I am so sorry that this is so delayed. I've been busy working and going to baseball games and hanging out with the family. My brother and I watch Bleach together (it's cute) and I've rediscovered Kingdom Hearts and newly discovered MLB The Show '07.

I will be out of town for a few days and I wanted to get this out before I left, and before The Deathly Hallows comes out (OMG, T-MINUS 3 HOURS!!!) I'm sure everyone will be reading that the next few days, but when you're done and (most likely) sad, you can read this and hopefully be happy.

Please review!!!

James could hardly keep the content smile off his face. He didn't know if he'd ever enjoyed himself more at a function.

About twenty or so odd couples filled Armand's ballroom, milling and mixing with each other amidst the beautiful music and light chatter. Adela was off with a group of who James assumed were the leading matrons of Palma de Mallroca, gossiping. James was sure that no matter what country, the older women of every society enjoyed nothing more than gossiping and matchmaking.

Having been on the receiving end of both on more than one occasion, James was glad he was new enough to the city to avoid the matchmaking, but he had a feeling that there was not a soul who was not, had not, or would not be talking of him at some point during the evening.

He tried his best not to look awkward as the group turned and looked at him. Adela caught his eye and smiled at him in a way that told him that she was both sorry and not sorry at all.

James sighed and took a long sip of champagne from the glass flute he'd been holding lightly in his hand, the alcohol both cold and refreshing. He scanned the room as the matrons resumed their gossiping, trying desperately to ignore the looks they were giving him. With shrewd eyes James quickly found the flash of deep violet he'd been hoping to catch a glimpse of: Vitalia.

Vitalia had stayed with James for the first half of the party, bringing him around to guests, helping with introductions and polite conversation. James was more than nervous about his newly acquired Spanish skills, but the light pressure of Vitalia's arm on his own was comfort enough, and the small, encouraging smiles she gave him more than did the trick. It was getting harder and harder for James to ignore the way his stomach would jump every time he was on the receiving end of one such smile.

She was truly a vision in her dark silk; the gown fit her like a glove and swirled delicately around her slim body as she moved. He could pick out her laugh if he listened close enough, separating it from the other titters of her friends—two girls just as wonderfully dressed as Vitalia—as she stood with them. James had insisted she go off with them, he didn't want to keep her from them and figured he wasn't really all that fun.

He was quite content to stand along the wall and observe the party in silence, taking in the way the Spaniards danced and spoke. Many of the mannerisms were the same, but James couldn't deny the more pronounced grace that stemmed from the individuals surrounding him.

Armand, like he had predicted before the evening began, was surrounded by both political allies and opponents alike. Despite his earlier complaints about both, Armand seemed to have the attention of all those surrounding him captured with his eccentric personality. The group around the young governor was laughing as Armand waved his arms about, smiling broadly. James had a feeling that, even though he denied it, Armand enjoyed being the center of attention.

James' dark eyes strayed back toward Vitalia and her pair of friends and he couldn't help the smile that formed on his lips. She was truly something, something wonderfully exciting, something beautiful both inside and out—now he only needed to determine what she was to him.

James sighed deeply and, raising the flute to his lips, was about to take a sip when a familiar voice interrupted his silence.

"All right there, Commodore?"

James nearly winced at the use of the title, but brushed it off as he turned and looked at Basilio. The Spaniard seemed to take some perverse pleasure in reminding James of his previous post—or, just liked having a title to call James by. James had noticed that Basilio preferred to refer to others not by their names, but by title or rank.

The younger man had joined James in the corner, dressed impeccably in black and red. His hair, normally unruly was slicked back and tied neatly. James vaguely wondered if he'd spend hours on his hair as Vitalia and Adela had done.

With a false cough into his hand, James cleared such childlike thoughts from his mind and nodded at Basilio. "Just fine, Basilio," he said with a smile that didn't necessarily reach his eyes. Basilio was nice and polite enough, but the air of arrogance and something else James just couldn't put his fingers on irked him. "Enjoying yourself?" he asked, motioning around the room with his champagne flute.

