing but a dream. Was he still alone, back in his old countryside home, far away from Michelle? Was he just waking up to another meager day of nothing but business and world affairs?
He sat straight up and looked around the room. After a minute, his fears were abolished when he realized this room was not the same as the one back at his home. He sighed in relief and leaned back for a minute, just listening to the rain falling on the roof. So it was raining, that was not such a terrible thing. He was just content to be living only a minute's walk away from the woman he was in love with.
"Hello in there!" Someone called.
"Hello!" he called back. He paused. That hadn't been Mrs. Briggs talking. He leapt out of bed, pulled some pants on and swung the door open. There stood Michelle with a big smile on her face, wielding a spatula.
"Good morning!" she said in a singsong voice.
"Good morning! A bit early for a visit, don't you think?" he smirked, delighted at the sight of her.
"Did I surprise you?" She gleefully gave him a warm hug.
"You did indeed! And what is this all about?" Arthur pointed to the spatula in her hand.
"Oh! Well, you see, I've been trying to improve my cooking, and I figured you wouldn't mind if I fixed you breakfast one morning!" she chirped.
He was again pleasantly surprised. "No. I don't mind that at all. What are you making?"
She gestured for him to follow her into the kitchen where a lit wood-burning stove with a pan on it was ready for cooking. Michelle pointed to some eggs and cut fish lying on a makeshift wooden table nearby.
"Some fish and eggs. How does that sound?"
"I say it sounds good enough to eat!" he exclaimed.
As she began cooking the fish and eggs, Arthur decided to sit down at the table to stay out of her way. Even though this was the area where the help would eat, he didn't mind all too much. It was just a table like any other table. He figured people on these islands didn't care as much about where certain people ate their meals.
"Where's Mrs. Briggs?" he queried.
"She went out to walk around the city. I think she really enjoys living by the ocean…Erm… The man who works for you is also… taking a walk…"
Arthur frowned. He couldn't see Michelle's face, but judging by her voice, she was having problems.
"Are you all right?"
"Well… erm… I don't know. I don't think the eggs should be that color…"
He slowly rose from his seat. "Michelle…?"
Suddenly, she stumbled back from the stove with a shriek while clutching her hand as the food in the pan spontaneously caught fire. Arthur quickly leapt from his chair and caught her.
"Watch yourself!" he exclaimed. Grabbing a cloth that hung from a line above, he used it to protect his hands as he removed the pan from the stove. He stood there for a minute or two, desperately trying to figure out what he should do with a pan of burning food in his hands when Mrs. Briggs entered the kitchen.
"Saints above!" she exclaimed, as she took in the sight before her. "What on Earth is this?"
"I could use some assistance, Madam!" Arthur exclaimed.
With a sigh of exasperation, she grabbed a pot lid from a counter and placed it over the pan in Arthur's hands.
"Here, I will take that, Sir."
He willingly handed her the pan by the handle. She took it and set it down on the kitchen counter, waiting for the grease fire to die out.
"What were you trying to do?" she inquired.
Michelle winced, still clutching her hand. "Merely trying to make breakfast for you all…" she said shamefully.
"Oh, dear, that's wonderful," the good lady said in a softer voice. "And… what was the breakfast to be?"
"Fish and eggs." Michelle sighed. "I guess I'm still not much of a cook if I let the food catch fire so quickly."
As Arthur gently urged her to sit down at the table, Mrs. Briggs gently smiled.
"It's not that. I just think you didn't mind what you were doing. You have to be careful with grease when using an open stove."
"Oh, I see…" Michelle still didn't feel very comforted.
"Don't worry, Michelle," Arthur said good-naturedly. "I'm sure your cooking can't be any worse than mine!"
He grinned, which caused her to grin back regardless of the embarrassment she felt, or the pain on her hand. Of course, his kindness didn't help ease the pain. She winced as she looked down at the bright red splotch on her palm.
"Did you burn yourself?"
"Yes. Quite a bit, actually."
"Why don't the two of you go to the pump and soak that in the cool water? I'll take care of the breakfast," Mrs. Briggs sugggested.
"All right. Thank you, Mrs. Briggs." Arthur took Michelle by the other hand and they headed outside.
"I must say, this has been quite a morning. I hope you won't find me rude, but life is never dull around you, Michelle!"
"Humph. I suppose I can take that as a compliment. We wouldn't want you to get bored, now would we?" she said dryly.
"Well now, if I did get a bit bored, I'm sure I could find some sort of amusement…" His grin was positively shameful as he leaned down to kiss her neck.
Michelle's face turned a shade of beet red. "Oh look! There's the pump!"
As she felt the cool water running over her hand, soothing the burn, Michelle discreetly stole a glance at Arthur and saw that he was blankly watching the people around them as he leaned against the pump. With an inward shrug, she figured now would be a good time to ask him as any.
