Violet curled up in the window seat, absently running a hand over Quigley's back when he leapt nimbly up into her lap. She was in the second tower of the house, which was something of an observatory. She'd built sky lights into this tower, and almost an entire half of the rounded walls were covered in windows. The hidden elevator in the house didn't reach this place, or the other tower of the house. No, if one wished to reach this place, they must make it through the thick, locked wooden doors and wind their way up the staircase that circled the tower as it went up before finally reaching the landing.
It was the same with her tower bedroom –a room she'd taken to using again ever since what she mentally referred to as the Broderick Incident. When it came to her bedroom, however, she'd opted for more privacy, even if it was only the birds in the trees watching. There was only a single window in that tower, with her favored window seat built in there as well. The whole room was dominated by the four poster canopy bed, carved of sturdy, aged oak and draped in an almost translucent black canopy. It was in that room, filling the carved shelves and fighting for space on the nightstand and dresser that she had placed all the pictures she had of her family. There weren't many, as candid photos hadn't exactly been a priority all those years ago, but enough that she could look and see and remember. And sometimes the remembering, the drawing up of those pleasant memories, was enough to keep the nightmares at bay when she slept.
What would Brody say, she wondered, if he knew that the woman he always stared at was so weak as to be afraid of going to bed at night? He'd think her pathetic…No. No, he wouldn't. Closing her eyes, she rested her forehead against the window glass, her hand pausing on Quigley's back. No, he wouldn't think her pathetic. He'd simply smile in that…Brody way of his and try to fix it. He was she always trying to fix things. He was always trying to fix her.
Despite herself, her lips curved a bit, and Violet felt a tightening in her chest as she thought of the way he looked at her, how he smiled at her. He was good, right down to his bones. There was no denying that. He was a good man, sure as anything, and even she could see that he was trying to…fix her was the only term she could think of. Improve, maybe, or…enhance.
'You should smile more, Violet. You're beautiful when you smile.' 'Come walk out in the sun with me, princess. It'll make you feel good.' Little things, she thought, just little things that he said throughout the day, trying to pull her out of the shell she'd made for herself. It was as though he truly cared about her. And that she just couldn't understand. She'd done nothing to encourage him. In fact, she'd done everything in her power to discourage…whatever it was he was doing. And the more he closed in on her, trying to break through the wall she'd built up for years, the more her survival instincts kicked in.
And those instincts told her that he needed to leave, leave before he awakened feelings inside her that she'd kept firmly locked away for so long. So she would build his boat, she would tend his wounds. But he would not touch her heart.
Even as she told herself this, the part of her anatomy in question ached, and she rubbed a hand over her chest, as though to ease the sharp pain. Instincts were one thing, but it was hard to argue with her heart. And, as guarded as it was, there was no denying that her heart warmed around him, trying to thaw away the ice she'd layered it with for so long. He reminded her –painfully so- just how lovely the sound of a laugh could be, how comfortable it was to sit by the fire with someone else next to you.
His was the first laugh she'd heard in years. His hands were the first to touch hers in ages. His lips were the first to warm hers in…ever. She, who never lost her cool, was flustered by this young man with the goofy grin and gentle, sea-colored eyes. Even as she warned herself not to think too deeply into the attention he gave her –she was the only other person around, after all- her heart sighed as she thought of the way he looked at her, so patient, so watchful.
He made her feel –when she let herself feel such things- special. He made her feel so special, and…and wanted. She couldn't remember the last time someone had looked at her as if just seeing her face improved the day. She couldn't remember if anyone had ever done that, come to think of it. Would he still look at her that way, she wondered, if he knew what she'd done? If he knew that she'd lied, cheated, stolen and all manner of other things before she'd even been old enough to drink?
Shaking her head, Violet snuggled the cat, pressing her cheek against his fur. It didn't matter anyway. He didn't need to know. He'd be gone soon enough, and then she'd stop feeling…whatever it was she was feeling. He'd be gone, and she'd be left alone with her cat and her cliffs and her castle…Why that made her want to cry, she couldn't say. But it had tears stinging the backs of her eyes all the same, and she was blinking them away when she noticed movement through the window, on the sand below.
Frowning, she leaned closer, let out a breath when she saw it was Brody, jogging along the beach. Even from this distance she could see that his movements were much looser now than they had been before, his pace quicker and steadier. It relieved her –though she'd rather it didn't- that he was healing quickly, and that he didn't seem to be in nearly as much pain now.
His head turned towards her, and despite the distance between them, she could've sworn their gazes locked, for just a moment. But even as the thought crossed her mind, she saw him falter, and was already on her feet, dislodging the annoyed cat from her lap, when she saw him fall flat on his face in the sand. When he didn't get up, merely laid there, her heart shot up into her throat.
"Brody," His name burst from her lips, as it never would have had he been able to hear her, and she all but flew down the stairs, impatiently bursting through the thick doors. She ran out of the house at a dead sprint, her bare feet slapping against the sand, the hot sun hitting her bare arms and legs. He was still laying there when she crossed the sand to reach him, sprawled inches from the water that lapped at the shore.
"Brody," She said his name now, as she so rarely did, dropping to her knees beside him as she shook his shoulder, pushed until she managed to roll him over onto his back.
She had just a moment to see that his eyes were open; his lips curved in a grin, before he grabbed her wrist, pulled her down on top of him. She let out a yelp, pulled in a gasping breath as he wrapped his arms tight around her and rolled so she was pinned beneath him, her back pressed against the hot sand. Gaping, she couldn't even blink as he roared with laughter at her expression, and she vaguely registered the feeling of water lapping at her feet.
