VII. Burn

Blair somehow made it up the elevator of Melusine to the penthouse level without losing her frigid composure. The Bass penthouse was mausoleum silent except for the occasional sob that echoed down the hall from Penelope's room.

She sighed and gingerly pulled off her heels to alleviate her aching feet. It was just after midnight yet she was hardly ready for sleep. Helplessness threatened to gnaw away at her and annoying hot tears pricked at the corners of her eyes but she batted them down.

There was no way that Nate would want to marry her now—not after tonight. The combined pressure of his family and friends would hardly be an incentive for him to place that famed Archibald ring on her finger. What on earth her next step was, she did not know. Everything seemed to be one, big murky haze.

Softly, she treaded to Ruby's room to check on her. Ruby was curled up in a small ball and her gentle, steady breaths signaled that she was peacefully sleeping. Blair nearly cried there and then as she looked upon this innocent, pure girl untouched by sin. Blair lightly caressed Ruby's cheek and then left the room, closing the door quietly behind her.

She needed to steady herself.

Blair padded softly to the lounge and poured herself a Scotch into one of the crystal glasses. She did not care if she was reprimanded for taking liberties with Bart and Chuck's personal liquor collection without permission. Blair welcomed the liquid warmth that crept down her throat as she skulled down the glass in one rapid movement.

She placed the glass back on the table, her limbs suddenly heavy and her eyes droopy. It was as if all the strain of the past few weeks had swept over her like a tsunami leaving her with no mode of defence. Blair made her way back to the couch and lay on it, thinking only to lie there for a few moments, but before she knew it, she drifted off to sleep.

Some unquantifiable time later, Blair slowly awoke to the odd sensation of someone's fingers caressing her face. She softly yawned and her eyes fluttered open to the sight of Chuck.

She shot upright into a sitting position, her heart thudding. "What-what—"

"Hush, Miss Waldorf," he murmured, his hand reaching up to lightly brush her cheek. "It's only 3.15 in the morning. You don't want to wake everyone, do you?"

Blair's mind was befuddled. She could only stare at him dumbly as he took advantage of her sleep-addled shock and rose up onto his haunches to kiss her lingeringly. Her nerve endings were on fire when their lips met and she could not help but moan breathily into his lips.

"You need not worry about Nathaniel," he heatedly whispered into her ear before he lightly bit down on it.

Despite her better judgment, Blair mewled and pulled him closer to her and wrapped her stocking enclosed legs around his waist so that she now engulfed him. "He rejected me in front of everyone—he was like a bit of fluff that changed with the direction of the wind."

"Hardly, Miss Waldorf."

"But—"

Without warning, Chuck lifted Blair into his arms and sat on the couch with her in his lap facing away from him. His hands slid over her front to cup her breasts while his mouth pressed down on her collarbone. In response, Blair reached back to yank his hair, causing him to bite down on her skin. She moaned as he licked at the small wound.

"Listen to me, Miss Waldorf," he hotly whispered, his hands circling her nipples, "Nate needed only a little pep talk. Tonight was only a minor setback in your courtship. After you left, I spoke to him and expounded your assets—"

He tweaked her nipples and she gasped, "—and told him that he would be a fool to let such a fine specimen of femininity and virtue and—"

He took a sharp intake of breath as Blair ground her buttocks against his crotch, "—and sound moral principles," he choked out, "and I offered my aid, saying I would speak on your behalf to his parents."

"How very selfless of you," she purred, her head lolling back towards him.

"I thought so, too."

He then bowed his head to claim her lips in a searing kiss that left her dizzy and him looking like a starved man.

"What do I need to do to keep him mine?" she said in a low voice, her fingers reaching back to briefly raze over a rather conspicuous bulge in his pants.

He hissed and snatched her hand up and brought it to his lips. "Certainly none of this. Nate prefers women who are above reproach—much like Caesar's wife."

"Then how can I keep him?"

Chuck threaded their fingers together and brought it to her breast. Blair bit her lip at the tingling sensation of their hands jointly stroking her breast, and she let out a strangled moan. "With all your powers of acting. Pretend to be an innocent lady but shoot him coy looks so he will simultaneously lust after your seemingly upright nature and the seductive promises of the marital bed."

"Speaking of virtue, your father seems to think I'm your mistress," said Blair as Chuck's free hand ghosted under her dress and started stroking her thigh. "Vanessa told him."

His hands stilled. "What did you say?"

"I denied it, of course."

"My father likes to play with people. He likes to test their fortitude and spine—it's just his way. He thinks Miss Abrams is a sycophant and only keeps her on because she's the only one who can endure my wife. He already knew of Nathaniel's interest in you—he was merely having some fun with you."

