Love in the Flower Archipelago: Rosie's Love Life

Written by The Sapphire Prince

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Previously...:

In the last chapter Rosie and her Aunt and Uncle McDermott arrived on Star fruit Island. Hannah grew nervous whilst waiting for her bridesmaids. Skyler purchased a wedding ring. And Lady Rochelle engaged herself into a searing kiss. Those sweet wedding bells...

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Chapter Six

"Oh God," chattered Hannah as she awaited the signal. The signal to begin the bridal march that is.

Her friends, Lady Rochelle, Miss Skyler, and Rosamunde stood next to her also. They, of course, were to leave first, accompanied by the groomsmen. These lucky men happened to be Joshua's brother, Peter, the infamous Chadwick Jones, and, out of a random choice, Skyler. They were already at the altar.

"Hannah, try not to be jittery," said Charlene, patting her reassuringly on the back. "Mistakes are bound to happen if you are."

"Thanks," she said blandly. "That is exactly what I wanted to hear."

"Sorry."

Hannah looked over at Rika, who appeared to be deep in thought. Her brow was furrowed and periodically, she shuddered. And she even nodded her head in disagreement with, Hannah supposed, herself. It was odd behavior indeed.

"What is on your mind?" She asked.

"Nothing," she said quickly.

Apparently, whatever it was that she was thinking about, she did not feel like discussing. This, however, brought about unintelligible speculation amongst all of the young women.

Hannah figured that something horrible must have happened to her. Charlene thought that she might have head a headache, a malady that no medicinal cure had yet been discovered. This would explain the shuddering; Charlene thought that the shudders were shudders of pain. Rosie figured that she must be going through some internal struggle.

"What?" asked Rochelle when she realized that all attention had been turned on her. Her face was flustered and, if one looked close enough, one might even say, flushed.

"What is wrong with you?" asked Rosie, obviously taking the initiative that was oh so necessary to break the ice.

"Nothing," she said flatly, being extremely careful not to advert her gaze to the hardwood floor. Instead, she looked them each into the eye as she said it.

Unfortunately, these women were much to inquisitive, and good friends to pass this up.

"Rika," said Hannah, "there is no use in even trying to maintain this front."

"She is right," Charlene agreed.

Rika placed her hands upon her hips and barked, "if I wanted to talk about it then I would have brought it up!"

"What is the pronounced 'it'?" asked Rosie.

She then came to a startling realization. She should not be so secretive. With the exception of Charlene, had not Hannah and Rosie confided their most significant secrets in her? In a way, she thought, she had never had any real secrets; this was, in other words, the first real one.

"It is Holden. I cannot get him out of my head," she admitted freely.

"Holden?" asked Rosie and Charlene. "Who is he?"

"He is only the most annoying, arrogant, obsessive," she paused, a smile tugged at the corners of her lips. "Most amusing, charming, and handsome gentleman in my acquaintance."

She hesitated and exhaled a sigh of relief. "Wow," she said, "that felt wonderful: letting everything off of my chest."

Practically everyone's mouths were agape in shock. Their very own Rika already had a prospective husband and they did not know it.

Hannah was thrilled. Charlene founded herself to be quite envious and perhaps even jealous. A/N: I know that the two terms can be deemed as synonymous but I, Reader, believe that there is quite a difference. Rosie, well, she mostly felt selfish and uncaring for having been caught up in her own love life, or lack thereof (on her part of course!).

While everyone was still practically dazed by Rochelle's confession, the pipe organ began to play a well-organized selection for the bridesmaids. Heads immediately snapped to attention. Hannah felt like swooning.

This is it, she thought, my big day!

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The wedding ceremony went on rather smoothly. The transitions were appropriately carried out. Everything was in synchronization.

The flower girl tossed the soft rose petals evenly, never too much on one side, and she kept in step with the music. The lovebirds recited their vows in a goodly fashion and were sure to keep pronunciation and enunciation, as well as love, in their tones; however, the love was already there and quite involuntary. The ring bearer brought out the ring, an exquisite diamond ring flanked by four small rubies, at the right time and did not hurry. Mr. Fairfield slid the ring on gently, being sure not to jab her finger into it. And the kiss was perfect.

That night, at the reception, which took place at the newly-built Fairfield Hall's large drawing-room, the room was all abuzz with candles, a string quartet, Mr. Jones at the pianoforte, champagne, hors d'oeuvres, and most importantly, laughter, conversation. and dancing.

"Oh! Excuse me Madame," apologized Charlene as she made her way through the crowd. She had previously drunk one glass of champagne and had deemed it quite potent. She promised herself that she would not make a klutz of herself and so far she had succeeded. She vowed not to have any more to drink.

She found her table, one that mysteriously fitted only her brother, Rosie, the McDermotts, and herself. Sure there was some mischief on Mrs. Fairfield's part.

