Back in a Flash V Percy's return from Business

The reminder of his naivety made him glance away. What had he been thinking on that night? It never crossed his mind that he was not the first. It also never crossed his mind however that he would be the last.

“That night when we met, there are so many things that I swore I'd never, never do. I never allow such admires to walk me home, I never allow myself to be somewhere deserted with them alone, and I never see them more then once. All of this for my own safety, but I broke all those rules the night I met you, and I'm still not sure why. Walking in the park with you and letting you see my home were foolish things to do and had your intentions not been admirable, I could very well have gotten myself into trouble."

His lazy blue eyes softened hearing her voice. She had trusted him. If not so many others, why him? He was about to speak, but she moved and he fell back into silence to watch and listen.

Marguerite raised her hands as if wanting to hold in face in them, but she was afraid if she attempted to move closer, that the pain she had caused him would only force him to move away. "Unlike most women of my age, I've always let my mind rule my heart, but that all changed the night I met you when my heart took over. Percy, in my heart, I'm absolutely sure that you would never harm me, and I have never accused you of doing so. I care more deeply for you then I ever have for anyone, save Armand, in my life. I thought I knew what it felt like to love a man, but I was wrong. I have feelings for you now that I never thought a person could have for another. But, when we meet, I never tested you as I had other so-called admirers, and I suppose my mind just needs to be reassured that it's alright that I let my heart take over and that I'm more then a pretty face with a sweet voice. I'm sure in my heart that I'm more to you, but I just want to hear it."

Marguerite drew in a deep breath, and closed her eyes. She still held her hands up, but her body remained still and closed. With her full confession, she felt that a great weight had been lifted from her, she only hoped that Percy would accept and understand her womanly emotions.

He nodded while listening to her. Both of their lives were different. He was the son of a wealthy Aristocrat and grew into a man who knew more on clothes then most Englishmen did on cricket. In times of his life, he had been made so fun of by his peers. "Oh you are an idiot Blakeney. A damn ass. Cowardly. Stupid. Weak. But, by God. You do know fashion." At those times, he would smile at the backhanded compliment and like a loyal and stupid mutt would thank them. What did all of this have to do with Marguerite's heart spoken words? Everything. Never in his life did he worry about what others thought. They offered it freely. He had not know an honest day of starvation, for while he ate lavishly as an Englishman and sparely in his costumes, he always ate. Her world was nothing of the sort.

After her words, he sat there thinking for a long time. He did not interrupt the silence, for his mind raced with much noise inside his head. Marguerite St. Just. The cleverest and wittiest woman in all of Europe. Her reputation was as well known in France as his lazy reputation in Great Britain. What had he expected to come from all this? He had not thought of a plan. He just acted. Now what?

The silence was nearly driving her mad. She wanted to move, to settle down at least, but she was frozen waiting for his reason. Through her opened hands, she could see his eyes. They always held a soft, almost lazy look about them, but she always guessed that there was much more behind them. She only wished he would let her in right now and let her know what he was thinking. And then he began to move. She felt her body tremble with fear. Were her feelings too much, did she frighten him, was he going to leave?

Slowly, Blakeney moved near Marguerite. He sat behind her and gently tried to pull her back into his arms. The soft voice escaped from his lips in a sad sound. "I understand what you ask of me my Maeve. I have never felt as you do, as to be expected for you are female." He wasn't sure what to say and so far, felt his words stumble over his tongue and passed his lips.

Marguerite watched as Percy moved, but instead of leaving, he pulled her close to him once again. She let a relived sigh go as she felt his arms wrap around her again.

A sharp intake of breath filled his lungs and he proceeded. "I would never harm you Milady Marguerite St. Just. Never." The Baronet sat there, trying to think of what he could say to satisfy her. He remembered late at night, on his childhood ship, he would sneak out of his cabin and listen to the voice of his father. Sir Algernon would in vain speak to Lady Blakeney, professing his love to her hoping she would come back to him. Young Percy did not understand it at the time, but it was becoming apparently clear why the father had done it. He found himself doing it now.

