Oh my, your comments just get better and better! I wasn't sure how that chapter would be received and I was wonderfully surprised. After all that to-ing and fro-ing it's time to saddle up your llamas readers, here comes some good old fashioned drama...

CHANGE of HEART

…

Everyone trudged on silently guided by the Captain's torch. When they saw the lights at Sealtooth Harbour they could scarcely make one cheer.

Anne was almost too tired to make the stairs that lead to the Harbour Hotel, and certainly too tired to remember she had not reserved a room for the night.

Gracie informed them there were only two rooms left. Anne was very aware of Gilbert, who had pulled the boat with the other men at the strap, slumped against the wall behind her. So was Roy. He forced himself to stand up tall even though he wanted to fall to his knees, and informed Gracie that he was prepared to share a room with Miss Shirley.

Gilbert didn't know why he said what he did, or even what the point was. After all, Anne as good as admitted that Roy was her fiancé, and took pains to remind him she was a grown woman who knew how to take care of herself. Maybe he was just crazed with cold, maybe all those lectures about propriety and moral hygiene had finally worked on him, maybe he knew Anne would agree to whatever Roy suggested. Whatever it was, Gilbert could hardly take it back once he said it.

"Give the rooms to Mr Gardner and Miss Shirley," he told Gracie, wearily. "If it's all right by you, I'll sleep in the hall."

Gracie shrugged and went onto say something about a large twin room near the end of the hall, with a small double on one side and a bathroom on the other.

Anne gave Roy a big-eyed look and he nodded back in gratitude.

"I'll take the double," he said.

Gilbert helped him with one of his trunks, the other two were left on the landing. If Roy wanted them, Gilbert thought, he could find some way to get them up himself. He went back down to fetch some blankets, and wished that ol' seadog with the rum was still about. He was colder than he could remember being for quite some time. He hoped Anne wouldn't be too long in the bathroom.

Anne was not in the bathroom, she was in the double room, her hands at her waist. Roy was inspecting the bed to find out how thick this mattress was.

"Roy, how could you?"

"I told you, dearest, I am not used to roughing it."

"But it's fine for everyone else?"

"Sorry, I don't catch your meaning." Then he did, or thought he did, and had the sense to look shamefaced. "But of course, I should have offered you the double bed."

"That's not what I meant at all."

Roy flopped down on the sagging mattress. He barely had the strength to pull off his boots, and while he wouldn't go so far as to ask Anne to do it, he wished she might offer. "Well whatever it is I have done, I'm sorry. I'm about to fall asleep in my boots. I don't know how you are still standing."

A moment ago, Anne would have wondered the same thing. She was fired up, uncomfortably so, and about to let Roy have it. "How can you get into that bed when Gilbert is about to sleep on the floor?"

"Very easily," Roy murmured. "After all, it wasn't my choice. I wanted to bunk in with you, remember? If you were opposed to Blythe's gallant offer, you should have said."

"I was waiting for you to–"

"To do what, Anne? When have you ever taken my lead? Except perhaps the custard, you didn't mind going along with that."

"How can you joke? I know that you're tired, but we're all tired, Gilbert most of all."

"Oh please, he didn't have to buy a strap ticket, and he didn't have to row our boat."

Anne's cheeks went the same colour as her cold nose and ears. "You saw that?"

"I suspected. But now I know, it's all over your face. Did you know you go as red as a robin whenever Gilbert Blythe comes up? Don't worry, I think it's charming the way he always tries to impress you."

"That's just his way–it's how we all are on the Island, we look out for each other."

"Come now, Anne, do you think if I was here with some other girl, he'd go out of his way to sleep on the floor?"

"He is not sleeping on the floor. You are going to get up this instant and tell him he can have this room. Now I am going to wash up while you inform Gilbert that you had a change of heart. I'll be in the twin room in five minutes–five," she reminded him, and scurried out the door.

She bumped into Gilbert in the hallway. The lamps had been doused and a small beam of light from the double room was painting a stripe across Gilbert's chest. He had already stripped down to an undershirt that was more wet than dry. There were goosebumps all over the muscles on his shoulders and along his gleaming neck.

