A few days passed since Claire and Meredith shared time with Tommy and Arthur. Though it only felt like yesterday due to Meredith's insistence in speaking about the occasion. She could not believe – in all her time working for the Shelby household, that she drank with Thomas and Arthur Shelby. But as random as it happened, Meredith and Claire rarely and randomly saw them since. It was only when they were in the upper levels of the house decorating did they have the chance to run into one of them. Tommy kept his promise that the trunks would be where they needed to be – inside the house ready for Claire and Meredith's decorating hands and since that day, the Arrow House had transformed. Garland hung from the walls, wreaths hung on all main doors, and there was more of a lively presence in the house than ever before. It made Claire want to be there more than ever – in a home with a family for Christmas.
"Are you going to be with your brother for Christmas?" Meredith asked. They sat at their usual table eating dinner. Her question made Claire still. She shook her head.
"No he'll be away." She answered vaguely. "I'll be staying here."
"Are you sure? Why don't you come with me? My family wouldn't mind at all." Meredith insisted. She watched Claire stir a bowl of steaming soup.
"I already told Mrs. Byrne I'd stay plus Mr. Shelby is paying me much more. Money is incentive." Meredith nodded at her explanation but her eyes narrowed at the mention of Mr. Shelby.
"Aye, Mr. Shelby… I think he's got something for you." Claire lifted her head and raised one brow. Her head tilted.
"What do you mean?"
"You know what I mean." Meredith insisted again. A teasing smile played on her lips. "I swear there's something. Like the other day! I swear he was flirting. He has never brought any of the other staff to do something like we did. And that was surely not because of me." She finished with an angled look.
"I don't know." Claire shrugged and returned to taking a large bite of fish. She watched Meredith as she chewed. Her friend shook her head at her.
"I'm not wrong. He can't hide every emotion under that marble face." She pointed her fork at Claire as if it would hold her words into place. Claire stifled a laugh. She loved how right her friend was.
The next day continued as all the others. The staff did their chores, the girls did more decorating, and then Mrs. Byrne dropped off the mail.
"Claire!" She called from the kitchen staircase. "You have a letter." She tossed the envelope on the counter with a smile. "From that Mr. Frasier again." Claire smiled at the older woman as she approached. "Thank you, Mrs. Byrne." She greeted – ignoring the woman's obvious connotations. Claire waited until she went back upstairs to even glance down at the letter. In the same fashion as always, Claire's full name was written beautifully in ink. Her lips twisted upwards into a small permanent smile as she opened the envelope and began to read.
"Meredith!" Claire called down the bedroom corridor as she walked quickly to her room. "Meredith!"
Meredith's head popped out from her bedroom door just as Claire reached her. She gave Claire a bizarre look at the strange urgency in her voice.
"What? What is it?" She asked. She opened her door fully for them to enter.
"Sam will be back this weekend." Claire shoved the letter in front of Meredith's face. Meredith looked at Claire closely. She rarely saw her ever this… emotional. She was obviously happy or even excited. Meredith fell back onto her bed and read. Quickly, her lips spread into a smile as she mouthed the words on the paper.
"Ugh!" She exclaimed while throwing her arms apart onto the bed. "Mr. Shelby to Mr. Frasier, Claire you got 'em smitten." Meredith beamed a smile at her ceiling. She popped up onto her hands and gave the same smile to Claire.
"He could be your husband." She continued. She shook the letter in her hand. "I mean, it's been months since he's been gone and now he's planned a weekend with you. Just before Christmas too."
Claire pressed her lips together. She took the letter from Meredith and scanned it over. Sam did plan an elaborate weekend with her – and it all depended on her agreeing to go. He offered to take her away to one of his family's properties for three days.
"Is that what people like him do?" Meredith spoke up again. "Meet only once and decide that person is the one? Take them on a trip to some estate? Like they're shopping." Claire wanted to tell her yes – that is exactly what people like him, people of status and wealth do. It is what people like her family would have done. Instead she mentioned a current worry crossing her mind.