"Say, Arthur?"
"Yes?"
"I have a question…"
"All right. What is it?"
"Well…" she stood and rubbed her thumb over the aggravated area, though the pain was slowly going away. "Seeing as how the two of us are… as you put it, 'intimately acquainted'…"
He smiled. "Yes."
"And want to see each other every day…"
"That's right. And we do."
"Well…I was just thinking… what if the two of us decided to…" She sighed exasperatedly. She didn't know why she was having such a hard time with this! She had been planning on asking him this over breakfast, after all!
Now she had Arthur's full attention. "Decided to what?" he inquired.
"What I mean to say is… can I … stay with you?"
He blinked. "Stay with me?"
"Yes! I don't take up much room. Most of my things fit in one trunk!" she said happily. "It would be like how we were back at your country home!"
Arthur raised a hand in opposition. "Wait! I… you mean, to live with me? Under the same roof?"
She unabashedly nodded. "Yes. Wouldn't that be nice?"
"Well, yes… I mean, no! I mean… I don't think that is the best idea, Michelle." He balked at the idea.
"Why not?"
"Because! I… you… It's just not done, you know?"
He was beginning to grow tired of using that reasoning.
"Are you still concerned about being alone with a lady unchaperoned?" she queried, giving him a teasing smile.
"Oh please. I was only concerned about that blasted convention for my sister's sake." He rolled his eyes. No, the real reason why he was hesitant about living with Michelle was a wholly personal one. With her in such a close proximity to him… well, he wouldn't be sure if he could withstand the temptation to fully make her his. Would she be ready for that kind of physical intimacy? He wasn't sure.
Her look was confused. "Then what's the problem?"
He scoffed. How was he to explain his inner turmoil? I don't want you living with me because I would be tempted to bed you? Right. That would certainly go well.
"Look, I'll think about it, all right?" he said after a minute. "Now why don't we start heading back?"
Michelle frowned as they walked back to the apartment.
"I'm sorry, Arthur. If I had known you would be uncomfortable about it, I wouldn't have mentioned it."
Oh lovely. Things are just getting more and more complicated. Bloody brilliant. The truth is, he glanced at her from the side, watching her lovely face, there's nothing I want more…
"Listen…" He saw Michelle look at him. "It's not that I am uncomfortable with the idea, per se… I just…" He sighed. "It's complicated. Just let me think about it, all right?"
She took his hand. She wasn't going to let a silly little thing like differing views on living arrangements ruin a potentially good day. "All right, Arthur. Say, what do you want to do today after we eat breakfast?"
…
The next thing he knew, Arthur was wasting the day away lying on the beach in the shade of a low-hanging palm branch. He slowly opened his eyes and looked around. Had he fallen asleep? He was lying comfortably on a blanket with a couple of dishes that still had half-eaten food and drink in them. Suddenly, he heard someone call out his name.
It was Henri and with him, Michelle.
"I told you!" Michelle exclaimed as they approached him. "He wanted to rest. Look, you've probably gone and woke him up!"
"No, no. I was awake. How are you, Henri?" Arthur held out his hand for Henri to shake.
"Je suis bien! Erm, I mean, I am well! I just wanted to say goodbye to the both of you before I go visit our cousin."
"Ah. Mauritius? Well, I hope you have a pleasant trip."
"Merci! Also, I… ah…" He turned to Michelle. "Pourriez-vous nous laisser un instant s'il vous plaît?"
She stared at him before nodding and heading back to the ocean. Meanwhile, Henri knelt down on his haunches beside Arthur and grinned.
"I didn't want her to hear what I was going to say next. Thought that would be a little indelicate of me. I was just wondering, Arthur… May I call you Arthur?"
"I don't see why not."
"Très bon! Anyway, Arthur, I was wondering, us being friends and all," his smile became teasing, almost eerily similar to that of that blasted Frenchman… Arthur began to guess what he was going to ask.
"How are affairs between you and my sister? I mean, have the two of you…"
"Oh for the love of Mike, Henri! Really!"
"Well, she is my sister after all! I just want to make sure she's being properly cared for!"
Henri was probably being serious, but the young man did wink when he said that, to Arthur's chagrin.
"You shouldn't let Bonnefoy influence you so, lad," was all Arthur groused out. Henri laughed at that. It seemed that he understood what Arthur was referring to.
"When I told him how things are now between the two of you, he said I should be sure that you are being a proper gentleman, you see."
"You told France? Oh Lord…" He began to feel a migraine coming. The last person he wanted knowing about his relationship with Michelle was her former guardian. He would never hear the end of it, and wouldn't be surprised if the fellow challenged him to a fight for Michelle's honor or something.
