Ta-da! Here is the thirteenth installment of 'Breaking the Surface', the last chapter before the big climax begins. I know I'm excited. Fourteen is either going to take a long time due to it's importance or a short amount of time because I am so excited for it. Also, I want to get this done... I love the story and it's characters, but I have other stuff in the works that I'm not letting myself work on till this is done. I kind of want to try my hand at writing an Avon-type Regency England romance...I admit they are my guilty pleasure. I am a huge fan of Julia Quinn. I mean, I know whats going to happen by page 3, but they are still so much fun. It's a formula, but damn does it WORK.
Anyways, here is chapter thirteen!!!Vitalia and Adela arrived back at the manse nearly half an hour before James and Armand returned, and Vitalia reflected on the slightly disappointing visit to the modiste she had just been through as she stood before the still half-finished portrait of James, brush and pallet in hand.
She had picked the design for the gown nearly a month before, selecting an elegant pattern with a wide neckline and delicately layered skirt. She'd chosen a deep blue silk as the base color, and gossamer lavender to go over the blue of the skirt. All in all, she had been content with her choice. After the visit today though, what was supposed to be the final fitting, she couldn't help feeling slightly disappointed. The dress was indeed beautiful, but she now felt that it wasn't quite striking enough—she wanted to be radiant at James' side.
Positive her disappointment had shown in her face, Vitalia felt guilty. She knew her Aunt and Uncle had paid a decent sum for the gown, and she was sure Adela had noticed the lack of her usual enthusiasm. Adela, however, had said nothing, just looked at Vitalia with her shrewd eyes and a secret smile. Vitalia knew her aunt knew of her own feelings, her desire to be the most magnificent woman in the room while on James' arm, despite the fact that Adela spoke nothing on the subject.
Vitalia had learned long ago, however, that her aunt always seemed to know exactly what everyone was thinking.
Adela and Vitalia left the shop after Adela had had a private word with the dressmaker, most likely about her own gown, and then the pair had trekked back up the beaten path to their home. Vitalia had resisted the urge to peer back over her shoulder to the shipyard, where she knew James and her uncle were.
She touched the wooden end of the brush she held to her cheek as she cocked her head at the portrait before adding light strokes of color. She knew she had no reason to be disappointed, but she truly could not help it.
Shaking her head, determined to stop dwelling on the gown and her ridiculous feeling of disappointment, she focused herself wholly on the canvas before her. She had finally managed to set the lines in James' face the way she'd wanted, mirroring the quiet determination and gentleness she'd seen in his real face the night before, and earlier that day while they examined the house that would, most likely, soon be his.
Vitalia smiled to herself as she added small bits of white to his eyes, attempting to bring out the light that shone in the dark pools. She was trying to determine when, after she had finished the painting, she would make a gift of it to him. Part of her wanted to do it as soon as possible, the painting was slowly becoming something she was very proud of, while another part of her reasoned that thrusting the painting at him would startle him and make him think that she was infatuated with him.
Which, of course, she was.
Completely.
She wondered if she simply showed the painting to him, even before it was finished, if it would cause him alarm (though she hoped that her feelings for him would not cause him alarm). She pondered the situation a little bit more, then decided that she would physically give it to him once he had moved into his new home, a housewarming gift of sorts. But she also decided that she wouldn't be opposed to showing it to him before him.
She would simply wait for the right moment.
---
James prowled the hallways of Armand's manor determinedly, the bouquet he'd created on his way back from the docks in his hand. He and Armand had parted ways at the door, Armand heading upstairs for, what he said was, a much needed nap, and James to find Vitalia. Sticking his head into the parlor where they all usually sat, James was dejected to find it empty. He'd checked all other rooms and, for the life of him, could not find the captivating young Spaniard. Stepping in from the doorway and into the room with his hands on his hips, the bouquet brushing his thigh, James couldn't help pouting.
He knew it was strange—and not at all proper—for him to be courting Vitalia while he still lived in the same household, but he had taken a firm stance on that matter: he didn't really care. While his feelings for her were not yet set in stone, while he couldn't confidently identify them, he knew that they were not to be ignored.
The spark that coursed through his body when he and Vitalia touched, whether through dancing together, walking together, or even just the accidental brush when they passed each other in the house, or the way they could talk or just sit in comfortable, companionable silence told him well enough. He didn't want to name the feeling yet, didn't want to rush or force the actions that would follow such feelings…right now, he just wanted to feel them.
With a final glance around the empty room, James turned on his heel and made to walk back down the hallway, only to have Vitalia crash into his chest.
"James!" she exclaimed at the same moment her own name burst from his lips.