"I'd be meeting his family." Claire spoke. Her forehead creased at the thought. "And spending two nights with him. He would obviously expect something, and this would mean…"
"That you'd be dating… then you'd get married!." Meredith finished in a much more enthusiastic voice. Even though she was excited, she easily read the anxiety all over Claire's face. Claire looked up at her and nodded. She wasn't sure how ready she was for all of that. She sat down on the edge of the bed.
"It's been months since we've even seen each other. What if he sees me and regrets it. Or I do? I mean I only have been around him for one day. It would be a weekend with a stranger."
"Yes... but it would be a weekend you probably would never forget and one you would always think about if you don't go." Meredith shrugged. Claire mentally agreed. Meredith understood where Claire was coming from. It was a big leap especially for the shy and reserved Claire, even Sam admitted it too at the end of his letter. "I mean, what do you have to lose?"
The question hung in Claire's mind. What did she have to lose? Risk a great weekend with a wealthy, handsome man? One weekend could grow into a lifetime. He could be her escape from this life. A form of paradise far from the horridness of realty. But then followed the thoughts about her true life. What if someone she knew was there? Someone that could recognize her? But her family never mentioned a Frasier family and the last name never popped up on their list of guests for parties. Then another issue rose in Claire's head. If she were to stay with Sam, let him date her and then marry, she would only be Claire Williams. Evelyn Oppenheim would truly die.
"I think you should go." Meredith persisted. She pulled Claire from her depressing thoughts.
"You'll have to help me pick something to wear." Claire confirmed. She smiled and pushed away her negative thoughts for the moment. They would surely creep back when she was alone.
Claire hoped the week would go slow. She hoped time would give her so many things so that she could prepare for the weekend, but as always, it did the opposite. Before she knew it, she woke to Friday morning.
Claire stayed in bed longer than usual that morning. She didn't want to get up. She didn't want to start the day. Outside her door, she heard the usual commotion of breakfast being made. Meredith was there – likely prepping some vegetable, wondering where her friend was.
For another hour Claire stayed in bed. It wasn't until the kitchen became silent did she stir. She combed her hair, pinned side pieces back, dressed in a maroon dress and finally removed herself from her chamber. Meredith raised a thin brow over her tea as she sipped. She heard Claire's bedroom door open and close. She watched her walk towards her and silently sit across her.
"Well, there you are, Miss. Sleeping Beauty." She greeted. Her face kept the same questioning expression.
"Here I am." Claire answered with a bit of sarcasm. She sighed and reached for a cigarette from Meredith's pack. Meredith watched her and crossed her arms.
"Well, good morning. Yes, please, take one of my smokes. Would you like my cup of tea too?"
Claire made a face as she lit the cigarette. "Thank you." She spoke. Claire exhaled a long and heavy cloud of smoke.
"Don't you want to go?" Meredith suddenly asked. She leaned heavy on her forearms, so she was closer to Claire.
"What? Yes I do." Claire gave her a quizzical look. A faint smile touched her lips. Meredith's turned down in response.
"I can tell." She threw her hands in the air and leaned back against her seat. "I can just tell you're hesitant. You're anxious, you can't stop fidgeting, you slept in, you haven't even had your first drink of tea before you take a smoke." Meredith listed the obvious signs of Claire's reluctance to be with Sam. It made Claire turn silent again.
"I didn't know it was so obvious." She ashed her smoke and slumped her shoulders as if in defeat.
"Well, I just know is all." Meredith offered in a lighter tone. "What's wrong, though? Aye, is it you just don't want to be with him?" Claire shook her head. She truthfully had been trying to decipher why she wanted to avoid being with Sam all morning. She couldn't shake the feeling that she just didn't want to leave the Arrow House.
"No, it's not him." Claire admitted. At least that part was true. "I'm just not sure what to expect when I am there. All the way in Cheshire."
In his letter, Sam noted they would be going to Arley Hall in Cheshire. It was a pretty and distinguished area with Liverpool and Manchester neighboring it. It was an area Claire had never been to.
Meredith agreed with her. They both hated the small talk that came with meeting others and they both anticipated the thoughts and manners of the elite class. It had been so long since Claire socialized with people like them. She wondered if she would have anything to talk about, if she had anything in common with them.
