A/N: Hey readers! Once again, I am so sorry this took a long time, I promise you I am working on this as regularly as exams and revision will allow. Even now, I am writing this note on the school bus! Thanks for being patient, I really appreciate it.

So, here we have Angie being conscientious, Jefferson being domestic amd Hamilton being a player. Enjoy!

Chapter 6: How do you say "Kiss me" - Part II

Paris, Summer 1787

When Angelica awoke the following morning in an unfamiliar, oversized bed made larger by the absence of a second figure lying beside her, the first thought to occur to her was that she was not at home. And that meant her husband, but more importantly her children, had no clue as to her true location. As the guilt which the conscientious woman had somehow managed to successfully avoid during the pleasurable proceedings of the previous night finally sank in, she couldn't help but criticize herself, You have been disloyal to your doting husband, you have forgotten your duties as a Mother, and what for? To wake up alone in the bed of a man you care for as a friend and a lover, but who is now clearly too ashamed of what has taken place here to even lay beside you, let alone consider you as either of those things ever again.

Had she taken a moment to breathe and to recall the intensity and passion of the night before without immediately reminding herself of the potentially drastic consequences, she would have found that the cause of at least half of her concerns was a fabrication of her own imagination: true, she had prioritized her own hedonistic enjoyment of life above that of anyone else for the first time she could ever remember; however the man for whom she had forgotten the bond the ring temporarily absent from her left hand enforced was better than her early morning pessimism gave him credit for.

She hadn't thought to reach across to the other side of the bed, but if she had, she would have discovered it was still warm, only recently vacated. And it was not to remain that way, because no sooner had Angelica resigned herself to be suffocated by the crushing combination of guilt, shame and regret than her lover returned, the wide grin spread lazily across his face somehow infecting her and chasing away her internal conflict to some extent. He carried with him a tray, and the next words to leave his mouth stunned her far more than anything they had done the night before: "Good morning, Miss Schuyler. I thought you might be hungry after last night, so I fixed us some breakfast."

As shocked at being met by the man displaying the polar opposite of her worst assumptions as she was to see him pretending to be some sort of domestic caterer, Angelica couldn't help but inhale sharply and pull the blankets draped carelessly across her all the way up to her neck to better protect her modesty - a futile effort, given the marks which confirmed he had seen and touched and kissed much more of her body than she currently displayed. Stammering at the surprise of being caught off guard, she muttered, "Thomas... I didn't expect... I thought -"

"Angelica, please, you're allowed to relax. You should know that I am hardly here to criticize you, so there is no need for you to be so self-conscious," Jefferson informed her, coming to slip under the scarce corner of the duvet which his lover had not claimed as a substitute for a robe. He set the tray laden with pastries and fruit down on his lap and invited her, "Eat something." She eyed the food sceptically, suddenly analysing everything to excessive levels, wondering if he was being accommodating, or attempting to establish a polite and civil atmosphere to distance himself from the heated one from the previous night, or whether he was perhaps simply thanking her for her services. Confused by her hesitation and the uncharacteristic quietness displayed by the woman lying in his bed, Jefferson urged, "Come on, you can't pretend you're not worn out. You need some energy, and while you're at it, you need to explain what's going on."

Prompted more by a growling in her stomach than by Jefferson's instructions, Angelica sighed and reached for a pastry. She took a bite, chewing slowly as she considered how to phrase her explanation. Once she swallowed, she began to bashfully justify her reaction to him. Voice low and thick, she admitted, "I didn't know what to expect from you this morning, and it certainly wasn't... This." She gestured to the tray and the pastry from which she was taking a second bite already. Growing even more awkward, she confessed, "I was afraid you'd be ready to scorn me and toss me from your home as soon as it fully set in."

Even less comprehending despite her effort to make him understand, he raised an eyebrow to critically clarify, "When what set in, exactly?"

The woman's dark eyes darted away from his, and even in the early morning half-light glowing softly through the curtains, he registered the blush on her cheeks. She said nothing, but she didn't need to.

Finally seeing the reason for her unexpected reaction caused the politician an unexpected ache in his chest as he realized that she didn't trust that he cared enough for her to truly and absolutely relish every moment of the night they had shared together. Even so, he knew it was his job to comfort her, and he did just that, tucking her tousled curls behind her ear and simultaneously caressing her cheek as he promised her, "You're right that it has taken some time to fully come to terms with what happened last night, but that is purely because such an ethereal experience naturally cannot be comprehended without significant effort. And I assure you, Angelica, that is most definitely a good thing."

