1 Chapter Two—A Long-Awaited Love Blooms At Last
Just a pre-note: thank you to everyone who reviewed my first chapter! It was ~greatly~ appreciated! I will honestly try to continue to work on my chapters . . . when I have the time! I'm a high school student, and the homework is mountainous. Seriously! I'm on my March Break right now, but as of Monday the 18, I'll be back in school! Noooooo! Hehehe . . . anyways, please keep the reviews coming! Suggestions/corrections would also be appreciated, as no one is perfect, and I love hearing new ideas for my stories!
Little by little, the darkness of the night began to fade away. The pink, yellow, and orange strips of dawn rolled across the night sky, painting it over into a beautiful masterpiece. The large, warm sun slowly began to peek above the horizon, spreading its immense light and heat across the earth.
Somewhere in the distance, an exotic jungle bird sat perched in a tree. It began to sing its sweet song of morning. Soon enough, other birds joined in with the song and filled the air with melodious music.
The morning had begun.
"Mmm. . . ." groaned a peaceful Marguerite. She sighed contentedly in her bed as her eyes fluttered open, and smiled, taking in the new morning. God, I feel good, she thought silently, I can't remember the last time I slept this well! She did feel good . . . she felt warm, and safe.
But what was the cause of it?
Marguerite knew the answer. Softly turning her head, she gazed into the face of Lord John Roxton, who was fast asleep beside her. One of his arms wrapped around Marguerite's shoulders, and the other rested on his stomach. She smiled again at the sound of his rhythmic breathing. She gently put her delicate hand on his chest, as if to feel his heart beating. Her hand then moved up to his face and stroked it softly. Her fingers ran over his skin—some parts of it so smooth and supple, and other parts that weren't so smooth. The flesh beneath his eyes had lines—a tragedy had happened in his life. Marguerite guessed that it had been the death of his older brother, William. She knew how much Roxton blamed himself for his brother's death—even when they both knew it hadn't been his fault.
Marguerite ran her hand down his face and back to his chest, where it rested for a slight moment, and then moved to touch Roxton's hand that was on his stomach. At that touch, Roxton awoke . . . gazing into the face of Marguerite. All the happiness that Marguerite was currently feeling was now felt by him as well. My God, she's so beautiful, he thought, I feel like I'm gazing into the face of an angel.
There was no need for any words. The couple's eyes did all the talking, as they lay there together, still in the other's arms. The sunlight from the 'window' of Marguerite's bedroom poured in, illuminating them in a soft, golden aura, as they continued to stare, drinking the other in.
Oh, what passion they were feeling! For Marguerite, this 'passion' felt new to her-- not that she had never felt it before, but now . . . it felt completely different. It felt good, and whole. It felt right. "John," she whispered, at last breaking the silence.
John moved his hand and brushed away a lock of hair in front of Marguerite's face. "Yes, Marguerite?" he whispered in return.
"I love you."
The smile from Roxton's face suddenly faded. Marguerite's faded as well. "John-- did I say it at the wrong time?" She began to feel crushed inside. "Should I have said it at all? I—I. . . ."
Roxton's index finger drifted up in front of Marguerite's lips, silencing her immediately. "You couldn't have said it at a better time," he said happily, the smile returning to him, "I was just completely moved . . . Marguerite, you don't know how long I've waited to hear you say that. I'm so sorry if I upset you. . . ."
"Not at all," Marguerite said. She gazed directly into his eyes, "I'm . . . I'm just sorry I couldn't have said it sooner."
"I knew you would have said it eventually . . . when the time was right for you. And I respect that. I love you too, Marguerite." And with that, he brought her face closer to his and planted a sweet kiss on her lips. Marguerite returned it, and soon, their lips were locked in a passionate kiss that lasted for a while.
Meanwhile, Veronica smiled as she watched the two lovers from a small, open crack in Marguerite's door. Silently, she closed it. Staying behind the door a moment longer, she continued to smile happily.
Malone soon came to join her. "Veronica, how's Marguerite doing—" He stopped short as Veronica held up a hand to silence him. "Shh," she said quietly.
"Oh, you mean you didn't wake her up?" Malone furrowed his brow and ran a hand through his blonde hair. "I thought you said that 'just because she had a nightmare didn't mean she should be deprived of her daily chores'. What happened now?"
Veronica smiled at the young journalist. Come to the kitchen, and I'll tell you all about it. . . ."