Basilio shrugged one shoulder in a lazy arc. "As much as can be expected, I suppose. This is low-key as far as parties go," he told James, glancing at him with on brow raised over a dark chocolate eye.

James resisted the urge to tell Basilio that he was quite aware of such a thing. Basilio wasn't aware of the society polish or lifestyle James had previously lived; maybe he was just trying to be nice. James doubted it, but instead asked "And the large parties? What are they like?"

Basilio pursed his lips for a moment, grabbing a glass of wine off a silver tray that passed him, nodding his thanks to the servant carrying it. "Chaotic, I think would be adequate."

James laughed. "Oh?" He could understand the description; the voices, the drinks, the dancing, the scandal…there was surely no ball or large-scale party that went without any of them.

Basilio took a swig from his glass and nodded, shrugging once more. "I don't know how often you went to balls," he said with a node to James, which he appreciated, "but the ferocity to which mothers want their daughters married off and the amount of seduction that goes on in gardens and behind closed doors…not too mention the entire political aspect of it all. So-and-so cutting this person, and then some one else not receiving an invitation or introduction…" Basilio sighed. "It makes me wish I'd grown up on a small island with nothing but a bottle of rum and a monkey for company."

James said nothing for a few moments; he was surprised that Basilio showed such insight, or so much emotion on such a seemingly unimportant topic. James himself had not been raised in such an environment; he'd grown up in the Caribbean with his father, a Navy man just like he was. James' father was never so high up as a commodore, but he was the proud captain of his own vessel and loyal crew.

His father had never been one for fancy parties or societal functions, so James had never really had experience with such things until he climbed the naval ranks himself. He was not a playboy or social butterfly, but he held his own at engagements, able to be cordial and brief, and keep to himself with out appearing rude.

"You have my sympathy and understanding," James said, quirking his lips in a smile. "Were you always in society like this?"

Basilio nodded, taking another healthy drink from his glass. "My mother was a countess," Basilio answered in a tone James would define as 'mournful'.

James winced, but smiled. "My apologies."

Basilio smirked, "My thanks." He narrowed his eyes as he scanned the room, searching for what James didn't know. A light came into the Spaniards eyes after a moment and he grinned wryly. "Society does have it's perks, though," he said, tossing back what was left of his wine and depositing the glass on a silver tray similar to the one he'd picked it up from.

James gave him a look, then turned over his shoulder to the direction Basilio was facing. He wanted to smile, but instead, narrowed his eyes slightly as Basilio's comment sank in.

Vitalia was heading towards the pair, one of her friends at her side. They were smiling almost secretively at one another and giggling. Part of James reasoned that giggling, smiling young women were never a good thing, but the other part of him was pleased that Vitalia was walking towards him with such an expression.

He was not pleased, however, with the look on Basilio's face, which was one of cocky anticipation. James was, by now, well aware of Basilio's relationship with Vitalia, as well as what Basilio wanted from his relationship with Vitalia. Combine that with his own twisted feelings for the young woman, James felt the need to glare at Basilio.

Being the man he was, however, James said nothing and watched Vitalia and her friend approach.

Vitalia smiled softly, almost shyly at James as she and her friend drew level wit the pair of men and he smiled in return. "James, this is Isabella," she said, gesturing to her friend, who smiled at him and held out a hand.

James, ever the gentleman, took her hand and brushed his lips across the top of her glove. He had heard Vitalia mention Isabella from time to time and was proud to finally be able to match the name to a face. "It's nice to finally meet you, Vitalia speaks of you often," he said with a smile.

Vitalia opened her mouth to protest, but Isabella beat her to it. "Nothing bad, I hope," she said with a smile. Her voice was deep and throaty and seemed to fit all too well with her curvaceous and rather seductive figure. James thought that Vitalia was the most beautiful creature in the room—or in any room, really—but he was no fool and knew that Isabella was a close second.

