Delilah watched the misty pattern on the square window pane slowly grow as rain continued to fall with no signs of abating. Through the glass the hues of greens and blues enticingly beckoned for her to leave the room but being next to her cousin was far more important and besides she couldn't have moved from her seated position even if her life depended on it. Her nerves wouldn't let her. Delilah's grey eyes followed Cecilia and her friends talk animatedly amongst themselves, gasping and laughing at appropriate intervals. Cecilia was uncharacteristically the most subdued out of the group but that was to be expected. She was still shaken from her encounter and Delilah easily spied her trembling hand.
"You beat up a grown man with a stick. How much more remarkable can you get," Mary said, her voice dripping with obvious awe as she played with the large engagement ring on her finger.
"It was nothing. I wasn't even thinking, only reacting," Cecilia spoke with her eyes firmly fixed on her silent cousin, "I have been lucky today."
"Lucky or not you had better rest. Those bruises are not going to go away on their own," Isabella smiled, eyes crinkled, "And I will inform Lady Demetria that you shan't be attending her soiree tomorrow. She will understand, of course."
"No, she will not miss any event after today," Delilah spoke up, abruptly, breaking out of her reverie.
"Why ever not?" Prudence blurted before Cecilia could say anything.
"We were with her and we saw her come out of the woods safely but the others in the palace have not. You girls may not know what common gossip can do to a person's reputation but I do. They will slander her to bits if she does not make an appearance, assuming the worst," Delilah said firmly though she could not look up. The fear that they would read her whole story through her face and eyes was overwhelming her.
"I would have gone to the rest of the events even if my name was not at stake but you are right. My kidnapping is so fantastical an event in real life; I wonder what more they could add to spice it up," Cecilia smirked, as if daring the imaginary gossipmongers to make up something more interesting.
"Of course, but you still need to rest, at least today," Isabella nodded and ushered the rest of the girls out of the door after long hugs. Cecilia picked up a leftover drink from the silver tray while Delilah was still lost in her thoughts with her fists clenched in her lap.
"Is there something bothering you?" Cecilia asked conversationally after a few moments of silence.
"I should be asking you this question," Delilah replied with a fleeting smile.
"You needn't since I am well as I can be. I am more concerned about you. I know you would have been worried."
"I was but," Delilah suddenly paused remembering who she was about to mention, "I- I trusted the guards to do a good job."
"I expect you created a scene and the Prince had to physically manhandle you into submission," Cecilia laughed but Delilah's face only turned even more sour, "I can't say I dislike the man but I harbour no secret love for him either. When I saw him calling out for me- I can say I have never been more relieved in my life."
"Understandable. He was the first person you saw after your ordeal."
"No, any other guard or noble could not have comforted me the way he did. He held me and told me that he would protect me almost like Edward would have in his place," Cecilia smiled softly though it vanished with the appearance of anguish in her cousin's eyes, "What is wrong? Did something happen?"
"No," Delilah bit her lip and looked away, "I-I'm sorry, my composure has been torn to bits."
"Please," Cecilia pleaded, "Tell me what ails you. I can see it in your eyes that something bothers you that has nothing to do with my predicament."
"You are wounded; you have bruises up your arms. Why do you think my grievances are worthy of any comment."
"You are upset about the Prince," Cecilia stated astutely, "What did he say to you?"
"Nothing," And that was the truth, he had said nothing except kiss her.
"He was the last person to see you off. I saw you talking to him in a distance," Cecilia paused because her comment caused her cousin even more discomfort, "What has he done?"
"Rest Cecilia," Delilah forced a very large smile, "You are seeing conspiracy everywhere. The Prince was just as annoying as he always is, that's all."
Delilah knew her cousin was looking at her back with a forlorn expression but there was nothing in the whole story that could be shared. It was too personal; too private; too painful. She had started to believe him; really started to believe what she was seeing was the real man beneath the pomp and the swagger. He was still overly bold, arrogant and ridiculously egoistical but he was also a kind and earnest man who loved his family and his Kingdom. His head wasn't in the air as she had previously though, oh well, maybe it was a bit in the air but she was starting to find that quality endearing. But now her perception of him had crumbled like soft dough and landed on her feet in pathetic disarray.
