Ah, here it comes, the infamous confrontation! I have to admit, I am incredibly excited about writing this chapter, although I am a little unsure as to how everything will play out….it won't stop my enthusiasm for getting to this part of the story. We're just getting to the good stuff now, haha. =)

And I'll admit, I was really quite nervous about my last chapter, and how you would like it…especially since it was the first chapter that I've really gone and "broken away from the book" so-to-speak. I mean, I'll still be incorporating a lot of novel, but most of everything so far (excluding the very beginning) was directly out of the original text (which I don't own, so don't even bother trying to sue), and it's a very specific style of writing. I was worried that my own would be too different, and might take away from the story, but there was such an immediate response to it, that I almost exploded in pride, lol. I've never felt quite so pleased with myself, so thank you, you wonderful people you! You bring me joy!

Anyways, onto the good stuff, nobody wants to read me rambling ;)

Chapter 7

He felt like a ball of perpetual anxiety. Surely he'd have a heart attack by the end of this walk, this seemingly short, approximately two-mile walk to Crampton…it was going to kill him with slow painful anxiety. And yet, there was this woman, a striking, beautiful, enchanting, graceful woman, that was currently walking by his side. Margaret Hale, walking next to him. Margaret Hale, allowing him to escort her back to her house. Margaret Hale, fiddling with the bandage he had wrapped around her delicate finger as gently as his rough constitution would allow. Margaret Hale who had spoken well of him…She was both calming, and thrilling him with nothing more than her presence beside him. His emotions were conflicting again. He opened his mouth to say something to her, but couldn't really decide on what, so he closed it again, only to open it a few seconds later in another futile attempt at conversation. Five minutes they had been walking, and all John could do was open and close his mouth like an idiot. He wondered if she was as nervous about their situation as he was.

"You really don't have to be doing this Mr. Thornton, if it makes you uncomfortable…" Margaret said suddenly, her voice practically a whisper.

He sighed, a little disappointed. He was making her nervous, she didn't want to be here with him, walking side-by-side. His chest began to ache again, but he did what he could to ignore it.

"I doesn't make me nervous." He replied shortly. He hadn't meant to sound so severe, truly. He was focusing so much on his ridiculous anxiety, he felt he couldn't help that it sounded so clipped. He chanced a glance in her direction, and noticed she was still looking down at her bandaged finger, fiddling a bit with the ends.

"Nicholas told me it was you that convinced him to come to Marlborough Mills." He said finally, in an attempt to make things more lighthearted. "I wanted to thank you for it, he's a great worker. More than that, he's a friend; something I confess, I have been missing as of late…"

"I merely spoke the truth, you owe me no thanks, Mr. Thornton."

"What do you mean?"

"Exactly what I said. I told him my opinion of you. Your character speaks for itself, Mr. Thornton, and it needs nothing from me to make it greater than it already is." He could hardly believe his ears. She was…complimenting him? He wanted to thank her, but he was so unaccountably embarrassed by such praise, that it rendered him speechless.

"I highly doubt I'm worthy of your praise…" He finally said, though quietly enough that she probably did not hear him.

Was he imagining her somewhat saddened demeanor? Did she think that he didn't wish to be around her? Well, it could hardly be her fault if she did feel that way…he wasn't really doing very much to convince her that he wanted anything to do with her. In many ways, he didn't want anything to do with her. He shied away from her family and her name for a reason: it brought him pain, and he supposed it was only human nature to shy away from the things that bring you grief…but then, he had brought her grief, and here she was. But she did insist on going home alone; perhaps it was her attempt to shy away from her own pain. Was it wrong of him to assume that he was the source of her misery? Of course it was! How could he just assume that her diminished countenance had anything to do with him, when her own mother had only so recently passed away. Why couldn't he get rid of the feeling of hope that was still burning inside him? It was going to be difficult enough to move past this evening and continue on as things had always been without this insane hope that his heart was kindling against his own will-

"Mr. Thornton?" Margaret asked, looking at him quizzically. He jumped slightly and turned to face her. "Did you hear what I said?" She had said something? How could he not have noticed, they were the only two people on the street. Ages he'd been half wanting, half dreading the opportunity to speak with her like this. No distractions, no propriety, just the two of them having a normal conversation. Now he was so consumed by his own thoughts he couldn't even distinguish when she spoke-

He really needed to stop thinking so much.

"Uh-N-No, I'm sorry…I was just…" He trailed off, unsure as to what he should say. Margaret looked away, and he felt himself deflate a little. He had just began kicking himself for his stupidity when he heard her giggling. He snapped his head back to look at her, and noticed she wasn't next to him anymore. She had stopped a few feet behind him, hand pressed over her mouth in a futile attempt to disguise the fact that she was giggling at him. As soon as she caught his eye however, she burst into peals of laughter. It should have irritated him, possibly even made him angry, that there was a beautiful woman whom he was madly in love with, who was currently standing a few feat away from him openly laughing at him. But he was too transfixed to be angry. Margaret was smiling at him her eyes sparkling with mirth, and he could focus on nothing else; he just stood there, his face probably showing all the confusion and wonder that he felt. His mouth was even open a little, as though he might say something. Margaret was laughing so hard now, she had to bend over a little. One hand placed over her stomach, she continued to laugh, and in spite of everything, John felt himself laughing as well. Before he realized fully what was happening, he was bent over, laughing at nothing and everything all at once. He laughed until his sides burned, and his face was aching at the effort of smiling so much. When the laughter subsided he looked over to Margaret, who was wiping tears of laughter from her face and smiling at him. Without a moments hesitation she walked over to him, and boldly took his hands in her own. His entire body jolted from the feeling of her holding his hands.