James laughed and shook his head, which seemed to appease the irked Vitalia. The women then turned to Basilio, who had been waiting respectfully and silently beside James. James was more than a little relieved that Vitalia hadn't jumped into his arms once more.

Basilio smiled lazily at them and nodded, "Good evening, Isabella," he took her hand and kissed it as James had done. "Vitalia," he took Vitalia's hand as well, his lips lingering a few seconds more than necessary.

Vitalia's cheeks darkened with embarrassment, James' with anger, and Isabella simply looked amused.

"H-how are you, Basilio?" Vitalia stammered, attempting to compose herself. She had known Basilio since she'd arrived in Mallorca and viewed him as nothing more than a friend, but the attention he paid her and his almost godlike appearance still affected her. She pointedly avoided looking at James as she waited for the color to drain from her face; she could feel his eyes on her and she was sure he'd noticed Basilio's lingering.

"Wonderful," he replied in smooth tones that implied that he couldn't want anything more than to be in her company.

Isabella cleared her throat lightly in the awkward silence that followed Basilio's response. James was now trying his hardest not to glare at his younger comrade and Vitalia's cheeks were dark with embarrassment once more.

"You know, Señor Navarra, I believe you still owe me a dance, after departing from my mother's last party so early," Isabella said with a small smile. Her eyes twinkled as she looked at Basilio, who turned his gaze from Vitalia to her sultry friend.

He raised an eyebrow and grinned. "Is that so? Well, allow me to mend my grievous error," he said with mock seriousness. Basilio would have rather stayed with Vitalia, especially since he would be leaving her alone with James, but he was not rude. At least not to women.

He held out his hand and Isabella took it with a smile. Basilio glanced at James, then Vitalia. "I trust you will save me a dance, Vitalia?" he asked, grinning. Without waiting for a reply, Basilio lead Isabella to the center of the ballroom as the musicians began a new song.

James watched Basilio then said, more to himself than Vitalia, "That was rather cocky…"

Vitalia laughed and looked up at James. He looked positively adorable when he was disgruntled as he was now. She couldn't help the small spark of pleasure that arose from his annoyance with Basilio. "That is Basilio," she replied.

James looked down at her, his visage calming slightly as his eyes found hers. "I know," he said with somewhat of a sigh, "After a few days of being in his company, I know."

Vitalia laughed again and watched her two friends whirl across the floor. She would have to thank Isabella later; her friend knew Basilio's comments and actions around her embarrassed her. Despite her Vitalia's own firm belief that they were nothing but friends, Isabella seemed to take her aunt and uncle's side in matters regarding the suave young man.

"He's a wonderful man, I'm not denying that," Isabella had told her earlier after Vitalia told her what Adela and Armand had said to her, "but he's not used to not getting what he wants, and we all know he wants you."

"You don't trust him?" Vitalia had asked, surprised. Basilio had never compromised her trust, despite his flirtations.

Isabella thought on that then shook her head. "No, that's not it. Just be careful what messages you send to him," she said, and then smiled at Vitalia. "Now, why don't you introduce me to your new houseguest."

Vitalia didn't usually mind that Isabella could read her like a book, but her all-knowing smile was somewhat annoying. Isabella didn't need to ask how Vitalia felt about James after listening to her talk about him.

"He is kind," Vitalia offered halfheartedly to James, looking up at him. "And he has never given me any reason to fear him," she said, reading the look on James' face—it was the same look Armand had given her a few days before.

James watched Basilio a few moments more than shrugged, "He hasn't done anything to upset me, either, but…" he trailed off. He just couldn't put his finger on it, and he felt like a fool for not knowing how to voice his thoughts. The fact that Vitalia was now so close to him, looking perfectly divine. He could smell her, a flowery fragrance he only noticed when she was by his side.

