It was raining almost as hard as before as they walked out of the protection of the wild vegetation surrounding the old house, and James pulled the ornate gate closed behind them.
Unlike before, the rain was causing a thick curtain of silvery mist to rise from the river and hover above it, spilling onto the bank and into the vast gardens of the houses lining the muddy path.
Siena sighed contentedly; she loved rainy weather.
The barely audible sigh made James swap his hand holding the umbrella and wrap his free arm around her waist, drawing her closer to him, out of the way of the raindrops, which, carried upon the pellucid ribbons of mist crawling up the lawns, found their way under the huge umbrella, turning Siena's long hair from pale gold to amber as the water-infused air settled upon it like a veil.
Siena didn't protest. It felt good being this close to him; she had never felt like this about any man before. The few men she had met that had shown any interest in her had not made her feel this way, and vanished from her life just as fast as they appeared when they found out that she wasn't looking for what they had to offer-- physical love was what she wanted a relationship to evolve into, and not start with... And yet James was making her feel all sorts of things she should not be feeling towards a stranger. He was wreaking havoc in her body and mind, turning her beliefs upside down, confusing her.
They walked shrouded in a contented silence for a long while, observing the languid river wallow and seep noiselessly in its wide, shallow bed while the fudge-coloured mud sucked at their shoes with each step they took and the pelting of rain above their heads morphed into thrumming, then a soft murmur even as they spotted the floating restaurant when they turned the next bend in the path and James' phone rang somewhere in his pocket, the sound unexpected and alien in their bubble of privacy and perfection created by the umbrella.
He met Siena's eyes-- she didn't realise that she was looking up at him as if he owed her an explanation-- and shook his head before she looked away, blushing. She had forgotten entirely that they both had lives beyond this strange pocket of time and space they found themselves in now, that she knew nothing about him and he didn't owe her anything, and they were a couple only for the Bibliophile Society. Beyond that, they continued treading their own paths, away from each other, alone, in Siena's case at least...
"Claire," James spoke into the phone in lieu of a greeting and Siena could feel that if it wasn't raining and he wasn't holding the umbrella for her, he would take a few steps away to talk in privacy with the woman.
"I forgot entirely, I'm sorry, Claire," he said, his Scottish accent that sounded so much stronger suddenly making Siena's breath hitch, then listened for a while before speaking again. "No, I'm not at home, I'll be back in a couple of weeks, I reckon."
"I simply forgot to tell you, Claire, it all happened so fast," he spoke after another while filled with a low, incomprehensible drone of a distant voice.
Just why did the woman's name had to be Claire?! Siena despaired. She had no idea what she was to James but she had read Outlander and now the picture of Jamie and Claire from the book seeped into her mind, making it impossible not to think about this woman as his lover, or a friend with benefits, whatever it was men liked to call the women who were more than friends but less than girlfriends or wives these days, a name and status that still permitted them to call themselves single.
"I'll see you then, yes. I'll let you know. No, I did not forget about the article. Take care, Claire. Bye," he said and finally dropped the phone back into his pocket, finding Siena watching the river and the floating restaurant, now so close that they could hear music spilling through the wooden hull of the steamer.
"Claire is my colleague and a friend, I forgot to tell her that I was leaving and she called me to remind me about the article I have to email them by tomorrow," he felt obliged to explain, offering almost the entire truth.
He omitted to say that there was indeed something more between them, a thing born upon Claire's insistence which he had never been entirely sure about as he didn't mean to tie himself to her, but had no sufficient reason to avoid, a thing that he would finally end now after having met Siena. He suddenly couldn't see himself with any other woman but her.
She simply nodded, still not looking at him, so he proposed, upon reaching the wooden dock where the fancy river steamer was moored, "Shall we go in?"
Siena sighed. Her good mood was gone, the music reaching them from the boat and the many people she could see through the small windows felt uninviting.
"Can we just go home?" she asked, finally looking up at him and meeting his eyes. "There's loads of food in the house, I'll cook, you have your article to finish and then we should rest, who knows how tomorrow will be..."
She was beginning to feel apprehensive about their first quest. And she could not stop imagining James-- wearing a Highland kilt!-- next to a slim, dark-haired, gorgeous woman... Why, oh, why was she feeling jealous and proprietary about this stranger?! He could have as many lovers as he wanted; it wasn't her business at all. Why didn't the Society choose someone else for her as a partner, someone whom she would like and care about less? The whole travelling into parallel worlds of books was a concept difficult enough without having to... start having feelings for James from day one... It was crazy... but it was true. She cared about him too much already, and if he didn't feel like she did, it would break her heart... And how could she work with him then?
Only if she could put the others above herself, she resolved. And they needed her; there were so many characters who deserved better lives. Who was she next to Edmond Dantès, the Count of Monte Cristo, who spent his entire youth in prison betrayed by a friend, and lost his one and only love, the poor nameless Monster created and then abandoned by the conceited Victor Frankenstein, or Heathcliff, poor Heathcliff from Wuthering Heights who destroyed so many lives because of Cathy's selfishness... She could do this. She had to.
"All right. As you wish," James said, making her giggle.
"Don't say that, it makes you sound like Westley."
He laughed, drawing closer to her again. "Don't you like The Princess Bride?"
"I don't like Buttercup, but it was a good book," Siena mused, James' Claire almost forgotten.
