Romantic Short Stories

When Walls Fall (Historical)

"What do you want from me?" she shouted.

She was thoroughly fed up. She couldn't please anyone, least of all herself, and she didn't even want to please him. Not right now. Not in this moment when she was agonizing over the choices she'd made and the position she found herself in. She was so caught up in her own inner turmoil that she did not know he'd come up beside her until he took her arm and turned her from the window. She braced herself to look up into his stormy face but there was no storm there. His eyes were full of compassion and his expression was pained - pained for her.

The tears came so fast she didn't have time to blink them back. She tired to pull away. She tried to hide the evidence of her sorrow and self-loathing. She even tried to jerk her arm out of his grasp. However, he wouldn't be put off. He'd seen through her. He knew she was weak and feeble now. He knew she was just a woman - like every other woman and she hated herself all the more. He wrapped her in his arms and she struggled against him. She didn't want his pity. She'd rather he scorn her than pity her. The tears kept coming and she felt so miserable - so bereft. She could not give in any more. She could not give up any more of her dignity. She had to get a hold of herself. She had to!

Only, the more she struggled in his embrace the more he pressed her to his chest. And then he began to call her name softly and kiss the top of her head in the most tender way possible and she gave up the fight. It was pointless. She was a joke. Her whole life a joke. Somehow there was something very comical about him of all people trying to console her and comfort her when all he'd ever done since the day they were introduced was provoke her. She supposed that it was only fitting that when she was undone he should witness it and forever be able to hold it over her head. She was sure she deserved no less. She was, after all, a terrible friend and a wicked woman. She would have no happy ending.

After a long while she managed to calm herself and just lay her cheek against his chest utterly exhausted. He hadn't moved. He hadn't complained. He hadn't said much more than her name very softly into her hair from time to time. She realized belatedly that it was her Christian name - Sarah - he'd used. Never before, in the 10 years they'd know each other, had he ever called her by her Christian name. She sighed feeling as if she'd aged a whole lifetime in the past few hours.

He loosened his hold around her and he looked down at her as she looked up at him. His face was handsome, as always, but maybe more so because his eyes looked softly and gently at her. The worry evident in them still. Sarah let her arms fall limply to her sides because she felt the embrace was over. He was surely going to let her go now that she was calm and in relative control of herself. He brought his hands up to her shoulders and gently squeezed them but instead of letting her go he drew her back and wrapped his arms around her shoulders once more. She was too surprised to protest. She just rested there in this soft embrace with her cheek against his silk cravat. She took in a few deep breaths and closed her eyes. Then, not sure what to do with her arms, that were limp at her side, she wrapped them around his waist and held them there. It was much more comfortable then leaving them dangling at her sides awkwardly.

He stiffened ever so slightly and his breath seemed to catch in his throat. She had surprised him no doubt and now he was disgusted with her. He thought her wanton. She cursed herself inwardly and immediately began to pull away from him. She could feel tears of regret stinging her eyes. She was such a fool. When would she learn. She could not even bring herself to look up at him. Why hadn't he let her go? Why was he still holding her? Didn't he loath her now?