Just a pre-note: thank you to everyone who reviewed my first chapter! It was ~greatly~ appreciated! I will honestly try to continue to work on my chapters . . . when I have the time! I'm a high school student, and the homework is mountainous. Seriously! I'm on my March Break right now, but as of Monday the 18, I'll be back in school! Noooooo! Hehehe . . . anyways, please keep the reviews coming! Suggestions/corrections would also be appreciated, as no one is perfect, and I love hearing new ideas for my stories!
Little by little, the darkness of the night began to fade away. The pink, yellow, and orange strips of dawn rolled across the night sky, painting it over into a beautiful masterpiece. The large, warm sun slowly began to peek above the horizon, spreading its immense light and heat across the earth.
Somewhere in the distance, an exotic jungle bird sat perched in a tree. It began to sing its sweet song of morning. Soon enough, other birds joined in with the song and filled the air with melodious music.
The morning had begun.
"Mmm. . . ." groaned a peaceful Marguerite. She sighed contentedly in her bed as her eyes fluttered open, and smiled, taking in the new morning. God, I feel good, she thought silently, I can't remember the last time I slept this well! She did feel good . . . she felt warm, and safe.
But what was the cause of it?
Marguerite knew the answer. Softly turning her head, she gazed into the face of Lord John Roxton, who was fast asleep beside her. One of his arms wrapped around Marguerite's shoulders, and the other rested on his stomach. She smiled again at the sound of his rhythmic breathing. She gently put her delicate hand on his chest, as if to feel his heart beating. Her hand then moved up to his face and stroked it softly. Her fingers ran over his skin—some parts of it so smooth and supple, and other parts that weren't so smooth. The flesh beneath his eyes had lines—a tragedy had happened in his life. Marguerite guessed that it had been the death of his older brother, William. She knew how much Roxton blamed himself for his brother's death—even when they both knew it hadn't been his fault.
Marguerite ran her hand down his face and back to his chest, where it rested for a slight moment, and then moved to touch Roxton's hand that was on his stomach. At that touch, Roxton awoke . . . gazing into the face of Marguerite. All the happiness that Marguerite was currently feeling was now felt by him as well. My God, she's so beautiful, he thought, I feel like I'm gazing into the face of an angel.
There was no need for any words. The couple's eyes did all the talking, as they lay there together, still in the other's arms. The sunlight from the 'window' of Marguerite's bedroom poured in, illuminating them in a soft, golden aura, as they continued to stare, drinking the other in.
Oh, what passion they were feeling! For Marguerite, this 'passion' felt new to her-- not that she had never felt it before, but now . . . it felt completely different. It felt good, and whole. It felt right. "John," she whispered, at last breaking the silence.
John moved his hand and brushed away a lock of hair in front of Marguerite's face. "Yes, Marguerite?" he whispered in return.
"I love you."
The smile from Roxton's face suddenly faded. Marguerite's faded as well. "John-- did I say it at the wrong time?" She began to feel crushed inside. "Should I have said it at all? I—I. . . ."
Roxton's index finger drifted up in front of Marguerite's lips, silencing her immediately. "You couldn't have said it at a better time," he said happily, the smile returning to him, "I was just completely moved . . . Marguerite, you don't know how long I've waited to hear you say that. I'm so sorry if I upset you. . . ."
"Not at all," Marguerite said. She gazed directly into his eyes, "I'm . . . I'm just sorry I couldn't have said it sooner."
"I knew you would have said it eventually . . . when the time was right for you. And I respect that. I love you too, Marguerite." And with that, he brought her face closer to his and planted a sweet kiss on her lips. Marguerite returned it, and soon, their lips were locked in a passionate kiss that lasted for a while.
Meanwhile, Veronica smiled as she watched the two lovers from a small, open crack in Marguerite's door. Silently, she closed it. Staying behind the door a moment longer, she continued to smile happily.
Malone soon came to join her. "Veronica, how's Marguerite doing—" He stopped short as Veronica held up a hand to silence him. "Shh," she said quietly.
"Oh, you mean you didn't wake her up?" Malone furrowed his brow and ran a hand through his blonde hair. "I thought you said that 'just because she had a nightmare didn't mean she should be deprived of her daily chores'. What happened now?"
Veronica smiled at the young journalist. Come to the kitchen, and I'll tell you all about it. . . ."