Many thanks to LuvCullens for recc'ing this story on her fic "Sincerely, Lieutenant Cullen".
Chapter 11 – The Date
"Edward!"
The wager is over.
I've won.
The shock is so great I stop what I'm doing and just lie there with my cheek on her leg, panting.
Small hands tug at my collar. Insistent.
I let her pull me back onto the sofa.
This is over, but she...she wants more.
She's stretched out on the sofa. Oh god, she wants me on top of her.
My hands are everywhere. It feels so good, so liberating after four days of torture. Four days of denial. I feel greedy. Dizzy with options.
I push two fingers into the rip in her tights. Just slow small circles on her warm skin. I need to hear it again.
She calls my name and arches her back. I'm immediately distracted by her breasts.
My hands cover her ribs. The rough skin on my fingers catches on the thin fabric of her top.
Too many layers. I want them gone.
My thumb traces the curve on the underside of her breast. Can I? I want...I need...
I've broken so many promises to myself along the way. What's one more?
No no no. I bury my face in her neck. Her neck is safe.
My head is heavy. I feel drugged, drunk on the sweet-smelling, warm, squirming mess of girl under me.
I want to kiss her. But I don't.
I try. I try so hard to be a gentleman. But I haven't been thinking like a gentleman since Tuesday.
Tuesday, when she sucked my whisky-drenched finger into her mouth.
Her leg is around my waist. I run my hand down it until I hit the smooth leather of her boots.
Those boots.
I calculate the time it would take to remove the boots, the tights, her knickers.
20 seconds.
I could be buried inside her in 20 seconds. Less if I just rip the tights and push aside her...
No no no no no no.
"We should get you home. Your mother will be worried." I peel myself away from her. She's dazed, then annoyed.
I hand her my heavy overcoat and grab a thinner jacket I have lying around in the library for myself. Even with her coat, she's ridiculously under-dressed for the weather. I ignore her protests and bundle her in the thick wool. My hands linger on her shoulders longer than necessary.
The path feels narrow with two people side by side. I'm used to walking by myself behind her, hoping she would turn around, just once.
She never did.
Now, she steals glances at me, and then blushes when she gets caught. I know because I have no qualms about staring at her.
Too soon we are at the wooded bend in the path where I usually leave her.
"Bella." Her name comes out in a rush of wispy white in the cold. It's the first time I've ever called her by that name. I love the sound. Bella Bella Bella.
"Lunch at one o'clock tomorrow. Meet me by the river, under that tree where you used to read ."
She's frowning. Please don't frown. You're too beautiful to frown.
"Bella, the date, remember?"
I have a plan. When it comes to her, I always have a plan.
Bella was a ball of nerves as she made her way to the river.
It wasn't a real date, she told herself. She lost a wager, that was all.
Bella was determined not to dress up for it. Her one concession was that she combed her hair and let it down.
She was embarrassed by her wantonness on Thursday and humiliated by his subsequent rejection of her. She wished she had been the one to pull back instead of him; she would have kept some of her dignity that way.
Bella rationalised her behaviour: she got competitive and lost her head; she was sexually inexperienced and unprepared for the advances of someone like Edward. Unbidden, an image of Tanya's manicured, blood-red nails raking down Edward's naked back invaded her head. She shook it away with a shudder.
She would be gracious in her defeat, she decided. They would have their little "date", after which she would keep a professional distance. The novelty of their Romeo-and-Juliet-children-of-feuding-clans routine would eventually wear off for Edward and he would turn his attentions to someone more appreciative. Someone like Tanya. She grimaced. Okay, someone nicer than Tanya.
She would keep working until her mother got better and she could find a proper job else where.
As she neared their meeting spot, it occurred to Bella that she had no idea where they would lunch. Would he take her to a restaurant? Surely not, he knew she wouldn't risk being seen by anyone in the village. A picnic perhaps? In winter?
She was stopped short by the sight before her.
A lone narrowboat was moored by the river bank, its glossy red exterior defiantly cheerful against the dull winter palette of browns and greys.
Bella was charmed. She had never been inside a narrowboat. She wondered if she would be able to sneak a peek through the windows.
To her astonishment, a familiar figure emerged from the door of the cabin to give her a friendly salute. "Ahoy there!"
If Bella hadn't been so surprised, she would have rolled her eyes at Edward.
"This your ship, Captain?"
"Nay, I borrowed it from a friend of a friend. Welcome aboard, mind your step."
Bella accepted his hand and climbed onto the boat.
Modelled after the cargo boats that used to navigate Britain's network of narrow canals and locks in the 18th and 19th centuries, narrowboats are easily distinguished by their long and slender form and their often colourful, painted exteriors. The boat Edward borrowed was 60' in length and only 6'10" wide.
"I didn't want us to have to stay in the library. This is not very spacious, but it's warm and private, and wouldn't look too out of place around these parts." Edward explained.
It was true. Occasional canal boats passed through the area in the warmer seasons. A narrowboat moored there in the winter might seem a little unusual but would not attract as much attention as a larger, more luxurious yacht. Given the weather and their need for secrecy, this was really the best option. Once again, Bella was struck by his thoughtfulness.