Delilah walked into the bathing area with a comfortable cotton gown to replace her ruined rag of a dress and closed the door softly. Her hands rose to undo the lacings but they landed on damp, green tweed instead that most definitely was not from her own wardrobe. She instantly lost her poise like a house of cards going down. Her knees wobbled and she tried to find stability but ended up sliding down the tiled wall and landing on the cold floor in a heap. The only sound that could be heard was the trickle of the rain water outside through the small window in the room and Delilah's muffled sobs. She had tried so hard to feel nothing throughout the month long trip but even she knew her efforts were doomed to fail. She felt raw, trembling, aching pain run through her body making her tremble as if she had a fever. She struggled to subdue herself but the tears fought their way down her pale cheeks.
"Liar, Liar, Liar," She sobbed softly through clenched lips. She had desperately wanted the Ball to go smoothly especially any interactions with the Prince and things had gone better than expected. Other than his blatant efforts to befriend her he hadn't brought up the past, hadn't tried to question her or disgrace her publically. But now it was as clear as day that he wanted to humiliate her. Did he think she was such a fool to believe his overtures were real? What other purpose could he have to...kiss her?
He had told her he admired her, respected her and in spite of herself she had been pleased. But it was obvious every word that had come out of his mouth was a lie.
Maybe first impressions were true after all.
_______________________
It seemed destiny was a cruel, cruel mistress. After all it was she who decided to allocate the Winsham cousins rooms without a balcony. If that hadn't been the case then Damian was convinced Lady Delilah would have utilized it to the fullest, admiring the views and letting herself inadvertently be admired.
Damian hadn't seen her for the last three days which was why he was standing miserably under what he knew was her room, feeling like a wretched fool, hoping to see one glimpse of her.
He had expected reticence from the wounded Winsham girl after her attack from the still free criminal but the opposite had happened. The girl had made her appearance the very next day adorning a smile on her face with her cousin and friends on her side. At least that was what he had heard because it had been a ladies only event and even Damian could not have procured an invitation even if he had tried so his report was only second hand. The young Lady had continued to make appearances for the next few days culling the twisted and tangled grape vine that was determined to find a blemish on her name.
What was odd was that after the first brunch Delilah seemed to have disappeared from the social circuit. She had never been very popular compared to her cousin so no one commented on her disappearance. Damian had of course thoroughly cross examined the girls whom she considered friends but they never had anything concrete to say and as the days passed by he could honestly say to himself that he was scared. He had come to accept his own strong feelings, now that he knew what they were but could she also take the next step?
After a full hour of staring at her window he knew he had to remove himself from the area; He had already gotten a fair few odd looks from the occupants of other rooms and seeing an elderly gentleman in only his breeches looking out of his window was enough to spur the Prince away from the lower balcony area and into the gardens.
Damian meandered haphazardly through the grounds, feeling miserable and unwanted. He desperately needed to talk to her and communicate the frustration, confusion and fear he was feeling. The fear that had only begun to germinate during the conversation with Bea and now it was full blown thorny plant twisting his insides. If it had been any other woman he would have known her mind inside out. Women from the capital were not as elusive or mysterious as they pretended to be with their feathers and clever talk. Their aims in life were simple and their interaction with him was focused on one goal but Lady Delilah was a new breed he had never encountered before. Did she even want to have anything to do with him much less marry him?
Damian sat down on damp grass under a cider tree fortunately missing a small puddle on his right. He looked down in the clean puddle and observed his own features. The last time he had examined his features with this ferocity was when he couldn't have sprouted a chin hair even with all his will power. Damian was silently cursing himself over his less than exotic looks compared to Rossi brother when he heard a soft footstep nearby.
"Yer Highness, I did not mean teh disturb yeh?" A dark skinned gardener looked at him wide eyed. He was carrying a pail on one shoulder and a rake on the other obviously ready to work even in the rain.
"No apology necessary. I am the one who ventured into your domain, Gardener," Damian smiled tightly.
"But these are yer gardens, heck, this land is yers, I am but yer humble servant," The gardener bowed and his voice reminded Damian of something. Right away Damian connected the man to Lady Delilah. His mind swirled trying to remember everything he had retained about the man and his interaction with her. He finally squashed his pride and asked the question on the tip of his tongue.
