Chapter 10 – Can't Take No for an Answer
Wellington knew, knew beyond the slightest measure, that he would successfully secure the negotiations he had been sent to oversee. He would have it all once the deal was finalized; money beyond imagination, status every man in the upper echelons of society dreamed to attain. It would all be his.
The only thing left to attain was a wife of equal stature. And in his mind, that wouldn't be a problem. Oh, it had been one before, to be sure. But the moment he had set foot on the Legacy, he realized he was suddenly ahead in that area as well, having immediately chosen the lucky woman. Now it would only be a matter of persuading her to accept his offer. But, he didn't foresee any problems in accomplishing that. After all, he was one of the planet's leading ambassadors. What woman wouldn't jump at the chance to be associated with him and in such a prestigious fashion? Yes, the lovely last link in his rapidly closing circlet. Now, all Drake had to do was convince her.
And after the smooth proceedings that he had skillfully orchestrated the other day in her stateroom, he was certain that wouldn't be a problem. For a while, shortly after coming onboard, Wellington had feared he might have competition from that pesky Canid astrophysicist.
He had noticed stolen glances from the Doctor to Amelia, and once or twice he thought he had seen Amelia do the same in the vicinity of Doppler. But that had obviously been the product of his overactive imagination. After all, the Canid had nothing to offer Ameila. He was homely, a poor dresser -- had the outfits he wore ever been in style? Drake was certain that if they had, it was at least 20 years ago. At least. On top of that, the man had a decided speech problem. Every time he turned around, he was tripping over his tongue. No, Wellington assured himself, Doppler was decidedly not Amelia's type, and after seeing the way she had dismissed the bumbling Doctor upon his arrival, he was confident the man was not even a flicker in the attractive Captain's mind.
It was with this new-found assurance and his ever-present confidence that Drake decided to call upon the lovely feline and begin the not-so-subtle wooing of his future wife.
After a gentle rap on the door and a polite pause for the answering, "Come in," he opened the door to find Amelia poring over star charts, meticulously plotting their next course of action. Her nose was wrinkled in thought; frustration was clearly evident in her green eyes.
"Determining our next strike?" Drake asked, moving to stand behind her chair.
Amelia looked up. "Ah, Ambassador. I apologize. I didn't hear you come in. Please," she gestured, "sit down and join me in this fruitless endeavor."
"Fruitless?"
"So it would seem," she sighed and reclaimed the star plotter she had discarded. "I'm having difficulties determining the most defensible route. If we choose to run along the Outer Linean, we court the risk of leaving our flank vulnerable to any craft that so chooses. But if we choose the Inner Linean, I fear we're in for a fierce ambush."
Pinching the bridge of her nose, she shook her head and an offered him an apologetic smile. "Forgive me, Ambassador. It was not my intention to burden you with command issues."
Drake dismissed her apology with a wave of his hand and took a seat next to her. Grasping her hand firmly between his, he gazed in to her eyes. "Captain, I assure you, it's no bother. None at all."
The warmth of his hand suffused hers, and Amelia was shocked to discover herself somewhat flustered by the feel of Drake's hands warmly enclosing hers. She glanced in to the dark aqua of his eyes and felt herself falling in the swirling depths of compassion displayed there.
"Thank you … for your ... kind words, Ambassador," she murmured, horrified at the demure tone her voice had taken.
"Please," he protested softly, his thumb tracing circles inside her wrist, "Call me Drake."
"Drake," she repeated thickly. Warning signals cascaded through her mind. This was not good. From the start, she had found the man attractive, but there was nothing wrong with that, she had reasoned. But now, with this. Wellington was affecting her in way she hadn't believed possible and what was worse, she realized with sudden and horror-filled clarity, was that part of her actually enjoyed it.
Shame washed over her and clung tightly to her senses. Delbert! How could she be feeling this when Delbert was mere feet away, diligently plotting their course, at her behest, confident in the security of their love? She knew she couldn't allow this to happen, so calling upon every ounce of willpower she possessed, Amelia retrieved her hand from Drake's and graced him with a faint smile.
"Ambassador … Drake," she amended at his frown, "While I am deeply flattered by your attention, I must decline you this familiarity. You see, I'm rather," she paused, searching for the most accurate word and finally settling on, "involved."
"Seriously involved?" he pressed.
Amelia shook her head in affirmation. "Quite."
