AN: thanks guys for all the patience with... well... me! So, here's an extra special chapter to thank you for surviving the 'Me.' Cheers and don't forget to R&R!
Margaret and John stayed with Fred and Dolores for another week. In that time they had gone to the beach, shopped in the town, and had even seen a medieval castle. Their nights were full; with dancing, supping at lovely Spanish restaurants, and retiring to their room with passion in their hearts. Margaret had never felt so fiery, so alive, and she craved the excitement of it all. She never wished to leave, and hoped to one day travel everywhere, to maybe never come home.
John was attentive as ever, but, away from his stern environment, had become another man. They had been out that night, at another beautiful ocean side haunt, and he been drinking. They all had, Margaret reasoned, but she had never seen her husband soused, and found it incomparably hilarious, perhaps due to the fact that she was a little tipsy as well. It took a lot to get him this way, she reflected. Four shots of tequila and a mug of strong German beer later her was smiling like a child and taking her hand to dance.
He twirled her about, grinning, and, like a devil, dipped her low. With suave he probably never knew he had, John kissed her full on the lips—in public, and twirled her until she was flush against his chest.
She cried out in surprise, and he gave her a funny, tender look.
"You... are... g—great, ya know that?" He slurred, trying to look alluring, "my m—," he hiccoughed, "mother said, 'son, stay away! She's bad news, she is. But you're not?" He seemed confused for a second, then, with a dramatic gesture, pointed to the sky, "No! No indeed!"
"Its time for bed," Fred made his way to the couple, a little unsteady himself, "C'mon you two."
"Yes Govna!" John put on his best military salute, but missed his forehead. "Lets go, wife! We are needed!"
"Indeed," Margaret giggled, "Onward!"
They entered their carriage, and Fred looked unsteadily at John. "To the study, good fellow?"
"Only if you've got some whiskey," John replied, gesturing wildly, "that tequillia—teqiqua... was rather dry..."
Dolores, who did not drink, gave Margaret a disparaging look, but rolled her eyes when her husband took her hand and kissed it, announcing that he knew she was the most beautiful woman in the world. To this John looked unreasonably angry.
"How can you say that?" he said loudly. "Clearly, my wife is better!"
"Better?" Fred squawked, "for shame! Margie's my sister, but look! My wife could make kings bow!"
"No!" John argued, "my wife could meet a star, and it would pale at the sight of her!"
"A star? My wife is a star! A thousand sparkling stars!"
"Margaret's the sun!"
"Dolly's the moon!"
"Clearly, there is only one way to settle this," Fred looked serious. "We duel!"
"A duel!" John's eyes lit up. "Quite so!"
"Say sunrise?"
"Indeed. What a lovely duel this will be. You will die of course."
"I, die? Nay good fellow! Nay!"
"Why?"
"It would be rude." Fred crossed his arms, a smug expression on his face.
"Fine," John replied, "that is true. You must smite me."
"Quite so, quite so."
At this point, the women had decided this conversation had gone on far enough, and besides, they were already back at the house.
"No one will be smiting anyone," Margaret said, "shake hands. Both wives are equal in beauty and... everything else."
"Quite so!" Fred said, taking John's hand.
"Quite so!" John shook, and when the carriage door swung open, almost tripped. Fred actually did, and fell on his face. He groaned, and John laughed so hard he cried.
"Alright you, time for bed," Margaret steered him away to their bedroom, leaving Fred, who was unhurt, to bounce along in his wife's wake.
"Did I ever tell you I loved you?" John asked as she helped him to the door.
"Only all the time," Margaret replied patiently, "but keep saying it. You might just get a kiss."