"Then, humble servant would you tell me if by any chance you have seen Lady Delilah?"
"It rains miserably yer highness. She is smart enough to avoid it," The gardener replied with even more surprise.
"Whereas I am a bumbling fool," Damian muttered to himself wistfully.
"Pardon, yer highness."
"How well do you know Lady Delilah? Do you see her often? What is she like?" Damian barreled the questions like he would parry his sword.
"Yer highness. Lady Delilah is a gem of girl. A mighty upstandin' character not seen in the young uns today."
"Of course I know that. Gardener," Damian rolled his eyes
"Jeeves, yer highness."
"That rootlover is besotted with plants. If I didn't know better she would live out here with all her special vegetation. You obviously know her well enough to know her likes and dislikes. Has she ever confided in you about me?" Damian again swallowed his swollen ego and asked with his eyes averted.
"Tats a mighty personal question and I dint think she would like me breakin' her confidences like this," The Gardener Jeeves looked at his feet sorrowfully.
"Fine, fine, but I'm not that bad. I'm almost tame compared to the lads one can encounter in the capital. Is it the way I look? Maybe she prefers better looking men."
"Yer highness, my conversation with Lady Delilah had nothin' to do with men of this world but teh plants in the soil," Jeeves pleaded, desperate to get away from the awkward conversation.
"And you've done a fine job;" Damian conceded grudgingly, "Her knowledge about plants is remarkable."
The Gardener blinked.
"Pardon my frankness, your highness, but Lady Delilah is a special young lady, I would wish the best fer her. The richest, handsomest, most respectable gentleman fer her but she deserves even more. Good looks ain't enough."
"I am more than just looks you know," Damian grumbled fisting a clump of soggy grass from the ground ignoring the look he was being sent.
"I would want her to marry the man who could respect her and whom she could respect. Can yeh give her that?"
Damian had no reply to that.
_________________________________
Delilah could have been carved from stone from the completely motionless way she was sitting on the ground near the ornate fireplace. The fire flickered low but even the dwindling flames managed to cast the eerie orange hue over the silent girl.
"You were missed again. Lady Scarlett was asking about you," Cecilia pursed her lips in annoyance. Her arrival had been completely unnoticed by her cousin and deafening silence felt like a roar in her ears.
"I did not know I was that popular," Delilah mumbled into her dress lifelessly.
"And he asked about you again. I daresay I don't need to remind you of his name," Cecilia pulled off her gloves and threw them on one armchair.
"It would be best, if you did not," Delilah watched her cousin, with hooded eyes, settle her emerald green, velvet dress on the floor.
"I do wonder if I should do the right thing and let him inside our rooms. You two need to talk," Cecilia crouched down on Delilah's level hoping to talk some sense into her cousin.
"I have nothing to say to him."
"Which is ironic, he seems to be bursting to verbally explode in front of you," Cecilia spoke out before lowering her tone patiently, "I wouldn't be so persistent if I didn't think this was real."
"What you perceive to be real is merely a cover over the painful truth which is the only thing that is undeniably real," Delilah uttered almost to herself confusing the red head even further.
"Something did happen between the two of you. Why won't you tell me?" She pleaded.
Delilah looked away feeling cold at the thought of revealing how broken she felt inside, "Why don't you ask him?"
Cecilia made a sound that was mix between a sob and whimper. She got up on her feet to walk away so she could stew in silence about her cousin's predicament but Delilah's voice stopped her.
"I know I am being a horrible sister to you," Delilah looked up mournfully, "This is your month, your time, I should be accompanying you everywhere and yet you must contend with my various troubles."
"I don't mind, you've always been the one to hold my hand whenever I got into any of my various scrapes," Cecilia shrugged, "Though getting out what troubles you is harder then squeezing water out of rock."
Delilah smiled sleepily, "Don't take your anger out on that frock. You know how hard it is to get the wrinkles out of velvet."
Cecilia looked down at her dress which she had been clutching quite intently, "We are leaving soon so it doesn't matter any more but I'll change. We've got a long day tomorrow."