"Oh. Right." Blair could hardly keep her mind in order. Her senses were wreaking havoc upon her body.

Chuck tugged her dress straps off her shoulders and down to her waist so he could have unfettered access to her soft skin. "Do not fear my father, Miss Waldorf. He thinks you've had a positive effect upon my daughter. He's not going to toss you out onto the street."

"Hmmm…"

"This dress feels soft," he murmured against her skin.

"You're not even touching my dress."

"No?"

"No," she whispered as his hands avidly enfolded her bare upper body.

She knew it was wrong to allow him such liberties but she felt helpless against the onslaught of pleasure and sensuality that he bathed her in. She abhorred him but craved the way he made her feel.

She mewled again at his ministrations, twisted her head around so she could see him and their mouths met in ragged, open mouthed, desperate kisses. He let out a stifled groan and Blair somehow managed to contort herself so that she could fully face him and he feverishly pressed her body to his. Heat radiated between them and every nerve ending in Blair's body was on fire. Her mind was a fog and all she could think of was this intoxicating moment.

Without thinking, she panted against his mouth, "Thank-you for defending me tonight."

He briefly stiffened while Blair was suddenly pierced with anxiety. What had she just said? Did she just thank him? Oh God. After everything he had put her through, she was thanking him? What on earth was wrong with her?

He clasped her head in his hands, his eyes boring into her. Blair met his gaze unwaveringly. Both of them were breathing heavily but neither spoke. She was pleased that he seemed just as unsettled as she was and she no longer knew who was the master and who was the supplicant. Blair bit her lip and she thought Chuck appeared as if he was a parched man who had been wandering in the desert without any sustenance.

Still not speaking, Chuck slow traced his index finger across Blair's lower lip; Blair, still eyeing him, opened her mouth and languorously ran her tongue over it before pulling away. His gaze burned.

"Miss Waldorf," he said, his voice low and rough, "Nate would be a fool to let you go. I told you I would keep my side of the bargain, and that includes defending you from detractors. It would hardly do for our competitors to think that we hire people of loose morals."

"Well, it would hardly do for Serena and others of her ilk to think that I would allow a man known for his deplorable ways to take advantage of a poor, innocent governess," she breathed, her eyes gleaming.

"Agreed. It wouldn't be decent," he drawled. He then bent his head and pressed a lingering kiss on the patch of skin between her breasts.

"I think it best if I leave," said Blair softly, extricating herself from him and pulling her dress up. She had to get away before she lost what little fragment of decency she still retained despite the fact her tempest-like feelings were calling for her to stay and give herself up to the burning last that was coursing through her body.

Unlike their first encounter in Lysander, Chuck did not advance towards her like a crazed man. Instead, he uttered in a hypnotic voice, "Perhaps that would be for the best, Miss Waldorf. If you stayed, I'd divest you of every item of clothing you're wearing and use my mouth and hands on you until you were begging and moaning for me to enter you."

He was utterly shameless. Yet Blair was not going to allow him to think he could shock her into silence. "And if I had stayed, Mr. Bass, I would have let you."

She was rewarded with an unusual expression of surprise in Chuck's features. She smirked. "Goodnight, Mr. Bass," and left a flabbergasted Chuck.

The next morning, Blair was buoyant because her dream of a pampered life as Mrs. Archibald was still within her grasp. She nearly floated into Ruby's room.

To her puzzlement, Ruby seemed wan and not her usual cheery self.

"I don't want to get up," Ruby whined. "I feel sick."

Blair, thinking that Ruby was playacting and did not want to do any spelling practice, merely scooped Ruby out of bed and replied, "I'm sure you're fine, Ruby."

"I feel sick," she repeated.

Blair rolled her eyes. "Please, Ruby. Just get dressed."

Ruby pouted. "No."

"I'll not ask again."

Ruby crossed her arms. "No."

Consequently, it took Blair some fifteen minutes to force a dress and stockings onto Ruby, who cried and wailed about a supposed 'sickness'.

At breakfast, Ruby did not eat her toast and merely pushed it around.

"Ruby, I'll not stand for your sulking. Eat your breakfast."

"I'm not hungry," she mumbled.

"Then you won't have any lunch if you won't eat breakfast."

"Fine."

The breakfast door opened and in walked Chuck. "Good morning, Miss Waldorf."

Unaccountably, Blair found herself struggling to prevent a smile. "Good morning, Mr. Bass."

"Sleep well?" he asked, his eyes gleaming.

"Very well, Mr. Bass. I had the most interesting dreams."

The brief flare of lust in his eyes made Blair inhale sharply. "Did you, Miss Waldorf? What a coincidence. I had some very vivid dreams, too."

Something ricocheted between them and Blair could no longer meet his eyes. All she could think of was her gasping and moaning as he touched and kissed her last night.

