Chapter 18- Romance: Sweetened — Romance: Bitter-Sweet
Note to All: as the stupid site refuses to let me use asterix (es? Is there a plural form of asterix?), I shall narrarate my movements by using these .: smiles as you all nod:. Okok? Good. Just so we're all on the same page.
Hehehehehehehehehehehehehehehehehehehehehehehehe .: continues to giggle like a maniac for a few minutes:. Yes, as most of my faithful (or not-so-faithful) readers have figured out, I got a new reviewer!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Hello, hello to Alicia...who, despite being 'totally morbid' lifted my spirits (I'm sad because I have to go back to the fires of hell...for those who are completely out of it or are just reading this later than immediately published...I mean school). OHOHOHOHOH! Make that TWO new reviewers! Hello to FouFou...who I'm calling Fou. Thanks for reivewing and letting me know your reading!
OH YEAH! Another new reviewer!!!!!!!!! hehehehehehe .: does another stupid little dance:. Hehehehehe. Charming Visions. Very nice name...I like it. And thank you, I'm really enjoying it too!
Hehehehe, I love all my reviewers. The question is: do I love or even like those who simply read? Hmmmmmmm, something to think on.
Okok, thanks Chris, I wasn't sure....glad you luv 'em all! You may not want to hug me to near suffocation when I remind you that she is not recovered....she may not recover....and yesyes....I updated....won't happen as often now that I'm back in the fires of hell. And thankyouthankyou....as I write, I am currently at 47 reviews....is three more so much? Pleaseplease reivew! Oh wait...the goal was for last chappie....hmmmmmm, if you didn't review, go back....
Kaio, where are you?
Loving, hehehehehe you said it was an amazing story...sorry, very easily pleased. Yesyes, suspense, mystery, and romance.....:sigh:. Hehehehehe (sorry, I'm on a giggling spree). Hehehehehehehehehehehehehehehehehehehehehehehe....I'm done. Yaya...GREAT movie! Simply lover-ly. And then there's Armand.... .: drools over the twenty-something year old hot guy....:. Oi. So, so hot. Kk, done now.
Malista!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! your name is so cool.....especially when you draw out the ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh sound....hehehehehehe. She's not dead! I know! Like I said to Chrischelle, she hasn't recuperated yet...she may not.
I'm sorry it took so long for me to update, but now that school's back in I don't quite have the time anymore. Again, sorry. Wow, I've realised how much I write before I even get to the story...not good.
...I'm listening to romantic music, it follows that I'm in a romantic mood....what'da say? Shall we have a romance scene...?
Hinda smiled as Yona left, leaving she and Hershel alone. The spy hadn't stayed for very long, but in that time the gypsies were very close to their next stop. Not so close, however, that the Gypsy Master did not order a brief stop.
Hershel swung down from his seat and began to check for any problems. Hinda watched him for a few seconds before looking over and checking the ponies' harnessing. The young man noticed her examination, but did not comment. He checked over the wooden iron-shod wheels as she pulled and prodded the harnessing.
The Gypsy Master signalled the move-out and the two young people prepared to keep going. Hershel hesitated as Hinda resumed walking beside the wagon. The young woman paused as she realised that the wagon was not beside her. She walked back to where Hershel was standing holding the ponies' harnesses, watching her.
"If you want to be left alone, I can leave. You just have to say." A wave of alarm brushed over the young man's face. That was the last thing he wanted! Or was it? He had newly discovered Hinda's beauty, not to mention that he was realising her beauty was not only physical. Did he really want to be around her? Hinda watched first the alarm then the confusion flicker over Hershel's face. She bit her lip before saying in a would-be light tone,
"I'll leave you be, then." She turned to go and Hershel panicked slightly. He didn't want her to go! Yes, he did! 'For Solaro's sake!' Hershel thought, annoyed that to be so confused.
She was six feet away before Hershel had made up his mind. He quickly caught up with her, and touched her lightly on the arm. She turned, hurriedly fixing a smile to her face.
