Well, after the AirTran experience from hell, I am home, and have been since Saturday. I was going to be stranded in Chicago till who knows when (I was told that they didn't know if I would be able to get out on Sunday) but then my dad drove down and got me. It should be know that I love my dad to death-- and not just because he drove 6 hours to get me.

Anyways, here is chapter 10! I broke 70 reviews with the last chapter which was an all-time high for me, and it was so nice after the horrible travel day. I apologize that this chapter isn't as long as chapter 9, but it has some moments that will make you go 'squeee!'. At least, I'm hoping so...

James awoke early the morning of the dinner and went and sat out on the balcony attached to his room clad only in a pair of breeches. The early morning sun kissed his skin as he reclined in the single chair that was on the balcony, resting his bare feet up on the railing. More drowsy than fully awake, James leaned back and closed his eyes, sighing deeply as the rising light slowly warmed his body.

He enjoyed training the cadets, but he was still tired, and he cherished peaceful moments such as the one he was currently taking advantage of. He could hear the sea down below, the waves crashing against the jetties and shore, a comforting sound that made James all the more calm. He missed the sea. Basilio's question the day before was still fresh in his mind.

Suddenly, James sat bolt upright. He didn't know why he hadn't thought of it before. Hastily, he stood and rushed into his room, quickly pulling on his boots and a shirt over his head. In his haste James nearly stumbled out of his room and down the stairs, but regained his footing as he neared the bottom. Cutting through the kitchen, where he knew the staff was already working, James made his way out of one of the back doors of Armand's mansion and down the stone pathway that lead to the beach.

Hopping on one foot after the other, James pulled off his boots and couldn't help smile at the absurdity of his actions: here he was, a grown and seasoned man, rushing to the sea as if he'd never seen something so wonderful. He threw his chemise atop his boots and, taking it at a run, jumped from the top of a rocky expanse into the crystal blue waters.

James likened it to coming home after a long voyage at sea—except this time, home was the sea.

Cutting through the water with powerful stokes, James surface and shoved his wet hair off of his face, wiping the salty water from his eyes.

It was bliss.

James swam back and forth through the water for what seemed like hours, till his already tired body almost refused to move. He knew it really hadn't been that long, the sun was still low enough on the horizon and no sounds from town reached him, but his body was worn enough for him to make believe it so. Eventually, with heavy steps, James made his way up the shore, wringing the water from his hair and attempting to do the same to his breeches.

He laughed aloud at himself as he tried, unsuccessfully, to dry his soaked pants. He wondered if Adela would scold him, but he rather though she would tease him good-naturedly with her little, all-knowing smile.

With a sigh, James collapsed onto the sand near his discarded boots and chemise, scrunching the sand between his toes like a small child. With a stretch, he grabbed his shirt and quickly pulled it over his head, not bothering to straighten it out or tuck it in properly. He just sat and stared out at the open water.

It was like falling in love with the sea all over again.

---

Vitalia had woken up earlier that usual, she wondered if it was from the excitement of the dinner later that evening or the sun that was shining on her from the curtains she'd forgotten to close.

She figured it was both, but mostly the sun.

Disgruntled that she was unable to fall back asleep, Vitalia rose and wrapped herself in her dressing gown then made her way out onto her own, private balcony. She sighed as she breathed in the fresh morning air, slowly waking herself more fully. She could already tell the weather would be perfect for the dinner later that evening, not cold but not as hot as it had been the past few days.

Scanning the horizon and sea before her, it took Vitalia a moment to realize that there was a man swimming in the sea in front of her uncle's home. It took her another moment to realize that that man was James.

Slowly, almost coyly, she smiled.

James looked like he was having a wondrous time; she could almost see the smile on his face from her spot on the balcony, as he cut through the large waves with even strokes. She was also quite content to notice that he had decided to swim shirtless. Slyly, she admired the corded muscles on James' back, her eyes taking in every detail of his powerful biceps as they pulled him forward through the water.

Part of her urged to join him, to jump into the water with the same abandon and swim until she couldn't move anymore. But she knew, deep down, that she really shouldn't.

But oh how she wanted to.

Leaning on the railing, Vitalia continued to watch James swim till he climbed out of the water and flopped down into the sand. Suddenly, a thought came to Vitalia, and she wondered why it hadn't come sooner.