"How's my daughter?" Chuck asked, his voice a little uneven.

"She won't eat her food," Blair replied, thankful that the conversation was onto a new topic and secretly pleased that Chuck seemed similarly affected by whatever was pulsing between them.

"Ruby, I won't have you disobeying Miss Waldorf. Eat your breakfast."

"No!"

"Ruby. I won't ask you again. Eat."

The sheer chilly power that resonated through Chuck's voice strongly reminded Blair of Bart. Even Ruby dared not disobey. She proceeded to sulkily nibble at the toast.

"Good girl," said Chuck as he tweaked Ruby's ear. He turned back to Blair. "I have sent Nathaniel a note asking him to see you this evening at five."

"Thank-you, Mr. Bass."

"I'm sure I can figure out a way for you to repay me."

Blair was left in no doubt as to what method of payment Chuck was seeking as a curious mixture of resentment, loathing and lust filled her.

A tight-lipped Blair nodded. 'Of course," she neutrally answered and silently despised herself for the sensation pulsing through her that had nothing to do with fear.

Ruby became paler and more listless as the day progressed. Sweat was gathering on Ruby's brow and her skin had taken on an odd grayish pallor. Blair no longer believed Ruby was feigning illness and was now deciding on whether to call a doctor or not.

Blair touched Ruby's forehead that was burning hot, and Blair realised that Ruby had a fever of some sort.

"Miss Blair," Ruby mumbled, "I don't feel well," and then she collapsed onto the floor by her bed.

Blair did not pause for thought. She grabbed up Ruby, placed her on the bed, and then she ran down the corridor and accosted Dan in the hallway. "Call Mr. Bass! Ruby has collapsed and has some sort of fever—also call a doctor!"

Dan stared at her, shocked. "What?"

"Ruby is ill—call a doctor and notify Mr. Bass." Another thought then struck her: "Also, keep Mrs. Bass in the dark—we should prevent any further agitation to her precarious health."

Dan nodded and was about to leave when Blair yanked him back. "And make sure that Vanessa does not tell Mrs. Bass. If she does, there will be hell to pay."

"Of course!" and Dan hurried off without any further response. Blair then rushed to the bathroom, dampened a washcloth and quickly returned to Ruby's room. She rolled off Ruby's stockings and undid the first few buttons of her dress so she could breathe easier. After that, Blair lightly dabbed at Ruby's forehead with the cloth, whispering inane words of comfort even though she was sure that Ruby would not be able to hear anything.

Minutes—hours?—ticked by and Ruby did not appear to be getting better. If anything, her forehead was burning up even more, her breathing was becoming rattled and shaky and her skin was clammy.

The door banged open and Chuck barged in followed by his father.

"What's happening?" Chuck snapped.

"Your daughter has a fever and I'm still waiting for a doctor to arrive."

"Does my wife know?"

'No, Mr. Bass. I told the staff that she's to be kept in the dark to avoid any further complications to her health."

"You did right, Miss Waldorf," said Bart in a tightly restrained voice, laying a hand on his son's shoulder in an attempt to calm him. Chuck shrugged him off and immediately went to his daughter's side grabbed her up in his arms. His eyes were like of a valkyrie as he stroked Ruby's damp hair and cheeks: "My daughter…my daughter…."

Blair's throat tightened and guilt rose up in her. Why did she dismiss Ruby's complaints about illness? If she had heeded them, would Ruby be where she was now?

Her eyes widened in surprise when Bart forcibly detached his son from Ruby. Chuck's face was savage and Blair feared that he would strike Bart. Bart grabbed Chuck's face in an iron grip, his expression equally wild. "Get out of here, my son. If this fever is contagious I could not afford to have you infected too."

"Why?" Chuck hissed. "Afraid that you will lose your best lieutenant in forging the Bass Empire?"

The Bass men appeared to have forgotten that Blair was even in the room. Bart's chest heaved and it was if he was about tumble over a precipice. "No, Charles—you're my son, my only son…I lost your mother…" his voice trailed off.

The depth of emotion that ravaged Bart's voice and face struck Blair. She had ever seen any emotion that was not malignant in him, but to see him like this, rendered helpless by love for his son…

At his father's words, the fire seeped out of Chuck and he nodded resignedly.

"Go to our house in the Hamptons, Charles. Stay there until I give you the all clear. Take Penelope with you."

Something inarticulate flew between the two Bass men and they seemed to come to a silent understanding that Blair was not privy to. Though Chuck was by no means calm—evident by his tense jaw and burning eyes—he had a firm enough control of his faculties to present a diffident face to the general public.

His parting words to Blair and Bart was a hoarse "Look after my daughter".

And then he was gone.