"I, uh..." Hershel paused, feeling very, very nervous. "You can stay, I mean, I don't mind...at all." A bright, sincere smile burst through the smaller, fictitious smile. The girl quickly schooled her features, inwardly furious at her such obvious pleasure.
Hershel watched as her eyes went from (falsely, he realised) inviting to elated to calmly pleased. Hinda began walking back to the wagon and Hershel followed. The head of the caravan began moving and soon it was Hershel's turn. He hesitated and Hinda looked up, a waiting look on her face.
"We going?" Hershel nodded and said after a moment,
"Yes, but you don't need to walk." He hopped down to where she stood and nodded to wards the seat, "Sit with me, please?" She smiled, pleasure lighting her eyes. She placed her foot on the wheel and grasped the seat to help herself up.
Hershel mentally smacked himself. He quickly placed his hand on her waist and boosted her up to the seat. She looked down at him in surprise and he saw that her cheeks were flushed a becoming pink. He settled himself beside her and she handed him the reins. Her fingertips brushed his palm where she dropped the strips of leather. They both glanced at each other and Hershel felt his breath catch in his throat.
She looked away, and smiled as the wagon began moving forward.
They rode in slightly embarrassed but companionable silence for half and hour or so, until the Gypsy Master announced their new camp.
"Here," he said as the drivers directed their wagons into a circle around him. "we will stop here for two weeks. We are an hour's walk from the village on the out-skirts of the capitol. We shall bring our wares into the village in three days. After that, you are free to do as you will." The Master raised an eyebrow and smirked. "That does not include wooing the local village girls, or for girls and young women, flirting with the men...'tis cruel to tease them." The gypsies chuckled and the Master smiled.
"That's all for now...set up and be about your business."
The Gypsies began setting up with gusto....and noise. Hershel and Hinda jumped from his wagon and looked at each other across the seat.
"Uh, it was, um, nice having you here," Hershel stammered. Hinda's lips twitched slightly as she replied that she had enjoyed it. "I've got to get back to my wagon. I'll be seeing you." Hershel nodded and watched her leave, his green eyes following her progress.
He noted her light step and the way her dark hair swished down the length of her back as she walked. He saw how her smile brought other smiles back to her. He marked her slim form, the way she moved silently. 'She wears no bells.' Hershel realised. ' Everyone wears bells. Well,' he amended his thought, ' Every Gypsy wears bells. Why doesn't she?'
Meir watched his brother watch Hinda. Meir smiled. The boy quite liked Hinda. She didn't expect a reply from him. And when he did try to communicate something, she understood, or close enough. 'This is good,' the boy thought. Though he was only ten, Meir understood far more than most children his age. He understood that it was not so simple as Hinda liking Hershel and Hershel liking Hinda. There had to be a certain something there. It was something that the Caravan Master and Mistress had. Something Mignon and Selig, Hinda's parents had. Mier shook his curly head. Hinda and Hershel would just have to spent time together. Maybe that something grew with time.
And Mier would arrange just that.
The boy heard his brother calling him. 'He must be done watching her,' the boy thought.
Hershel was indeed done watching Hinda. He was unpacking the essentials for setting camp. He motioned for Meir to help.
With a tiny, inaudible sigh, Meir went to help. He would put his plan into action.
Later.
Keosha sat by Abby's bedside, unsure of what to do. The Healers had let her into the room only a few minutes ago, after a long hour of waiting.
'And that's still what I'm doing,' She thought bitterly, ' Waiting.' The Count had only looked in briefly before leaving, saying he needed to check on something. Keosha had heard him, but vaguely. She stared at her friend's pale face.
Abby's hair was a mess. Keosha reached out to smooth it. The maidservant bit her lip to keep from crying. There was a tingling in her nose anyway and Keosha closed her eyes to keep the tears inside. Abby wouldn't want her to cry.
The white of the patient's clothes paled her face dramatically, but Keosha knew that she was pale without it. Her dark eyelashes were fanned against her white cheek, contrasting with Abby's pallid skin.
