A/N A surprise for you loyal readers--Today is a certain beloved author's birthday--Happy Birthday Charlotte! And now--a little romance.

A WALK ON THE WILD SIDE

What a beautiful evening it was; the sun was floating down the western horizon as though in a rose-pink sea filled with dark purple clouds like islands, floating in its immense space. I wished that I could be in a boat in the sky exploring all these new and exotic lands. What wonders might I see were I up there? I had heard of birds just the color that the sky was now—Flamingos they were called—odd-looking, perhaps even ungainly, but such a gorgeous tint!

There were people like that; odd in some way, yet with some wonderful outstanding thing about them that drew one's attention away from any defects they might have. I smiled at my thoughts—I knew where they were tending. Mr. Rochester, when I had first known him, had seemed rude and abrupt in his manner—some would have called him ill-favored in his appearance also. It was a strange thing, but I never thought about these characteristics of his any more. The longer I had known him, the more I liked him; it was a thing that had nor rhyme nor reason to it. He had become a friend—and now, more than a friend. He had asked me to marry him, he loved me—and, I loved him so much that I was almost afraid of the way it made me feel!

It was like the curry we had had for dinner one evening, as an experiment of sorts, I suppose. Very highly spiced, almost overwhelmingly so; yet after tasting it, everything else seemed bland by comparison!

I had been walking through the garden all this time, now I sat down on the curb of the fountain—admiring the way the sky had tinted the water in pinks, and roses, with a hint of vermillion. I could see my face reflected in the water also, as I dreamed about my little sailboat in the sky. There was a sound behind me, a foot scraping on the gravel, and I discovered another face reflected in the water next to mine. Mr. Rochester was standing behind me.

"Good evening, Janet," he said "its so beautiful tonight, I thought I would bring our little friend out for a swim." He opened his hands—and there was the little frog. He set it down on the edge of the fountain. Mr. Frog perched there for a minute, and then, ker-plop he was in the water, going along swimmingly, as one might say. A moment later, I heard a very satisfied little croak. "I do believe he's caught a bug for his supper." Mr. Rochester said, and glancing at me mischievously, he answered the croak with one of his own, "Ribbit!"

"You are absurd, sir!" I said, trying not to giggle.

"Absurd, am I? And what's all this 'Sir' business? My name is Edward, and that is what I want to hear you call me—unless you have some other pet name you prefer—hmm?--but I refuse to answer to 'Sir' when there is just the two of us." He tweaked my nose in good-natured reprimand. "Elf!" he said.

"Mr. Rochester," said I, glancing at him sideways to see how he would respond.

"Stubborn! There is only one thing to be done with you little twilight creatures and your enchantments and spells!" He put his arms around me and kissed me rather thoroughly. "I refuse to let you go unless you address me properly, as I requested—Edward."

"Ribbit!" said I.

There was a startled silence for a moment, and then he gave a shout of laughter. "Contrary creature, why do you plague me so?"

"Because..."

"Because why, little thing?"

"Because you rise to the bait so charmingly—just like a fish!"

"Ah, be careful with those references to the Animal Kingdom, or I might turn into a wolf!"

"But I am not on my way to Grandmama's with a basket of goodies!"

"How little you know of the matter!" he said, as he kissed me again.

We had strayed down the laurel walk during this discourse—there was a great Chestnut tree at the end of the walk with a bench built around it. He seated me and then he sat down also. His arm was around me, we were very close together, I put my head on his shoulder, I felt very contented. He was smiling as he looked up into the tree's great branches and heavy foliage, "Did I ever tell you that they call this the King's Tree?" he said. The story is that it was planted to commemorate his visit; indeed, some like to say that he dug the hole for it himself, he did have a great interest in horticulture, you know."

"Edward," I said, "what was all that nonsense with Blanche Ingram? You promised to tell me."

"That was an error on my part—I do confess it—y'see I kept expecting you to behave in the pattern I had seen in other ladies—but, of course, you were not like the other women, you were different. I hurt you when I was only trying to make you jealous. I thought maybe you would fall in love with me if I were not so available."

"That was very bad behavior on your part!" I said, trying to draw away from him.

He pulled me into his lap, "I like you when you're indignant, your eyes shoot sparks, and that tongue of yours—oh my! I can think of some things we could do with our tongues that might surprise you!"

"Wicked man! Let me go!"

"I will not—you owe me a forfeit for calling me 'wicked'!"

I became aware that various parts of me were responding to our mutual proximity: I was not sure how I felt about this; my thoughts were growing hazy; I was entirely too comfortable where I was. A distant alarm bell was sounding back in my mind—but I felt too lethargic to heed the warning. His hands were caressing me, there was a burning trail of kisses going down my neck, he slipped a hand inside my bodice at the same time that his tongue slipped into my mouth. I gasped and sat upright, galvanized in surprise

"What are you doing!"

"Making love to you—couldn't you tell? Did you like it?"

"But, we're not married yet—I don't think I'm supposed to like it until then!"

A roar of laughter came from him, "Oh you little imp—what fun I'm going to have with you! However, perhaps you are right, we should wait. After all, it's only a few weeks of torture for me, until I can turn back into a wolf--'Little Red Riding Hood'!"

"Doesn't there have to be a full moon also?" I inquired sweetly. "I think I should take to eating garlic—it's said to be a great deterrent."

"At your peril you do so!" he growled.

"Speaking of the moon—what has happened to it? The sky is quite dark and the wind is rising."

"I think I smell rain—I think we're going to be very wet if we don't hurry. Come along now, I don't want you getting sick!" We ran for the house, but were quite soaked before we could get there. We stood in the hall, dripping wet, he was trying to dry me off with my shawl, and kissing me as he did so.

"It's no use, you're too wet! Upstairs with you, and change out of those wet things, and go to bed before you take a chill!" he ordered.

"Yes, Mr. Rochester—anything you say, sir!"

Just then, there was a great flash of lightning, with a crack of thunder instantaneous.

"Edward!" I cried "What was that? Surely the house was not struck!"

"No, it was outside in the grounds somewhere. We'll check on it later when the storm lets up. Go to bed, my darling, all is well. Dream of me."

"That would more likely keep me awake for hours!" I went up the stairs, smiling. I slept soundly, however, never waking until the morning was well-advanced; and Adele came to my door with the news of the destruction of the Chestnut tree during the storm. It seems that the lightning bolt had split it in half.

I hope you enjoyed that--we'll have a few more lovely evenings before dire things happen. No Vampires or Zombies--I promise!