Cecilia discarded her clothes and slipped into night shift as soon as she closed the doors of the doors dividing the living room and the sleeping space in their suite. After taking time to wash her hair and selecting the next day's outfit Cecilia walked back to her single bed and looked at the neighbouring one in disapproval. Delilah was still brooding next to the fireplace surrounded by the choking cloud of negativity that Cecilia had failed to penetrate time and time again. She huffed and marched down the room to convey her disappointment but as she flung the ornate doors open her voice disappeared in her throat.
Delilah was not alone. Prince Damian was leaning over her cousin and had been caught in the middle of stroking a hand down her pale face. A quick looked confirmed that the brunette was fast asleep and completely unaware of the invasion of privacy. The man's eyes widened comically seeing Cecilia's furious face staring at him. He took a step backwards probably intimidated by what spelled in Cecilia's murderous green eyes. Before he could say something she swiftly grabbed hold of one of his hands and pulled him into the bed room and closed the door behind them.
Cecilia released his painfully squeezed hand and hissed, "WHAT are you doing here?"
"I needed to talk to her," Damian replied contritely.
"In the middle of the night?" Cecilia pulled at a strand of hair in frustration.
"Considering she will not talk to me, or even entertain the thought of being in the same room as me I thought it would be best if she were unconscious," Damian pouted like he hadn't aged since he was seven, "Has she said anything about me?"
"No, she still doesn't want to meet you and I want to know why?"
"I might have behaved a little recklessly though I still don't think I did anything wrong," Damian babbled uncharacteristically.
"I should have known it was your fault," Cecilia grumbled, "So what was it?"
"I kissed her, I know it was impulsive and a very very wrong idea but-" He stopped his tirade when Cecilia placed a hand on her face and started giggling.
"That's it? I should have thought she had seen you committing murder. Are you sure she didn't see you kissing some other girl?"
"No, I am certain that the lips mine touched were hers," Damian unconsciously pressed his own lips in remembrance.
"Well, you are a lucky man you were born a prince, otherwise with your brains..."
"I know, I know, Delilah would never condone such amorous behaviour, believe me I have been ruing it every day since she has been avoiding me. Will she even attend the final ball?"
"Be patient. I will convince her eventually the Ball is worth her while. All you need to do is give her space so her impulse to throw things at your face goes away," Cecilia couldn't help but add making the Prince look more sorrowful. He looked like he wanted to argue but instead he pulled out a small packet from his coat's inner pocket.
"Make sure she wears this on that night," He added, looking away from Cecilia's probing eyes, "I planned to give her much more but I doubt she'll want anything from me much less jewelry. It's just a simple gift."
Cecilia pulled out the present from its wrappings and plucked it carefully, "I promise."
___________________________
"Cecilia!" Delilah called out, furiously, trying to make sense of her nearly empty wardrobe.
"Do I sense a hint of anger?" Cecilia peeked in their bedroom with eyes twinkling mirthfully. Her cousin's mood had cleared greatly over the days. She had even taken to spending time in the library which was quite miracle the first time she decided to step out of the room. The sadness still lurked in her eyes but the improvement was undeniable.
"Yes, yes and yes. When I told you to start packing I did not mean for you to send all of my wearable outfits into the trunks," Delilah raised her hands in exasperation.
"If that's what you call wearable," Cecilia snorted.
"Yes, they were extremely wearable. The Final Ball is tomorrow and I need to wear something that isn't cotton."
"Oh, whatever will you do," Cecilia mocked teasingly making Delilah wonder how much rum she had stolen from the kitchens.
"None, I assure you but I am quite clever you must agree. I have an outfit for you all ready to wear just in case you found nothing suitable," Cecilia explained while avoiding getting hit by a pillow.
"I knew you were upto something," Delilah rolled her grey eyes and sat down on her bed with her arms crossed.
"If you go back to the day of the fair you'll remember I went missing for some time. I was actually with our friends searching for the perfect dress for you. It wasn't easy since all the tailor had were these odious, gaudy designs but I finally found something I know you will like. You are my cousin and I know you give me a great sacrifice by chaperoning me when you are the one who should be chaperoned. I would not have had this experience without you and I wanted to thank you," Cecilia placed her head on her cousin's shoulder. It had been a long time since she could share a quiet moment with her.
"I need no thanks," Delilah smiled softly, "I wouldn't have missed your coming out for the world."