A Healer walked in and wordlessly took the noblewoman's pulse. The Healer uncovered Abby's leg and stripped the bandages. Keosha looked away from the neatly stitched wounds. The woman took from her pocket a small tin container and unscrewed the lip. Keosha watched as the Healer took a dab of the white cream inside and smoothed it over the wounds.
The Healer muttered something that Keosha didn't even try to hear. The cream on Abby's calf blazed with a bright, white light that hurt Keosha's eyes. The Healer made nodded, seeming pleased. She brought a roll of bandages from her pocket and wound it about the noble's calf.
After she had pinned the cloth down, the Healer collected the cream tin and slipped it back into her pocket before gathering the used bandages. She turned and was almost out of the doorway before Keosha's voice and throat would cooperate enough for her to force a noise out.
"Please, please...how is she? No one will say anything." Even to her own ears, she sounded pathetic. Above all, Keosha hated that. But she needed to know. The Healer had paused and turned, her hand on the doorframe. She looked at the woman on the bed before returning her unblinking gaze to Keosha.
"I won't hide from you that whatever got her, got her good. The wounds were deep. We cleaned them thoroughly before we stitched. The wounds themselves are fine. They should heal."
Keosha took a deep breath and said in a voice a lot calmer than she felt,
"Yes, but what will happen to her?" she hesitated, "Will Abby be alright? Will she, she d- she'll live...right?" The Healer's face sofened slightly as she said quietly,
"She lost so much blood. We have no way of knowing if her body will accept blood from another safely. We daren't try." The Healer looked down the hall outside the room before continuing. "I am sorry, but for your own good, it would be best it you said your 'good-byes'."
The Healer turned and left.
Keosha stared after her for a few moments before turning her gaze back to Abigail.
Lady Abigail of Mattensworth. Abigail. Abby.
Keosha felt her throat constrict as her stomach fought to reject it's meagre contents. She stumbled from the bed towards a metal bucket near the door which was serving as a waste bucket. She knelt beside it and vomited.
In a way it was a relief to let something out. So many emotions were running through her mind, too many. She knelt over the bucket for a while, even after she was finished. The tingling in her nose started again and this time Keosha didn't even try to stop the flood of emotions that now escaped from her in the form of tears.
She crawled back to the bed, where a tin pitcher of water and a tin cup had been placed on the table beside it. She lifted herself awkwardly back onto the wooden chair. With quivering hands, she poured the water from the pitcher. When the cup was half way filled, the woman replaced the pitcher on the table and lifted the cup to her lips.
Keosha couldn't make the cup connect with her mouth, her whole body was shaking. She grabbed the arm holding the cup with her other hand and forced it more or less to her mouth. When she opened her mouth, she realised that her teeth were chattering.
She couldn't drink. With a cry of pure emotional pain, the woman let the cup fall from her hands to the stone floor. She fell, sobbing from the chair to join the cup and the spilt water on the floor.
And she cried.
Meir and Hershel sat with their cloaks wrapped around them and stared up at the full, creamy moon. The brothers were lying on the temporary wooden roof, that was supported by four thick poles. The roof was put up against rain...but the night was cloudless and the brothers saw no impediments to stop them. They chewed the mint leaves that Meir had picked in companionable silence and they thought their separate thoughts.
Meir was thinking of the parents he had never known. Thinking of the parents who he know nothing about. Save their names. Hava and Murchoch. He knew their meanings. Hava, meant life-giving. His mother. Hava was Gypsy. That much he knew. But Murdoch was no Gypsy name. Meir had listened and searched hard to find out what Murdoch was from.
About a year or so earlier, Meir had ventured into one of the villages where they were selling their wares. He sought out the local instructor for the children and asked him what the name 'Murdoch' meant and what language it was in and what country it came from. The Instructor had told him that Murdoch was a Sholtish name meaning 'mariner'. Meir had spent the afternoon with that educated man learning about the Sholtish people.