Anne started babbling, anxious he might have overheard. "Oh, Gilbert–I was just speaking with Roy, we–that is he was saying that he couldn't possibly let you sleep on the floor. So, we will bunk in together–Roy and I–and you can have the double bed, and it will all be very proper."

Gilbert crossed his arms over his big brown chest. Anne wished he would put a sweater on, he must be very cold.

"I take it this won't be a secret either?"

"A secret? What do you mean?" Anne cocked her head. Gilbert was looking even crosser than Roy.

"You and Gardner in the same room," he continued. "I mean I know he's your fiancé and all, but I don't think your idea of proper is the same as Miss Cuthbert's."

If Anne was fired up before, now she was blazing. She took a step toward him and prodded him in the chest. "You don't know anything about Marilla!"

Gilbert gave a tired laugh. "Yeah I do. I know all about your family and you know all about mine because there's never been one secret to survive Avonlea for more than five minutes. But you're going to make me promise not to tell regardless. And I'll give you my word, though it's bound to get out because half the people in this Hotel are from the Island. And you'll blame me when the man you should be blaming is in there snoring!"

Such an outburst should have resulted in Anne tipping her nose and stalking off angrily. To Gilbert's surprise she stood there looking up at him, her grey eyes fringed with green. He tried to hide it and pretend what he was feeling was just an echo of something he had given up on long ago. But while it had been possible–just–to give up his own dreams, it was asking too much of him to give up on hers.

"And you," he went on, hoarsely, when he realised she wasn't going anywhere, "you're always with his sister, never with him. He came to the Christmas concert as an afterthought, and got drunk and made you row in his place. Now he decides on your behalf that you are sharing a room with him. He gives you scraps and what's worse, you take it, when I would have given you…"

Gilbert bit down hard on his lip before any more words escaped. Anne's eyes were now pools of cool grey light and he was this close to losing his grip.

"What would you have given me?"

"Nothing. Nothing you wanted anyway."

"How do you know that?"

"How do I know?"

He couldn't believe she was asking him that when she had already rejected his hand. But that rejection seemed small in comparison to her willing relinquishment of everything else.

Gilbert slung his bag over his shoulder, before heading down the stairs. He was on the last step when she heard him say: "Because you're giving up the Island for him."

...

Who did Gilbert think he was? As for Roy, he had fallen asleep in the double room and ignored her wishes completely! Anne stormed into the twin room and locked the door behind her. Let them try to apologise–she would never let either of them in. She threw off her clothes and leapt into one of the beds in her chemise and drawers, certain she would fall asleep in a minute. But an hour later she was cold and restless, and wishing she had washed all the sweat from her skin and was wearing her thick flannel nightgown.

Gilbert was not sleeping in the hall as far as she could tell, not that she bothered to look very hard. The bathroom was free and there was a good deal of fresh water in the bucket. It was even hot. Anne locked this door too, and shedding her underthings washed herself all over.

"Stupid boys," she grumbled as she worked the washcloth along her limbs. She looked at her face in the small square mirror. Stupid, stupid, stupid!

Presently, Anne returned to the twin room. From the light of her lamp she discerned the shape of Roy in the bed closest to the door. So, he had come. She was this close to placing a grateful kiss on his cheek, and went so far as to take a step towards him when she remembered the first time they almost kissed. Even a sneeze hadn't put him off, and that was in the most public of settings. Now they were alone, as alone as two people could possibly be. No, she wouldn't kiss him yet, perhaps in the morning, or before they commenced the next crossing. Yes, an encouraging kiss would certainly gird his loins. No, she didn't mean that, she meant... she meant…

Anne never finished her thought as a deep rumbly sigh filled the room. Dear Roy, he tried so hard, and had even roused himself from an exhausted slumber in order to give up his larger bed. Not for her, but for Gilbert. This was the gentleman she had fallen for, the one who rescued her from the rain. A shiver went through Anne, one even more scintillating than the day Roy first locked eyes on hers, as she forwent the serviceable flannel and slipped her frilly petticoat over her head.

