Many thanks to BelleDean and Alzzu for their reccs on ADifferentForest and Fictionators respectively.
Many thanks to Songster who gave me excellent, detailed comments for the first 5 chapters.
Thanks to all the lovely readers who left such kind reviews. As one would say in Manor-ward's country, I am chuffed to bits (translated to American English: "I am very pleased").
Warning: The following chapter contains more swearing than I have ever typed in my life.
Long chapter, but it should pay off at the end :)
Chapter 6 – The Swineherd
Bella Swan was having a very bad day. First, she had bickered with her mother in the morning. The unusually cold weather had kept Renee indoors and in a testy mood. Mother and daughter had never spent an extended period of time together in such close proximity. Bella didn't know which was worse- the fighting, or staring out of the window at the rain. The incessant rainfall had also worsened the leaks in the cottage and the number of jars and pans on the floor collecting the drips grew steadily. In some areas, one could not walk straight but had to dance around the leaking spots like a crazed marionette. Worst of all, the ancient boiler they relied on to heat the cottage had finally broken down. The plumber would have to be called. The plumber would have to be paid. Bella decided that the next book she collected from Edward in exchange for their reading sessions would have to be something that didn't hold any sentimental value for her, something she could sell.
She heaved a sigh of relief as she opened the back door of the Cullen mansion with the key Edward had given her. She ignored the puddles her dripping waterproof jacket left on the floor of the secret passageway and threw her weight into yanking the lever that opened the library door with a practised motion. Squelching her way into the library, she thought woefully to herself that if someone came into the library now, the secret door wouldn't be a secret any more, for her wet footprints clearly led from it.
Ahhhhh the library! Unlike the cottage, it was always warm. The wood fire was a constant source of delight for her. Besides keeping the large room toasty, it also emitted the most delicious aroma, the same aroma that Bella remembered from meeting Edward just weeks ago. It was a smell she would forever associate with him.
She glanced around the room, her eyes landing on the flowers on the piano. She had been noticing changes in the library. First, it had became tidier. Papers were stacked and straightened. She no longer had to leap over piles of books to reach the shelves. Then, the flowers started appearing. Colourful arrangements brightening the winter gloom were discreetly positioned, not on the desk where she worked, but further away in her direct line of sight. Bella wondered a little guiltily if her presence had made Edward so self-conscious that he felt the need to tidy and prettify what was previously a masculine sanctuary.
She walked towards the side-table where a silver tray was daintily laid out with bone china tea ware. A small treat was always included alongside the tea things. Sometimes it was biscuits, other times cake, occasionally some beautiful chocolate truffles. When Bella asked about the tea tray, Edward had waved away her question, joking that access to tea was an inviolable right for the English workforce and that without the fortifying drink the country would grind to a halt.
Oooooh, it's macarons today. Bella licked her lips at the sight of the little pastel-hued confectioneries stacked neatly in their pink box. She would have her tea earlier today.
The macaron-induced mood high did not last for long. 3 hours later, Bella could be heard swearing a storm at the computer which had crashed and wiped out her afternoon's efforts.
It was a terrible waste of macarons. Although Bella vaguely recognised the name printed on the pink box, she did not realise that the delicate confectioneries were made exclusively in Switzerland and had been ordered from Zurich especially for her.
Edward Cullen was also having a very bad day.
He had just received news that the major supermarket chain his farms supplied was demanding yet another round of price cuts. He wondered how many small farms would be undone by this blow, or gobbled up by larger conglomerates with better margins and bargaining power. It was lucky that the Cullens had other businesses to buffer their finances. He then thought about the tenants he visited earlier that day. The unseasonable frost had burst the water pipes in some of the older cottages on the estate. Though his estate manager took care of the repairs, Edward knew it was necessary to assure the tenants personally that everything possible was being done. In a small village where the Cullens' wealth was so visible, he knew that he had to take extra care to pre-empt any gossip or resentment.
He passed some glaziers doing repair work on the mansion's large Georgian windows. He sighed. It was one of the disadvantages of living in such an immense 200-year-old house – the repair work was never-ending, and bloody expensive. He could only hope that his library wouldn't need work done any time soon.
The library. His sanctuary. He quickened his steps and checked his watch.
5 minutes to 4 o'clock.
Bella should be getting ready for him now. The thought made him smile.
That was until he pushed open the library door and was greeted thus by a sweet voice he had only ever heard recite poetry,
"Fuck-fuck-fucking-bugger-buggity-buggity-fuck-fuck-ARSE! Balls-balls-fucking-shitty-shit-TITS! I HATE you you motherfucking computer!"