He learnt that the Sholts are known to have red hair with light eyes. That they come from a small island and are great warriors according to their neighbours' legends. Their men were handsome and their women lovely...in a fair, blonde way. He leant that the Sholts wore a fabric unique to their small island nation, Sholtland. The fabric was of a weave so tight and each clan had a specific pattern for said fabric. They seldom travelled by sea, having all necessities on their island.
So Meir knew that his father was probably a Sholt. What he did not know what why his Mother and Father had left them. Hershel had not said anything about them, it was the Caravan Master who told Meir his parent's names.
But Meir was also thinking of Hinda. And Hershel. And Hinda and Hershel...
Hershel was also (predictably) thinking of Hinda. He knew that she liked to watch the stars and the night sky. He knew that she liked to dance. He knew she was a skilful dancer. He knew that she had more Light than most in their Caravan, though Hershel himself had an unusual amount.
What he didn't know was if she had any regard for him other than as a friend.
Hershel made up his mind. If she didn't like him, she would say so. If she did...well, they'd see how that would turn out.
Hershel slid off the temporary roof of his wagon. He landed softly on the ground and walked around the inner circle of the caravan circle.
The bonfire was in the middle and there were only people sipping from ale or tea from mugs on their wagon seats tonight. Tonight, there was no dancing...yet.
By the time Hershel reached Selig, Mignon and Hinda's wagon, he was thoroughly nervous. Not that he looked it. His broad shoulders weren't tense, and his face was the picture of calm. Hershel took a breath and stepped infront of Hinda. She looked up, surprised, but pleased to see him.
Hershel held out his hand and with his other, gestured towards the crackling bonfire. He was issuing a traditional Gypsy invitation. The one made to the girl or woman from the man. He was offering himself in the form of a dance. If the girl turned her head away, she rejected him and any possible courtship. But if she placed her hand in his, she was telling him that she was interested.
The entire Gypsy Caravan watched as Hershel waited, his strong hand outstretched towards Hinda, his face a gentle plea. For those two, it was if the rest of the world had disappeared. Hinda looked into Hershel's green- brown eyes and he into her own green eyes. Her gaze fell to his hand, waiting.
She smiled slightly and placed her slim hand in his large one. He smiled in return and pulled her gently up to a standing position.
Meir watched as Hershel led Hinda towards the bonfire. His young eyes noticed how serious they both were. The rest of the caravan was silent....the rest of the caravan was watching.
Hinda swallowed hard and placed her other hand in his. A musician began thrumming an old Gypsy song on his mandolin. And slowly, Hershel led Hinda in the dance.
They danced slowly at first, than faster, becoming more attuned to the other's movement and body language. Then their dance slowed again, back to a slight circular movement, then finally down to a gently sway. Hershel moved his hands to Hinda's waist and she ran her hands tentatively and sensually up his leanly muscled arms. He smiled at her, happy that she was not so shy about touching him and excited that she was.
Hinda felt her heart beating, the rhythm was so fast that she wondered vaguely if Hershel could feel it. She gazed up into his handsome face and he bent his head to look into her face. A lock of hair fell onto his brow, covering his right eye. She smiled silently and brushed it off his face, and the small touch made Hershel feel giddy and ecstatic.
Suddenly Hershel knew. He knew that whatever it was that made him feel like this wasn't simply liking Hinda. No, this was far sweeter, far more poignant, so much more beautiful than mere friendship. Hershel stared at the girl, the young woman who had captured his mind, his heart, his soul so completely.
Hinda noticed the change in his expression. And she knew. She knew that he had finally realised what she had known for such a long time on her part. The Gypsy girl that was Hinda, was not a girl any longer. In that brief dance, she had become a woman. A loved woman. And she smiled at him.
Hershel felt his heart squeeze with the beauty of her smile. His whole being felt the need to kiss her, to let her know just what he was feeling. He leaned towards her and Hinda shivered with the delight over feeling his warm, minty breath on her face and neck. He leaned in so his mouth way by her ear and he drew her against him, so that their thighs and chests met. They both caught their breath at the change of contact. A lightening-like charge jolted their bodies and they both close their eyes at the wonder of it.