He coughed, then shook his head, determined to move on to a new, safer topic, as well as something to distract him from Vitalia's proximity; Basilio was simply a subject he didn't feel he had enough footing to hold him down. "I'm thinking of renting lodgings here," he said, holding his hands behind his back as he spoke. His eyes met Vitalia's as he finished his sentence, his tone making it seem more a question or desire for approval.

Vitalia's eyebrows shot up and her eyes grew wide. "What? Why? Don't you like it here?"

James chuckled at her astonishment; surely she didn't think he'd live in Armand's home the rest of his life? "Of course I like it here," he assured her, resisting the urge to pat her arm in a comforting manner. He didn't know if he could stand the physical contact; being so near to her was already confusing his senses. "But I'd feel awful if I lived off your uncle the rest of my life."

Vitalia looked rather put out, but only pursed her lips.

James couldn't help laughing at Vitalia's disgruntled face. "I want to get a place here, in Palma de Mallorca," he told her, too kind to let her suffer any longer, "There are a few empty houses on a road not to far from here," he said, "I was thinking of asking Armand what he knew about them."

Vitalia thought a moment, trying to remember the homes that were near her own. A flash of large pillars and whitewash came to mind and she nodded, "I think I know where you mean. They are empty?" She recalled there being at least three such houses down the back road James was speaking of.

"One of them certainly is," James nodded. "It's not as large as this house, but it's a decent size. And I won't need that much space anyways."

"Do you intend to hire help?" Vitalia questioned. She was looking for a loophole in James' plan that would force him to stay here. She knew he was a capable man, but managing a household without servants was a chore, and while she knew her Uncle was paying James well, she was secretly hoping that it wasn't enough for him to move out so quickly.

James thought a moment then nodded. "A few maids and a cook to be sure, but I don't need an extensive staff. When I lived in the Caribbean I had a home much larger than the one I'd like to have here and only had a maid, a cook, an assistant for the cook, and a butler, who happened to enjoy gardening and did some of that as well."

Vitalia was slightly impressed. Her uncle was a very capable man, but even he'd had a valet. Still, though, she didn't want James to go. "How soon will you be leaving?" she asked, her tone soft.

James looked down at her, slightly alarmed by her sad and disappointed tone. Surely, he hadn't upset her? It had never been his intention, in fact, far from it. James had been musing on the aspect of him living out of Armand's house and reasoned that, should he choose to—since he certainly wanted to—he could court Vitalia without it seeming scandalous or improper.

"I won't be far," he said gently, smiling down at her. "And you can't think I'd never come visit?"

Vitalia nodded, she knew it was true. James was not the kind of man to simply ignore those who had been kind to him, and besides that, she knew that he liked her small family a great deal. Part of her, the irrational side of her, wondered if maybe James wanted to move out to have the sort of freedom most young, handsome men enjoyed—women.

While she couldn't necessarily see James as the rakish sort, he was with no doubt a virile man capable of desire and passion.

James watched her face carefully, trying to discern what the flicks of her eyes mean, what the purse of her lips indicated, but he had never been good at reading people and he didn't suddenly attain the ability then.

"Of course I will come visit," James said after a moment of silence where Vitalia still looked slightly upset. "I'll probably still be here just as much," he thought aloud, "I mean, I don't have any friends here besides you three," he finished with a wry grin.

Vitalia couldn't help her smile. "Nonsense," she told him, attempting to adopt a stern tone, "you have your cadets; many of their sisters or parents are here now, and they all say their sons speak very highly of you. And Basilio as well," she added, "Surely he is something of a friend to you?" The two men had been conversing, hadn't they?

James' grin turned into more of a smirk, "Something like that," he said. James thought it rather bordered on 'romantic rival', but didn't tell Vitalia so, since it inevitably would end in him having to explain that she was the object of their rivalry. James could see that ending a number of ways, none of them particularly pleasant.