"I do not wish to loose you my Maeve." His heart spoke for him, as best as a man who has never used his heart to its full potential can. "Something feels complete inside of me since the first night we ate at the Bistro. You sang for me. We ate and laughed. The warmth you bring to my" To his what? His soul? His existence? Blakeney could not bring himself to say love. It had never been a part of his vocabulary. He stepped out of safety net however and finished "...to my heart."

Marguerite sank back into his arms and leaned against his chest. Hearing him speak such words was like a dream come true. He did care for her as she did him. All of her doubts and fears flew away, freeing her once more to be truly herself with him.

He felt his throat dry and bravely pressed on. "While I was alone, I no longer felt complete. At first, I did not understand it for something like this has never happened before. It became quite apparent however that is was due to the lack of you as my side." It was not a professing of love like a sonnet, but for Blakeney, it would do.

Marguerite pulled away from him, but only for a moment to turn around and face him. She put her arms around his neck and placed a soft kiss on his cheek. She wouldn't let go and whispered into his ear, "Percy, do you have an idea how much that means to me, how happy you've just made me?" She pulled back so that she could look into those blue eyes, "I wish that I would never have to leave your side again."

Letting out the smallest of breaths, he parted his lips and let the air escape in relief. She was responding to him, despite the awfulness of the conversation. Hearing her soft whispers, he closed his eyes and rested his head on her shoulder. His strong arms wrapped around her and held her tightly to him for fear if he let go, the horrible feelings he felt only moments before would return.

He nodded in silence, listening to her. "My only wish is that we never make one another feel how we imagined just now. To me you are not Mlle Marguerite St. Just, the famous actress. You are my Maeve." Blakeney gulped back a small lump in his throat. Whatever fears build up for the two lovers were slowly subsiding inside of him.

"My Percy," she whispered as she rested her own body gently against him. "Percy, will you promise me, promise me once more, that you'll take care to keep yourself safe while in France. I know you didn't mean anything by what happened in the cafe this morning, but I've rarely been so afraid for someone as I was for you this morning, and you might think it silly of me to worry, but the truth is I've worried about you from very early on with your position and now with all of the rumors, they won't help either of us."

Taking her hand, he squeezed it softly. Many times he had thought to tell her of what he had done and his hand in freeing Aristos from France. Again, he would have opened himself up to be vulnerable and tell Marguerite it all. They just recently fought however trivial the conversation was. Blakeney would not chance loosing her, therefore he would not chance worrying her further than he had already.

"I promise to always be careful my Maeve." He smiled and brought her hand to his lips where upon he kissed his fingertips gently. "I apologize to you for scaring you so this morning. I did not mean for it to frighten you."

"I know you didn't mean to Percy. Maybe you just don't hear the things I do, maybe I'm just more cautious that way. As long as we don't do anything out of the ordinary we'll be alright, I'm sure of it." She lied to him. She was nervous and she was afraid, for both herself and Percy. She realized she slipped in mentioning the rumors, but he didn't ask. Perhaps he knew more then she thought he did. She had heard what was being said at one of her salons when a friend pulled her aside to ask her the truth, but Marguerite refused to dignify the question with a response, which only lead to more gossip. The revolutionaries had as much a desire for gossip as the aristos did.

He nodded and held her close. He did not catch her comment about the rumors, as his own mind was preoccupied with thoughts. Blakeney wondered if she would come with him. Would she leave her life for his? So different they were. He did come to France with the small plan of bringing back a wife. Was he too foolish in his simplistic planning to think that all he had to do was ask and boom! It would happen. In the silence, he rocked her and said not a word.

He didn't answer her last comment, he didn't respond at all. Instead he held her, rocking her back and forth like a scared child. Her body trembled and she hugged him tighter to her. She pressed her cheek against his and let him hold her, trying to find comfort in his arms.