Inside, the cabin was warm and intimate. The saloon area consisted of a long L-shape bench seat upholstered in burgundy arranged around a small dining table. Behind this was a compact open kitchen with all the essential appliances cunningly packed into just two stretches of counters. The living space, though highly functional, was made cosy by mahogany and ash wood panelling and short, jaunty curtains. The boat also had two small bedrooms with storage units crammed into every nook and cranny, a tiny bathroom with a shower and a generous deck at the rear. Bella could imagine herself sitting on the deck in summer, book in one hand, cold drink in the other as the boat slowly glided through the lush countryside.
As they passed through the crammed bedrooms to get back to the saloon, Edward commented, "I've slept in one of these, they are surprisingly comfortable." Bella stared at the double bed, her face steadily reddening.
"No no I didn't mean...let's go eat before the food gets cold." Edward was now blushing too.
For a meal assembled out of a mountain of boxes, lunch was a surprisingly sophisticated affair with crab terrine to start, duck confit for mains followed by crème brûlée. Each course was washed down with an accompanying wine.
This was the best meal Bella had enjoyed since her father died. Granted, any properly prepared meal would taste better than the instant noodles and toast that currently formed the bulk of her diet. The flavour of the food and its presentation seemed awfully familiar..."Wait...this isn't from La Maison, is it?" La Maison was her favourite restaurant in the county.
Edward just smiled cryptically.
The wine smoothed over the bumpy start to the date. Before long, they were chatting easily about books, music, food and travel.
"What's your favourite travel moment?"
Bella thought for a moment before replying.
"Waking up to a lavender field in Provence. Eating the best gelato in the world after visiting the Uffizi in Florence. Bumping into a geisha on the little streets of Kyoto. Getting lost in the Met Museum in New York. Trying to take a picture of the Ta Prohm temple in Cambodia that would actually do it justice...I've been to so many wonderful places, but I've never been to Africa or South America. I would love to, one day perhaps..."
Her voice trailed off. With her mother, no money and only a part-time job, "one day" was looking very far away indeed.
"Well, I've heard of all the places you've mentioned, but I've only been to half of them. You are much better-travelled than I am. I'm quite envious, actually."
"Really? Didn't you take a gap year?" Bella was surprised. Many of her peers took a year off before entering university to travel and see the world. The less affluent ones worked as au pairs or whatever job they could find to support themselves financially while doing so. The socially-conscious volunteered on charity-missions to Third-World countries to teach English or build wells. And then there were the privileged ones who turned the gap year into a year-long party across the globe. Bella had skipped hers. At the time, she had no idea of the dire financial straits her family was in, but she could tell that her father was cutting back. She started university straight away and went backpacking during the long school holidays on a shoestring budget. For the Cullens however, money was obviously not an issue.
"Nope. My father had me working for him as soon as I was old enough to spell the words 'portfolio diversification'. I spent most of my school holidays either working on the estate or shadowing him in business meetings. He was very keen for me to start as early as possible.
"He wants to retire soon. I doubt I'll be able to take a long holiday for a while. If I do, it'd have to be for something important, like a honeymoon."
For Bella, this was another little insight into the enigma that was Edward Cullen. Early on in their acquaintance, she had somehow assumed that he was just another pleasure-seeking trust fund baby with many "projects" on the go but no actual responsibilities. This was clearly not the case. It all made sense now – the strain on his face when he came to the library at the end of the day, his regret at no longer having time to read. At the age of twenty-seven, when many of his peers were still finding their feet in their careers, Edward was taking over the responsibility of a long family legacy with scores of jobs at stake.
Edward continued. "When I really want to get away, I go to Scotland, to this little remote place I have on the Isle of Skye. I love the sea, the landscape, it's so wild, untamed...so honest. Heck, I even like the weather. Nothing like horizontal rain lashing at you at fifty-miles-an-hour to remind you you're in the Hebrides. And of course, the whisky's excellent."
Bella, who had been painting a vivid picture of the rugged Scottish landscape in her mind started blushing furiously at the word "whisky". This was ridiculous. She was a grown woman. She would not blush every time an alcoholic beverage was mentioned just because someone had once licked it off her elbow.
His voice softened. "There is this little restaurant housed in a crofter's cottage by the sea. It's in the middle of nowhere, even for a middle of nowhere place like Skye. They do the most exquisite things with local Scottish produce. You'd love it."
The unspoken invitation hung in the space between them.
After petits fours and coffee, it was time to leave. Bella decided to ask the question that had been gnawing at her as Edward was helping her off the boat.
"Edward, when did you arrange this? I'm sure it takes more than a day to find a boat and sail it here. Did you know I was going to...to lose?"
Edward took a deep breath. "I've been waiting for an opportunity to ask you out for some time now. The boat has been here for a couple of days. It's not because I was so confident of winning. Just in case I did win, I didn't want to give you any time to back out." He gave her hand a light squeeze before releasing it.
Unsure of how to react, Bella turned away and started in the direction home.
"Bella."
Edward was rooted to the spot, eyes earnest. He was waiting.
She took one step towards him. Then the next. And the next until they were a breath apart.
His kiss said everything he couldn't.
Maybe she told herself she was simply holding up her end of the bargain. Perhaps it was because of the beautiful meal he had obviously taken pains to put together. Or maybe it was because his lips were so, so soft.
For whatever reason, Bella found herself kissing him back.
Thanks for reading :)
British "Knickers" = American "Panties"
Narrowboat - Link to pics in my profile