"So," Cecilia sat up abruptly, "Are you looking forward to the final dance?"
"Cecilia..."
"I know, I know, but I am your cousin and I know you well enough to see a bit of your heart if not completely. He will choose you," Cecilia placed a hand on her cousin's confidently.
"Why must every conversation about the final dance be so tedious? The only thing I look forward to is our journey home," Delilah's hands clenched into fists.
"Your sense of fun is so lacking." Cecilia whined, "I won't badger you about the dance if you promise me one thing."
"What is it?" Delilah looked up hopefully.
"You will allow me to do your hair and makeup."
"Absolutely not! I can suffer through whatever you make me wear but not your attempts on my face. I remember what you did you me during Lady Winthrop's coming out ball," Delilah shuddered in remembrance.
"It was very long time ago," Cecilia pouted.
"Four months is not a long time and I had purple lips."
"But I've learnt so much in these months and I don't know when we will have the chance to attend anything at the royal palace ever again. Please, please, please!"
Delilah gnawed at her lip but let herself agree to her cousin's incessant pleading. It was easier if she said her goodbyes now and left behind the burden she felt in her heart in the place where everything had begun.
__________________________
Damian was not surprised by how unprepared he was for the final Ball. He should have a list of all the suitable girls he should dance with; he should have talked to his parents; the girl he had selected should at least have acquiesced to his proposal but nothing had gone his way that day. It was still raining, the guests were to arrive in an hour and he still hadn't had the opportunity to meet Delilah. It was like that damned kiss had created an impenetrable force around her which he could not break through in spite of all his troubles.
"Look at 'im. Ee's shaking like a nervous leaf," Damian's friends tittered gleefully while he looked at his pocket watch a hundredth time over.
"I am merely trying to keep up with the schedule," The Royal used up all his will power to not let his hands form fists which would probably goad his friends even further.
"And worrying if the girl's going to turn up," Another man added with a laugh.
"What if she doesn't?" A dandy named Alfred voiced Damian's concerns with the most nauseatingly flippant tone. The Prince mentally cancelled the man's name from his invitation list for the next thing he would host.
"Who would know? He's the Prince. He could point at any girl that catches his fancy and she'd be at his side in an instant," Lady Caramel, more known for her nickname then anything else, said, "I mean, what girl wouldn't say yes to him."
"True," Beatrix finally opened her mouth from the corner she was sitting in, "Damian is the cream of the crop. No girl would be foolish to say no."
"I'm sure there are many women who find me repugnant," Damian sat down on one of the armchairs with a falsely confident smile on his face. He discretely checked the gold pocket watch again.
"Indeed, I do not disagree but marriage can't always be about love. While I have been lucky to have found my soul mate, most women compromise in this area."
"Oh, please," Lady Caramel rolled her eyes, "Damian has the looks, the charm, the eyes, and the build. And let's not forget that small crown you see on his head is not merely an ornament. His coffers are drowning in gold. A woman would be blind to not appreciate the specimen that he is. There is nothing his wife would lack."
Damian gently patted the small band of gold around his head. His advisor had insisted he wear the ceremonial crown on his head. It was light weight and so golden it nearly blended with his fair hair which was why he had chosen it in the first place.
"Ladies, do not fight on my behalf. Your argument in the end is ultimately the same. No one would refuse me if I chose them," Damian interjected with a faltering smirk.
Beatrix was the nearest so she was able to whisper to him without much strain to her neck, "I cannot believe you are still worried. That root lover of yours will never reject you. She is older then the average debutant and that diminishes her prospects dearly. If not for you she would choose to accept for her family. Then you can woo her all you want. I know you have a way of making people fall in love with you."
"My parent's marriage is arranged and their courtship was so formal. My mother did not even know he would choose her until the final dance but now they are more besotted then any love match that I know," Damian swallowed the harsh reality of the situation that the woman he wanted might choose him for motives other than love.
"What does your mother say about your future bride?"
"Nothing. She keeps my father company more than me and the words we have shared on this topic are minimal. She still believes I will choose no one. I am uncertain whether she will be content with my decisions. My future has been tainted by my actions in the past although I am positive she will come around. My mother seems oddly fond of a girl she barely knows.
"They have already met?" Bea arched an eyebrow, "My, my and you believe your lady love does not know of your inclinations."