He would do something like that, just to annoy me…
"Ah, don't worry about it. He'll probably find out how good of a man you are when Michelle tells him about the two of you. You are being good, aren't you?" He winked again and nudged Arthur's arm.
His glare was positively frightening, but just like his guardian, Henri found it incredibly amusing.
"You English!" Henri exclaimed, laughing. "I suppose I'll just tell France that you're being an absolute angel. How about that?"
"You can tell that wine loving bastard that he can go straight to…"
"Henri! Sea turtle eggs are hatching!" They heard Michelle exclaim. Henri's face was suddenly filled with delight.
"C'est merveilleux! Where? Let me see!"
Suddenly, Henri dashed away from Arthur's shady branch and headed off to the right, closer to the shore. Michelle, in turn, came up Arthur and sat down beside him. He unashamedly admired her slender legs that stretched out in front of them.
"He likes sea turtles a lot," he heard her say laughingly.
"Hm? Ah… who likes sea turtles?"
"My brother. You know, that fellow over there?" She pointed to the smaller form of Henri as he lay on his stomach, seemingly watching as little baby turtles tried to crawl to the ocean.
"Oh right, of course. Sorry," he muttered. He couldn't help the fact that he really wanted to run his hands along her smooth calves. They just looked so soft…
"Hello? Mr. Kirkland? Wake up!" she teased, knocking him on the head.
"All right, all right, cut that out!" he demanded. She merely giggled and ruffled his shaggy hair.
"So what were you two talking about?"
He hesitated before answering. "Let's just say that I take back what I said about hating France," he finally growled out.
Michelle, of course, was confused as to why.
…
Even though no steps were taken to move Michelle into his apartment, that did not stop her from coming over. There were times when she even came for visits quite early in the morning and Arthur would receive quite the wake-up call, indeed. He got used to it after a little while. After all, it wasn't like the visits were unwelcome. It was on a Tuesday in mid-November that she was paying him another one of those early visits.
"You know, darling, you shouldn't keep doing this," he told her amiably, as he went through his morning toilette. He stared at her from the small mirror set on a dresser as he proceeded to shave. He had to be careful though. What with him continually watching her gleefully hopping up and down on his bed, he was liable to cut his chin, or even his throat.
"Doing what?" Michelle asked. She flopped down upon the bed's springy mattress like a little child would. "You know, I don't think I've ever been on such a bouncy bed before!" She gave him a radiant grin as her hair settled around her shoulders.
By George, is she lovely... He tried to ignore the rapid beating of his heart. "Well, you know, dropping by at all hours in the morning, especially when I am still not up; at least give me time to freshen myself up before visiting!"
She could tell by his jovial tone of voice that he wasn't earnestly scolding her. Deep down, she knew he was quite pleased with having her here. She stilled, now lying on her stomach with her hands supporting her chin and watched as the razor smoothly scraped away the suds over his jaw, chin and under his nose. His shoulder blades flexed ever so slightly with each movement of his arms and she could see some of his upper torso in the mirror. He wasn't as broad or as muscular as many of the fishermen here, but he was wiry and tough. Judging by the scars she could see on his back, he had been through some hard times, and yet he was still able to carry on, unbroken. She admired that in him. She hoped to tell him that some time.
"I'm sorry. If it really is so troublesome, I suppose I could just stop by every so often."
"Oh, now wait a minute."
"It seems as if this is as bad as me staying with you," she teased. "And here you said those silly conventions meant nothing to you."
"Blast you, woman, they don't! If I am concerned about them, it would be for your sake, not mine!"
She tilted her head to the side. "What do you mean?"
"Well, the general consensus would be that you are my mistress if you lived with me. People would say you have no self-respect and whatnot," he shot her a wry look, "though we know that is not true, even if you were raised by that wine loving arsehole."
"You're so very funny," she sarcastically replied. After a moment's pause, with him rinsing his razor and applying the last touches, Michelle sighed, slid off the bed and stood behind him. Just as Arthur was about to shave off the last few patches, he felt her thin arms wrap around his waist and she rested her cheek against his back.
"I don't care," he heard her say. "It's not like we have many options to begin with…"
He smiled as he lowered his razor to rinse it once more. "To tell you the truth, I really don't care either."
The room grew quiet and as he reached up to shave one last spot, she placed the slightest of kisses just above the small of his back before resting her cheek against him again. There was a sharp intake of breath from him and his hand slipped. The sharp stinging along his jaw was ignored, however, and he set the razor down and unfastened her hands from around his waist.
He felt warm, warm all over, as he took her hands in his and looked into her eyes. She visibly swallowed before reaching up to touch his cheek.
"You're bleeding," she said absently.
