I apologize that this chapter is in Estella's POV, as I am trying to focus more on Erik, but this chapter was necessary. I hope that you enjoy, anyway!

Ch. 17

Estella wrapped her light rose-colored night-robe tighter around herself and tied the sash around her waist with a sigh. Only one week had passed since the man whom she loved had asked for her hand in marriage.

She daydreamed about the warm summer day when Samuel Roberts had asked for her permission to take a stroll among the rose garden together, and how she had marveled at the beauty of the various pinks and whites of the soft petals of the flowers. She could remember their sweet fragrance, and how he had observed her with a smile that had lit up his handsome features.

She had looked at him and laughed, for the two had shared in some sort of amorous but silent exchange of glances, and he had filled her heart with joy with his visits. Often she had wondered how a man of high class and wealth would ever take an interest in her-for he was to inherit his father's estate in a short while-but he had never made her feel less than a lady, in fact; she felt more alive around him than anyone else.

She did not question herself around him, for the color of her skin did not cast a shroud of disgust on his opinion of her, and at times she even forgot about it, herself. And once her uncle had heard about her impending marriage-even from Samuel's own lips the words were spoken-he had not been upset. Though she could not say that John was elated, either, she felt as if his opinion of her had at least somewhat improved since the acceptance of Samuel's proposal.

And Hattie, of course, had been taken with envy and fits of jealousy, but that was to be expected. Estella had been too ecstatic for her upcoming wedding and indulged herself in the details of the planning for the majority of her time and did not allow herself to dwell on her cousin's sour mood.

Estella stared at herself in the mirror and noticed the glow about her face as she brushed her hair until it was soft before she had decided to retire for the night.

But her mind had refused to let her sleep, for that day she knew that Samuel had made their announcement to his parents, and she wondered how it went. Though she did not know them well, for they seemed to be a haughty couple (for the vastness of their estate gave ample reason to be so), she feared their disapproval.

A knock came to her door, startling her, and she immediately went to answer it. Samuel stood, holding a small candle, and she was surprised to see him calling upon her so late at night. She opened the door enough to see him, but attempted to remain hidden from his sight, for she was improper.

"Samuel, is something the matter? What are you doing here so late at night?" she asked, worried.

His light brown eyes were hidden behind thick lashes, and she noticed the despair found within them.

"May I come inside?"

Estella attempted to hide her surprise, for she never would have expected a gentleman to ask such a thing.

"But I am not dressed appropriately and it is late-"

"Please...I must speak with you," he pleaded.

Sighing in defeat, she opened the door wider to let him in. She closed it quickly and urged him to speak quietly so that no one would discover that he was in her room at such an hour. She was already viewed as anything but a lady, and she did not want to make matters worse.

Samuel placed his candlestick down with a deep exhale as he thought about everything that had transpired that day. When he turned around to face her, he set his eyes upon her beauty and had nearly forgotten his troubles.

He could not help but to allow himself a glimpse of her feminine curves beneath the thin chiffon material of her night attire, and how the candlelight played upon her light brown skin made him anxious to call her his wife. She was intoxicating to him, and he found that the more time that he spent with her, the stronger his addiction for her became.

"My parents are aware of our upcoming marriage," he began slowly, watching to see her reaction. "And they are most displeased."

Estella's brows furrowed. It was just as she had imagined-that his parents could never see beyond her color and lack of fortune. She would never be one to mingle among the public or to be found at a party, for she was always kept on a tight leash by her uncle so as to never leave the confines of her home. How could she expect them to rejoice at the news that their son was to wed a 'nobody' (or worse, a mixed-breed)?

Samuel saw the pain in her eyes, and he wished that the truth had been anything but. Nevertheless, he did not want to see the look of unhappiness on her face, and so he drew closer to her and grasped her hands in his gently.

"Do not fear, for I do not need their approval," he soothed, stroking a stray curl away from her face.

Estella felt the tears prick the corners of her eyes as she looked at him. His dark brown curly hair and olive-colored skin truly showed his partial-Italian origins, and to think that this man held her heart and loved her in return had already felt surreal, but now she felt her dreams would never come true.

He placed the palm of his hand on her cheek and stroked her skin with his thumb.

"I will marry you," he added with a smile.

"Even if it is against their wishes?"

"Yes," he replied.

Estella smiled and glanced down at the floor out of shyness. Samuel caught her chin with his fingertips and tilted it upward before placing a soft kiss on her lips. He pulled her closer to himself and deepened the kiss.

Though it felt wonderful, she pulled away breathlessly.

"Samuel...You really should not be here..."

Though she wanted nothing more than to melt into his arms and feel his lips once more, she knew that it was wrong.

"Why not? You are to be my wife soon, and it makes no difference now," he smirked, attempting to kiss her again.

Estella giggled and turned her face away from him, and he began to kiss her neck. She gasped and playfully batted at him, urging him to cease his naughty behavior.

"Really, you must go," she repeated.

The two of them had only shared in one kiss before that night-their first kiss the day in which he had proposed-and she was not about to give in to anything more.

He pulled away from her, hurt.

"So you do not want me?" he asked, and she could see that he was beginning to grow upset.

"Of course I want you!" she quickly responded. "That is the problem-that I want you, and we are not yet married!"

"But I already told you that it does not matter. We will be wed in a matter of weeks; of what difference is it if we show our love, now?"

"It makes a difference to me," she said.

Samuel dropped her hands and stepped away from her, turning his back toward her.

"I am a patient man, but what you are doing is torture. Ever since I first laid eyes on you, I have wanted you."

Estella blushed at the thought and could not help but to smile. To think that a man found her desirable, and perhaps even beautiful, was certainly something that she never thought that she would hear.

"But I will wait," he sighed.

"M'Lady?"

Estella was snapped out of her reverie by Marguerite Thorson's soft voice.

She glanced around the room to see that she was still in her bed, the sheets a tangled mess around her legs, as Marguerite held out two different dresses for her to see.

"Which one do you prefer?" she repeated.

Estella observed the maeve-colored fabric of one and the navy-color of the other, and she found that it did not matter to her what she was to wear. She had never had the luxury of many choices when living with her uncle, and anything would be better to wear than the wrinkled and dirtied frock that she had on.

"It makes no difference to me," she replied with a wave of her hand.

She felt weak, exhausted, and most of all, hungry. It had been nearly a week since she had fallen off of that black horse, and though she could hardly remember the first few days of her illness, she had gradually improved and could recall the few times in which she had woken up during the past few days. She had eaten a little food lately, but it was certainly not enough to satisfy her, now.

Her fever was gone, but in its place was a weakness and appetite that she had not felt before. As if to confirm this, her stomach growled very loudly, and she reddened out of embarrassment before the servant.

"Would you like for me to draw you a bath? I will let Mr. Destler know that you are awake, and then we can find you something to eat," she suggested.

Estella nodded her head, eager to clean herself up and to fill her empty and aching stomach with food.

But more importantly, she was eager to see Mr. Destler.