Kissing was very much on Anne's mind when she woke the next morning, and an anticipatory smile curled her lips. How broad Roy's shoulders were, what a fine, lean neck. She couldn't see the rest of him, his head was buried in his pillow, but she listened contentedly to his soft regular breathing. What was Gilbert talking about? Roy didn't snore at all. At the thought of him she kicked back her blankets and threw open the curtains. The windows were fogged up and her smile widened as she drew a big heart through the condensation.

Quickly, Anne lit her lamp and set it on the window sill before sending salutations to the rising sun. It hadn't shown its whole self yet, only the merest flash of gold glimmered on the high ridge east of the Harbour.

Anne stretched her arms up against the window frame, waiting for its beam to light upon her. She used to do this all the time, from the first morning she woke at Green Gables. The sun's rays filtering through the Snow Queen's branches, painting her in dapples and kisses of perfume. Then to dash outdoors, past the neatly swept yard to fields of waist-high barley. Feel it brush against her skirts and tickle the palms of her hands, while the birds sang songs that imbued the sky with a colour all its own. There were the beloved old paths made by her boots and the boots of all her friends, and the wilder, secret journeys where she would only take herself. Oh, the smells of the sea and the earth and the trees. The heady odour of sap rising in the spring, the fresh glory of bright summer leaves, the crunch and colour as they flew on the autumn winds, and the ever-present evergreen of winter. Her friendly pines, the sharp blue spruce, the comforting spice of cedar.

Even now she could smell it, feel its fragrance wrap around her and with it the promise of home. She should have wrapped herself in her kimono, every hair was standing on end with the cold. She felt excited, electric; when the golden orb peeped over the crest she almost applauded. The world was so beautiful, so dear and so good.

"Oh, thank you," she murmured.

"Mmm," he said.

Anne ducked her chin to her chest. So, Roy had heard her strange exclamation, and didn't even question it. She pressed her lips together, ready–so ready–to press them upon his. Turning, she lowered her arms and clasped her hands beneath her chin. Her lashes were downcast, her cheeks blooming with the softest blush as she took a step toward him.

"Good morning dearest, did you have a good–GILBERT!"

Anne lurched back, her heel striking the wall behind her as Gilbert leaped out of his bed. But he did not throw a blanket over his near nude self. No, he started running at her.

"What are you doing here?" Anne squeaked. Her head bumped into the window pane and the heart became a smudge. "Get back!"

He didn't, he fell to his knees and smacked his hand against the burning candle that had fallen from the sill and onto the floor.

"You nearly set yourself alight," he said gruffly.

His hands were on the hem of her petticoat as he looked for any scorch marks. Anne yanked it away so hard he saw a flash of her knee.

That wasn't all he had seen. The silhouette of Anne's form as she stood before the window was burned onto his brain. The curve of her waist, the place where her thighs met, and–would he ever forget–the tiny diamond of light above it. He kept his back to her, and spent more time than was necessary making sure the candle was properly screwed back into the lamp.

Gilbert was still on his knees when a large grey blanket was thrown on top of him. Standing, he draped it over his shoulders. Anne was by the door. She had composed herself now and stood tall as a tower. The barricades were up, and so was her nose. It might have intimidated someone else. But Gilbert knew better.

"Thank you for your gallant attempt to rescue me," Anne said haughtily, "though you have no right to be in here."

Gilbert grabbed his undershirt which he had hung before the fire last night. He brought it to his face and smelled it, before putting it on and tucking it into his drawers.

"If you think I am going to stand here while you take your time getting dressed–"

"You can drop the squeamish act," Gilbert muttered, hunting about for some socks. "You've seen me in a lot less than this."

"That was on the Island, it's different now…"

Anne paused, trying to decide whether there was any point continuing. Gilbert was clearly ignoring her, as he took his time wriggling into a pair of tight black long-johns and buttoning them up his chest. He slipped into a pair of trousers then, shimmying them over his muscular legs and buttocks. His back was to her and he was fiddling with the buttons of his fly when she remembered to speak again.