And in a sweet, gentle whisper, Hershel told her,
"I love you." Hinda closed her eyes and savoured the words that she had been waiting for for a year or more. I love you. Three sweet and beautiful words. Three words of promise. And the second, the word to describe what Hinda had felt for this man for what felt like forever. She buried her face briefly in his muscled chest before turning her face up to him.
"And I love you." A prickling in her nose told her that tears were approaching, but Hinda didn't care. So her eyes filled with tears of happiness and her only regret was that she couldn't see Hershel's wonderful face.
Hershel watched her green eyes brim, then overflow with tears. They made their wet tracks down her smooth cheeks and Hershel tenderly wiped them away with a gentle finger. He stroked her hair and softly pressed her head against his chest.
For the second time, she buried her face in his chest and he tightened his arms around her protectively, knowing she cried in happiness.
And they stood there, the rest of the Gypsies watched them nostalgically. Meir smiled to himself and climbed into the wagon, preparing for bed. He was very glad. Whatever that particular feeling it was that he could not identify, Hershel and Hinda were feeling it, for each other. 'It happened sooner than I thought....and with no help from me!" The boy smiled as he settled onto his bed, and with a sigh of satisfaction, fell asleep.
The couple stood, arms around each other for so long. Hinda's parents watched and smiled. Mignon cried silently. The little girl to whom she had told was to young for this fancy of love was dancing the courtship dance. She was being held by a man. He little girl, her Hinda, her doe. She swallowed and Selig hugged her round the shoulders. He led his wife inside their wagon and they went to bed, feeling slightly empty.
As the rest of the Gypsies made their way to bed, Yona watched from the trees surrounding the Caravan circle. The Darkspy saw Hershel tip Hinda's chin up. The spy watched as he lowered his head and kissed her softly and sweetly. Yona noticed her hands intertwine with Hershel's hair caressingly. They broke apart just enough to looked lovingly into the other's eyes.
With tears streaming from her eyes, Hinda cupped Hershel's jaw and cheek in her hand.
"I love you so much. I love you more than any tongue can ever tell, but I'll try." She paused and sniffed slightly before continuing. "Te quiero." Hershel kissed her forehead and replied,
"Ich liebe Sie." He stroked her cheek and said, " Amo-o."
Hinda smiled up at him with the sweet emotion of love in her eyes, love that Yona could see. He watched as she went up on her toes to reach his ear. He leaned down to help her and Yona read her lips as she said,
"L'amo, Hershel, L'amo."
"Jeg elsker De. I love you." Hinda watched as a single tear tracked down Hershel's face. She breathed in his scent and said in a low, loving tone,
"I know you do."
Morning came to the Castle of the King. Morning found the Lord Antony Dewhurst leaving guard duty. During the night, two maidservants had crossed the courtyard, talking to the other. Lord Dewhurst frowned as he recalled the conversation...
"And they want it cleaned tonight?"
"'course, them crazy nobles are obsessed with cleanliness. O' course," the second woman added, "The girl was dead for a few hours afore they found her."
"Dead?!" the first had exclaimed, "I thought she wasn't dead yet! I was talking to Marie in the kitchens and she said she was in the Healing Quarters visiting Simon, you know Simon, right?"
"The one who got caught in the middle of some magical finagle of some sort a while back?"
"That's right. Anyway, she was visiting Simon and she sees two Healers finish Transporting with some noblewoman. And she says to me. 'She looked half dead, did that Earl's daughter.'" The second maidservant shrugged and told her companion,
"Well, I heard she was dead. But then that was from a stablehand visiting his aunt whose an assistant cook, who got a barrel of butter dropped on her foot yesterday. He tells me that he saw some girl was just bawling her eyes out on the bed where the noblelady was. He tells, you know what he tells me? He tells me, ' She was just acryin' an cryin'!' He says, ' Far as I can figure, that noble was dead...looked like her maidservant or someone which was crying. Must of liked her very much eh?' And so that why I thought she was dead!" The lady who had finished talking shurgged and said, "But, like I said, it was a stablehand." The ladies exchanged a glance telling the Guardsman exactly what they thought of stablehands' credibility.