With fluid motion, Vitalia rose and quickly dressed herself, tying her hair in a haphazard braid, and then ran downstairs to the kitchens. Satisfied with her stroke of genius, Vitalia grabbed one of the wicker baskets that hung in the kitchen's pantry and prepared a small basket of fruits and freshly baked muffins for her and James. Grabbing a glass bottle of orange juice from the icebox, Vitalia quickly departed the kitchen through the same door James had earlier that morning.

She reached the beach soon after and found James still sitting peacefully in the sand, allowing the waves to gently lap at his ankles.

"Good morning," she said as she crept up behind him.

James jumped and spun in the sand. He wasn't expecting anyone to join him in the sand, but as Vitalia took a seat beside him, placing the basket of food slightly between them, he couldn't help smile broadly at her.

"Buenas días," he responded with a grin.

"Oh, very good," she cooed at him with a teasing smile. "You'll be sweeping the women off their feet tonight."

James smiled, raising an eyebrow. He couldn't really see such a thing. Maybe Basilio, but not him. James thought himself to plain for that. And besides, he thought as he watched Vitalia out of the corner of his eye, there was really only one woman he really wanted to sweep of her feet.

"I've brought you breakfast," she said as she pulled a muffin out for herself, "I thought maybe you'd be hungry after your swim."

James had the decency to blush; he hadn't noticed anyone watching him, but it would just figure that Vitalia would be the one to see him acting like a six-year old.

"Thank you," he managed after a moment and helped himself to an apple. He bit into it and chewed thoughtfully, a comfortable silence falling over the pair. "Do you swim?" James asked after a moment.

"Not very often," Vitalia answered, "I rather like wading though," she said with a grin.

"Wading?" James wasn't quite sure what exactly she meant.

"Walking through or going till it reaches my knees, maybe," she replied.

James smiled at her. "I suppose it's almost the same thing."

Vitalia laughed, "Except for that whole physical exertion and being completely submerged in water," she said seriously.

James shrugged, smiling, "Close enough."

Vitalia looked at him and smiled, drinking in the sight of the wet and tanned man beside her. She rather thought she could do it for the rest of the day.

The pair ate the rest of the baskets' contents, sharing the glass bottle of orange juice like a bottle of rum, and made their way up to the house as the sun began to completely fill the sky and the sounds of life echoed from the plaza and the house above them.

---

James spent much of the rest of the day lounging around with Armand. As soon as he and Vitalia had entered the house, she had been swept away by her maidservants to prepare for the evening. James, who had been quite surprised at the speed at which Vitalia had been taken from him, had wandered the house till he found Armand on the parlor balcony. He had a nagging feeling Armand had seen them down at the beach from the cheeky smile he'd received upon sitting down with the Governor, but Armand said nothing. Instead, he had poured James a cup of coffee and informed him that they would be on their own till somewhere around four, when his wife and niece would re-appear and guests would begin arriving.

"What should we do?" James asked, not really looking forward to the lonely hours ahead—not that Armand wasn't wonderful company.

Armand shrugged, swirling the contents of his coffee cup with a lazy wrist movement. "No idea," was his helpful suggestion. "I never know what to do with myself on days like this. I feel like it's a lot of time, but not enough time to start anything at the same time."

James thought for a moment, trying to think of something that would be entertaining and beneficial as well. "How about a duel?" he suggested after a moment. "Not a 'pistols-to-the-death' duel!" he added quickly at Armand's alarmed face.

Armand laughed, "I was going to say… I didn't think I'd managed to offend you that badly or ruin your honor quite yet."

"You plan on doing so?" James asked, laughing.

"That's how you'll know when I really like you," Armand told him with mock-seriousness. He stood then, setting his coffee cup, now empty, on the small table between them. "Come along, there's a gallery on the other side of the house. We can stab at each other to our hearts content there."

James grinned and followed.

---

The only thing Vitalia really disliked about formal dinners or court dances was the preparation time. The hours it took for her to get ready—not that she didn't like the end result—bordered on ridiculous. She wasn't sure what she would do if she didn't have her aunt to keep her company.

The pair usually spent the mornings soaking in fragrant bathtubs while every part of them was scrubbed viciously and meticulously, ending often times in skin rubbed raw. After their long soaks, massages of the neck and back came; Adela insisted that the posture and weight they would be carrying later that evening on their shoulders deserved reprieve. Vitalia greatly enjoyed this part. After that came the lengthiest portion of the day aside from the engagement itself: hair.