The two lovers sat in a silence that did not require any words in order to speak to one another. At least, that is how Blakeney felt. In his life, he never had this strong connection with anyone else. Feeling her snuggling in closer to him, he in turn pressed his face against her cheek. His half closed blue eyes stared down at his feet. His boots still were outcasted off the blanket, and for a moment, he smiled.

He was content to sit there and hold her, not saying a word. He thought again back to how she told him the stories of her friends. How awful it must be for her mind. A woman in France. Now courting an Englishman who was labeled only as a foolish aristocrat. What was going on in her mind. Suddenly, her words crept into his brain. "Did you say rumors Milady?" He whispered cautiously.

Marguerite pulled away and looked into his eyes. She placed a careful hand on his smooth face, "Surely by now even you've heard the rumors about," she paused for a minute, maybe he hadn't heard, but it was too late to turn back now, "about me Percy."

He raised a brow. "You told me you have had other callers, whose notes you ignored." An intense jealous streak quickly washed over him. Why was he one minute happy and content and then the very next feeling like a complete idiot with this French woman? Blakeney stared at her, loosening his grip on her and just stared. Silent.

A wave of fear overtook her. She felt him loosen his grip and pull back a bit. Oh please let's not go through this again she thought, not twice in one night. Marguerite took in a deep breath and lowered her hands to grip his arms and keep him close.

"Percy, what I said was, you were not the first person to send me a note asking to meet me, which was true. It is also true, however, that you were not the last. But" she quickly injected, "yours was the last which I entertained."

He didn't realize it, but his lips took on a slight sneer at the very thought that some other man send his Maeve a note. This really bothered him as anger and jealousy, two things that he had never felt before towards a female, became easily read upon his features.

"Percy, when I allowed myself to be seen with you that night in the bistro and the few nights following, some people thought that I had, shall we say, made myself available to be courted. It was rare that I was seen in the company of just one man, so some people assumed I was looking for a male companion. I wasn't exactly looking, but I found one anyway it seems." Marguerite gave Percy a soft smile, hoping to calm him down. She could tell at first he was alarmed, but was it more? Was he angry, jealous? There was nothing more to do but continue talking.

The light color of his British skin flushed as she continued to talk. While what she said made him the sole attention receiver, it still angered him. This was an entirely new situation for Blakeney. Not sure how to react or handle it, he silently bit his tongue and stared at her. If she didn't know better, she would have sworn his intense face was angry at her. It wasn't however. It was odd, this 32 year old man becoming near insanely jealous over other men he had never met. Over a 20 year old girl he had watched from a distance for so many years. No, this just would not do.

"Being that I'm an actress, and you're an aristo, after turning down offers from other men to join them in the evening, and being seen with you more and more often, we were labeled a lovers by local gossips. Of course, there was truth in that part, but now the rumor has changed."

He raised a brow. Labeled, lovers? That certainly was an odd thought, given his current background and experience. In this case, it was almost flattering to him, and his jealous features relaxed where the face took on an almost air of pride.

Marguerite drew in a deep breath, unsure how he would react. "This week at one of the salons a friend pulled me aside to ask. She wasn't asking out of concern or care, she's more of a gossip, but I was thankful at least to get wind of it." She reached down and squeezed his hand, "Percy people say I'm your mistress. Since I first found out I've heard everything from I couldn't resist showers of gifts, to being easily seduced, to being set up in my own flat on the other side of Paris near a number of other actresses taken as mistresses by rich men."

Mistress! Now that was funny. George, the Prince of Wales, had mistresses. Some married Lords and Barons, they had on the side mistresses. But Sir Percival Blakeney, Baronet? The laziest fop to ever walk the streets of London? These French certainly had their gossip askew. This amused Blakeney and his angry look disappeared all together.