He immediately turned on his heels and headed for the cellar. Once there, he took great care in choosing a bottle of wine. Back in the library, he found Bella sprawled on the sofa with an arm thrown over her eyes. She had not yet chosen a book.
He presented the bottle before her with a mock-elaborate flourish that would rival that of the most obsequious wine waiter.
She read the label and widened her eyes.
Château Margaux 1985
"Oh, fuck, yes, please." Premier Cru wine was a luxury she could no longer afford.
Because they both had such a bad day, they decided, on a whim, to stray from their usual reading list of classics and pick Hans Christian Andersen's "Fairy Tales". The copy from the Cullen library was a 1916 edition, richly illustrated by Harry Clarke. Edward and Bella admired the sumptuous colour plates before settling on "The Swineherd".
"The Swineherd" is a satirical tale about a poor prince who wants to marry a proud princess. She rejects him because the gifts he presents before her are natural, rather than made-man. The prince then disguises himself and works as a swineherd at the palace. He creates elaborate toys and convinces the princess to pay him in kisses in exchange for the toys. The Emperor, disgusted that his daughter would kiss a swineherd, casts her out. The prince then reveals himself in his full glory and spurns the princess as well. The princess is left abandoned and alone.
Buoyed by the wine, Bella read the part of the spoilt princess with great gusto, prompting chuckles from Edward. She closed the book and said with a smile,
"Well, I suppose the shallow princess got what she deserved in the end?"
"Seems rather harsh to me. Does it not strike you that fairy tales tend to be rather misogynistic?"
"You mean, because they make women suffer glass footwear, legumes in bed and narcolepsy?"
"Exactly."
They were both in high spirits now.
"Books!" Bella declared, swaying slightly. "If there is anything I would sell my kisses for, it would be books!"
Edward raised his glass to her, laughing, "Kisses for books, spoken like a true bibliophile!"
Bella blushed hotly. She must have sounded ridiculously presumptuous to Edward. She looked away, getting up to put the book back on the shelf.
"Not that anyone would pay anything to kiss me." she murmured, embarrassed.
"I'd kiss you." The reply came so swiftly Bella wasn't sure she heard him correctly.
"What?" She blinked at him uncomprehendingly.
"You heard me. I would kiss you." Edward rose from his armchair.
"A book for a kiss,would that be a fair deal, Isabella?" He walked slowly towards her.
Bella's face was burning as she instinctively backed away from him until she felt her spine hit the shelves behind her. He was towering over her now.
"Pick a book." His tone was challenging. Was he daring her?
She lifted a defiant chin. Well two can play that game. She glanced over at her desk. Scanning the pile of books she had been working on today, she picked the most valuable one.
"'Wuthering Heights'. The First American Edition."
Published in 1848 by Harpers & Brothers, it was worth an eye-watering £5,000.
She inclined her head towards it and waited for his protests.
If Edward Cullen thought £5,000 was a high price for a kiss, he didn't show it. He barely gave the book a glance, merely nodding to indicate he had heard her. Instead, his gaze seemed to search her face before coming to rest on her mouth.
This is it. No backing out now.She closed her eyes and tipped her face towards him, expecting a perfunctory peck on the lips.
Edward had different ideas. He gently cupped her face with both his hands.
The first brush against Bella's upper lip sent a jolt down her body. The second, a slow graze across her lower lip, stopped her breathing entirely. By the time he finally pressed both his lips against hers, Bella's knees had buckled. He caught her with one hand on her back, crushing her body against his. His other hand moved to the back of her neck, deepening the kiss. His mouth moved slowly against hers, insistent and coaxing.
His hands are so warm.
When they finally broke apart, both were breathing heavily. Edward rested his forehead against hers.
"If I were the prince, I would never have let you go."
She twisted away from his embrace, unable to look at him. As always, the walk home was conducted in complete silence.
That night, Bella could not sleep. Every time she closed her eyes, she could feel his lips burning hers.
A/N:
British "Biscuits" = American "Cookies"
Bella's cuss cluster is my little tribute to Colin Firth. It was extracted from his fantastic swearing scene in the excellent movie "The King's Speech".
I've never had the pleasure of tasting the 1985 Château Margaux. My internet research tells me it's peaking now. If anyone has a spare bottle they can't finish, I'd be happy to assist you.
I've updated my profile with a very short Q & A.