"My name is Inigo Montoya. You killed my father. Prepare to die," James quoted seriously, forgetting about the falling rain in his attempt to brandish the umbrella like a sword, making Siena laugh, then close her eyes and revolve her face towards the sky, allowing the cool raindrops caress her cheeks.
"If your love were a grain of sand, mine would be a universe of beaches," Siena quoted in her turn, blushing and letting her eyes drop to the muddy tips of her shoes when she found him observing her as she opened her eyes.
They were still talking about the book when they reached the garden gate of their flat.
It wasn't even eight yet, but the flat was so gloomy because of the incessant rain that Siena switched on the lights and drew the curtains the moment they entered and removed their wet shoes.
"Well, you mentioned you had to work," she said, taking James' raincoat from him and walking across the room with all their wet things towards the entry hall of the house. "You get on with it if you want, I'll call you when the dinner is ready."
"Thanks, Siena. I really appreciate it," he said, smiling at her before walking towards the bathroom, then vanishing in his room even as she returned from the entry hall.
Moments later, the flat was filled with pleasant classical music seeping from beyond his half opened door, music which Siena who normally preferred silence did not mind at all.
She emptied the dryer, separating and folding their clothes, leaving his pile on the sofa so she wouldn't disturb him, and took her own laundry into her room, then got changed out of her damp jeans before she rummaged through their kitchen in search of an idea for a quick meal.
Deciding upon a chicken and prawn stir-fry, she laid all the ingredients she planned to use on the counter, then set the table before she started chopping the meat and vegetables.
She hadn't noticed when the classical music morphed into the wonderfully plaintive Scottish tunes, which never failed to move her nearly to tears, but she almost cut her finger when she imagined James wearing a kilt again. She bit her lower lip, not to laugh at herself as she stirred the explosion of colours and scents in the large wok, wondering about James' surname. Boyd... A clan of South West of Scotland, the Lowlands, with a red, green, and yellow tartan...
Siena jumped guiltily when he appeared without making the slightest noise so close behind her that his body touched hers.
"That smells wonderful." He muttered, lost in the scent trapped in her still a little damp hair, the perfume of rain, jasmine and orange blossoms, hoping she would think that he was talking about the aroma of the meal, which was what lured him out of his room originally, until her nearness confused his mind. Goodness, how could she affect him so?! He couldn't even focus on writing because he knew she was moving around the kitchen, alone, silent, lost in her thoughts... He would give anything to know what she was thinking, why she blushed so often when he caught her unawares, just like now...
"I hope you'll like it," she beamed at him, forcing herself to look cool and composed as she divided her creation into two plates, letting him carry them to the table.
He poured out the wine from the bottle they opened the previous night, then brought a forkful of rice noodles to his mouth. The meal tasted as good as it looked; it was delicious.
"I like this," Siena said, waving her hand in the air as she sipped her wine, bringing his attention to the music he had forgotten to switch off. "It's Scottish, right? I have always had this thing for Scotland even though I've never been there. It's all born from the books I've read."
"Have you really never been to Scotland? Then I insist you come to visit me and Nessie," he said, smiling at her.
She laughed. "But it's so far, and there's just never enough time. And now, with these quests we agreed to undertake, we will have even less time for anything else."
James sighed. "We will figure everything out." He certainly hoped so. He liked this girl too much to let her slip through his fingers. "You cooked, I'll clear up," he added once their plates and glasses were empty. "Thanks, Siena, it was delicious."
"My pleasure, and I thank you. I'll take a shower then."
He watched her vanish into her room before he stood up to clear the table, then couldn't help himself but turn around again as he heard her walking towards the bathroom, his heart swelling with delight when he found her eyes intent on him, and managed to set her cheeks ablaze as he caught her watching him.
Much to his dismay, Siena insisted they spend the rest of the evening each in their own room when he admitted that he hadn't finished the article yet. She was right, of course, they didn't know what would happen tomorrow, how late they would return from their first quest.
His heart skipped a beat as he walked into the dark sitting room after he had taken a shower, with nothing on but a deep blue towel wrapped around his hips because he was certain that she had gone to bed, and found her, dressed in a short, sleeveless, silk night dress the same colour as her dressing gown but much more revealing, leaning on her tiptoes in front of the bookcase.
Smiling, unable to resist the temptation, he approached her without making the slightest sound, making her jump as his alluring scent reached her at the same time as his voice. "Let me help you. Which one do you want?"
She turned towards him, and he could imagine, rather than see it the semi-darkness of the room, the blush flooding her cheeks as she noticed that he had nothing on but the towel.
"I..." she said, cleared her voice, and tried again," Tess of d'Urbervilles, please. I really think that we could help her, too."
He nodded before he took the book off the high shelf and passed it to her. "It's a wonderful idea. Tess is such a tragic character."
"Thanks, James. Good night." Siena pressed the book to her chest and rushed towards her bedroom, slipping behind the half open door to watch, unseen, as he walked into his room at a leisurely pace. The way he had tied that towel around his hips made it look almost like a kilt...
It took James nearly two hours to finally finish and send his article to Claire, because his thoughts kept strolling to Siena, hidden by the half closed door he could glimpse from his bed where he sat with his laptop.
Only once he was done did he allow himself to tiptoe towards her room, and finding her asleep, covered up to her chin in her blanket and curled around the book she had been reading, he resolved to go to bed too.
They both needed to rest; tomorrow would be most likely a long and tiring day.