The ladies had continued out of the courtyard and out of the noble's hearing.
For five hours while he was on guard duty, Lord Antony had been nearly wild with wondering. 'Has she died yet? Is Keosha alright? Was she truly that ill? There were many Earls with daughters, was it even Lady Abigail who they spoke of?' questions raced around him mind, setting the scene for a battle: his sense of duty and his affection for Keosha. His sense of duty won, but only because he had only just decided to go to her when the man came to relieve him of his duties.
H made his way toward the Healing Quarters, the sunlight filtering through the widows in the corridor and falling upon him. The Healing Quarters's tall door were closed and the noble stood a moment infront of them before they opened.
The tall, white-haired Healer gazed at him, making the young man feel like a child. Brushing away the feeling, the man spoke,
"You have in your care a young woman by the title of Lady Mattensworth. I wish to know her condition and the whereabouts of her quarters." The Healer pursed his lips in what was very close to exasperation. When he spoke, his voice was slightly cracked and bore a thread of impatience.
"Young man, I have better things to do than answer questions of people who do not even bother introducing themselves. So I ask you, who are you?"
"Oh. I am Lord Antony Dewhurst."
"Ah." The Healer just looked at him. Lord Antony's own impatience began to bubble and he glared at the man. The Healer sighed slightly and said,
"The Lady whom you seek is in critical condition. We are expecting her to die within the next two hours, at best. It's surprising that she survived the night, with the amount of blood she lost." Lord Antony began digesting this information, the Healer began to leave.
"Wait! You haven't told me which room she occupies. I would like to visit her. Now." Lord Dewhurst glared at the man, hoping that it would unsettle him, at the very least. It didn't. The Healer clenched his jaw and pursed his lips tighter. He turned again to leave. Lord Antony took a deep breath and charged after him. He put a hand on the man's shoulder and turned him around to face him.
"You will tell me where the Lady Mattensworth is being kept or I shall make you regret it!" The Healer eyed the noble's left hand, which was still on his white-clad shoulder, then his gaze flickered to Lord Antony's belt, where his other hand was fingering the hilt of his dagger.
"The lady you seek is in the fifth room on the right. If you disturb the other patients, you will be thrown out quicker than you can draw that dagger." The Healer looked distastefully at his shoulder, where Lord Antony's hand was. He brushed it off with a grimace, spun on his heel and left.
' That must be the most exasperating Healer I've ever dealt with! Bitter old coot.' The noble shook his head and began walking quickly down the corridor, counting doors as he went. He came to the fifth on the right and brushed aside the white cloth that hung in the doorway as a barrier. Keosha was kneeling over the bed, her back to him. He walked quietly further into the room, hoping he wouldn't startle her. When he reached the bed he realised why she had been crying.
Lady Abby's face was the white of death and her breathing seemed laboured. Her body lay without moving, and the way she lay seemed arranged, like that of a corpse in a coffin.
Keosha's top half was supported by the bed, where she seemed to have collapsed in exhaustion and now slept. Antony walked closer and his boot hit a tin cup on the floor, making a loud noise.
Keosha stirred slightly. She looked at the cup which was still rolling slowly. The maidservant turned and saw him. Her eyes were full of immeasurable sadness. She glanced towards the figure on the bed, then back at him, her lower lip quivering.
He rushed towards her, his arms outstretched. Antony knelt beside her and caught up her trembling form. He held her and rocked her gently as she wept. Held her and made 'shhh' noises against her head. She held onto him as though he were liable to disappear. They knelt beside the bed for a time, Keosha sobbing and Antony rocking her and 'shhh'ing her comfortingly.