"Please leave."

This he seemed to hear, and he stuffed the rest of his belongings into his bag. He was at the door; Anne's hand was on the handle.

"I didn't know you were in here," he said, "when I came back upstairs this room was empty."

"You thought I was sleeping in the same bed as Roy?"

"Why do you care what I think?"

How easy it would have been to tell him she didn't. But she did–at least she used to. Until he cavalierly informed the entire hotel that she, Anne Shirley, was giving up the Island. Who was the one killing himself for the Cooper? The winners of that prize had travelled the world. And right now Anne wished Gilbert Blythe would make a new life for himself on the moon!

Gilbert's hand went over hers and pressed the handle down. "Anne?"

"Mmm?"

"Could you move, please?"

Anne dashed to the fireplace. She stared at the blackened remains in the grate, the ash rising and clinging to the hem of her petticoat as the door shut with a slam. She was still staring at it when the door opened once more and Gilbert came back in. He yanked back his bedclothes and retrieved two socks.

"He'll never know I was here," he said, then swiftly left the room.

…

The logical thing for Anne to do was get herself dressed. Instead she relit her lamp and sought refuge in the double room. She had no thought of confessing the mix up, nor get some explanation as to why Roy did not do as she asked. Anne simply felt adrift, or as Phil put it, was suffering a recurring case of the jitters. She had mistaken Gilbert for Roy, and had been this close to kissing him. How could someone in love make such a mistake?

Roy had changed into a blue linen nightshirt, his long limbs splayed over the entire width of the bed. From the look of the sheets he had slept fitfully. Anne knew he would be cross if she woke him so early and decided to bring him some coffee first. She was heading for the door again when she heard his husky voice.

"Don't go."

"I didn't know you were awake."

"I'm not sure I am," said Roy. "Either I am having a dream or there is an angel in my room."

Anne tried to smile. She did not feel like an angel right now, and was half sure Matthew was watching down on her with an expression very common to his sister. She tugged her kimono over herself and shuffled in her slippers.

"If you are an angel," Roy went on, "when I close my eyes you'll be gone. But if that is Anne, if that is still my Anne, then I hope she will come and sit with me awhile."

He leaned up on his elbow and held out his hand. The little light from Anne's lamp made him golden all over. He looked more beautiful than Anne had ever seen him before. Forget angels, he was a god.

Resting her lamp on the bedside table she knelt by his side, as Roy began apologising. Not because he had neglected to give up his room, Anne found out, but because he had yet to brush his teeth.

"That doesn't matter," she murmured, touched by his honesty if not his regret.

"It does," he said, "because I dearly want to kiss you."

Only minutes before Anne had been ready–oh so ready–to kiss Roy too. Now she patted his hand.

"Roy, you should get up, we have a big day ahead of us."

"Yes, a very big day. Holed up in front of a blazing fire, ordering room service and catching up on the papers."

"You could do that, of course, but you understand I must try for another crossing."

Roy sighed. "You can try."

His hands went to her waist, then gripping her hard pulled her onto the mattress. Anne reached down to tug at the hem of her kimono that was twisting round her knees, before tucking her feet under herself.

"Bit of a rough landing, was it?" Roy chuckled, a velvety chuckle to match his velvety eyes. He shifted over and plumped up the pillow he had been lying on, before giving it to her. "Now isn't this better than some plank in a boat?"

Anne lowered her head. She was trying to think of an answer that would both appease Roy and get him moving. Roy saw this as the beginnings of a nod and amazement showed in his eyes. He never dreamed Anne would prove so easy to persuade, and hoped perhaps he might persuade her further.

"I dearly want that tooth brush now…"

"Oh yes?" Anne croaked, edging deeper into her pillow.

Roy huffed his breath into his hand. "Lord, is it bad?"

He got up and started rummaging around in his trunk. He had quite knobbly knees for a god, and had a nasty looking blister on the sole of one foot.