James reached out to steady her, still with the flowers in his hands. The bouquet, quite large, brushed against her cheek. It took her a moment to realize what the soft, silk on her skin was, and then she began to laugh.
James blinked and began to chuckle, releasing her and attempting to re-arrange the blooms. "These," he held out the bouquet, smiling wryly and blushing slightly, "are for you. I'd hoped to give them to you in a more conventional manner, but…" he trailed off and Vitalia could tell he was embarrassed.
"I liked this manner of delivery just fine," she said and flashed him a dazzling smile. She reached up and gripped the stems just below James' own hand, smiling inwardly as he started slightly when her fingers brushed his.
"I'm glad," James said as he released the flowers, his fingers still tingling. "How was the modiste?" he asked as Vitalia bent her head down to the flowers and inhaled deeply.
Vitalia smiled, though not as broadly as she should have. James noticed this and raised an eyebrow. "It went very well," she said, " the dress fits, and is very nice."
"Only very nice?" James asked lightly. While he didn't have a lot of experience with women and dresses, he rather thought she would have been more excited about the gown she would wear to the Governors Ball.
Vitalia blushed slightly, embarrassed. She found it hard to lie to the kind and earnest man beside her. "I was a little disappointed."
"Disappointed?" James sounded surprised. "Why?"
She bent her head once more into the bouquet, trying to hide her growing blush. What did she tell him, that she wanted to be the most beautiful woman in the room while on his arm? That she wanted to make sure his attention never left her? "The dress was not exactly as I imagined it…" she murmured.
James looked at her, cocking his head slightly. He couldn't quite fathom what would be wrong with the dress, but surely she had to know he didn't really care what she wore…she could show up in an old potato sack and he would still want her on his arm.
"Vitalia…" he said, searching for the words, running a callused hand through his hair. "If it's any consolation," he said after another moment of silence as he finally settled on the right words, "I am positive you will look amazing, no matter what you wear."
Vitalia couldn't help smiling at him. "But you haven't even seen the gown," she said, somewhat lamely. She couldn't believe how happy James' words made her…or rather, she could, but she tried not to let her excitement show.
James grinned at her in a manner she could only describe as roguish. "Exactly," he said in a tone that told her she had proven his point.
Vitalia looked up at him through her lashes, her nose still buried in the bouquet. He looked adorable, standing next to her with his mischievous smile and bright eyes, and she couldn't help but giggle in an entirely uncharacteristic manner.
James raised an eyebrow. He'd dealt with giggling females before, and he never really thought Vitalia would be among them. "Are you alright?" he asked wryly as she attempted to stop her giggle with what sounded like a choked laugh.
"Splendid," she said, lowering the flowers from her face.
"What, may I enquire, prompted your giggling?"
Vitalia looked into his eyes then. The twinkling light in them told her that he was flirting with her. Her smile widened and her eyes took on a devilish glint of their own.
Two could play at that game. Easily.
"Now I don't really think that's an appropriate topic for discussion, Mr. Norrington," she said coyly.
James started for a moment, not expecting such a thing from Vitalia, but he recovered quickly and re-applied his rakish grin. "Maybe someday you'll enlighten me?" he asked raising his eyebrows questioningly.
"If you're lucky," was the pert response.
James' grin widened. "Well then, I guess I will just have to look forward to that day."
James did not add that he hoped that day would come soon and he soon found himself imagining a variety of situations, including one that involved himself, Vitalia, a lot of rose petals, and a very large bed.
Vitalia smiled at him, clearly thinking somewhere along the same lines as James was, and then turned her attention to the blooms in her hand. "I should probably put these in water," she announced, then turned and made her way to the kitchens, leaving James in her wake with his rakish grin and decidedly inappropriate thoughts.
---
"And who gave you these?"
Vitalia managed a demure smile at Basilio as he stood before her in parlor the next day. Her aunt was out of the balcony that joined the sitting room and Armand's study, and Armand had accompanied James down to city hall to purchase the deeds for the large white, beach-side house.
"James," she said, still with her tame smile, even though a wide, bubbly grin was fighting to get through. It occurred to her she should be calling him by his last name, but it was too late to correct her faux pas.
Basilio smiled his small, cocky smile. "James?" he asked, one eyebrow raised. His tone was one of mock indignation and teasing. "I didn't realize you two were so close."
Vitalia swatted at him, hitting his arm, but did not respond to his open taunt.
Basilio took notice of her lack of response and the grin fell from his face. He couldn't quite believe it; he was losing Vitalia, and quickly, to a washed up—literally—Englishman. For a man used to getting what wanted, this was entirely new territory for Basilio.