The rumors in truth really didn't bother her all that much. After all, if people thought she was taken, she didn't get any requests from admirers after performances. Her reputation was slightly damaged, but those that knew her best and held her in the highest esteem knew better. Her dedication to the ideas of the revolution didn't waiver despite this supposed new union. Percy was never seen at her salons, which were often held at her own apartment, or with her at rallies or demonstrations, so friends from those circles knew nothing of the Englishman to whom she may have been a mistress too. Yet, she worried, what would Percy think of the rumors, what would he think about having his name brought into such conversations. He always seemed so honorable and noble, would he push her away to keep his reputation? She gripped onto one of his hands and prayed that the answer would be no.

He sort of laughed and shook his head. What a stupid thing, for him to have a mistress. People had made fun of him all his life and he welcomed it. This little insight, while he did not at all like the idea of other suitors, did not bother him. She took a hold of his gloved hand and he smiled up into her green eyes.

"It would seem, my dear, that the people in France have much to say about nothing." He moved over nearer to her and hugged Marguerite St. Just close. "I will be honest, I do not worry about nor have every worried about the potentialness of what others think. If these rumors bother you, we can do something about it. For my sake however, let them talk."

Marguerite wrapped her arms around Percy again. Inside she was beaming. The thought of such rumors, rumors that not only hurt her reputation as a republican, but also tarnished his as an English gentleman, did not bother him at all.

Hell, for his sake, he had everything to gain by such rumors. No matter how untrue they were. It only added to his already odd and eccentric reputation. "But about these.... other notes?" He pulled away from her and raised an eyebrow in a semi-teasing and accusing manner. He was jealous. Marguerite would have to be blind to not see it as his lazy blues blazed with life. "I dare say if you receive any more of them, please point them in my direction. I would be more than happy to have a few "choice words" with anyone trying to pass you notes."

He looked at her and spoke these words as if she solely belonged to him. These demmed notes were something that Sir Percival Blakeney, Baronet would not tolerate.

"You'll do nothing of the sort Percy." she said firmly, before taking the same teasing tone he just had with her, "If some young, eligible man wants to write me a sweet note or a poem expressing admiration for me, just as you did, then they are for my eyes only."

Marguerite pulled her head back a bit to get a better look at Percy, and was nearly shocked at what she saw. A sort of burning emotion peering out through those normally lazy eyes. "Why Sir Percival Blakeney, I do believe you are jealous." She leaned back closer to whisper in his ear, "Are you jealous Percy? Are you jealous because other men try to compete for my attention?" Marguerite said in a taunting tone. As she continued, she let her cheek and her nose brush against his own face, but always pulling away before her lips could brush his skin. "Are you envious because I read love notes and poems other men write for me? Are you resentful that your note was not the first from an admirer that I entertained?"

His face flushed again, and this time, when it also contorted, it was directed at her as well as these mystery men. What game was this that she was throwing in his face? Had she merely let him be in his jolly mood and teased him back in a fun loving way, all would be well. Whatever possessed Marguerite St. Just to push at him so, her shots were below the belt. Hearing her now, she was anything but cute.

She was enjoying her little game as she continued to breath these words to tease him. She continued letting their skin brush together and moved her lips closer to his own, but pulling away to taunt him even more. Yet, she was so close that warm air that came from her mouth as she spoke brushed his own lips. "Are you suddenly wary that I might give another admirer a bit of the sought after attention he wishes for? Or perhaps you are more desirous, because right now, as I sit in your embrace, another man might be thinking of me, wanting to hold me in his arms, craving the chance to cover me with soft kisses and possibility of my doing the same to him, maybe even yearning to have my body pressed against his night after night." Marguerite herself was breathing heavy now, as she teased and taunted Percy. She felt her face flush as the blood rushed through her own body.

His cold stare met her eyes and when she brushed her lips against hers, he pulled back with the feralness of the wolf. He was angry. Incredibly angry at how she was making him feel yet again. He could not figure out what she had to gain by belittling him so.

