Hello everyone! I'm so sorry that's it's taking me forever to update You Belong Right Here, but I had some computer issues, and writer's block... but it should be coming soon. In the meantime, I hope you enjoy this.
He had expected the new governess to be a crotchety old woman wearing one of those unattractive habits. He did not expect her to be so young. And he definitely had not expected her to be wearing…this.
Could it actually be called a dress? Whatever it was, it seemed to have been designed by an enemy of the female sex. It was a hideous grey-brown, coarse and rough, with a short overcoat that wasn't any better, and a leather hat that was even worse.
A habit seemed more attractive at that moment. She would need to find another dress soon.
This wasn't much better.
In fact, as hideous as the dress she'd been wearing earlier had been, it had been fitted enough to show that she did have a figure. This didn't. Not even when she moved, so quickly that she almost ran straight into him. This was the sort of dress he had expected a nun to wear; something that was completely shapeless. Of course he had been thinking of their habits; what they would wear every day.
He had never given any thought to the nightclothes of a Bride of Christ.
Why he was thinking about that now?
This time he could see everything. Not simply because it was more fitted than anything else she'd worn. Not even mostly because it was fitted.
Mostly because she was dripping wet.
The bodice of her dress clung to her body, revealing every curve. The sleeves were blousy enough to not stick to her skin, but the fabric was wet enough that from the right angle, he could see the shape of her arms through the material. The skirt was just the right length to make him notice her legs.
Any doubts that she'd ever had a figure were completely gone.
Seeing her wear this dress made him happier than he wanted to admit.
He had bought it to thank her, though it would always be inadequate compared to what she had done for him.
He had thought of her the moment he saw it, but he could never have imagined she would look this beautiful wearing it. The soft blue chiffon enhanced her natural grace and made her eyes sparkle more than normal.
She looked so beautiful that she took his breath away, and he could barely remember the words of the song.
Then Max spoke and the moment ended.
She was leading his youngest son through the first steps of the dance, failing quite miserably because Kurt was so much shorter.
She was wearing a pretty blue and white floral dress. Perfect as a day dress, but hardly fitting for a ball. And yet, as she danced, the dress spun with her and all he wanted to do was be with her.
So far tonight, he had only danced when he had to, not because he wanted to. Even though she had brought music back into the house, he still didn't particularly like dancing.
He pulled on his gloves.
The commotion outside drew him from his study. He hadn't seen the children this happy in what seemed like forever. He hadn't been this happy in what felt like forever; though it had barely been a week.
And it was all because of her.
She was wearing a new dress: turquoise with a floral print. Goodness she looked good in blues. He didn't know where she got this dress, but was glad she'd found something nicer than what she'd been wearing when she first arrived.
Yet the dress didn't matter at all. She was back. That was all that mattered.
It was back. That beautiful blue chiffon, both delicate and simplistic at the same time. After the night of the puppet show, images of her in this dress had been etched into his mind.
She had looked breathtaking that night. But now, in the moonlight, she looked even more stunning. He didn't know how that was possible.
But unlike last time, she looked sad. So sad.
Was that why she was wearing it now? Or was she wearing it in spite of her feelings?
He had to find out. Had to tell her she had no reason to be sad.
This covered her almost as much as that blasted nightgown had, and yet he could see everything. Even from where he stood at the end of the aisle, while she had just entered the cathedral.
She was wearing a beautiful silver-white satin gown, fitted around her body with a long full skirt. It was elegant without be ostentatious, simple, but not plain.
It was so perfectly…her.
He forgot that his daughters were walking up the aisle as well.
His breath caught in his throat. He couldn't look away.
Angel.
And the laurel wreath – the only pop of colour – her halo.
She had been wearing that dress all day, but he hadn't noticed it as much as did right now.
Maybe it was the lighting in the parlour. Maybe it was because she was talking with Liesl, finally officially the mother she was always meant to be. Maybe it was because times were so uncertain right now, and that golden-rod suit was a burst of colour bright as the sun.
She didn't need to say anything for him to know she supported him, no matter what. Just being beside her made him breathe easier.
Once again, she was his guiding light.
In a way this dress reminded him of what she had worn the day she had hurtled her way into his life. It was simple and practical, meant for outdoor wear. The colours were not that different either, with tones of brown and grey. But that dress had been made for a girl.
This one was for a woman.
He smiled as he watched her help Marta up the trail. She had been a mother to his children since that very first day, he realised; when they had danced around her bedroom in their pyjamas.
He loved her so much.