"The meeting was accidental and not of any design. My mother seems to think I am only playing with her feelings. Am I such a brute that my mother critiques me so severely?"
"This Ball must be bringing back a lot of unpleasant memories for her. She had her heart set on the girl she had chosen before," Bea uttered softly.
"I wonder... I wonder how things would have gone if I had chosen my mother's choice. She could have been the ideal partner. My strength, my guide and carrier of my deepest affection," Damian wondered out aloud.
"But you did not love her," His friend sighed.
"I could have grown to love her. Are you not insinuating that De-she will have to make the same compromise, that she will choose me for the worldly benefits of my status."
"Who said she doesn't like you. She spent more time with you then away. Her eyes follow you as much as yours follow her. In any case your aim should be to get her by your side. You can weave whatever epic love stories you want with her later. Why do you think I support you in your decision when she barely meets your usual standard of women?"
"She is far superior and worthy than anyone of my acquaintance," Damian hissed feeling protective and agitated.
"Exactly! You consider yourself beneath her whereas with all your former flirting partners you knew you were the one with power to make or break the length of your acquaintance. None of them shook you the way she does. She will never fit into our society back at the capital but I realized maybe you don't require that."
Damian nodded and spent the rest of the hour mulling over the conversation with a single glass of wine in his hand. He was informed by a servant that the Primary Hall was steadily filling up with courtiers and guests. The rest of his friends left him alone so they could join the others. It was known protocol that the Prince would enter much later because even if he was the host he could never lower himself to actually welcome people in. He waited in solitude until he felt it was still early enough to be polite.
As soon as he reached the Hall, the eyes of the world, it seemed, were upon him. The chandeliers glittered making the men and women sparkle dizzily. The gaily dressed crowd parted, making room for him to walk through. As Damian walked up to his throne many greetings were thrown his way. He saw many old and new faces but his eyes were only searching one person.
"Prince Damian," A few young girls smiled coyly bolstering his confidence and he knew it would be one of the best evenings he would ever have. He would finally have who he had wanted this whole time.
__________________________
The excitement was palpable in the stair hall below them. Delilah walked down the steps careful to not tread on long trains many of the women were flaunting. Her own modest train was in no danger of being stepped upon but Delilah kept a firm hand on the oak banister for support that had nothing to do with balance.
Cecilia had already danced down confidently next to her friends who were now staring at their friend's cousin. Delilah knew she was dressed differently but their blatant staring was staring to get insulting.
"I am speechless," Isabella proclaimed giddily ignoring her own words.
"I cannot look that different," Delilah twirled with her head bent so she could get a good look at herself.
"I never knew your eyes were so grey," Prudence peered in, closely examining her friend, making her self conscious. Delilah knew her eyes were coated with smudged kohl and she wasn't sure if the idea pleased her. She was already wearing so much black that in the midst of all the colourful gowns she probably stood out like a sore thumb. Her lips were mercifully not purple but neutral. Delilah hesitantly touched the black ribbon that was fixed in the braid that rested on her shoulder. It was an odd thing to place since no matter how shiny the ribbon it seemed pointless to put black adornment on black hair.
The top part of her dress was like leaves that were melded together keeping parts of the body covered and some parts not. The slip had ensured she wasn't going to end up in a very scandalous situation leaving only shoulders and sleeves with the dappled effect of the black material and skin. The bottom was layered silk that comfortably flowed as she walked towards where the main event would be held.
She opened her eyes that she hadn't even noticed had closed in a silent prayer and entered the room. Eyes were on them immediately but to her the room held more of her attention. It was the same room where the previous ball had been held. The large circular room had two stairs at each end that permitted people to step onto the sunken floor. The area where the curved windows lay was slightly raised and so was the platform where the throne was.
Due to the crowd surrounding that area it was fairly obvious the Prince was already at the throne and Delilah bided her time until her cousin was fully immersed in the company around her before excusing herself.
She made her way out of the room knowing there would be a small hidden balcony behind a red velvet curtain. While it was raining the half roof would protect her from the brunt of it. She drifted behind the curtain not knowing how many eyes were on her every move and how her attempts at concealing herself were pointless.