"Good morning, Violet." He said, grinning, and it took a few moments for her to remember how to speak coherently. Here she was, pinned by the very man she'd been avoiding for days, her heart pumping double time as his face stopped inches from hers, his gleaming eyes locked on her own.
"You…What do you think you're doing?" She demanded, wriggling a bit to try and escape, but found that only made matters worse. The man, she quickly discovered, had an iron grip when he felt the need to use it.
"You've been avoiding me, princess. It's quite rude, you know." He spoke cheerfully, as though they were friends gossiping in the kitchen instead of a shipwrecked sailor pinning down his savior on the sandy beach of a practically uninhabited island.
"I…I thought you'd hurt yourself. You were faking it." She said, her eyes narrowing accusingly, and instead of bothering to look guilty, he chuckled, nuzzled his cheek against hers in a way that had the breath clogging in her throat.
"Guilty as charged, darling. But you know it was the only way to get you within three feet of me. And it worked." His grin flashed as he eased his head back again, and she struggled to regain her senses, to scavenge up some functioning brain cells.
"You have to…you have to stop this, Broderick. You've no right to touch me so freely and no…" Her thoughts blanked for a moment when his hand came up, his fingertips brushing over her cheek, and she swallowed hard, wished her hands weren't so completely pinned between the two of them.
"No what, darling?" He asked, an unholy gleam in his eye, and she took another moment, another breath.
"You've no right," She continued determinedly, "to go around pretending to hurt yourself just to get my attention. It's childish, Broderick." When he laughed again, her eyes narrowed, her breath hissing out when his lips brushed her forehead.
"It's 'Broderick' again, is it? So very formal you are today, Violet. You know what you need?" He appreciated the wariness that shot into her eyes, just as he was vastly amused by the suspicion that followed it. She was no fool, this one. But oh, there was innocence there behind the brain. And it was time that innocent got a chance to come out and play.
"Yes, I do. I need you to get off me. You're heavy, Broderick." She'd barely finished the sentence when his weight left her. And then, just as quickly, she had a moment of weightlessness as he swept her up into his arms, standing ankle-deep in the water.
"You need to do something foolish. Like jumping into the ocean fully dressed." His laughter exploded again at her 'What the hell are you thinking' look that she sent him, and when he stepped deeper into the water, he tightened his grip on her when she struggled.
"No! No, are you insane? Put me down this instant! Broderick!" When he merely continued to wade into the water, his trousers sticking to him like a second skin, she had to hold back the instinct to squeal as, the water up to his waist, she felt her feet glide along the water.
"It's a great day for a swim, Vi. I'm glad we decided to do this." He said cheerfully, taking a moment to appreciate the length of her slim legs as she kicked them, obviously trying to make contact with some part of his body.
"Broderick! Put me down this instant!" She wriggled in his grasp, and he stopped, raised a brow as he glanced down at her.
"Well, sure, Vi. Why didn't you say so?" Gleefully, he tossed her up in the air, and she managed one shout of 'Brody!' before she hit the water and went under, splashing water everywhere. Oh, he'd pay for that later, he thought. But for right now, he was going to have his fun as well.
As soon as she surfaced, sputtering, soaked, and pushing her hair out of her eyes, he laughed, hooked an arm around her waist and brought them both under again, spinning with her in the water, kicking up water. He felt her fist connect with his shoulder as he pulled them out into deeper water, and when they surfaced this time, treading water, he simply waited and grinned while she spat out water and rubbed her eyes.
And when she opened them, glaring, he saw murder in her eyes. "Give it your best shot, Baudelaire." He invited, holding up his arms, and had one moment to appreciate the feral glint in her eye before she leaped at him, taking him by surprise with her speed as she pulled him under. Of course, as soon as she caught him off guard she tried to swim away, darting towards the shore in a way that had him thanking whoever had designed the shorts she was wearing. God, but the woman had a pair of legs on her.
But, unwilling to let her escape so easily, he grabbed her ankle, pulled them both to shallower water, drawing her in close to him in a way that had her squirming and wriggling enough to have his own blood pumping with heat.
He pushed them both to the surface for air, his feet touching bottom now, his fingers digging into her sides. A breathless giggle escaped as he tickled her mercilessly, had her batting at him, grabbing at his hands.
"Brody! Brody, stop, stop!" She said it on a laugh, forgetting herself for a moment as they splashed in the water like innocent children. But it couldn't stay innocent.
Gradually she became aware of how close they were, of the way she was pressed against him, chest to chest, his hands clamped on her waist. And as her eyes met his, her pulse pounding in her ears, she saw that he'd realized it too.
"Violet," He whispered her name like a prayer –soft and reverent- and it was he who moved, he whose arm wrapped around her waist, his other hand moving up her back and into her hair. She was trapped by those eyes –those stormy, swirling eyes- and could do nothing but stare into them as he urged her closer.
He kissed her on a sunny summer morning, with the sun shining down on the calm ocean waters and making it sparkle like diamonds. Those diamonds clung to her face, her lips, her hair as he pulled her close, as his lips met hers. They watched each other, brown staring into sea-blue.
"Kiss me back, Vi. Kiss me back," He murmured, and before her brain could catch up, before she could remember all the reasons she should be anywhere but here, doing anything but this, her arms circled his neck, her hands delving into his drenched hair. She sighed as her eyes closed, as he kissed her again, as her lips warmed beneath his.
His hand pressed against the small of her back, and instinctively her back arched a bit, her legs coming up to wrap around his waist. She was weightless in the water, and he held her easily, skimming his lips over her jaw, her cheek, over her closed eyes. God but she was sweet.
And for just a moment or two, on this particular sunny summer day, Violet Baudelaire forgot that this couldn't last. And for now, with her heart determinedly blocking all logic, it was enough.