For the better part of four hours Vitalia and Adela, who's hair was not as long but just as thick, were curled, combed, straightened, pinned, and pulled until both had elaborate and elegant up-dos. After that ordeal, another quick soak in scented water was in order, followed by perfume and make-up. Neither woman wore much make-up on their faces, but Adela encouraged liner on the eyes and lipstick. She often never left her home without either for she believed they enhanced a woman's best features: her eyes and her lips.

Vitalia did not complain about her aunt's choices; she thought she looked quite beautiful with the paint. Adela, while she informed her niece quite often she was stunningly beautiful without make-up, couldn't disagree even though she hated to admit it. She, as Armand, often looked upon her niece as her own child. And parents never enjoy watching their children become exceedingly beautiful, being courted by young men, and ultimately whisked away into marriage.

After they applied their make-up, the two women helped each other into their corsets, petticoats, and gowns. Help was often required with stays and ties, but more often than not the pair were able to dress themselves. Once fully dressed, jewelry was put on and shoes slipped into, and final touches were applied to all aspects of each outfit.

Adela smiled down at her niece as she helped tuck a stray piece of hair back into place. "You look beautiful, princesa," she said, squeezing Vitalia's shoulders with excitement. "James will have to beat the other men away from you," she told Vitalia, and her smile turned into a rather devious grin.

Vitalia blushed at her aunt's comment. James had been her aunt's favorite subject during their preparations that day and she had eventually gotten Vitalia to admit she had some feelings for the man. Vitalia would never forget the look on Adela's face in her moment of triumph. "Let's hope it won't come to that…" she said, rising and brushing her skirts down with nervous hands. "Shall we?"

Adela smiled, this time kindly, "We shall; I believe Constance told your uncle we would be down shortly. And that was surely near fifteen minutes ago."

With that, she linked her arm with Vitalia's and opened the door, and the pair of beautifully dressed and done-up Spaniards left for the main staircase where Armand and James stood, waiting at the bottom.

---

"I tell you, that woman takes forever," Armand muttered, fidgeting with a cuff-link and saying each syllable with distinction, referring to his wife.

James managed a smile as he scrutinized himself in the full-length mirror in the hallway. He and Armand had stopped their dueling around noon and had a light lunch, going over every possible aspect of their bouts before each retired to take a small nap. James was more than a bit exhausted and welcomed the rest, rising a few hours later to bathe, shave, and then dress himself.

True to her word, Adela had seen that shoes for James had been delivered. She had selected and set aside a black pair of boots for the evening, and James slid them on after he had pulled on his breeches, chemise, and socks, all of which were white. The black created quite a contrast, but he wasn't overwhelmed by it, for he knew that the dark blue of his vest and over coat would tone it down—but more than that he trusted that Adela knew what she was doing.

James finished the golden buttons on his vest with quick, nimble fingers that were more used to tying unflappable knots than they were buttonholes, and began working on the neckerchief. James had always hated the things and went without them whenever possible, but he knew it was unthinkable at such as occasion. Grabbing a navy ribbon off his dresser—also chosen and put out by Adela—James tied back his thick brown hair. He noticed it had grown and was noticeably longer than it had ever been in Port Royale.

He wondered if anyone from his old life would recognize him now; he had become a bit leaner, was darker in skin tone than he'd ever been in his life, had longer hair, and was now constantly bearded. He rather enjoyed his beard he thought as he ran his hands over his face, it was small and neat, but he felt it gave him some amount of distinction. That, and Vitalia had told him she liked it one evening when they and Armand and Adela had polished off near four bottles of wine.

With a small sigh, James tied back his hair and grabbed his elegant coat from his bed. Sliding it on one arm at a time, James pulled at the tough fabric to make it fall about him correctly and surveyed himself in the mirror by his bedside. He didn't look half bad, he admitted; the dark blue coloring and golden thread made him feel like he was back in the British Royal Navy, something he thought might have influenced Adela's choice in the outfit, and it made him feel somewhat comfortable. The only thing that was missing, he thought sadly, was a sword of his own and a hat.

He made a mental note to ask the smith at the navy armory about a sword the coming week as he left his room and made his way downstairs, where he again joined Armand on the parlor balcony. The pair of men conversed there for a short while before one of Adela's maids told them that Adela and Vitalia were almost ready, whereupon Armand and James stood and went to wait by the staircase.