Some of the tension she carried with her visibly lifted from her shoulders, and she even braved a smile, which swiftly became an unrestrained giggle of delight as her lover reinforced his esteem for her by pressing a teasing kiss to her lips. She could not turn away from her concerns indefinitely, however, as when Thomas pulled away, the first query from her newly liberated lips was, "Aren't you afraid of people finding out? The consequences could be -"

"Sorry, I was under the impression that you had agreed to remove John's fragile English heart from your mind," Jefferson interrupted, a plaintive note to his words reflecting his evident displeasure towards the indication that lending the headstrong, selfless woman his hospitality, blankets and heart was still an offering insufficient to win her undivided focus and adoration in the exposing light of day.

"It's not primarily John I'm worried about, you stubborn man," she playfully criticized him with a taunting smirk and a childish nudge in the side, which became an excuse to simply lean into him, leading him to remove the breakfast tray from his lap to sit on the bedside table to give her room to get comfortable, and formed an invitation for him to wrap her slender form in his sturdy embrace as she gave in to his gentle persuasion and carefree attitude. Even so, she proceeded to voice her true fears, "We both have young children, and if they should find out –"

"Then there is no reason why they should be anything less than relieved that their parents have found happiness at long last." She frowned at him and shifted marginally further from his side, unimpressed both by the impossibly idyllic scenario he painted as well as the way he continuously interrupted her very valid points – something he knew her intimately enough to recognise almost as soon as he made the dire mistake of interrupting a Schuyler woman not once, but twice. Hastily backtracking without being explicitly informed of the obvious fact that his course of action was precisely the one he was expected to take if he wanted to remain on good terms with the woman in his bed, he amended, "I'm sorry, I know you have reservations, and you have every right to be perturbed. But I am sure that within time, any child sharing your gift for perception would see how desperately unhappy you are with your husband, and would be compassionate enough to endorse anything which saves you from your loneliness."

Resting her head comfortably back on Thomas' chest and allowing herself to be soothed by the strong, unhurried pulsing of his heart which seemed to reflect his approach to life itself, she did not argue so much as plainly state the truth when she reminded him impassively, "You are a widow." Or you are a man who does everything within your power to pretend that is not the case. Even so, I'm sure your daughters do not share your desire to forget about your wife's untimely passing.

Jefferson regarded her with a strange expression in the seconds before he realised what she meant by the apparently unrelated remark. Once he recognised the source of her lingering concerns, he instantly confirmed, "I have experienced enormous loss, as have my daughters. And I am certain that they would rejoice over any addition to my life which provides the warmth and sunlight to chase away the shadows lingering on my heart with which you have provided me."

His sultry southern voice murmuring sweet compliments as his moving lips brushed against her ear and his breath tickled the sensitive flesh of her neck made a combination which was almost fatal to Angelica's will. Almost, but not quite. She had one last qualm which had to be addressed, though only after she tilted her head up to sweetly kiss his jaw. He took the opportunity to lavish more attention on her lips, and she succumbed to his hot mouth and probing tongue, granting him the privilege of kissing her deeply whilst she responded with matching passion, mumbling in those brief moments when their mouths were not too extensively intertwined for her to release a few fleeting words, "How do you know?"

Not reducing the pace and passion with which his mouth moved, Thomas mumbled, "A Father knows these things." He would have been happy to continue relishing the precious moments spent with the still-nude enchantress whose blankets were starting to slip further down her body, but something within him – conscience, perhaps – prioritized ensuring the woman was fully contented with his resolution to her issue above his own wants. And so, he broke apart from her momentarily to suggest, "If it would please you, I could send for my girls, introduce them to you and your family so that you can see their kind, forgiving temperaments for yourself."

Taken by surprise yet again by an unprecedented side to Jefferson in the short time since waking, Angelica's dark eyes widened, melting into rich, round pools of brown as she confirmed, albeit slightly disbelievingly, "I would like that. Providing it's not too much of an inconvenience for you," she added, not quite able to come to terms with the sensitive generosity her lover was showing her.

Jefferson's usual self assured grin returned, as he confirmed in a low murmur, "My dearest Angelica, there are no inconveniences where you're concerned."

"Is that right?" She bit her bottom lip as a grin to mirror his lit her own features with relief and affection, and she drew closer to him once more as she declared, "Flattery can get you anywhere, Mr Jefferson."

"I'm glad to hear it, Mrs Church. But you know, it's not just flattery, I -" he was cut off as she returned her lips to his, as enthusiastic as he was to capitalize on the rare opportunity they had to be together now that her worries had been explained away, taking with them any shred of reticence. No longer preoccupied with words, he allowed his mouth to attend to an entirely different matter regarding the woman who no amount of flattery could realistically do justice to. All anxiety forgotten, she arched into him, pulling him closer and closing her eyes in sheer bliss as his experienced hands slipped under the blankets and traced the curves of her body, coming to find her thigh and massaging at her soft skin. Her fingertips traced the line of his spine, causing a shiver to run through Jefferson's body and provoking him to bite her lip as an automatic reflex.

