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I feel like I’m suffering from an extensive case of whiplash. I touch my lips, sure that they are going to feel cool to the touch and our kiss, our explosive, mind blowing, out of this world kiss was just my imagination. I pull back like I’ve been shocked when I can feel the swelling that’s proof that I didn’t just invent that kiss in my head. There’s also the fact that my body feels as if it’s a live-wire, the slightest touch setting me off.
There was once a time, a brief time, where James shared everything with me. We’re strangers passing in the night right now and that’s not going to change until I can give him my side of the story.
I decide to take a nap since I have three hours to burn and it doesn’t seem like the right time to try and sneak out of the castle to find Isabelle in the village. If James was that upset over me just exploring the castle, I can only imagine how crazy he would get if I actually left the palace grounds.
I curl up in James’ bed, inhaling the scent of him that’s all over the sheets. I’m soon fast asleep despite the heaviness of my thoughts.
“Have you moved on?” asks Landon. We’re sitting on his yacht, and I’m in that crimson dress that I wore on our first date.
“What do you mean?” I ask, not understanding his question.
“I once asked you what you wanted most in life, and you told me it was to move on. Is that still true?”
I savor his profile. The sun is just now setting, casting a soft glow on everything. It’s my favorite time of day, mostly because of him.
“I’m beginning to think that there’s no such thing,” I say softly as he turns to look at me. His golden eyes seep right into my soul, uncovering all of my secrets, everything that I’m afraid to say. It’s always been like that with him.
“I’ll never let you forget me,” he tells me seriously in that tone that demands obedience. I shiver as images of him ordering me around in other places fills my thoughts.
“My days begin and end with thoughts of you,” I tell him seriously. And he nods like that satisfies him. But I know my Landon, he’s never satisfied.
“How long?” he asks again, his hand reaching up to stroke the side of my face.
“How long for what?” I ask breathlessly.
“How long until you come back to me?”
I want to fall into his arms and ask him to come to me. Maybe if I’m being honest with myself it was easier before I knew there was a chance that we could be reunited, because then I had a reason why I couldn’t be with all of them.
What if I could?
I could never choose.
“As soon as I can,” I finally respond, turning my eyes towards where the day is rapidly fading.
“Hurry,” he orders. And I just nod.
I never could say no to Landon Torrio.
“Milady,” comes a voice, and I’m roused reluctantly from my dream. I feel disoriented...and a little guilty. How is it that I can have such vivid dreams of one lover while in the bed of another?
The seamstress from this morning is standing uncomfortably at the foot of my bed.
“Your dress is ready, ma’am,” she tells me, wringing her hands nervously. “We only have an hour until the banquet starts and there’s much to do. I have your bath drawn,” she continues, gesturing to the room right off James’ quarters where his bath is, a luxury for sure in this day and age.
I drag myself from the bed and stumble to the bathroom where I quickly strip and sink into the bath that she has filled with warm water. There’s no time to soak however since an hour using medieval forms of getting ready is very little time.
After the bath, I’m primped and prodded to within what seems like an inch of my life.
“This seems fancy for a simple banquet,” I tell her as I stare at myself in the mirror wondering if somehow, I missed the memo of this actually being a ball tonight instead of a banquet.
As we discussed, I’m wearing blue for tonight as well. It’s a brocaded blue gown that cinches in tightly at the waist so that it’s extremely hard to breathe. I had forgotten just how terrible corsets actually were. I have to admit their effect is flattering however as my waist looks smaller than it has in years. The gown is quite low cut and I’m a bit afraid that one of my breasts is going to pop out if I move too fast. It’s so tight though that I’m not even missing the support of my bra.
She put some exotic oil in my hair that makes it almost seem to sparkle in the candlelight. It’s done up in an elaborate set of braids that I could never replicate in a million years.
“You look beautiful,” says the girl admiringly.
“Well this is all your handiwork,” I tell her with a grateful smile, making her blush.