Delilah let out a sigh of relief. She felt free after so many days. The rain and other circumstances had locked her inside of the suite. The castle had started to feel like a prison and she had only managed to contain herself by the reassuring thought that the day of departure would be coming soon. She would miss the friends they had made but so many of her memories were tainted that she no longer wished she had more time to spend here. Her heartbeat had only just calmed down when the door to the balcony opened. She backed away suddenly but he caught her hand before she could completely leave the shelter of the roof.
"You'll ruin yourself," He murmured not letting his eyes off her, "I mean your dress."
She felt like she couldn't look away either. He was staring so deeply that she felt he wanted to capture her soul through her eyes. And at that moment Delilah wanted to believe that the kiss meant something with every fiber of her being but she couldn't let her grievances go without forsaking her pride.
"You look- you look-"," His eyes spoke more then his words could ever say, "I've been looking everywhere for you."
"I apologize that I was hard to find," Delilah replied civilly, trying to keep the strain from her voice, "I was busy. You know our time here at the palace is coming to an end."
"And you shall be leaving?" Damian asked taking a firm step forward.
"Tomorrow, of course, we cannot burden you any longer," Delilah answered with her eyes still on the view making Damian feel like he was back to their first meeting. The confusion and agitation he had felt when he had been ignored the first time around was bubbling back to the surface and it took a great deal of strength not to force her to look at him.
"I don't mind the company of my friends. We intend to celebrate on our own terms and I was hoping your party might stay on further," Damian forced a large smile straining the ends of his lips.
"I'm afraid I am not at the liberty to extend our stay. Our parents shall be expecting us. And Congratulations!" Delilah turned minutely, enough for Damian to see her frosty grey, kohl covered eyes.
"On what?" Damian wrinkled his nose in confusion.
"On the selection of your bride, of course. This final dance is in her honor," Delilah said with a touch of bitterness. It was vital for her to keep her composure before she departed for her home. Even the smallest victories counted.
"You haven't even asked who, though I suspect you already know," Damian said with a small smile feeling Bea's words rousing his confidence. He had kissed her. She wasn't stupid to not know the implications of his actions.
"It must be lady Charity; she is exceedingly beautiful, wealthy, with a distinguished bloodline," Delilah said softly
"Come now, enough of your games. You know who I want by my side, Delilah," he caressed her chin lightly with his finger with a warmth and intensity dripping in his eyes that Delilah had to look away. His tone left no chance of misinterpretation.
"It is not I who plays games, your Highness" Delilah replied stonily with her eyes averted making Damian frown.
"What games have I played?"
"You-" Delilah paused to gain courage and sweep away embarrassment, "You kissed me!" In those words she added her anger, frustration, confusion and humiliation.
"I knew that you would count that against me," Damian tried to keep the tone light.
"Then why would you strive to humiliate me so."
"Humiliate you? It was my moment of humiliation when I was so undone by your proximity that I could not control myself."
"Do not lie. My limited charm and beauty is not so extraordinary that the worldly crown prince who has met all the beautiful women in his kingdom and beyond would lose himself."
"Can you not see your reflection in my eyes? Do you know how long I have stood waiting to see your face?"
"You are a master of pretty words but I am not a master of enduring heartbreak. I cannot let myself fall again. You do not mean a word you say." Delilah looked torn between accepting his words even though her brain branded him a liar over and over.
"You intend to reject me because you are afraid?"
"You have never made me an offer and I don't think you were so cruel to do so?" Delilah shook her head, letting loose some of the hair in her braid.
"What is wrong with you?" Damian resisted the urge to hold her by her shoulders and shake.
"No, what is wrong with you? I am leaving," Delilah announced but he held her back flush against himself not caring whether she got wet by the small spray of rainwater gentling falling against him.
"Look at me," He bit out with undisguised anger flowing through his veins making him impulsive and uncaring. He held her wrist painfully tight ignoring her struggle to get away from him. Delilah continued to look at the curtain, away from him and Damian wanted to rip it to shreds for daring to capture her attention when he needed it to be upon him.
"Let me go," Delilah spoke vainly as he pushed her against the marble wall. Not only did he manage to rest one wrist against the wall but caught the other one as well.