"So you were in a pokemon duel yesterday?" quirked Rosie with a raised eyebrow.

"Yes."

"Did you win?"

"To my surprise, no; I did not."

"How old was the trainer?"

"The lad could not have been any more than sixteen or seventeen."

"Indeed?"

"Indeed!"

"Which pokemon did he use. Surely it was a strong land type. You used Midnight...am I correct?"

"Not this time. I used a water element: it was the boy's wish. I chose my friend Snapper. He's a Croconaw. We have been together for many years."

"That is good," she said, taking a sip of champagne. My goodness this stuff is strong, she thought. Her eyes began to water and her lip almost puckered.

Skyler's countenance changed drastically. A look of worry dominated his features. His eyebrows were arched, his eyes fixated upon her, his posture poised and alert. "Is there anything wrong."

She laughed. "No! I was realizing how strong the champagne is. What were the Fairfields thinking?"

"Me too."

They smiled. Skyler was feeling all tense and his blood was set afire by her grin. He tugged at his cravat. Rosie had then noticed that he had the most beautiful smile amongst all of the men that she met. She liked the way his dimples showed and how dazzling white they were; they appeared to light up the room.

She checked herself. Why had she not noticed this before? Why had she noticed right then? What could this possibly mean? Nothing, she decided, absolutely nothing.

"So," she said, regaining her senses, "which pokemon was it that you faced?"

"A Seaking! Would you believe—" he hesitated, as he noticed his sister's entrance at the table. "Charlene!"

"Yeah, it is me. I see that you two were heavily engrossed in conversation," she pointed out, flashing an equally handsome smile as her brother.

"About a duel—"

"Yeah," she cut him off, " you told me about it yesterday. Oh wait! There he is," she said as she pointed to him. The beau of her dreams. "I am going to strike up a conversation with him."

Charlene felt like she had been left out of a lot, especially the whole romantic situation. He had paid her no heed for a long time. Her thoughts were occupied by him. Frankly, she believed that if she didn't spark the flame, then she would spend her life as a spinster or in a loveless marriage, filled with the longing of Chadwick.

"Mr. Jones," she said, getting up from her seat to meet him.

He smiled politely and said, "Miss Skyler."

He took her hand and kissed it.

She melted.

"How are you this evening?" he asked.

"Wonderful," she said a little loudly. "I really enjoyed your playing on the pianoforte."

"Oh really?" This was not the first time that he had heard that, from anyone, and it certainly would not be the last. He groaned inwardly.

"What was it called again?"

"It was the Beedrill Minuet." It was his latest piece.

"You know—"

"No, I do not."

She winced. "I did not finish!"

People's head snapped to attention and the room was quiet.

She looked around herself. What a crowd have I attracted, she thought. Oh well, I will finish my statement.

Chadwick was flushed.

"What is it?" he hissed.

She fumed. If it was possible, and I suppose that it is, considering that POKEMONãis an anime, steam would have evacuated from her very head.

"What have I done to deserve the brunt of your impoliteness? You are such a coxcomb!"

With tears in her eyes she stormed out of the drawing-room out of the house, and stole away into the garden, where she could cry in peace.

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Rochelle had been trying to avoid Holden de Belleville for the longest. To be technical, ever since she ran from his yacht, or in other words, away from him. So far, she had succeeded. Luckily, well, in her opinion, he did not know where she resided (in a secluded inn on a dirt road), and where she was at that moment (outside in the garden). Her scheme could not have been any more perfect—well, until he came.

"We have got to talk," he said from behind her.

She turned to flee but he grabbed her arm. "Now!" He said evenly.

She looked at him with remorse, her head cocked to the side, her eyes analyzing his features. He appeared to be genuinely concerned and incredibly serious. A part of her, no matter how much she despised it, her conscience, told her that he was correct.

"Good, I see that I have your attention."

No response.

"Why did you leave me?"

"I had to."

"Why?" He asked in a surprisingly even tone: one with just enough force.

"I did not like how I felt."

"How did you feel."

"Beautiful," she blurted out.

He was shocked. "What do you mean beautiful? Should not you feel that way everyday when you arise from your slumber?"

"I should but I don't," she said. Then, taking a deep breath she added, "It felt like you needed me and I needed you. You are so desperate—"

"This isn't about me, it is about you. You already know how I feel; I've shared my sentiments with you." He then took a deep breath. "How do you feel about me?"

"I feel so many things. Some are good feelings and some are bad; but in all actuality, I like all of those things about you that any other, ordinary woman would despise."

"You are not ordinary; you are extraodinary. Never have I met a woman like you."

"Really?"

"Yes!"

She raised an eyebrow, "what do you like about me?"

"I love the way that you walk. I love the way you talk. I love the way your smile fills my heart with desire and joy. I like how violet your hair is. I like how lavender your eyes are. I love how soft your lips are. (She smile embarrassingly.) I love the way you play hard-to-get. What I dislike is that you can wake up without knowing how...perfect you are."

