LX
"Thought I might find you here."
Guy's voice echoes softly through the stables and makes Francesca gasp.
After the angry words exchanged this morning and his distant manner at dinner this evening, she had not thought he would want to speak to her again, let alone in such warm tones and the relief she feels is so overwhelming, she needs a moment to steady herself before she turns to face him.
"Yes, well, you know me…"
"I do."
Fond smiles at this, but neither is so brave as to chance a look at the other. The storm may have passed, but they remain wary, and Francesca turns back to the horse she is grooming, struggling with warring emotions.
An awkward silence follows as they avoid the elephant in the room, both with much to say on the subject of the disastrous wedding, but neither wishing to be the first to touch upon it lest the fragile peace shatter. It can't be avoided though, for it is the reason Guy sought her out - a million apologies his lips, but paralysed by the fear that with his violent reaction to Marian's betrayal, he's pushed her too far this time.
She should hate him. Detest him with a vengeance. He has shown her (yet again) how much of a monster he can be and yet she neither loathes nor shuns him - it is beyond his comprehension. He has not forgotten what she said to him as Marian lay dying nor does he doubt her sincerity, but somehow he still can't quite bring himself to believe that after all he has done, she does not give up on him.
"I sometimes think it would be better to be a horse."
This comment comes so completely out of the left field, Guy doesn't know what to do with it. He was already floored that he'd got this far without her ignoring or rejecting him and now she was chatting amiably as if nothing had happened.
"No parties to attend, no strict etiquette and social mores to follow, no expectations to fulfil…" she continues, scrunching her face in disgust and Guy jumps in with both feet before he can overthink it,
"No weddings…" he quips and is rewarded with a shy grin from her that he thinks he will most likely treasure all his remaining days.
"No, none of that, only the quiet life for this most noble of creatures: days of honest work followed by peaceful evenings in the stall, content so long as one is warm and well fed." She smiles at the horse as she gently runs the brush over the docile animal.
"Do you think if I pray hard enough God will turn me into one?" She asks playfully and the wish is so bittersweet he can hardly stand it.
"It wouldn't hurt to try…" He whispers, his voice so low she has to strain to hear it, "and whilst you're at it you could ask him to do the same for me."
They both smile at this and trade sighs, letting their minds paint a picture of how good it would be.
Guy cannot help it, he has to look at her now and if she'd already broken his heart with her prayer, the next question does him in completely;
"Would you still be my friend if we were horses?"
"Yes."
With every fibre of my being: yes.
"I would like that." He whispers.
"Yes, it would be better for you I think – I couldn't tell you off as a horse."
"No you could not but I'm sure I would follow you anyway."
She is visibly moved by this. Cannot speak. Panic wells within her as she realises that the floodgates are about to open and she turns to hide from him, but he steps forward and takes her hands in his before falling to his knees before her in contrition.
"Francesca, I'm so sorry…"
She breaks down.
Unable to hold back. Sobs coming in painful bursts. Year upon year of pent up emotions erupting to the surface.
Again, she tries to turn away, but he holds fast, pulling her down to him and into his arms.
She does not resist. She has every right to and he expects that she will but to his astonishment, she does not, instead she allows him to hold her, sinking into him as her misery reaches its crescendo, her tears drenching his collar, her fingers curling into the hem of his jacket.
They stay like this a long time, neither wishing to surface. Indeed, she burrows further into him and he folds her tighter against him, eyes closed, nose in her hair, body wanting nothing of the world that is not her. Her tears have stopped and their knees are beginning to ache but still they hold each other, no movement other than the ebb and flow of their breathing and the gentle press of his lips to her hair.
She pulls away and he lets her, but not so far that he cannot cradle her head in his hands, tilt her face up to him, and swipe at her tears with his thumbs. She resists at first, avoiding eye contact and pulling away, embarrassed by her tears, but he will have none of that because he needs to speak to her now, though he knows no words are good enough.
"You were with me, you know… all these years… I had only to think of you and… I could hear your voice… could feel you at my side…" His voice is low, but strangled and Francesca is transfixed – has never seen him like this before, struggling so hard with his words. He swallows to regain his voice, but when he does, it is even worse, trembling with emotion,
"and... I… I dreamt of you… so many times… how it would be to see you again… to hold you… and I wanted it so much…
but never like this."
His face creases up and Francesca's jaw has already long since dropped open but now the tears are flowing again because to see him like this is devastating. He swallows hard and raises his head, blinking back tears of his own, raising a shaky hand to wipe away her tears before choking out what he came to say,
"And I'm more sorry than I can say because you were right... about me, about the man I am and I... I wanted to be so much more… for you… but I couldn't… because I am weak." The air rushes out of him in a soundless sob and he is trying to continue but is choking on the words. She can't handle seeing him like this so she closes her eyes and in a calm voice takes over where he left off,
"And you thought that if you could regain your lands and begin again, you would be strong."
He moves from her as if she has burnt him. Eyes wide, mouth gaping. "You knew?"