"Well, don't worry. You talk like 'em, so at least they won't make fun of you over that."
Claire looked at Meredith in surprise, but her friend stirred her tea. Her comment didn't even register with herself.
For the remainder of the day, Meredith kept Claire company when she could. She gave her words of encouragement and reminded her that once there – she'd forget about Warwickshire and Birmingham and even the Shelby's. Claire only hoped she was right.
He arrived in the same car. A blue and silver Sunbeam. Claire smiled as it came to a halt in the driveway. She waited outside the front door with one piece of luggage at her feet. She tightened her grip on her purse at the sound of the driver door opening. A flash of red hair came into view as he stood and turned to her.
"I hope ye haven't been waiting outside for long?" He called. His accent instantly charmed Claire's ears. He looked worried as he rounded the car and up the stairs to meet Claire directly.
"No," She shook her head. "I just stepped out. It's a nice day." She continued to smile as he came to a halt on the step beneath her. His youthful face cleared itself of worry and he looked up at the blue sky, his fiery head ablaze. It was a rare day.
"Aye, it is." He nodded then looked back at her. "And ye look very nice, Mistress Claire." He noticed her hair was down, different from the last time he saw her. Its golden waves shimmered in the sun. It reminded him of the sea, in the same way his eyes did Claire.
She thanked him. Her words allowed her to adjust. She didn't realize she wasn't breathing when he approached her. They stood there for a moment, smiling at each other, as if they were both registering that they were together again. Claire knew how handsome he was, but she forgot the presence he held, how his stare and his stare alone could freeze her in place. Only one other man had the power to do that.
"It's good to see ya again." Sam finally said. "I'm sorry I took so long. I'm happy that you're… that you're still available." Claire laughed lightly at his last words. His struggle for the right words – or likely the admittance of them, looked strange on him.
"Not much has changed with me."
Sam made a face and shook his head, making his curls bounce. "Then I'm a lucky man." His voice deepened and his head tilted down to make a point. "Shall we get going? I'm sorry to tell you, Mistress Claire, but we have a fairly decent ride before us." He grabbed her luggage and held out the opposite arm for her to take. She obediently followed his lead.
"I don't mind the drive. I've never been to this part of the country before, so I think I'll like the change of scenery."
Sam made an agreeable sound as he escorted her to the passenger seat. Despite her reluctance and worry, Claire began to feel excitement grow within her at the thought of traveling to new parts of the country. Despite it not being her home country, England continued to grow on her more than she ever thought it would.
"We'll pass some beautiful countryside along the way. Arley is beautiful." Sam continued to tell her about the area. He knew its history well and he managed to convey it all in a way that made Claire deeply interested, especially when it came to the matter of Arley Hall.
Claire hid her surprise at the level of connections the Frasier family held. Arley Hall is home to Viscount Ashbrook and his new wife Elizabeth Warburton Frasier. The Viscount, Desmond Frasier, is just 36 years old and Sam's immediate cousin. Claire was to meet the newlyweds, Sam's parents, siblings and aunts and uncles - though he told her not to worry. He prided himself that his family, especially his father's side, did not hold themselves like the stereotypical British nobles did. He made sure to make a point that his family held both Scottish and Irish ancestry and they were very proud of it.
Besides the obvious characteristics of Sam, there was a quality that Claire found far superior to most. Sam was able to hold a comfortable silence. They never had a moment of dull or awkward conversations during their drive – which Claire appreciated, but she admired even more so that Sam was comfortable enough to sit in silence in the company of a relative stranger. It was as though they were friends and not just boy and girl, man and woman. It relaxed Claire and it allowed her mind to be free in her thoughts as new towns and cities passed by in a blur through the car window.
"We'll be in Chester soon." Sam calmly announced. The sky had just turned dark, and Claire watched as the stars proceeded to reveal themselves. She looked at Sam with confusion. Chester? She thought she misheard him. They were going to Cheshire, not Chester. Sam glanced at her, a small, smug smile now on his face, and he returned his focus to the road before them. "Ye look confused." He stated the obvious. His voice carried a touch of enjoyment, but Claire had no idea what he would be so enthused about.