"Thank you, Mr. Thornton," she said earnestly, smiling her glorious, beautiful smile at him. He couldn't help but smile in return, chest practically exploding with emotion.

"I can't think of what I've done that would require your thanks." He replied, laughing a little throughout. He should be thanking her for allowing him into her company, for making him feel as though nothing existed but this moment, for holding his hands and making his heart soar.

"Everything!" She replied breathlessly. "For being so kind to my mother and father, for taking Nicholas on at the Mill, for helping him look after the poor Boucher children…for making me laugh, and forget the world. Oh, I do not think I have laughed like that since I was a little girl!" She laughed again, and John noticed that her eyes were sparkling once more. His heart was pounding so hard he was sure she might hear it.

"I'm afraid," He started, taking a deep breath to calm himself. "I do not deserve any of the gratitude you are so graciously bestowing on me. I do not believe I am the one ultimately responsible for the fact that Nicholas now works at the Mill. I have only just found out that you were the one who insisted he come to me in the first place."

"Yes, but it would mean nothing if you would not have given him a place in the Mill."

"But I never would have, if it weren't for your influence in my life."

"Mr. Thornton!" Margaret exclaimed, laughing again. "You cannot dissuade me from my good opinion of you, no matter how hard you try! You are wasting your time." She smiled up at him still, clearly unaware of the incredibly powerful effect they had over him. They made him forget about everyone and everything. They made him want to crush her body to his and never let go. They made him want to pull her hands forward and close the gap between them, allowing him to kiss her senseless. They made him want to lift one hand up to gently trace the contours of her face, bathed in glorious moonlight. To see her eyes sparkling at him as his fingers ghosted over her cheek and forehead, tucking a loose strand behind her ear before cupping her face completely. He could imagine it with complete clarity, the slight shiver through her body when he touched her for the first time, the way her eyelids would flutter closed as he opened his hand, the way she would lean into it once it was flush against her skin, the small sigh of contentedness that would escape her lips as she relished in his affection…alas, it was only his mind, desperately wishing for something it could never have.

Then why was his hand on her face?

He jolted back into reality. The reality where his imagination had clouded his self-control. The reality where his hand really was on Margaret's soft, slightly cold face, and she really was leaning into his touch, and she really had let a small sigh escape past her beautiful red lips, where the warmth of her breath could still be seen in the cold night air. Something was happening to him and didn't quite understand it. It was as though he could not control his own body anymore, as though it had been taken over by the wills of his sub consciousness, and his sub consciousness was willing him to move forward, to close the tiny distance between them, and to claim her as his own in a heart-stopping, mind-blowing, reality-shattering kiss. He wanted this so bad…Dear God he wanted this with his very soul.

Surely he was having a heart attack.

He dropped his hand slowly, painfully almost, and watched her eyes open, searching them for the answers to all his doubts and questions. Now was not the time to do this. Now was the time to take her home, away from the cold, to show her how a man really treats a woman whom he loves with all his being, with the respect demanded by propriety…He stiffened as the memory of an all-to-familiar situation came to the forefront of his mind. How he wished he could wipe his mind of the incident altogether. He felt it was poisoning every good moment he had with her, just as it was poisoning his heart. He almost laughed aloud at his earlier thought to show her how a man would treat a woman he loved…well he had most assuredly loved her for many months, and he had also most assuredly been the most incorrigible, hateful person towards her. He sighed, placed her hand in the crook of his arm and said: "Come Miss Hale, I do not want your father to worry" before dropping into his pit of self-loathing. He was so absorbed in his thoughts he didn't notice the small smile still playing about Margaret's lips while she unintentionally pulled herself closer to him. Ten minutes passed before a noise broke the silence. John looked down at Margaret, and noticed she was once more attempting to stifle a giggle.

"At least I'm a source of amusement to you." John told her jokingly, not really thinking about the very serious weight his words had until after he had spoken them. He winced slightly, but Margaret laughed a little louder, and it went unnoticed.

"Oh please forgive me, Mr. Thornton!" She said, wiping at her eyes once more. "Truly, I do not mean anything cruel by it."

"Then by all means, do enlighten me."

"Well," she paused, seemingly searching for words. He noticed the beginning of a red flush blossoming on her cheeks. "It's only-I have never known you to be so…without words." John looked at her quizzically. "I mean-" she sighed exasperatedly, and John smiled at her embarrassment, secretly delighting in her blush. "'The Great John Thornton, Master of Marlborough Mills'-" her blush deepened still, and his heart must've skipped three, perhaps even four beats at way his name sounded when she spoke it. "People speak so well of you, and you are not a man to be easily lost in a conversation…suddenly, it seems as though you cannot find anything to say. I must admit, I am a little amused by it." she would not look at him as she finished. He beamed at this unwarranted praise, and started to laugh.

"I'm not all that people say about me, Miss Hale." He replied.

"No, you're certainly not. I think you're more."

John lay awake the entire night, smiling more than he had ever smiled before.

A/N: please please please please SUPER please review! =D