She looked at him, trembling. She had never felt so loved by anyone but her mother. However, this was a different type of love. Someone loved her for who she was and what she could be and what surprised her most was the fact that it happened in such a short time.

"I think that I am in love," he said, gathering her into a tight embrace.

She looked into his eyes and realized that she was too, and that she wanted to be his...everything.

His lips met hers...

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"Charlene!" Chad called as he raced outside to find her.

He searched desperately for her. If something happened to her—well, he would be fully responsible. It was his being an ass that caused the whole outburst. Why, just why, did her have to be so insensitive.

What relief flooded through his veins when he saw her sobbing on a stone bench under a large lantern. The lavender silk of her gown becoming dappled with tears, especially that near the neckline.

He saw the look of amazement in her eyes as he approached her. She grabbed her handkerchief and began to apply it to her eyes.

"Here," he said as he stooped down to her eye level. He was a tall man. "Allow me." He cupped her chin with four of his dexterous fingers and used his thumb to wipe away her tears.

She trembled under his touch. He had never done so before. It was oddly invigorating—wait! She was supposed to be infuriated with him. Her lip pouted.

"Miss Skyler—no, Charlene—I am sorry," he said slowly.

"Sorry for what Mr. Jones? For making me feel like a buffoon in front of all of those people? For making me fall in love with you the first time that I heard your voice, your piano, and the first time I saw you? For being nothing but polite, except for today. For showing no emotion? Mr. Jones, I burn for you!"

To some men, she would appear extremely foolish and naive, but to this one, she was anything but.

"I am sorry for any pain that I have caused you."

"Is that it? You are still being brief. I don't like it. How do you feel about what I have just said?"

"I don't know how I feel. All that I know is that I am not enthralled with you and that I do not think the less of you."

"Tell me this: do you feel the same way?" Her eyes were begging for a reply in the affirmative, positively begging.

"I do not know," he said lowering his eyes.

"What do you mean? "

"I don't know!"

"You seem to know how many rests are suitable. You seem to know just when to change movements. You know just when to change dynamic markings. Is that all that you know?"

"No," he said quite outraged.

She shrunk back from him.

"What is it Mr. J—"

"Chadwick, Chad, anything but Mr. Jones," he corrected.

"Then what is it Chadwick?"

"Have you ever felt underestimated?"

"Only in pokemon battles."

"How do you feel."

"Rather angry, I suppose."

"That is how I feel! Everyone assumes that all am is a pianist. Can't they see how much genius and work it takes just to do one lousy movement. Can't they see that I had to work to get where I am now. Do not they see that I am so much more?"

"I do."

He smiled, "I know."

"Chadwick," she said, taking off her glove and putting a lovely hand on his face. He stared at her amazedly. "It is obvious that you have some issues. Together we can quell them, can't you see."

"Together?"

"Yes," she said softly, "together."

"How do I even know if I feel that way for you?"

"Well," she lingered, "do you feel anything different when you see me."

"I feel like an ass."

"Well," she gasped, "that was specific."

He chuckled.

She put her finger to her chin, "perhaps there is a way."

"Tell me!"

In a fluid movement, she wrapped her arms around his neck and smothered his lips with hers. She slid her tongue into his mouth and tussled with his own, replying, tongue. She craved him. She needed him to feel normal, to feel sane. Then, about a minute later, she pulled away.

"Now how do you feel about me?"

He noticed the intense throbbing in his loins and the way his senses went haywire. He saw how beautiful she was, how much she dreamt of this kiss. He loved the feel of her firm derriere. He heard her soft moans of desire. He craved her scent of peaches and cream. And he tasted her need. He'd never felt this before and was sure that this was unique only to her.

"You're the one."

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Holden practically dragged Rochelle up to the large table in the center of the drawing-room. He hopped up there with ease and quickly grabbed a fork and a champagne glass, and began to rap upon it.

"May I have your attention ladies and gentlemen?"

All attention turned upon him.

"Come here," he urged.

"Holden, I d—"

"Come on. I want everyone to know."

He pulled her onto the table. She dazed at the tabletop, observing how neat the intricate crisscross patterns of the wood was.

"Ladies and gentlemen, I would like to announce that Lady Rochelle Carlyle and I, Holden de Belleville, will become betrothed on the Sunday next in Stonybrooke Mansion (A/N: I changed the name) on Dew Island."

Then, he swept her into a mighty kiss that left her week in the knees.

The crowd erupted in applause and cheering.

A similar announcement was made soon after...

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Ah, everyone is so eager to tie the knot, everyone, that is, except Rosamunde Fierra. Will she live out her life as a spinster or better yet, an old maid? The new mistresses will try their hand at wifehood whilst Rosie settles in at Calendula Manor. Please read and review! --The Sapphire Prince