"Um, yes...Chester? Are we not going to Cheshire?" She straightened her back as she asked him. In front of them, some miles still, were the walls of a town. She had never seen anything like it. Beyond the dark walls, lights illuminated the tops of buildings.
"Chester is technically in Cheshire. So we have been in Cheshire for the past half hour." Sam admitted with little care. "I wanted us to eat in Chester. We're in no rush to see my family and there's some things to see here."
Claire nodded as if she knew what he spoke of. She'd never heard of Chester, but it seemed an odd place. As they neared, Claire made out more details of the town, or rather the walls surrounding it. It was a literal walled city. There seemed to always be a car leaving and there were several ahead of them. The walls were not very tall, but they obviously stood the test of time. They surrounded what seemed to be the entire town.
"Those walls…" She began to ask but she didn't even know where to begin. "I've never seen anything like it." Sam shifted in his seat and smiled.
"Aye, Chester is full of history. I don' know if ye like that. History I mean, but there's much here." He peeked over at Claire and found her looking at him expectantly. Sam cleared his throat as he turned back to watch the road.
"I hope you can tell me about it then. I do like history." Claire encouraged and it was more than enough for Sam to start from the very beginning.
He went on to tell her how Chester was originally founded by the Romans in the first century. It was originally purposed to be a "castrum" or a Roman fort with the name of Deva Victrix. It was established in the land of the Celtic Cornovii, Celtic people of Iron Age and Roman Britain, as a fortress during the Roman expansion. They were the first to build the surrounding walls and eventually the Roman army abandoned the fortress almost 500 years later, but the people stayed and existed until Medieval times.
Chester remained strong, having survived through multiple battles and seizings. Each resident, from the original Romans, Anglo-Saxons, Kings of ancient lands, to the first earl of Chester, took very good care of the city's walls. Parts of the original Roman structure are still in place with repairs following the Norman conquest and the English Civil War. Three towers sit on the corners of the city wall. A tall, single arch lingered over the east entrance. Claire stared in amazement as the drove under the archway and finally entered Chester. Inside the walls, a glowing city bustled with life. It was a surprising difference compared to the darkness just a few feet outside the Chester walls.
"That is amazing." Claire voiced. She felt the roads turn from old asphalt to ancient cobblestone. The buildings around them were not like the ones in Birmingham or even London. They were made of Victorian style black-and-white architecture with timber framing. The design mimicked the classic Tudor architecture.
As they drove further into town, Sam pointed out prominent buildings, stores and restaurants. They passed under the Eastgate Clock, which Sam dutifully informed was the original entrance to the Deva Victrix fortress. The feeling within Claire was strange to her. She couldn't remember the last time she felt so blown away. She knew she was far from Birmingham, but she felt even farther as if she were in a different country. With all the tragedy that now made up her old life paired with all the plainness of her new one – she was a stranger to living for herself. Sam slowed the car and turned down an alley at the corner of a busy intersection.
"Here," He paused and leaned forward to look at the crossroads "is Blue Bell." Claire followed Sam's gaze to a two-building establishment. There was no signage, and it seemed the first floor was lower than ground level. The windows were fogged and limited Claire's ability to see inside.
"I wouldn't ha' drive ye all the way out here without feeding ye." Sam added with a cheeky smile to Claire. He didn't hesitate to turn the car off and remove himself. Claire watched him come around to her side and assist her out. The icy air shocked her skin, but didn't bother her. It was a pleasing feeling as they walked arm in arm towards the entrance of Blue Bell.
Beneath their table, Claire stretched her legs out as nonchalantly as possible. While she couldn't wait to eat, the smell of freshly cooked meat made her stomach churn, her legs were tired of molding to a tight sitting position for so long. She sat alone and eyed the people around her while Sam excused himself to greet someone. He did not say hello to anyone in the dining area, instead he went past the swinging double doors and into the kitchen. The kitchen. Claire briefly returned her thoughts to the Shelby estate. That's where she belonged. She wondered what Meredith was doing. Her thoughts slowly traveled to Tommy. She snorted to herself. Thomas Shelby, the irony of him being an unlikely but trusted friend.
