Next chapter is out! I've planned the rest out, and there are ten more chapters. Plus, a possible epilogue. I hope you enjoy!
Chapter Seventeen
Restrained sunlight filtered through the heavy curtains. Jackson groaned as he squeezed his lids tightly, shielding eyes from the invading light. He rolled onto his stomach and buried his head under his pillow. The air was stuffy and hot; his lungs burned. He relished in the pain. It took his mind off the troubling thoughts that had been keeping him up most of the night the past few days.
When the minimized oxygen became too difficult, he pulled his head out. He crossed his arms on top of his pillow and rested his cheek against the cool fabric.
.
He was a small slip of a man, but his form was intimidating. His jaw was firmly etched, and his nose was a prominent feature. Underneath the copper strands that fell across his brow were green eyes that flitted about the room.
.
Jackson huffed and flipped over.
.
"You know how I feel about dancing. It is not pleasurable unless I am well acquainted with my partner. Your cousins are engaged, and there is no other woman in the room with who such an activity would not prove most difficult."
.
He ran his hand through is bed-tossed brown hair.
.
"Would you care to dance?" Mr. Haddock said softly.
"Pardon? But I believed you to loathe dancing with anyone you were not closely acquainted with."
"Precisely," he responded turning to him and offering his hand.
He scoffed. "Have no young ladies taken your fancy that you must stoop to ask me?"
"Yes, but it isn't stooping," he responded as he snatched the shorter man's hand and pulled him away from the balustrade and led him through the movements of the dance.
.
Jackson scrubbed his eyes with the back of his hands.
.
As the music rolled out from the instrument at his finger's insistence, the chatter rose up again in the sitting room. He quickly approached the last bar of the sheet and prepared himself to reach up and flip the page as he memorized the final measure; however, a body leaned over his shoulder as fingers pinched the corner of the page. A soft, "I've got it," fell on his ear.
Jackson gave a brief nod and Mr. Haddock turned the page, allowing him to continue playing seamlessly. The gentleman stood straight and stepped to the side of the piano; his green eyes flickering between the player and the music. He always managed to watch him completely, somehow knowing when the page needed to be turned and only then looking away to do so before his eyes were back on his face.
.
He huffed and sat up. His fingers knotted into his hair and pulled it, straining the roots.
.
"I have fought this with every fiber in my being, but I can deny it no longer. You must allow me to confess my feelings. Granted, I have never experience such things before—though certainly something I could get used to, and I may fail at eloquence. Nevertheless, I admire you, and I daresay that I love you."
.
"I am trying to discern your character. There are so many parts of you that are contradicting. You puzzle me greatly."
"Perhaps, like a puzzle, you need just one piece for it all to come together and allow you to see the true and full picture."
The music faded away to be replaced by roaring applause. Mr. Haddock's palm still rested against his; it hovered above his skin, trembling. Each second yielded new patches of skin connected.
"I thank you for the dance," the copper haired gentleman breathed out, "and the conversation. It was a pleasure." Without a word further, he snatched his hand away and walked back into the main room, his pace brisk and his hands firmly clasped behind his back.
It was only after he had left that Jackson registered the cool wind biting at the exposed flesh no longer warmed by Haddock's. "Manipulative bastard," Jackson hissed as he clutched his hand and clasped it behind his back before reentering the ballroom.
.
"Manipulative bastard," he growled.
He couldn't sort out anything. All he was sure of was that he had been wrong in his assumptions. But, when he tried to figure out what it all meant in relation to his feelings, he….he was lost. His mind swirled around every glance and every touch. His mind rewrote every meeting where the man had seemed arrogant and unapproachable.
"Hate can be quite close to another emotion, both are fiery and passionate."
Jennifer's words echoed around his every thought. His chest seized. His heart thumped erratically; each off kilter beat stoking the raging fire the danced under his skin. His breath puffed out in ragged tatters.
.
Green eyes sparkled. Warm hands encased his waist and pulled him against a firm body. Immaculately soft lips grazed his jaw, his forehead, his eyes, his cheeks. Long fingers tangled in his hair and arched his head back…
.
A strangled yelp passed his lips. He threw the covers from his body. The early autumn morning chilled his skin. He clambered out of bed and stumbled to his window. He pushed the curtains back and pressed himself against it. Shutting his eyes, he took a deep breath and let it go, watching the warm air mist up the glass. Jackson rested his forehead against the cold pane. The cold had always comforted him.
He opened his eyes and watched a carriage roll up to the front of the house. The driver got down and opened the door. Emma stepped out with a gracious smile. Jackson felt his own lips pulling back into a wide smile. His sister was back, and he would finally have someone to talk to. He'd just have to make a few edits to his story first.
"He…proposed to you?"
His dark eyes scanned the sitting room.
A hand rested on his knee, and he glanced over to see his sister smiling sweetly.
"Indirectly," he said. "But, the intention was similar."
"Do you trust his affections? I know how you—"
"I know what I used to think, but I'm beginning to doubt everything," he admitted.
She gave a small laugh. "He must have been very sincere to cause you to doubt. You're quite stubborn when you set your mind to something."
Jackson set his hand on Emma's and gave it a gentle squeeze. "I have been told."
"Do you return his affections?"
"I didn't at first."
"But?" she prompted him.
"Now, I just –"
He was cut off by the front door banging open and Mary's cries of "Mama! Pa!" flying through the house. A flurry of red hair peered into the sitting room.
"Emma, Jackson, have you seen Mama and Pa?"
"Pa's in his study," Emma answered.
"I don't think he wants to be disturbed," Jackson said.
"What's gotten you in such a flurry?"
"Mrs. McIntosh is travelling to Corona to visit her son at the camp and invited me to go with her! I just need Pa's approval."
"Father won't give you approval," Jackson said.
"I won't give my approval for what?" the man asked as he stepped from his study. "I will give my approval for anything if it means my house can return to its rightfully quiet state."
Mary cheered and hopped back and forth between one foot and the other, making joyful 'doo-ti-doo's to punctuate each movement.
"You don't even know what she is requesting."
He sighed and turned to his youngest daughter. "What are you requesting?" he asked with a pointed glance at his son.
"Mrs. McIntosh invited me to join her on her visit to Corona to visit her son at the camp."
"You can't be thinking of allowing her to go!" Jackson protested as he leapt to his feet. "Mary alone, surrounded by men in uniforms. We all know where that will go. She is too young."
The fiery headed girl pouted.
"She will be with Mrs. McIntosh. I trust the lady will watch after her."
"The woman can barely keep an eye on herself! Mary's behavior does not need to be—"
"What is all the fuss?" his mother shouted as she barged into the crowding room.
"Father is considering allowing Mary to go to the camp with Mrs. McIntosh."
The woman clasped her hands; she gasped before laughing. "My, Mr. Overland, we've finally found something to agree on! Oh, Mary, you will have such a fun time," she said turning to her youngest and grasping her shoulders. "I remember my young days I was always enamored with a man in a red coat."
"It's not the men, Mama," Mary insisted. "Well, it is, but they are the only ones willing to talk with me about weapons."
"That is because they have something else in mind, Mary," Jackson snipped. He turned on his father. "You can't truly be thinking of allowing her to go."
He sighed and placed his hand on his son's shoulder. "I trust Mrs. McIntosh to watch her. Besides, one less daughter in this house results in a quieter household for me. I was spoiled while you and Emma were away."
Without another word, he left and retreated back into his study.