Vitalia looked at him, hard, before speaking again. "James, you're the type of man who inspires loyalty with the drop of a hat. Only a week or so you've been with those men and already they are telling their parents that they like and respect you."

James had the decency to be abashed; he had not considered that cadets amongst his friends. James had never been much of a people-person; he kept to himself more often than naught. He had acquaintances in Port Royale, but no one he attempted to really spend time with. Even with Elizabeth, though he did care for her deeply. But in Palma de Mallorca, James found himself going out of his way to speak with Armand or duel with him, to spend time with Adela and her quick, dry wit, and, of course, to be around Vitalia. Her company, even if both of them were silently reading or drawing, in Vitalia's case, was something James treasured.

"Thank you," was all James could manage to say. The pair stood in silence for a moment and James began to hum along with the music.

Vitalia looked at him, surprised. "James?" she asked uncertainly.

He stopped at looked at her and then, his eyes widened and he realized what he'd been doing. He knew this song!

"Quick!" he said, grinning. He grabbed Vitalia's hand in a manner that he normally would scoff at and pulled her out onto the busy dance floor where other couples were twirling. He wasn't sure what made him act in such a way; maybe it was the fact he finally found something familiar in the music, maybe it was the champagne, or maybe, it was the way Vitalia looked, so beautiful next to him, and the feelings he had for her that he'd began to recognize within himself over flowed.

He pulled her up against him and quickly began moving them with the song. Vitalia, quick to recover, found the steps simple and followed along and once she got the hang of what was going on, she looked up at James and smiled.

He was grinning broadly down at her, obviously very pleased with himself.

"I know this song," he told her and he spun her out on one arm.

"So I can see," she replied and she turned back into him. She could see Basilio and Isabella across the room; Basilio's eyes on her alerted her to his presence, but she ignored the hot stare and instead focused on the man who had his arms around her.

She had never seen James so openly happy, he was laughing as they danced, the smile never leaving his face. She couldn't help but smile along with him. How could she not? Here she was, dancing in the arms of a wonderful, handsome man

"Will you come with me?" James asked as Vitalia moved in closer to him as they danced, then spun out again.

"What?" she asked and she spun back into his arms.

"To the house," he said, still smiling, as she took both his hands and took a few steps back, then forward towards him.

"What?" she asked again, her voice raising an octave. James was asking her to his house? Alone? She was really quite sure he was not that type of man.

James laughed aloud, "To look at it," he clarified. He was amused at he surprise, but he couldn't deny that he would indeed enjoy Vitalia in his house. Once he had one, that is.

"Of course," Vitalia said and she was in both James' arms once more. Her cheeks were still burning, but she ignored them. "When?"

"What about tomorrow?" James asked as the dance slowed to a stop. He bowed smartly, one of his hands still clutching Vitalia's. When he stood, he caught Basilio moving towards them out of the corner of his eye.

Again, he didn't know what made him do it, did not know what came over him. Maybe it was Basilio quickly coming towards them to claim his promised dance from Vitalia. All he knew is that the woman before him was something miraculous, someone special, and someone who had unexpectedly captured his heart.

Looking into her eyes all the while, James leaned down and asked her in a clear, determined voice: "Will you go to the Governor's Ball with me, Vitalia?" Then, much like Basilio had done earlier, James placed a lingering kiss on the top of her hand. His dark eyes never left hers.

Vitalia's face colored darkly. She knew people around them were staring, whispering. She could feel the heat of Basilio's gaze, the amusement of her aunt and uncle in the crowd, but she ignored them. James was the only thing she saw before her.

CLIFF HANGER! Ok well, sort of. There will be a few more of those in the coming chapters, so don't get disgruntled by them.

I will try and update again in a week or so, depending on how long I'm up north and work, but it should be out quicker than this one-- I'm kind of excited for it. It will be a bit more fluff and a bit more open flirtation, then the Governor's Ball, then...

Well, you'll just have to wait and see.

Please review, especially if you favorite this story!!!

-Elle