Whatever she was doing, it had the exact opposite effect on him that she may have been trying to go for. He was an English Gentleman. Not some back street alley boy that might enjoy such a tease. In fact, he did not even understand it to be how she wished it. In his mind, he pictured her with there other admirers and the way she kept going on about it, she was seeming to enjoy herself thinking about being with them.

When Marguerite was about to give in and brush her lips against his, but opened her eyes to look at him first. He was angry. Angry at her? She would often tease him, but was he suddenly put of by this round of taunting.

His brows knitted together and he moved away from her, now standing looking for his demmed boots. His hands were shaking, he was so angry and he stood in his socks on this blanket wanting to be anywhere right now but here.

She sufficiently made him feel like a nothing. Anyone else in the world could call him foolish. Idiot. Fop. Naive. Coward. Anyone else could make him feel ignorant and embarrassed. Anyone that is, but her.

It was too much, and now she had hurt him. He moved away from her and stood apart from her. She stood up to face him and noticed that his hands, still covered by his fine gloves shook. "Percy, Percy," she would say his name but he looked away. She grabbed onto his hands, hoping even if he wouldn't look at her he would listen. "Percy, you have no need to feel those things. Yes I have gotten notes from other admirers, requests for an audience with them, but for the past five weeks I've turned everyone down in favor of being with you. I never told you this but on the nights that we are to meet after a performance, I take your note out and read it again just before I leave to meet you."

She took hold of his hand and he flinched and grimaced. Not because of the scars healing underneath but because his anger far exceeded his wits. He had half a mind to growl and leave her standing there alone on the blanket. Never to see her again. Right now, his hands still shook in anger and he refused to look at her. He heard her, but the kind words were fighting against the anger inside. He heard her, but how could he even believe it when just a minute before she spoke of being in some strangers naked arms?

Marguerite reached up with one gentle hand to caress his cheek, to turn his attention towards her. "And if other men dream of me, it doesn't matter because you're the one I dream of. Percy you're the man whose arms I feel secure in, whose soft kisses I adore. When I sleep in my alone in my cold bed at night, you're the one that comes to me in my dreams to warm me."

Forcing himself to look at her, the gaze she received would be one no other being had seen on this English Gentleman's face. A jealous rage would not do it justice to describe. He was angry at himself for speaking his mind. He was angry at her for playing whatever stupid test she just did. Feeling foolish and hateful.

He listened to her quickly make amends to him. He remained still there, although his every intention was to put his boots on, go for a walk and calm down or remain enraged and never return. She held fast to him and kept him there. When she was done, his angry gaze did not falter and the cold stare on her remained. "Don't." He found his voice matching his shaking hands and he had to take a few breaths to calm before he could continue. "...Don't ever do that to me again."

Marguerite shook with fear as he spoke to her. Did he really have the potential to become this angry, this enraged? And the tone in his voice, no more then a whisper, but it almost sounded like a threat.

Blakeney's voice was a harsh whisper and he felt his eyes reddened. He couldn't take looking at her anymore, for the anger was being overcome by memories of hopeful acceptance that was forced into the ground by rejection. Slowly, he turned his head away from Marguerite St. Just.

Marguerite watched as he turned his head away from her. She stepped to stay in his gaze, but then retreated, even letting his hand go. She was suddenly afraid of him, very afraid. She took several steps back until she leaned against the tree. With tears of fright running from her eyes she thought about running, running to safety, but if she ran would he follow, or would he let her go, assuming she was off to the arms of another lover. A past lover she remembered caused her to be afraid, but never like this. She personally was as an individual threatened by him, but he scared her nonetheless. All of Percy's fear and hate was directed directly towards her, and she had helped bring it on herself.

Defeated and overcome, Marguerite dropped to her knees at the foot of the tree sobbing and just repeating "I'm sorry." hoping he would find it in his heart to forgive her.