"They are very nice," he said after an awkward moment of silence, fingering one of the petals with a small amount of distaste. He had images of himself presenting her with larger, more colorful bouquets. Saw her reactions, ones of joy and coy glances.
The thought that James was the man to be on the receiving end of the very things Basilio was imagining.
"They are," Vitalia agreed, a wistful smile on her face.
"And where is our good Englishman?" Basilio asked, rather unable to keep the distaste from his voice.
Vitalia glanced at him, eyebrows drawn slightly. "City Hall," she said, seating herself on the chaise as Basilio took a spot on the chair beside her, "purchasing the deed for his new house."
His new house...
Basilio loathed admitting that James had been given a place in society…a place that would give him ample opportunity to continue courting Vitalia. Basilio liked James; he was a man who commanded as well as earned respect, he was intelligent and talented…but he also had feelings for Vitalia. Basilio knew he would like James a lot more if he had no interest what-so-ever in the young woman at his side.
"When does he think he will move in?" Basilio asked. He would feel much better about the situation once James was out of Armand's mansion and into his own house.
"Sometime after the Governor's Ball," Vitalia supplied, and a wistful look appeared in her eyes once more.
Basilio resisted the urge to groan. How could he have forgotten about that…the crowded ballroom, the hush that had passed through the guests, the sight of James knelt over Vitalia's gloved hand…
"Where is the house?" he asked in an attempt to remain polite as well as to get his mind off the night of Adela's dinner party days before.
"On the back road," Vitalia supplied and waved in the general direction, "Number eighteen, I believe."
Basilio couldn't help looking impressed. The house that Vitalia had named was large, as well as on the beach. He wondered how much James was making now that he had been appointed a captain.
Another sore spot…
Basilio had been in the navy his whole life and had climbed the ranks himself, still only a lieutenant. He was a native Spaniard as well, with connections in both government and the navy. And then James Norrington, ex-British Royal Navy Commodore washes up onto Armand's beach and proves himself a good hand with a sword…
Basilio made a fist, both annoyed with the situation and with himself. He knew James was talented, knew he could and would lead sailors better than other captains he'd seen, but he also felt it was positively unfair. For one thing, how could everyone be so sure that James was not in fact a pirate masquerading as an old British seaman?
He nearly smacked himself. He had watched James closely and he was more than positive that he was not a pirate, though he was indeed familiar with swashbuckling. But, as a commodore, Basilio knew that James would have had to be more than a little familiar with the style.
"He will like it there," Basilio said after he had stopped arguing and reasoning with himself. Vitalia did not need to know about his own inner struggles. He was sure she had enough on her mind, a thought that was confirmed as her gaze drifted to bouquet and a small smile spread across her face.
More than not being able to get what he wanted, Basilio was experiencing a completely new sensation, one he already knew he was not fond of: Jealousy.
Vitalia watched Basilio fight with himself, holding her tongue to keep from questioning her friend. His eyes remained clouded for most of his visit, which was pleasant, albeit slightly abnormal. Basilio returned to something resembling normalcy after Adela had joined them, but Vitalia could tell he was still stuck on something. She pointed this out to her aunt after she had seen him out.
Adela raised her eyebrows at her niece as if to ask 'Are you serious?'
Vitalia assured her she was.
Adela sighed. "Think about what has happened in the past few days, Vitalia. Regarding you. As well as James," she added.
Vitalia blinked. "You don't really think that—he's jealous?" she asked.
"I think that is exactly it."
Vitalia bit her lip. She hadn't taken her aunt and uncle's teasing about Basilio seriously, brushing he attentions off as simply friendly, but it appeared they were all too right.
"My dear," Adela said to Vitalia after she had voiced her thoughts, "when will you learn that I am always right?"
"Apparently now," Vitalia said with a sigh, then looked sharp again. "Then—you don't think you're right about James as well, do you?" Her eyebrows were raised, high above her chocolate eyes.
Adela smiled rather mischievously as she rose to leave the room. "Oh I think I am quite right in matters regarding Mister Norrington," she said over her shoulder, arching a brow and smiling.
She swept out of the room then, hollering for the housekeeper, leaving Vitalia alone with her thoughts…
Thoughts that were now explicitly focused on her situation with the aforementioned Englishman.
This was mostly filler, but there was some setting-up done. And I wanted to make James and Vitalia flirt a little bit. And Adela...I love her. I also love Basilio. He may be the antagonist, but he's not bad.
I fly back out to Boston on Wednesday, so don't expect an update until past then at LEAST. Moving in is going to suck...but I am so ready to go back to school. Like WHOA.
As always, PLEASE review, especially if you favorite this fic or put an alert on it...or if you just want to be nice and let me know what you think!!!
-Elle R-M