She moaned, enjoying the sensual energy flooding her body, and tossed her head back to invite more kissed on her neck. As her heavy lidded eyes fluttered open, however, she caught sight of a ray of dawn sunlight bouncing off of a familiar trinket placed on the bedside table. Heaving a reluctant sigh, she retracted her hands from Thomas' body and pushed herself away from his hungry hands and keen mouth, suddenly remembering, "I should be leaving, before people start to worry about my whereabouts."

It was too soon for the woman to escape from him, leaving him to return to her own miserable normality, but Jefferson knew she was right. He was also not so deluded that he didn't know already that he would never willingly be parted from Angelica Schuyler Church, and that no amount of time with her could ever be enough. And so, knowing that he couldn't make her stay, he didn't protest, only watched idly as she left his bed, set about locating the various different pieces of her elegant ensemble from the night before and donned her gown once more. It did not escape his attention that the very last item to return to it's rightful place was the golden ring on her left hand, yet he knew better than to question her; for all her own talent at reading others, Angelica did not take well to being analysed herself.

As she leaned over to kiss him goodbye, he had only a few words for her, "Will we be doing this again?"

Angelica raised an eyebrow suggestively as a smirk curved her lips into the shape of a crescent moon. With no trace of her earlier issues manifesting in her expression, there was nothing but absolute certainty in her voice as she replied, "Of course, Thomas. I look forward to it."

Half way down the path leading from the Jefferson household, the sound of racing footsteps approaching from behind her had compelled Angelica to turn around, in time to see Thomas skidding to a halt a foot away and offering to walk her home. However, she thought better of being escorted to her husband's home by the man with whom she had spent the night, lest John Church should show some uncharacteristic wit and see at once what had passed between the pair. And so, she returned home alone, enjoying the summer air of the city as she made her way along the familiar route, pondering as she did so about the excuse she would offer to her husband. Perhaps claim I was not out all night. Something along the lines of, "Darling, I'm so sorry that I didn't leave a note, but after returning home I promptly felt quite ill after all of the heat in that claustrophobic atmosphere I had just vacated, so I decided to take a stroll about the city to cool myself down." And then, as for my absence this morning, "I suppose I must have taken more wine than I ought to have last night, because I woke with a pounding headache, and again my remedy was to take the air rather than disturb you with any complaints." After all, he has no real reason to doubt my word - he'd probably prefer that I truly was drunk last night rather than know that I willingly spent hours dancing with Thomas at the event.

However, it soon emerged that for the second time that morning, her careful consideration of the following events was entirely unnecessary. It was not John who opened the door, but a maid, who appeared somewhat surprised to be greeting her mistress but not to such an extent that she questioned it. As such, Angelica was free to make her way to Mr Church's study, knocking on the door before entering with a slightly timid, "Good morning, my love."

"Morning, dear," John responded distractedly, flipping through a pile of papers which he clearly found to be infinitely more interesting than his bride. "You slept well, I take it?" He checked his watch, noting, "You must have, for you to wake up this late in the morning."

Angelica was momentarily dumbfounded, utterly at a loss for words - sleep well? I haven't even explained where I slept yet - and then it struck her, a cold blast of water on her radiant mood: He didn't even notice I was gone. In a way it was justifiable, after all despite their marital status, Angelica often clung to the very edge of their shared bed, placing as much space between herself and her husband as possible. She always told him it was so that the air could circulate around her in the night so that she didn't overheat, and yet in spite of that she always shrouded herself in as many blankets as she could gather together, so much so that it was not unheard of that he didn't even see the woman sharing a bed with him. His failure to observe her absence flattened the very last of her doubts regarding her morality, reminding her that Jefferson was correct when he told her that her husband did not treat her with the attention she deserved. It was a relief to know that she had immediately been offered a watertight alibi, and as such she smiled sweetly and truthfully told him, "I slept wonderfully, thank you dear." The best night I've had in years, she added silently, though she respected him enough that she didn't say so aloud.

Filled with renewed confidence, she left her husband alone, seeing no reason why she should loiter in his office, and made her way to her own bedroom so that she could change out of her crumpled gown into something more appropriate for her day to day activities. She dared not ask for the assistance of any servants, still slightly paranoid about any suspicion they might form, so she was entirely alone as she did her best to lace up a fresh corset and pull on a clean blouse, before replacing her large skirt with a far less creased one.

It gave her a strange kind of peace, as if shedding the evidence of her illicit affair and allowing her to proceed whilst remaining inconspicuous. It sent a thrill of excitement through her just to think of it - or more specifically, of him - of returning to Thomas' strong embrace and losing herself to the dizzying pleasure of being with him in every sense of the phrase.