The mind could not get past what she threw at him. Someone else yearning to be with her and kissing her and touching her. For the life of him, he could not understand why she told him this while smiling and near kissing him but not. She was teasing him, but it was not the type of tease any self respecting man would take. Again, he thought of all the times he had allowed others to ridicule and belittle him. Why did her doing it effect him so?

Hearing her sobbing by the tree, his hardened gaze turned and looked at her. Blakeney was a passionate man, as it has said before, passionate people are strong in love and in anger. He heard her pleas and saw the tears. Perhaps she understood how deeply she scored a man who has never been loved nor loved. That is, until now and the object of his love verbally slapped him across the face after he professed, to the extent of his capabilities, his love for her.

She kept repeating the phrase and the anger subsided enough for him to move near her. He stood there for a moment, watching her as she crumpled up against the tree. He was angry with what she had done, but he knew he cared for her more than anything else in this world. Kneeling beside her, he spoke not a word but took her in his arms and held her.

Marguerite rocked back and forth near the tree until she saw Percy near her. In fear she tried to move back, but couldn't against the tree. She wanted to scream, but she doubted anyone would hear. Would he strike her? Harm her? She shook until she felt his arms close around her. Her fears flew away as he offered her comfort instead of pain.

He didn't notice that she flinched as he wrapped his arms around her. Confused, angry and hurt, he rested his head against her shoulder quietly. When she began to speak however, for the first part, he kept his head still on her shoulder. Listening.

She knew though that she couldn't leave it at that, she had to try and amend the pain she had caused him. She reached up and caressed his face, "Percy, I'm going to say some things, and it might upset you, but please, please, don't get mad, and don't get upset until I finish. Just let me finish before you say anything."

She looked briefly up into his eyes as she began. "Women in positions such as mine, an actress, do have admirers, and notes and poems are not unheard of. I, like many other actresses, do receive them and I read and keep each one, I always have since I made my début on stage. Each night, before I leave, I read any that I might receive, whether I have the intentions of entertaining offers or not. Since I've meet you, I've only changed that routine slightly. Each night, after I've changed and taken off my makeup and am ready to go home, I sit and I read the news ones, just as I always have, and I put them in a little book that I keep all those types of notes in. But now, instead of putting the book away, I take out your note. I honestly do Percy, I take yours out and I read it every night before I leave the theatre."

He lifted his head now and looked at her. The anger was gone. He still wasn't happy about what was done, but he could meet her eyes without thinking about only what she had done. He quietly let her continue, as she requested of him.

Marguerite drew in a deep breath. She knew the last bit of her taunting before must have hurt the most, and that was the damage she needed to repair the most. "And, if other men think of me I don't care Percy. Your kisses are the only ones I'm interested in, your arms are the only ones I want wrapped around me. And when I dream Percy, I have had dreams of be held in a man's arms, and letting him cover me with soft kisses and even, even pressing my own body against his with such ardent passion, and Percy, that man I dream about is you. Let others do and think and say what they may, as long as I have you, that's all I need."

Clearing his voice, he spoke, "I understand you have 'fans' ". He halted there. He would not say admirers. Dammit. He wasn't some random note giver. He had quietly watched her for years. What was he? Just some random foolish one in the whole scheme of things anyway? He shook the negative thoughts from his head. He didn't want this tenseness anymore.

"I will not get angry if your 'fans' write to you Mlle. I will not get angry if they wish to see you. Your talents exceed so many in other ways, I couldn't expect that to not happen. However, I do not need pictures in my head of you with these 'fans'." His voice tensed a little and he took a deep breath, resting his head back on her shoulder. He didn't know what else to say without digressing, so he remained quiet and just held her. It was safe to say he was incredibly jealous and enraged at thinking of strangers with his Maeve.

Marguerite wrapped her hands around his body and ran them over his back as she began to rock back and forth again. "I don't have any pictures of me with other men in my head, only pictures of you Percy." Marguerite buried her head between his shoulder and neck and let a few soft tears fall from her eyes.