He finally began to ease up, and her sobs turned to gulps and her gulps turned to sniffles. He stroked her dark head on his chest and murmured,
"It will be alright, Keosha. It will be fine."
She looked up at him and shook her head sadly,
"No." Her voice broke with the single word and she took a moment to compose herself. "No. It won't. The Healers told me that she'll be d- dead soon." Her eyes filled again and she collapsed onto him again, weeping silently. He held her comfortingly, loving the feel of her body, but wishing she weren't hurting so. He rubbed her back and kissed her forehead. She nestled against him and he cupped her cheek in his hand. He tipped her face up so he could see her.
Her eyes were wet and teary and her nose was red from crying. She was the most beautiful thing he had ever witnessed. But she was hurting, breaking. And it broke him. He leaned down and kissed her trembling lips, softly, kindly, adoringly.
She pushed against him gently but firmly so she could view his face.
The look of confusion and sadness nearly broke his heart as she whispered,
"Why?" He smiled sadly as he answered her melancholy question.
"Because you are so wonderful. You love your mistress so. You are devoted to her. You are her friend. Because when I look at you I wonder why some man hasn't claimed you. And because when I look at you I wonder if you could ever feel for me the way I feel and ache for you." He paused to take in the look of wonder in her eyes, "Because I am despairing because you are despairing. Because," he stopped and kissed her hand that he held. "Because I believe I love you. And, and I wanted to be sure you knew."
Keosha gazed up at this man who professed to love her so. Who was comforting her and praising her. And loving her. But could she be sure? Keosha didn't want to think. Her mind was so confused. There was Abby lying on the bed...dying. And here was Lord Antony Dewhurst, telling her that he ached for her. Telling her that he was despairing because she was. But was he really? Or was he just another male hoping for a bed warmer?
Keosha's very thoughts shocked her. 'He is a gentleman in all respects!' she admonished herself. ' But even if he is a gentleman and being honest, I can't....'
Keosha looked up into his blue eyes and swallowed. " This is the second time we have ever met....I cannot even...that is, I... I, I can't, I mean, not now..." she gestured towards Abby with a lethargic hand. Antony felt empty. Did she not like him at all? Was there another man? He silently cursed his stupidity, of course there was another! His despair and disappointment showed on his face and Keosha placed her hand on his shoulder. He twitched almost angrily but did not interrupt her.
"Lord Antony, I didn't mean that I didn't l- I mean, that I don't hold something for, for you... but Abby..." His face softened and he nodded. Keosha saw the look of understanding on his face and she said quietly.
"I don't know what will happen. I don't know..." He sighed and brought her close to him. As they hugged he talked. She could feel his soothing voice in one ear and could feel the vibration of his deep voice as she clung to him, pressing against his firm chest. "I understand. I can wait...but not for long. I feel a need to touch you and comfort you the way a lover would comfort his love. But I will simply comfort you as a friend, though," here his voice broke with emotion, "I truly do love you."
She looked into his eyes, her own wide and trusting.
"Yes." she said, suddenly free from doubt, "I believe you." As he held her, Lord Antony felt a bitter pain. She must like him, but not as much as he wanted her to. Comforting her as a friend was wonderful, but to comfort her with kisses was what he wanted... 'but I can't. I love her, but I must hold to her wishes.' the noble thought bitterly, but lovingly.
They stayed intertwined for a long time, and Healers came and went. The light of the morning blossomed into full afternoon light, then faded into evening. They sat the vigil with Abby together, neither leaving the other or Abby for more than a few minutes.
(A/N: And yes, I do realise that they fell in love very, very quickly, but remember that Hinda had like/loved Hershel for a year or more. And plus Hinda's really cool and sweet, so she's easy to love! .: chuckles:. Also: Both 'romances' were very abrupt, but in Keosha and Lord Antony's case, tragedy reveals our closest friends.)
Please review. Thanks to all who did last time. Yay! We reached 49! Thank you. So close to 50. :(
Posted on the 13th of September