Anne wrapped his blanket around her and shuffled to the end of the bed. "Roy, you don't have to brush your teeth right now–"

"Yes, I do, I want this moment to be perfect."

He was holding his toothbrush aloft when he heard a tap at the door. Gilbert's head poked in.

"Gardner, good morning. Your other trunks are still in the lobby, did you want a hand getting them upstairs or shall I ask for them to be taken back to the pier? There's talk of another crossing this morning, but they want to set off at eight rather than–Anne?" Gilbert almost shut the door on his head as he spotted her sitting on the edge of Roy's bed. "Sorry, I–ah…"

"Nothing to be sorry for Blythe, I'm much obliged." Roy smoothed back his silky black hair. "I shall come momentarily. Did you want my help too?"

"No," Gilbert stared at the floor. "I've decided I'm not going–taking the train back to Kingsport."

"Too dangerous for you?" Roy gave him a playful slap on his shoulder.

"Yes," said Gilbert, still staring at the floor, "something like that."

…

The door closed. Anne wrapped Roy's blanket around her as if she wanted to be invisible. To be seen like this when she had acted with such indignation just moments before. Not that Gilbert would tell, of course. But that made it even worse.

Roy made an awkward leap onto the bed and began to examine the blister. He appeared to have forgotten his teeth and very probably the kiss. Another sweetheart might have balked at this, but only one thing bothered Anne.

"Aren't you going to help with the trunks?"

"I'm not going, there's no way I could make a repeat performance after yesterday's debacle. My feet are killing me, I need at least one day of rest. So do you, Robin redbreast," Roy pulled back the blanket and touched Anne's hair, which was like a red cape down her back. "You do look lovely with your hair down like that."

He felt her stiffen under his fingers. They were still outstretched as she left the bed.

"If the boats are leaving an hour earlier than usual, I must get ready."

"Anne, you can't be serious?"

Anne told him that she was. Very serious, in fact. She wasn't joking when she said she had to see Diana.

"If you knew me at all, Roy, you would understand that."

Roy threw one of the pillows to the floor. "Good God, woman, what do you think I am trying to do–why do you think I am here? You make me think you want one thing, and then go out of your way to do another. I forsook my family to be with you, why won't you do the same for me?"

"I never asked you to come with me, Roy."

"You never asked me not to either."

No, she hadn't. Nor had she given him a kiss when he had sought one, or talked to him properly about home. She never answered him when he asked her about her past, or tried, really tried to share her anxieties about Diana. Gilbert was wrong. He was so, so wrong! Roy wasn't the one giving scraps. She was.

Anne picked up the pillow and placed it behind Roy's back, then draped the blanket over his shoulders.

"Don't baby me, not if you don't care for me," he muttered.

"I do care for you, just not–"

"Enough."

"You make me sound like a monster."

"You are a monster," Roy pouted. "But I wanted you to be my monster."

Anne smiled a small smile and sat next to him. "Can one possess a monster? I think they stop being monsters then and start being pets."

Roy started smiling too. It was smaller but it was there. "I was going to buy you that Staffordshire kitten, do you remember the one I mean, in the jewellery shop window? But Mamma talked me out of it."

"Is she very angry about you giving up Christmas with her?"

"Why do you think I hid her telegram? This is the first time I dared disappoint her."

"Are you sure it's not the second? I don't think she approved of you choosing me either."

Roy flopped against the pillow and wrapped his hands around his head and thought about that rainy day at the pavilion. "I didn't choose you," he said, a little while later. "You simply happened–like a bolt from the blue."

Anne was gathering her things together, feeling she was gathering up the remnants of their love affair and packing this up too. "Do you think when it comes to love you really have to choose?"

"Yes," Roy said, "on reflection, I believe you do. Plant your flag, so to speak, and declare your intentions boldly."

"It sounds quite fearful when you put it like it." Anne squeezed his hand and left the room to dress.

"Oh, I'm sure you'll manage just fine," Roy said, as she closed the door behind her. "I've never known you to be fearful of anything."

…