"I really don't want to talk about it anymore." He said as gently as he could manage. "Every time you say those words, they come into my head. I really, really don't want to discuss it anymore." He remained in her grasp, equally holding her as she rocked him.

"Alright then Percy, no more talk of such things." she whispered in his ear.

He took a deep breath and sighed. He was one of those fools he made fun of back in England. He was letting his heart rule his mind. Thank goodness nobody was around to witness it and make fun of him in return. Reaching up, his fingers gently wiped at her eye as he sat back up and looked at her. Exhausted mentally and emotionally drained from all this. "Maybe we should take you home."

Marguerite looked into his eyes as he brushed the tears from her face. She didn't hear his words as she softly reached up and took his hand and lead it to her own mouth and let her lips brush each of his fingertips. Something odd struck her then. "Percy, have you been cold?"

He watched her ignore his question about taking her home, figuring she was choosing to ignore it. In a way, that was in his favor. He had no more energy to fight. "Am I cold?" He asked and glanced down at his bootless socks. "I would have to say I suppose so Milady."

"Percy, if you were cold sitting outside all this time you should have said something, we could have gone somewhere else, somewhere warmer." Tenderly, Marguerite took Percy's hand in her own and gently rubbed them to warm them. "Percy, are you still mad at me?"

Wincing a little, for she started to rub his sores under those gloves, he shook his head no to her. "As long as I never have to hear about it again, I am fine Maeve." Sir Percy gave a small smile at her. Good god! She was rubbing the hell out of his knuckles.

"Then I promise you I will never bring up such thoughts again." He stood to free his hands. "Why don't I put my boots back on and we can go. I can either take you home or we can find some indoor place to finally eat. What time do you have to be at the theatre tonight?"

"Oh, tonight," Marguerite had been through so much that day she entirely forgot about the performance that night. She was emotionally weary and knew already it would be a difficult night. "Curtain is at 8, call is 7 but I was so upset last night when I thought you were still away I left everything in such a mess, I suppose as long as I am there around 6 everything should be fine. What time is it now Percy?"

He sat down on the edge of the blanket and began to lace up his boots. Hearing her, he stopped for a moment and pulled out his pocket watch. Moving the chain around so the small watch faced him, he pressed the golden button open and glanced at the watch.

"It is 4:30 now." He glanced up at her, as he tugged on his laces and finished dressing on his boots. Personally, he was ready for this day to end.

Marguerite should have been putting her own shoes on, but instead she laid down on her blanket and watched as Percy fussed over his own boot. She let a gentle yawn escape her lips and lifted her hand to shield her eyes from the sun.

>He turned and glanced at her over his shoulder. "Sleepy?" He gave a slight smile and shook his head, going back to finish his boot. "You may be sleepy, but I haven't eaten in the last 24 hours. I could use some food to tide me over; fear my stomach roar during your performance tonight disturbing the house." He offered a small wink and stood, reaching over to help her up.

Marguerite smiled as she felt Percy lift her up. "We can stop by the cafe next to the theatre and get you some food there." she said as she stretched her muscles. Her legs straight out in front of her, she pulled up the material just a bit to reveal her shoeless feet. "Percy, would you hand me my shoes please?"

The small smile on his face widened a little and he nodded. He didn't say a word, but gladly enjoyed the view she offered of her exposed feet. In fact, he sort of turned around partly with is torso and felt for her shoes as his face still were fixated on her feet.

Something about those feet caught his attention. He never paid attention to anyone's feet before, save to check out the fashion of their shoes. Hmmm. This could be a view he would like to get used too.

Marguerite sat quietly as she wigged her feet back and forth while waiting for her shoes. She tried not to let on that she noticed, but Percy seemed very content watching her near bare feet.