Servants and musicians were dashing here and there as the hour of the party drew nearer, yelling at each other and scurrying about.

Armand looked rather bored with the entire situation and raised his eyebrows at James through the mirror.

"You look fine, James," he said dryly, "unless you'd wanted your hair done as well?"

James fixed Armand with a glare and said nothing, which only made the Spaniard howl with laughter.

"I am glad you are opening up enough to be mad at me," Armand said and he came to stand by James, going over his own appearance as well. "If I weren't married, you and I could storm about the country and steal young women from farms, day after day."

James laughed and was about to reply when Adela's voice came from the top of the stairwell.

"If you feel like doing such a thing, my dear, I suggest you leave now so I may sweep some young man away for myself."

Armand paled, but smiled, and turned to the stairs. James did so as well and drew in breath at the sight.

Adela looked stunning in a gown of pale blue that fit her like a glove. Edged in silvery lace and a darker blue thread, she stepped carefully down the marble steps, allowing glimpses of delicate silver slippers. She wore no jewelry save her wedding ring and a small pair of diamond earrings, but James was not surprised; Adela was nothing if not the epitome of elegant and he rather thought she could show up to her own party wearing nothing but brown meat paper and still look the best.

James was ready to say that Adela was indeed the best dressed, but then his eyes fell upon Vitalia.

Following slightly behind her aunt with careful steps, Vitalia was dressed in an elaborate gown of deep violet accented by a panel of lighter, purple silk that made up the center of her bodice. Over the lighter silk were small strands of pearls, which continued to line the bodice peace till it came to a point where her skirts began. The bodice hung off her shoulders in a tasteful manner, the sleeves made up of violet, gossamer ribbons. James could see the same ribbons threaded through her dark hair, which had been piled artfully atop her head, and he was sure there were pearls in her hair as well. She wore a large pair of pearls in her ears and white gloves that reached her elbows, and James couldn't take his eyes off of her even as she reached the bottom of the stairs and stood right before him.

She was aware of his eyes and blushed, which made her, if possible, more beautiful.

James wasn't quite sure what to do, so he did the first thing that came to his mind; he knelt slightly and, taking her gloved hand in his own, placed a long, lingering kiss on the top of her hand.

"You…you are beautiful," James told her in slow, hesitant Spanish as he drew away and dropped her hand. James could think of nothing more than carrying Vitalia off in the same manner Armand had been discussing a few moments earlier.

"Thank you," she responded, her blush deeper now from both James' kiss and compliments. "You look handsome as well," she told him in English.

"But I will pale beside you, this evening," he told her, smiling as he continued to take her in, "which is only fair, I assure you."

Vitalia met his eyes then and he held the gaze, wishing for nothing more than to sweep the magnificent woman before him into his arms and kiss her senseless. He wondered if any of his thoughts were being conveyed to her through his eyes, for there was something he couldn't quite read in her own, dark orbs.

James didn't know that the only thing Vitalia wanted was for James to do exactly what he was thinking.

Their contact was broken as Armand turned his attention to his niece, grabbing her arms and spinning her around happily. She laughed at him, her face lit by a bright smile as her uncle continued to dance with her down the hallway.

Adela sidled over to James. "You look very nice, James," she told him with a kind smile.

"No doubt thanks to you," he replied. "You look very lovely, Adela," he said and offered her his arm, seeing as how her husband had since disappeared with their niece into the ballroom.

"Thank you," she said as she linked arms with him. "Vitalia looked very pretty as well," she announced, more for the sake of watching James color and squirm slightly.

"Very pretty," he agreed in a rather far off voice.

Adela grinned. "You'll have to keep her close, tonight," she told him in a deliberately offhand voice, "men will be trying to snatch her up every where she goes."

James did not bother telling Adela that he was planning on keeping a close eye on Vitalia, prepared to save her from any unwanted contact or interaction.

He also didn't see fit to tell Adela that he wanted nothing more than to snatch her up for himself. With on look at his determined face, however, Adela knew that that was exactly what James wanted to do.

Hopefully, you at least had the urge to 'squee!', and if you didn't I hope you enjoyed this chapter. The plot should start to pick up in the coming chapters, which I will make and effort to make longer, but I can't make any promises :3

As always, please review!!!

-Elle

Note: I'm wondering if something happened to dear Krum-Cake... she usually reviewed with every chapter and was always so nice and sweet, but I haven't heard from her since chapter 7 or so... I hope you're alright!!!