Claire straightened her back against the thick red cushion of her chair. She scanned the dining area. There were some couples, families, and groups of friends. She observed the quality and style of clothing of both the men and women. This was no common establishment she was in.
Sam emerged from the same swinging doors only this time in an enthused conversation with a chef. The chef was older with a balding head but thick beard and brows. He was tall like Sam and big too. Claire smiled to herself, he looked like no chef to her.
"This is Claire." Sam introduced to the man as they approached her. She smiled at them both and locked eyes with the dark-eyed chef. The man grumbled something inaudible to Sam.
"This is the lass, eh?" He eyed her with a serious face. "Ye stolen something from Sam here." His voice was deeper than expected and surprisingly held a thick Irish accent. It reminded Claire of the way thunder rolls across the sky. Each of his syllables seemed louder than the first.
"Stolen?" She asked. Her smile began to slip with confusion. She glanced at Sam who looked at the man with a hard, suspicious brow raised. His face was stern, a strange and odd sight. The man loudly slapped Sam's arm and smiled. His teeth looked luminescent compared to the darkness of his beard.
"Stolen his heart of course." He laughed loudly and to himself. Sam's face flushed and he shook his head. He didn't look at Claire.
"Anyway, Claire, this is Raymond Duncan. We grew up together." Sam's eyes lingered on Raymond. He tried to hold a fierce stare on his longtime friend, knowing full well that Raymond would make a ruse in front of the first girl Sam ever brought around the family. He hoped he'd behave himself in front of Claire.
"A pleasure to meet you Raymond. But I don't steal things. If anything, they're given." She finished with a half-smile.
Sam's head quickly turned at Claire's pronounced choice of words. She didn't look at him and instead raised her hand, patiently waiting for Raymond to meet her halfway. A sideways smile grew on his lips, and Raymond greedily took her greeting and shook it rapidly. A hearty chuckle came from him as he crossed his arms over his proud chest.
"Claire." He spoke. Her name sounded odd coming from him. It no longer held the softness that often came from British mouths. It was rough and unfamiliar; she liked it. "It's very good to meet ye. Ye tell me if this bugger's bothersome. I know just how to deal with him."
"Alright, alright. I think you have somewhere to be, don't ye?" Sam began to usher Raymond towards the kitchen doors. Raymond obliged, but gave one last courteous nod and playful wink to Claire.
Sam turned his attention back to Claire and smiled. He took a visible deep breath before sliding into the seat across from her. For some reason, he felt his nerves fluttering. He wasn't sure if it were because of Claire, Raymond or both. In reality, it was a combination of the two. Raymond, though from a different upbringing, had been good friends with Sam's cousin Desmond. The three boys grew up together for most of their years. They were notorious for being a rambunctious group: always having fun and with absolutely no filter, but what set them apart from other men of the same establishment was that despite their jokes and rudeness to each other, they were always respectful and well-mannered to everyone else.
"I like him." Claire started. She watched Raymond retreat back to the kitchen with a small hanging on her face. Sam gave a slight snort.
"He's a crazy man." He said intensely to her. "But a good one. He's like a brother."
Claire nodded at his words. She observed Sam's exterior. While she knew he'd been in the same clothes since that afternoon, he managed to make a casual dark brown vest with a basic white undershirt into appropriate nighttime attire. In her case, she wasn't sure if she did the same, but she didn't care enough to wonder what other people thought. She admired the way he spoke and the way he acted. Despite his formal training and education, he was not boring nor serious, - though he knew when to be. He was youthful like a young boy but civil and considerate to all around him.
They weren't given menus when a server greeted them and presented them with a bottle of gin and whiskey. Instead, Raymond, as Sam explained, was the lead chef at Blue Bell and being so, already planned a fixed menu for them.
