Thank you for all of you who are reading and reviewing. *blush hard* I know if you have read all my other stories, I am rather a very NON-tame writer... and this is a very gentle story. (meaning, there isn't anything inappropriate and blush worthy). I do love this little story - I'm always loving delving into the psyche of our favorite characters with anyone who is willing to listen. So I hope you continue to enjoy this fun dance into Mey-Rin's past, and our favorite Butler's determination to be right there with her.
Turners was packed, letting them melt into the crowd and blend into a dark corner. Mey-Rin took the seat facing the crowd and door. She had been in many dark corners over her time in London. She was 23, if she counted right, and she had lived almost four of those away from the crowded, smoky, loud, and smelly taverns, but in an instant she felt as if she too still belonged to this part of her past. To the men who gave her looks, cutting their eyes towards Sebastian and narrowing them back at her, before turning and returning to their drinks.
"Two beers," Sebastian said swiftly. "And a platter of cheeses, if you will."
"A fine assortment of cheese it is," the waiter said. She looked at Mey-Rin and huffed. "And some watery ale. Five pence."
"A bargain," he said, leaning into Mey-Rin to talk to her above the din. "Will I have to scrape mold off the cheese?"
"If you get a piece large enough to do so," she said. Her mouth was practically on his ear. She looked at him and looked away. His lips so close she could take them again. "And the ale is, well, decent. Gets you sloshed enough," she added, shrugging. "I think you may want to steady yourself though." He raised an eyebrow and she wanted to just kiss the innocent look on his face as he tried to understand. "The woman was looking to see if I was with you."
"You are."
"No, Mister Sebastian, with you," she said, emphasizing the words. A blush crept into his cheeks and he turned back to face her.
"I think then perhaps you should not address me so formally." He cupped her chin and pulled her slightly into his space. "Sebastian will do."
And he kissed her, as the waiter placed two cups down and a round platter that fit two rough slices of bread and three pieces of cheese shoved under the bread.
"Your order," she huffed and stomped away.
Pulling away slowly Mey-Rin blinked. "Blimey," she whispered. She had tasted him twice - two more times she had ever dreamed would happen in her lifetime with the man she had steadily and like an idiot school girl, fallen for.
"I concur," he whispered back.
He cleared his throat and pulled his fingers from her face, seemingly reluctantly, and pulled the mugs closer to them and tilted his back a bit. He winced and placed it down on the table. Mey-Rin stared; she couldn't think of a single time he had sat down and actually consumed anything. Surely he ate, Bard had defended, just maybe didn't like to do it in public. She sat back and took her own mug, and tipped it back a bit. She felt the tingle of stale and stout ale flood her mouth and instantly warm her as it went down. She reached for the bread and ripped it into a smaller piece and grabbed a piece of cheese. It tasted fine, for once, and she munched happily on it. Sebastian sat with his mug in hand, looking at her and the crowd.
She saw the men at the far end of the tavern, by the bar, deep rumbling laughter and sloshing of mugs soon took over as some of the patrons left to their manual labor jobs down by the docks. Mey-Rin kept her head down, tightening her hat so her hair was not visible. Her red hair always made her stand out even before her curvy, womanly figure did.
"My dear, still," Sebastian said, his hand on her arm as she fixed her hat again. "Do you wish to leave? We know George and Anthony know where you live. Anthony, and I am sure George as well, mistakes you for the owner of the manor, and my master," he said with a slight smile. Mey-Rin wondered if he found the thought appealing or if it was funny that they had mistaken her for someone powerful.
"But we don't know when. We need to tell the young master, and the others."
"We don't know when the young master's enemies will attack either," he pointed out.
"I want to know, Sebastian. I need to know. If I am going to bury my past, move on, have a future with -" she stopped and turned away. "If I'm going to have any future, then I need them gone." She sighed and looked into her long empty mug. "I want to be seen as the strong woman who walked up to her past and put a bullet in it, putting it down," she turned and looked at him. "Like the bloody dogs they are."
His eyes danced and he pulled her closer, almost touching her lips with his own. "Yes, my Lady. Finally, the fire is back."
And she, for the third time, pulled him into a kiss. She kissed him and stood, turning and sitting in his lap. She kissed him and wrapped her arms around him, feeling his around her waist and knowing, for sure, she was safe in his arms. He would fight for her, if she asked. He would defend her, if she let him. He placed her as high on the list as their own young master of those he would die for. And as she kissed him, her heart exploded.
She would put a bullet into anyone's head who dared to lay a hand on her butler, on her master, on her cook, on her gardener. As she pulled away, her eyes clear and her mind sharp. She looked into the bright red eyes of Sebastian and smiled.
"Is this the woman you wanted?"
He licked his lips and matched her smile. "Yes," he breathed.