"I can stand here forever until you speak to me," Damian whispered the threat in her ear. Even in the midst of he could not shove the attraction he was feeling towards her especially because of the proximity. He was right, he could stand here forever but the reasons were not just to torment her but to torment himself. He was so close and yet so far, "I want you. I want you as my wife, as my friend and I do not understand why you do not want me too."
"Stop lying. I am not a toy to played with, your Highness, I am a being with feelings and emotions. You only wish to humiliate me."
"I don't understand a word of your argument. You think my offer is a lie? Some kind of scheme? I'll show you how truthful I am," He pulled her already sore wrist with one hand while his other yanked the red curtain hiding them from public's view aside.
"We shall dance as is custom between the prince and his chosen bride," His fine blue eyes at that moment were like spun glass.
"Unhand me," Delilah struggled to break free from his hold but his grip was too powerful for her to even make a difference. The crowd parted in hushed confusion. The fact that the Prince would dance was expected but they had assumed there would be more ceremony. The supposedly newly engaged couple looked agitated and slightly wet. The herald had neither announced anything nor had the King and Queen made a fancy announcement.
"Never. You are mine to keep," Damian replied loftily, all sense lost from his mind as he led her to the middle of the dance floor. A few couples who were twirling around immediately paused along with the musicians.
"I don't think even you have the gall to start a scene with a roomful of people, root lover," Damian whispered in her ear, standing so close that his lips brushed against her slightly, making her shiver, "You obviously wish to avoid any more humiliation so you will dance."
"Maybe you do not know me too well," Delilah pulled her upper body away while he forced her hands upon his shoulder. The musicians were so startled by the sudden, disheveled appearance of the prince and his intended that they gaped for a good few moments, letting the pair face each other in pitch drop silence, before they could begin a sweet tune.
"I want to know you better," He spoke so softly that Delilah just wanted to give in, "Don't you see."
"You think I'll let you?" Delilah looked away as the man lowered his face nearly letting his forehead touch hers.
"Why wouldn't you?" He murmured haughtily counting down the millions reasons in his head why no woman would reject him and she pushed him away breaking his thought.
"You once called me ugly, dim, you were the one who wished not to marry me. Was that humiliation not enough that you wish to repeat it? I cannot let you drag my name in the mud every time you wish. And that's why I reject your offer even if it was false," Delilah hissed, looking on the verge of tears.
"What are you talking about?" Damian uttered, quite confused.
"Three years ago I was at this very palace, in this very room thinking about the same Prince that I stand in front of; that very Prince who rejected me and told his mother to take care of the situation. I was the situation that was ultimately resolved. I came back with my cousin three years later not to meet you, or reestablish any kind of contact but to make sure my cousin was able to enjoy her coming out Ball. I don't know why you followed me, talked to me or considered me your friend because it makes no sense. You rejected me once. Why would you want to approach me now?" Delilah's agitation shone through her eyes.
"It was you?" Damian took a step back trying to process the information.
"You did not know?" She whispered.
"How could I have when I hadn't seen you," Damian argued, waving his hands around reverently. "Obviously I was out of mind, convinced my mother was plotting behind my back. If I had seen you then I would have changed my mind."
"Are you certain of that? I was as plain then as I am now," Delilah breathed heavily also trying to absorb the new information.
Damian stared at her as if he had never seen her before. His forehead scrunched in confusion and if there was an expression that signified complete and utter chaos in one's mind then that was what was conveyed.
Delilah couldn't meet his eyes anymore and she ran out of the room uncaring of who came her way.
___________________________________
"And you are saying the two women are leaving the castle early morning," The dark haired man asked skeptically.
"Yes, Sire, I rode all the way here just to tell you of this."
"You fool, what if their plans change," The younger man scowled scornfully.
"Sire, your spies are everywhere. They will notify us immediately though I doubt their plans will change. The row between the girl and the Prince is infamous now," The middle aged man rubbed his hands gleefully.
"Excellent, though don't think I shall forget your last mistake. I cannot believe you tried to abduct the wrong girl."
"It is not my fault your sire. The Prince is equally close with both the women and it did not occur to me he was wooing the older one. I thought his tastes were less sedate."
"Soon we'll be making acquaintance with these women. Then we shall know how much Damian's tastes have changed," The dark haired man smirked malevolently.