"A pity," he frowned, but then quickly brightened. "Although, women have been
known to change their minds," he winked.
Amelia couldn't help but admire the man's resolve. "They have," she conceded, "but this one will not. I can assure you of that."
Drake stepped closer and Amelia could smell the cologne he wore, a dark fragrance with just the merest hint of sandalwood. It was, she found herself realizing with dawning horror, rather intoxicating.
"Again, a pity," he winked. "I felt from the moment I came aboard that we shared much in common. Talking to you has only furthered that."
Amelia didn't know what to say.
Drake sensed her unease and laughed. "My apologies, Captain. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable."
"No, no, it's not that," she assured him. "It's just," she paused and then frowned. "I don't normally find myself in this type of situation," she explained.
"Then let me help you out of it," he offered. "Have I shown you my ship?"
"I beg your pardon?"
"My first ship," he repeated. "I told you early on that we both shared a love of sailing." He reached in to his pocket and retrieved a small screen, pressing a button. A vessel filled the display.
"This is a holo of it. My father presented it to me when I turned 13. Said it was time for me to become a man, and he knew of no better way than by doing it through sailing."
Amelia nodded, taking a small step back to put a bit of distance between them.
"My father felt the same way." She frowned. "Obviously not about me becoming a man," she clarified and more than little annoyed to find that she was actually flustered. "But about sailing. How it prepares one for life."
"A wise man."
"Yes," she agreed. Her eyes narrowed and she took a closer look at the photo. "It was a beautiful vessel."
"It was small."
"Yes, but still," she squinted, trying to make out the wording on the bow. "El Doppo? What an odd name for a ship."
Drake laughed. "Yes, an homage to a man my father greatly admired."
Amelia had the grace to frown. "I apologize. I meant no disrespect."
"None taken," he assured her. "It was an odd name." He moved closer again and sneaked a glance at the doorway. "So very unlike the loveliness that is called to mind when one hears your name."
Amelia looked startled. "I beg your pardon?"
"Come now, Amelia," he sighed, a hint of frustration edging its way into his voice. "This playing hard to get game doesn't suit you. Surely you don't think I'm oblivious to what's going on here?"
"I can assure you I do, Ambassador," Amelia frowned. She thought she had made her position clear to him. There was certainly no reason to let him know that she was aware of the undercurrents between them. She had been firm. It was not something she was going to pursue. And Amelia certainly did not want him to even consider pursuing it. Especially with Delbert on board.
Frowning, she realized she didn't care for Drake's sudden boldness and casual familiarity, either. She narrowed her eyes. "And I don't recall giving you permission to take liberties with my name."
"Surely you must realize it has not escaped my attention that you are a fine woman." He brought a hand up and softly caressed a lock of her hair. "A fine woman, indeed."
Amelia was shocked, and it plainly showed on her features. "I will kindly ask you to remove your hands from my person, sir."
Drake chuckled. "Don't act so surprised, Captain. I've seen the looks you've given me," he drawled. "I know what's on your mind."
"You most certainly do not," she huffed and quickly extended her claws. "I will ask you one last time; remove your hands from my person."
Drake chose to ignore the command, and instead made the extremely unwise decision of bringing his other hand to her posterior. Milliseconds later, Amelia's hand slashed through the air and glanced against the handsome feline's nose. It took him a moment to register that the strange sensation he was experiencing was actually intense pain. Upon realizing that, he brought a hand to his nose. He was somewhat surprised to see blood when he pulled it away. He was bleeding. Badly. He looked down at Amelia's hand and cringed when he saw his own blood dabbed on the tips of her claws.
"I do believe I gave you adequate warning, Ambassador," she acknowledged, wiping her claws with a handkerchief. "Tis a pity you chose to disregard it."
Drake could think of nothing to say, as most of his attention was currently focused on the unbearable pain emanating from his injured nose.
Amelia tsked at him as she stepped to the door and opened it, calling out for Lightoller.
"We seem to have need of Sickbay, Mr. Lightoller," she informed him when he arrived.
"Dear Lord. How did this happen," he inquired. He glanced back to his Captain before strolling to the Ambassador, taking sight of his blood-soaked face.
"I, uh, was a bit careless with a knife, I'm afraid," Wellington winced, casting a defiant eye in Amelia's direction, daring her to disagree with his fallacy.
Lightoller, fully aware of the Ambassador's intentions toward Amelia, glanced at his superior, clearly not buying the man's excuse. "Captain?"