Quietly, he brought her shoes around and offered them to her. When she reached forward to take them, Sir Percy put on a devilish grin and pulled them away just inches from her reach. He rested them in his lap. This was the type of flirting he preferred.

Marguerite giggled as Percy sat with his own legs crossed in front of him and her shoes resting on his lap. "So I see you've taken a turn to tease me Percy, well then." Marguerite turned and placed some of her weight on her hands as she kneeled and faced him. "Now, to get my shoes, perhaps I could ask nicely, or even beg for them,“

He shook his head. He had already felt humiliated. He would never make her 'beg' and wanted to make it quite clear to her the type of teasing he considered acceptable.

“. . . and if you were kind you would give them to me. I could go without, my dress would hide my shoeless feet but my stockings would be ruined, or . . ." Marguerite moved in closer to Percy so her lips just barely missed his. She lifted her two hands and placed them on his knees before running them along his thighs, "or I could try to distract your attention from them." and finally she pushed her lips against his as she had longed to many times during the course of the afternoon.

The smile on his quiet face spoke to Marguerite that he preferred what she did now to anything she had talked about or attempted to do prior. When she planted her hands on his knees, his face gave off a surprised look. When her hands ran up along his thighs, his mouth dropped slightly open in a lustful sort of manner.

**"or I could try to distract your attention from them." **

He nodded near helplessly at her. If she wanted to distract him, this certainly was a new way for Blakeney to go. Her touch along him made him aware of things he never allowed himself to care about before. This intimate space she occupied in front of him. The intensity of his senses concentrating solely on the placement of her hands.

When she kissed him, he gave a surprised soft cry. It was not a cry of pain and it certainly was not a cry of unwanting. Blakeney closed his eyes and kissed her back. It certainly had been a crazy run away horse carriage-ride of an afternoon. As they kissed, he no longer could remember the earlier part of the afternoon. Had he been angry? What did it even matter? He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her in closer to him.

Marguerite smiled to herself as she heard Percy's reaction to her "distraction." Well, after all, he was the one that choose to place her shoes in his lap for her to retrieve, did he think her so proper that she would not attempt such a movement?

She felt his arms wrap around her and pull her closer to him. She moved her hands to grab her shoes, but instead of retreating from his embrace as the victor, she tossed them aside and slid her own body into his as she continued to happily kiss her Percy.

They sat there a while and embraced, necking if you will for the longest event in his life. Blakeney enjoyed this. He enjoyed it a lot and was saddened to find that the few moments grew into the hour. She had to go to the theatre. "I will be sitting in my normal seat, watching you all the while." A devilish smile crossed his lips as he helped her pack up her blanket.

Marguerite enjoyed the time she had spent in Percy's warm and welcoming embrace. "No you won't Percy," she teased as he lifted her up, "remember, we stopped by the box office to arrange for a ticket and the boxes were all sold. You have to sit on the main floor, right where I can keep an eye on you."

Walking her to the theatre, the English gentleman realized he still hadn't a think to eat in the past day or so. With a small smile, he didn't 'mind. He would grab something during the few hours he was away from her. If only life was so simple as this. Spend time with her and eat and relax. He knew others did this, but glancing down the street, seeing no aristos out and about, he knew for him it could never be.

At the stage door of the theatre, Marguerite stopped and stood in front of him. "Well, I'm sure you're eager to get some real food now Percy." She stepped close and let one hand rub over his belly, "I hope your stomach is feeling more settled then last night."

"Thank you my Maeve. I am sure I will behave so close to you in the theatre tonight." He smiled and took her hand in his gloved one and kissed it gently. "Until we see one another again, I will count the minutes."

Marguerite smiled, "I should hope so, I'd hate to think you'd be forced to miss out on my offered sweets two nights in a row," she said as he kissed her hand. Instead of letting go after he kissed her, she pulled her hand up to brush against her own cheek. "Less then two hours until not only you get to see me, but I get to see you as well." she teased, finally letting go and disappearing behind the stage door.

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