Their conversations bounced from Raymond, to Chester, to more of the town's history, to horses and even to painting. Sam discovered Claire's hobby and insisted on buying a piece from her. He wouldn't and didn't let her say no. It was just another thing that surprised him about Claire. She was no ordinary woman who worked on an estate. She had talents and hobbies that she didn't boast about. She was complex and smart. She knew when to listen and when to speak. She knew her audience. It was more than just an elaborate tongue that set her apart from other women. It was her demeanor, her composure. Sam learned that Claire, above all else, was an excellent observer. It's true that most women are taught to act according to who is around and when, but with Claire there was a difference. She kept to herself when others would brag. She didn't force laughter. She didn't force gossip. She didn't pretend to know things. She was real and in his world, in Sam's society, real was rare.
"What else is there?" He asked. He swirled a glass of whiskey in one hand. "Ye must have other talents." He sat back against the seat and looked at her with interest. Claire sighed and watched him sink farther into his seat. He was visibly much more comfortable now, as was Claire. His speech had even changed. His Scottish slang became more pronounced and even sometimes difficult to understand. Any faint awkwardness between them disappeared. For an outsider, which was the case for the surrounding tables, the two appeared to know each other very well. So well in fact, and so balanced with one another, that some tables assumed Sam and Claire to already be in a fixed relationship.
Other talents. Claire pursed her lips. She used to do much more beyond painting. She mentally ticked off art, music, language, and reading. All things her mother had viewed as being necessary for a woman to be accomplished.
"Piano." She admitted. "As a child." Claire thought of the last time she played. She took a long sip of her drink in an effort to avoid having to give more detail as well as to distract from the emotional pang it brought on. "Piano." Sam repeated. His lips turned in acknowledgement. "You are full of surprises, Mistress Claire." She laughed but internally she felt her heart sink some inches. She wanted to say so many more things: things of truth and of fact. Instead she placed her drink down to lean forward on both her forearms and turned the conversation away from her.
"And you?" She asked. Her face bubbled with enthusiasm. "I'm sure you have many talents that you don't speak of."
"Oh, aye. My studies, some might say. Hunting. Riding. All the languages I know." He continued with a humorous and nonchalant, posh voice. He lifted his nose up and looked vaguely at the air in a dramatic manner. It made Claire laugh more. "Gaelic, French, German, Italian and of course English."
"I didn't know you knew so many languages." She wondered how good his German was and resisted an urge to start speaking it.
"Aye, the Gaelic came naturally. It helps when ye live in those places. Ye forced to learn it."
"You're a… what's the word." Claire briefly closed her eyes as she tried to recall the term. "A polyglot." She said with satisfaction. Sam nodded with slightly raised brows. He was amused and yet again interested.
There she was again, Claire speaking with an advanced vocabulary. It was one of her many qualities that he found so attractive. She was humble but respectful and obviously intelligent beyond her means. Sam suddenly moved forward to sit in the same position as Claire. His sudden proximity jolted her. Her skin raised, her breathing hitched and her heart sped faster. A peculiar smile spread on Sam's energized face. It looked almost mischievous.
"Ye very interesting." He said playfully. Claire began to shake her head and pull away in disagreement but Sam quickly covered one of her hands with both of his, making her freeze. "I'm serious." Claire watched in a mix of awe and shock as Sam lifted her hand to his lips. He kissed her knuckles hard. Intent with meaning. He lifted his head and smiled. "Ye fascinate me."
It was the most sincere thing Claire had heard in so long. She was sure she looked like a fool. Her eyes wide and lips parted. She had no words and only lost herself into the deep blue waters of Sam's eyes.
A nervous breath escaped her lips. She shifted in her seat, suddenly aware of their intimate position in the middle of the restaurant. Sam's hold on her hand did not waiver. He wanted to know that he meant what he said. He wanted to show her. From day one, Claire interested him and not only that, she was a puzzle he eagerly wanted to piece together. Every moment spent with her, he realized how much more depth there was to her than she let on. Regardless of class, she was no average woman he had ever met.
Meanwhile, Claire struggled to find words. She knew she had to say something and as she searched her mind for the right thing to say, the more her anxiety increased.
"Thank you." She blurted. A sigh instantly followed as she realized how dull her words were.
"I'm sorry." She continued with an apologetic smile. She placed her hand over Sam's and squeezed. "I'm happy you feel that way. I… I don't really know what to say."