"Quite right, I'm afraid," she agreed after a moment of calculated silence. She had no desire to see the conflict escalate any more than it already had. After all, she still had to see the man on a daily basis. And she was quite certain she had made her point … very clearly, in fact. She focused her attention on her First Mate.
"Please see to it that the Ambassador receives the necessary care for his injuries, Mr. Lightoller. And see to it that I'm not disturbed for the next few hours."
"Aye, Captain." Lightoller turned to Wellington. "Let's go, Mr. Ambassador," he coaxed, guiding him through the doorway. "You know, you ought to be more careful. Never know when someone … I mean something might lose control and hurt you."
Delbert, blissfully unaware of Amelia's situation, sat back and stretched, enjoying a short and well-deserved reprieve from his current study. He wasn't 100 percent certain, but he thought he might have finally deduced a route that would allow them safe passage through the Linean System and keep them clear of any rebel activity. He couldn't wait to show Amelia.
As if a fairy godmother was hovering nearby, listening to his wishes, Amelia burst in to the room, eyes blazing. Her usually stoic demeanor was anything but, and Delbert easily discerned something was greatly amiss. He hoped to God it wasn't something he had done.
"What's wrong?" he asked, concern lighting his eyes.
"That man!" she cried out in anger. "The nerve of that … that ... feline! How dare him!"
Delbert schooled his features into an expression of utter calm, even as a slow rage began to simmer deep inside, and calmly asked, "Are you referring to Ambassador Wellington?"
Amelia scowled. "Ambassador, ha! That man shouldn't be allowed to disgrace the
title."
"And what exactly did he do to you?" asked in the same, measured tones.
"He had the nerve, the unmitigated gall to palm my backside! Can you believe the sheer audacity of the man?! And after I told him I was decidedly involved with another man!"
Delbert growled and pushed his chair back, standing up. "Yes, as a matter of
fact I can."
Alarm quickly replaced anger as Amelia watched Doppler make his way to the
door.
"Delbert! Where do you think you're going?"
"Giving Wellington a piece of my mind," he fumed, reaching for the handle. "That's what I'm doing!"
He was insane, she decided. Anger had temporarily shut down the analytical part
of his mind. That could be the only explanation for this foolhardy action. She snatched his arm and closed her fingers tightly around his wrist.
"Delbert, think rationally! Wellington is twice your size."
"You yourself said size doesn't matter," he shot back, tugging his arm from her grasp.
Amelia bit her lower lip and phrased her response very carefully. "In ah, some areas darling, it doesn't. But in this particular area, it does," she concluded, hoping he would understand. "Greatly, in fact."
But Delbert was not to be swayed. "Amelia, I will not, not, allow him to treat you in such a fashion. You're my wif … why, why," he stuttered and quickly corrected himself, "you're much too important to me," he finished lamely, a portion of his anger suddenly deflated by yet another ill-timed slip of the tongue.
Wife, Amelia thought as his slip of the tongue registered in her head. Delbert was thinking of her as his wife. She closed her eyes. God help her. Hearing him say that sent a wave of giddy pleasure coursing through her, and it also gave her the perfect in to quickly steer his mind of its present course.
Time to put her womanly charms in to play. It was utterly unfair, she knew. But drastic times called for drastic measures, she reasoned as she slid her hands along the lapel of his jacket.
"Darling," she purred. "I understand your anger. But if it doesn't bother me, then I must insist you not let it worry you." She snuggled closer. "Besides, we barely see one another as it is. Why should we let Wellington ruin what little time we have together, hmm?"
Delbert sighed, his anger dissipating at the feel of her nestling close to him. As the tension in his shoulders faded, Delbert gave her a weak smile and grudgingly admitted, "I suppose I can see your point."
"Merely suppose?" she murmured in a bewitching tone.
Delbert thought for a moment, and then offered a hopeful, "Perhaps I need some more
convincing?"
Gracing him with a smile, Amelia leaned closer and whispered, "That can be arranged," before indulging him in a long kiss.
When they parted, Delbert sported a lopsided grin and, eyes still closed, asked in
a hopeful voice, "But please tell me you didn't let him get away with groping you like that."
"Of course not, dear," she assured him, laughing. She ran a manicured nail behind his ear, scratching lightly. "He'll think long and hard before ever touching me again."
"Good," was Delbert's only reply before leaning closer to steal another kiss.