Short (or, shorter) little chapter provided by yours truly for your amusement and bemusement, if you will. Read on, my friends, and review!
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Chapter Thirteen
Enigma
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"I heard that you met Mr. Turner, Mr. O'Malley," said Serenity's mother pleasantly as she set the bread down on the table. Most of the others at the inn had already eaten breakfast, save for Connor, Daniel, and an old sailor who was sitting at the other end of the table. "He's a very nice boy."
"He is," Connor agreed, tearing a piece off the end of the loaf. "I'm glad that there is someone here who can fix my sword." She nodded and set the butter and a blunt knife beside each other on the table and then returned to the kitchen. Serenity was standing by the kitchen window, the same window that had cracked during the hurricane, and she was staring out of the shattered glass with an absent look in her eyes. She had decided the night before not to tell her mother about what had happened the previous night, not because she enjoyed keeping secrets from her mother but only because she had decided that it would be easier for all of them if the secret stayed between herself and Will. She had also decided that Will had let his manly ego get the best of him and that he had kissed her only because he could not kiss Elizabeth, for she could think of no better reason. For Will, Elizabeth was the unattainable governor's daughter, and it was much easier to kiss an innkeeper's daughter and imagine that she was Elizabeth than kiss Elizabeth herself.
"You look ill, dear," said Mother. "Are you feeling alright?"
"I'm fine," Serenity answered with a sigh. "I'm fine."
Mother sighed and placed the back of her hand against Serenity's forehead. "You don't have a fever," she said.
"That's because I'm not sick," she replied honestly, a small and sad smile crossing her face at the same time.
"Are you sure everything is all right?" her mother insisted concernedly. Serenity nodded and turned back to the window, resting her hands on the pane. Her fingernails dug into the plaster as the train of melancholy thoughts continued to crawl across her thoughts. She wanted to walk down to the beach, but she was sure that Will would be there. He always was.
Indeed, at that very moment Will was standing next to his shoes, his bare toes digging into the sand, his fingers shoved deep into his pockets caressing the shell that he kept there. It was ironic that he was wondering about the same question that had been plaguing Serenity all night: Why did I kiss her? Will resisted the urge to slap himself on the forehead as he glared at the rolling waves. The water washed the sand from over his toes and left frothing sea foam in its place.
Serenity had always been a treasure to him, and she always would be, but he never thought that he cared for her in that way. His feelings for Serenity were deeper than any other feelings in the world, save maybe his feelings for Elizabeth, but he had always held the two of them in different aspects. Will didn't want to admit that he might have kissed Serenity only because he couldn't kiss Elizabeth, but the thought lingered there in the back of his mind. He clutched the shell with a strength that dug the edges of it into the palm of his hand. He hated himself for complicating his relationship with Serenity; he had wanted it to stay the same forever. In the years since he had come to Port Royale in search of his father, three things had remained constant: the enigma of his father, his feelings for Elizabeth, and the steady, never-changing support that Serenity provided since the first time that they had met.
"Oh, Serenity," he said, hiding his face in his hands, "what have I done?"
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Serenity sat that night in the empty parlor, her face thrown into shadows. It was long past midnight, but she couldn't sleep and didn't want to. Her candle had burned down hours ago, and the final whiff of smoke had floated off the wick to disappear into the gloomy darkness of the silent house.
Footsteps sounded on the stairs, and they would have startled Serenity if she had been thinking. Instead, she was sitting in lonely stupor, and her head rose on it's own accord to greet her uninvited visitor.
It was Daniel, who was walking across the hallway towards the kitchen when he saw her. "Serenity?" he whispered, backtracking and coming back towards her. "What are you doing up?"
"I could ask you the same question," she replied, shifting in her seat.
"I couldn't sleep, so I came down to fix me some tea." His gaze wandered back to the kitchen doors. "Fancy a cup?"
Serenity thought for a moment, and then stood. "Tea sounds lovely." Daniel began to make the tea as Serenity stood unsurely next to him. For the first time since Daniel had came to Port Royale he was acting halfway decent, and although it was probably the fatigue getting to him it was quite nice. He hadn't uttered one scoundrel-ish word yet and Serenity welcomed the change, however temporary it was. Daniel reached up and grabbed the handles of two cups, which he carried with the pot of tea to the kitchen table. Serenity sat down across from him and lit the candles that were arranged in the center of the table as Daniel began to drink.
"Tell me, Daniel," Serenity said, tracing the rim of her cup with the tip of her index finger. "Why did you really come to Port Royale?"
"I heard there was good company," he replied automatically.
"Really," she insisted, lowering her voice. "If you wanted prostitutes you would have gone to Tortuga."
"Who said I wanted prostitutes?" he replied patronizingly. "And you don't have to lower your voice around me, darling, there's no one around to hear."
"No, but I am a lady, and when a lady speaks of such…such scarlet women, she lowers her voice," said Serenity.
"I see," Daniel said. Serenity was not pleased to observe that the scoundrel was back. She sighed and half emptied her glass in one gulp. "That's not very ladylike," he said.
"There's no one around to see," Serenity hissed. "Why do you insist on patronizing me, Daniel? I'm only the innkeeper's daughter."
"But you're very pretty." He twirled his empty cup around on the wooden tabletop, his long shirtsleeves pooling at his wrists.
"When are you planning on leaving Port Royale?" Serenity said after a moment of glaring at the man that sat before her in a ridiculous shirt with too long sleeves and a wicked grin.
"I'd rather have my way with you first," Daniel answered sarcastically, refilling his teacup. Serenity knotted her hands tightly together under the table as she stared at him in disbelief, knowing what he meant by his words but not knowing exactly how he meant it. She hated how Daniel could see how he frightened and confused her, and she hated how those same eyes seemed as if they could unlace a corset on their own accord…
"Why are you doing this?" she asked, voicing her thoughts without any of the silly pretenses that she was used to.
Daniel smiled. "Because I'm a scoundrel, aren't I?"
"The worst I've met, and I live in an inn," she said.
"Then you haven't met very many scoundrels, have you now?" said Daniel. "I wouldn't kill ye after I had me way with ye. I would take care of ye."
"What's your definition of 'taking care' of something?"
"We'll just have to find out then, won't we?"
Serenity leaned closer across the table as she stood up and placed both of her hands down in front of him. "Not tonight."
"Goodnight, then," Daniel said in an oddly cheery tone, leaning up quickly and placing on her lips a kiss that was by all means innocent if it had come from any other man. She jerked her head away from him and fled up the stairs to the sound of his laughter, laughter that came from the same mouth that had dirtied the lips which Will had kissed…