Her private fantasies were disturbed, however, by a hesitant knock at the door. Not John, he wouldn't knock, and not one of her children, because they would simply call. With a sigh, she invited, "Come in," and sure enough another maid entered the room, carrying with her a folded slip of paper.

"A letter from the United States, Mrs Church," she offered by way of explanation, placing the note in her mistress' suddenly eager hands and retreating from whence she came with a hasty bow. Alone again, Angelica took no time at all to run her finger across the familiar handwriting, recognizing it at once as that belonging to her brother in law. As though Thomas Jefferson had never been introduced to her, a rush of anxious anticipation caused her heart to flutter, and she wasted no time in tearing the seal from the paper to unlock Alexander's enrapturing words:

My Dearest Angelica,

I this morning wrote a short and hasty line to your other self and did not then expect I should have been able to find a moment for the more agreeable purpose of dropping a line to you. Your husband has too much gallantry to be offended at this implication of preference. But I can not, however great my hurry, resist the strong desire I feel of thanking you for your invaluable letter by the last packet. Imagine, if you are able, the pleasure it gave me. Notwithstanding the compliment you pay to my eloquence, its resources could give you but a feeble image of what I should wish to convey.

This you will tell me is poetical enough. I seldom write to a lady without fancying the relation of lover and mistress. It has a very inspiring effect. And in your case the dullest materials could not help feeling that propensity.

I have a great opinion of your discernment and therefore I venture to rant. If you read this letter in a certain mood, you will easily divine that in which I write it.

You ladies despise the pedantry of punctuation. There was a most critical comma in your last letter. It is my interest that it should have been designed; but I presume it was accidental. Unriddle this if you can. The proof that you do it rightly may be given by the omission or repetition of the same mistake in your next.

So Mr. Church resolves to be a parliament-man. I had rather see him a member of our new Congress; but my fervent wish always is that much success may attend all his wishes. I am ⟨sincerely⟩ attached to him as well as to yourself.

We are all well here. Your father and mother are better than they have been for a long time past. Betsey sends her love. I do not choose to say joins in mine. Tis old fashioned.

Despairing of seeing you here my only hope is that the jumble of events will bring us together in Europe. I speak not from any immediate project of the sort but from a combination of possible circumstances.

Wherever I am believe always that there is no one can pay a more sincere or affectionate tribute to your deserts than I do—

Adieu ma chere, soeur

A Hamilton

Oh Alexander, what have you done to me, she wondered, hating that a single letter from her sister's husband had the ability to rouse that all too familiar ache in her chest, an ache she had hardly felt since spending so much time with her new lover. Her brother in law missed her, that was certain. He wished to be reunited with her - well, the feeling was very much mutual. And then, most alarmingly of all, that comma:

In her last letter to him, sent so long ago that she had hardly been able to imagine the unbelievable alterations made to her love life in the near future, she had placed a single erroneous comma herself, lending a different, more suggestive meaning to a phrase, a test to see whether or not he cared enough about her to notice it. And had not disappointed, responding not only with an acknowledgement, but a comma of his own.

Is this his attempt to convey that he loves me as more than a sister? And what of my dear Eliza, has he forgotten her? She was completely sure that she should not be so happy about that letter, not just because of Eliza, but because of Thomas. Thomas Jefferson, who had promised her that he would do anything within his power to make her happy, who brought her pastries and fruit in bed, and who gave her the most real, intense, raw pleasure, emotionally and physically, that no man before him had ever matched.

She loved Alexander Hamilton, and that was a brutal reality from which she could not escape. On the other hand, she simultaneously cared deeply for Thomas Jefferson, a man who didn't play Alexander's ridiculous games and simply gave her the gratification her love deserved. And so maybe it is time to acknowledge that indulging in sharing enjoyment and chemistry with a man is by far the better option than pining for one who I could never really want to care for me...

She kept that thought in mind, holding it close to her heart and being slowly surprised as recalling that idea through the day seemed to ease the familiar pang in her chest. She had spent the night with Thomas, and no teasing letter from her brother could detract from the enduring joviality the memories of their time together instilled in her.

Which is why, when her daughter, Catherine, sought her out later that day once her tutoring session was completed, Angelica confided with such eagerness that in good time, she would be introduced to a very dear friend of hers. It was, of course, the suggestion of Jefferson, part of his grand plan to reassure her sufficiently that she would feel less guilt at returning to his bed.

And regardless of any other factors, she did fully intend to keep her word to him and return to his passionate embrace.

A/N: Yep, that's the letter with a comma after dearest. I will confess that I didn't actually intend to use that one, but it was sent closest to the date of the story soooo I figured it was a good one to use to make Angelica worry about who she is betraying.

I will update as soon as possible, thanks so much for reading!