"Hm? Oh…" Arthur touched the sore spot on his jaw and saw blood when he pulled his hand away. He then watched as Michelle left his side for a moment and picked up a towel from the dresser.
"Here," she said. She began gently dabbing the cut while tilting his head to the side somewhat so she could clean it easier. "There's… quite a bit of blood," she murmured, growing more and more distracted by Arthur, "for such a small cut…"
He ran his hands up her arms and took hold of hers before pulling her closer to him. His lidded gaze and dilated pupils were focused solely on her lips. When they finally made contact, he let go of her hands so that he could rest his on her waist, and in doing so, press her body closer to his own. She held him by the back of his neck (the towel now lying discarded on the floor), more than willing to let him take control. He took everything slow at first, giving her chaste little kisses that left her wanting more. A chill ran through him when her hands traveled from his neck down his back, tenderly caressing each scar she felt.
"Nasty, aren't they?" he whispered against her lips. "My scars, I mean."
She gave a tiny shake of the head. "I don't particularly think so. They're nothing to be ashamed of."
He cupped her cheek in his hand. "And if I had them all over, on my arms, my face? What then? I'd be particularly ugly, wouldn't I?"
She grinned. "I don't know if I would say that, though you aren't exactly the handsomest of men I've met."
He laughed at that. "So I am ugly even now?"
"No. Nor would you be if you were covered in scars. You would still be Arthur, and would still be wonderful and I would still love you."
Then Michelle kissed him, and when her mouth opened slightly, he took the chance to deepen the kiss. He heard her take a breath through her nose and lightly grazed his teeth along her bottom lip, garnering a surprised sort of squeak from her. Arthur pulled back a little, waiting to see if she liked or disliked it. He wanted to be careful in what he did, making sure to notice things she may like or dislike. After all, he figured she wasn't as experienced as he was.
She made no move to distance herself from him, however, and he took another chance and began kissing her openmouthed. He was pleased to find that she reciprocated willingly. He ran his hands up and down her back in comforting caresses. When he took a step further and brushed his tongue against her lips, he felt her tense up a little, but not for long. She found this new way of tasting him, of exploring him, quite desirable.
Things were really beginning to heat up as she brought her hands forward, gently dragging her fingernails along his chest, when she suddenly froze and quickly dislodged her mouth from his.
"Arthur!" she panted. "You… your cut…"
A line of blood was trickling from his jaw, down his throat and onto his chest. He didn't seem to mind all that much.
"Oh dear. Should probably clean this up, I suppose," he said nonchalantly.
She huffed and retrieved the towel that she had previously dropped. With little to no bashfulness, she made a quick business of wiping the blood off of his person. She then shoved the towel into his hand, and made him press it to the cut, which still bled a little. All the while, he watched her amusedly.
"You could do with a plaster, I think. Hold on, I'll get you one."
She walked out of the room and left Arthur smiling to himself. He chuckled a bit, and ran his free hand through his hair. By Jove, that had been absolutely splendid. She had been so delicious and tempting at the same time. Even now he could still feel her lips against his and he knew he would be thirsty for more of her.
Michelle came back with the bandage, a small smile on her face. It seemed that she had quite enjoyed their little exchange as well.
"I'll look positively ridiculous with this on my face," he objected even as she applied the bandage to his jaw.
"Well, you should be more careful when you shave then, Sir." She gave his cheek a soft smack.
Suddenly, everything he had previously said and worried about all became a bunch of hogwash. All societies and conventions be hanged. He knew what he wanted and knew that Michelle wanted the same thing.
"Michelle," he said in a low voice. She had finished bandaging his cut and stared at him expectantly.
"Yes?"
"I want you to stay."
"With you?"
"With me."
She gave him another one of her devilishly teasing smiles. "What if people talk?"
He shrugged. "Let them. We both don't care, and I know that there's nothing I want more than…" He stopped and just looked at her pleadingly.
But she understood.
"I would be more than happy to stay with you," she answered.
A/N: OKAY. It is DONE. *collapses*
Sorry if there are mistakes and whatnot in here. I haven't been feeling well, and I don't feel like proofreading, so nyah. .
Don't ask me why, but this chapter was, like, whooping my butt. It was trying so hard not to be finished. I had such trouble with this little beast, and I don't know if I'm 100% satisfied with it. But, as long as you guys like it, than I'll be happy. ^3^
Writing this at the beach was fun. And sorry if some of the dialogue sounds really corny or overtly romantic. I have been watching some old romantic/comedic movies, ya know. The classics. :D So some of the dialogue may sound like it comes from, like, a Cary Grant movie or something. XDD Not really sorry about it, actually. So I suck at writing romance, sue me. lol.
So.. yay! Tell me what y'all think? *puppy eyes* I've really appreciated the reviews, btw. You all are wonderful. :3