"Ye don' have to say anythin'." He gently reassured. He moved their hands so that he held both of hers between his. "Thank ye for coming this weekend. I hope it wasn't too strange a request... I wanted to see ye and I thought, I thought this would…ah…be nice." Claire smiled at his slowness in speaking. She could tell he focused hard on choosing the right words. She looked him over, starting from his hair to his lips. She never expected him, a person with a strong, male exterior, would ever be so open to her or any person at that. He never once made her second guess him or question his actions or even thoughts. He was vastly different from the only other male she had frequent contact with.
"I'm happy to be here. Even excited, too." She admitted with a true, radiant smile. It made Sam return the same gesture. He squeezed their hands once more before releasing them.
He reached for his glass, content with their interaction, and raised it, waiting to meet Claire's glass. She dutifully followed and let their drinks clink against another. The amber liquid sloshed within. As they drank and Sam happily continued with another conversation, Claire couldn't help the thoughts of her future pool inside her brain. Was this her future? Did Claire Williams find an accomplished suitor who not only treated her well, but admired her like no other?
She rested her chin on her palm, listening to Sam to tell a story about one of his many childhood visits to Cheshire. Her lips twisted into a shy but blissful smile. She easily related to his upbringing, but she stopped herself. Evelyn related to his upbringing. Not Claire. She wondered if Sam would ever like Evelyn as much as he did Claire.
Even if she wanted to sit in those thoughts, Sam, unintentionally, would never let her.
The last time Claire ever felt this way her parents were alive, her brother and sister were alive, and her world was still whole. But now, as she walked in the joyous company of Sam, she didn't feel only relaxed, she felt content. She felt like she belonged. It was an abnormal feeling, one she never thought she'd feel again.
She smiled at other women that stared at her and Sam as they passed by. She knew how they must've looked - a tall, striking man with an arm tightly bound across the waist of an equally stunning woman. Sam's hair curled tighter since they left the restaurant. The wind pieced each curl together and made it more unruly. She looked up at Sam as they passed another closing restaurant
"It's bloody cold." Sam breathed. Without thinking, he pulled her tighter to his side. Claire noticed his brows pull at the center of his forehead. He looked so serious. She imagined that was how he looked doing business or when he was in university. It was hard for her to picture the comical Sam in a serious setting. They slowed as they reached a busy intersection. He glanced at her, looked away, but quickly returned her gaze. He wasn't expecting to meet her eyes.
In silence, Sam lifted his free hand to brush down stray pieces of Claire's hair. She watched his face as he did. He had no expression, instead a serene calmness washed over him, as he combed down pieces behind her ear. He stopped and his hand lingered. She felt the soft leather of his gloves as he drifted his fingertips along her jaw and neck until he held the side of her face firmly in his palm. As if instinct, she let the weight of her head fall slightly into his hand and her eyes closed. Sam looked at the smooth skin of her eyelids then lowered his sights to her smooth lips. She slowly overpowered his mind. He needed no more temptation to finally press his lips against hers.
She expected it and relished it. He was warm, so warm, and tasted of whiskey. She was soft and let his mouth mold to hers. His hand held her face tight against his own so that she felt the small scratches of his stubble, and his other arm now encompassed her completely so she was pressed against him. He had no care for others around them. It was unlike Sam, to be so public, to even show such obvious affection. He kissed her again. Again. Again. And again until there was a constant touch. It was the first touch of many he had no doubt. Slowly, with a newfound reluctance, Sam withdrew his lips from hers but he hovered only centimeters away. A deep, satisfied sound came from his throat. It was close to being primal and a certainly indecent action of him to do on a sidewalk in the middle of town. Claire eyed him beneath her lashes, a faint smile present. She didn't care either.
"Aye." His breath was hot against her face. Slowly Sam's head cleared itself of Claire's intoxication. He remembered where they were. "Best get ye out of this cold. Don't need ye sick in the mornin'." She agreed, coming to her senses too.
Ah! This took me SO long to write! Working on Sam's character and development has me almost falling for him myself. I'm sorry there is no Tommy in this one. I also hope this little pull away from Tommy doesn't affect any readers! Trust in the process :)
Your thoughts are always welcomed and always appreciated:)