She nods.
He is appalled. Anger comes next and hot on it's heels shame.
"Vaisey told you?"
"No. There are still people here who remember your family."
"Who?"
"Does it matter?"
Actually no. It doesn't. Not now. She knew and that was all there was to it.
"How long have you known?"
"Since yesterday."
He is speechless. A wave of shame hits him so hard that he is dizzy and he has to sit down before he falls. It is too much. His head hangs between his knees and he struggles to breathe. Francesca rushes to him and he flinches away.
"Guy please…" She slowly edges closer, hands up where he can see them, "Look at me…" He raises his head slowly and she takes it as signal to continue, "I meant every word I said earlier. Every word." She brings her hands forward to cradle his face just as he'd done with her and all he can do is gape.
"Your past changes nothing. I am not sorry to know it; it helps me understand…"
"But why… why would you want to? After all that I have done?"
"Because if God turned us into horses you would still be my friend...
because you gave me something I never thought I'd ever have, and made me feel something I never thought I'd ever be so blessed to feel...
because you once promised that if you could, you would try to make me happy for the rest of your life and I believe that had you'd been able to, you would have...
because those words I wrote the day my father took me from you are as true as the day I wrote them..."
'because I love you' is what she'd been about to say but never got chance for his lips plucked the words from her mouth before she'd even spoken them.
There is a split second where both of them freeze.
He, because he is surprised at his own boldness and terrified that despite what she just said, he might be overstepping the mark... and she, because she wonders if this is a dream... how often had she closed her eyes to evoke the feeling of his lips upon her own only to have her father come barging in, yelling at her to quit daydreaming?
He kisses any and all doubt out of her mind.
Indeed, he kisses every coherent thought out of her mind.
A kiss after a four year interval could be a clumsy affair, but there is absolutely nothing clumsy about this one. In fact, it is sublime. As their lips happily greet one another and their mouths slot together perfectly, both groan in tandem - the kind of groan one lets out when one finally lays down to rest after a long hard day, or when something is so good one cannot help but make that certain noise without even realising it. This spurs him on and he gently pulls her into his lap, sighing happily when she melts into him, drunk on her already, becoming ever more aroused because he can feel her weight upon his thighs, taste her heavenly mouth and hear those exquisite moans when he tilts his head and they fit together just right...
"Francesca, Francesca, Francesca..." He whispers, his head bowed as if in prayer, in no church however, would they hold each other like this, nor would his lips pluck at hers, placing kisses so reverently.
His brow rests against hers and she can feel him shaking his head, see his lips curl into a smile, hear the rumble of a chuckle spreading through his chest.
"Vaisey would throw a fit if he knew..."
She is frowning and smiling at the same time, perplexed by his words, but lifted by his amused tone, the way his lips keep seeking hers, the intense way he regards her and the strange luminosity of him, seemingly come out of nowhere.
"All those years of lectures... all that time and effort spent trying to teach me... undone by a single kiss from you."
She raises an eyebrow in questioning and he smiles as if drunk before showing her exactly what he means by kissing her again.
"Be with me." He whispers against her lips.
"I am with you." She replies between kisses, a breathy laugh bubbling through her. He stills a moment, recalling a time he said those words to Marian and the outcome of that sorry attempt to seduce her, but then happily forgets any of that in favour of kissing Francesca's smiling mouth with passionate enthusiasm.
"Come with me." He murmurs, pulling back to look her in the eye, sighing contentedly as he rakes his gaze over her kiss swollen lips.
"Where would we go?" She asks curiously, not quite sure where he is going with this but playing along.
"Far from here… where nobody can stand between us."
She gasps. Hardly believing what he is suggesting. He can't be serious, can he?
The look on his face however, is deadly serious and she can't help but wonder if he realises what that would mean.
"But... this is your home."
He shakes his head. "I had hoped that it would be..." he sighs and hangs his head a moment before smiling sadly, "but Vaisey will always hold it over me... use it to keep me in his debt."
There is no 'I told you so' from her, only a tightening of her arms around him - an embrace in sympathy.
"It will probably not be his for much longer either if things continue the way they are going. I have not forgotten what you told me about Winchester."
Her face drops at the mention of her fiancé and Guy gently tilts her head up to have her look in his eyes.
"It is as you say it is - so long as I hold onto it, they will always have me in their pockets."
She nods sadly and he ghosts his thumb gently over her jaw.
"And so will it always be... unless..."
She doesn't get to hear the end of the sentence for he lets it go and kisses her softly instead, the heat of earlier gone, made way for gentle tenderness and they relax into it awhile before he finally pulls his lips from hers and clears his throat.
"Francesca..." He is nervous now and she wonders how that can be with her sitting in his lap like this, sharing sweet kisses, "What you said about the man you knew, about the man I was, together with you... I... I would like to try to be that man... for you... if you will have me."
She doesn't understand, that much is obvious so he takes a deep breath and dives in at the deep end,
"Francesca... I'm asking you to be my wife."
