An Improper Courtship

Outpourings of truth

"Whilst, you have not interrupted me at any point these days," Blake whispered in her flowing hair,

"We've all been busy, Blake," Rosalie answered, stroking his hands and closing her eyes to feel the uplifting comfort Blake had given her with this position.

"Busy tying loose ends, I suppose,"

Rosalie released herself from the embrace and turned to face the mountain of a man before her. His hair had been combed back and despite the sheepish smile, there were lines of worry around his eyes.

"I am trying, I promise but there is a lot for me to reconcile with internally," Rosalie looked down, she had never felt so unarmed in her life, her bravery gone, her conviction weak and her mind a mess.

"I will wait as long as you need me to," Blake could sense that the Rosalie before him was not the one he had met, the energy she exuded was uncertain and tired. "Don't hesitate in asking anything of me,"

"Anything," Rosalie smiled lightly, Blake raised an eyebrow and winked.

"What does the lady think of?"

"Perhaps a kiss would be enough to restore some energy to this tired lady," Blake glanced behind him to see how ajar the drawing-room door was. He grabbed Rosalie's hand moving her to a blindspot. Leaning his head on to her forehead, he whispered his lips moving in soft strokes against hers as he spoke the words,

Blake smiled before taking her lips with his. It had been a few days since they had last kissed, it seemed there was always someone around or Rosalie was avoiding him. The kiss slow but desperate, the edge of being discovered meant that enjoying each tantalizing touch of the fingertips and each stroke of the tongue was sweeter and more desperate. Rosalie laced her fingers in Blake's nape before pulling his head back.

"However much, I desire more, we must stop for I believe we should not taunt fate any longer,"

Blake groaned relishing at the touch of her slender fingers in his hair and her hand on his chest, right above his beating heart.

He pulled away at the comfort that soon he would kiss her in every room of every house they ever stayed at once they were married. Rosalie ushered him out the door, giving him one final push when he refused to leave.

"If I promise to see you before bedtime will you leave?" Rosalie whispered,

Blake scanned the length of her face,

"Very well," he sighed, bowing extravagantly.

Rosalie sat to collect her thoughts and gather her strengths, it was true that seeing Blake and being in his arm, something within her had awoken. It was a new sensation that she hoped she would have the honour of keeping, it was the sensation of trust. Not the one you have for people of Kin, but one you felt when you had found a human by the hands of fate and chosen to honour them with trust. This trust meant that if she fell, she would be caught. This trust meant that if she felt weak, she would have a place to seek refuge.

This trust meant that if she had to confront her father and admit she was wrong, she would be rewarded with love.

Rosalie made her way to her father's office. She found him bent over his desk, reading through countless papers. Before, her father could say anything she blurted out everything, from what she had believed growing up, her anger towards him, her stance towards marriage, her fear of love, the situation with Blake and her heartfelt apology that was littered along with the whole monologue. As she had been outpouring the contents of her soul, she had been circling the room and finally ended up on the floor, kneeling at her father's legs.

Sir Michael had not been given a moment to reply, his daughter was like her mother, wild and bavarde, but as he listened to her words and watched her movements. He felt nothing but regret, she was begging for forgiveness when he should be. Staring down at her teary eyes, Michael found himself on the floor kneeling beside his daughter. His arms found themselves around his eldest daughter and he held her tightly,

"You have nothing to be sorry for, you are my child, I am the one responsible for you, I should have been a better father, not lied to you and raised you,"

Rosalie was dumbfounded at the turn of events, her father a respected English gentleman on the floor with her, "No Father, accept my apology,"

"I can only accept very little of this apology for I am for the greater part to blame,"

The two in identical stubbornness went around in circles trying to be the one to apologise before Rosalie laughed lightly,

"Let us both agree that we are on an equal stage of forgiveness then,"

Sir Michael smiled, nodding. He tried to remember the last time he had held his daughter in such a loving embrace. It had been a long time but he was glad they had found their way to each other.