Resist Everything Except Temptation

Chapter 1

Kensington Harbor, 1732.

As the sun crept over the horizon, the Commodore's mansion became illuminated in a rosy haze. Filtered rays of light trickled against freshly painted windowpanes. The three story abode was thick with ivory plaster and hugged by burgundy brick. Ropes of ivy climbed along the siding, the thick twines winding as they anchored themselves against the building. Inside a bedroom on the second floor, behind the last door on the left, was Louis Tomlinson.

"Mr. Tomlinson, Sir, are you decent?"

Louis arched his back against the plush mattress, cringing as air bubbles crackled along his spine. He wiped crusted sleep from his eyes and slowly sat upwards. Hands pressed firmly against the duvet, he pushed himself off of his bed and with a lethargic pace, began to get ready for the day.

Every morning, it was the same routine.

Once daylight drenched the island and native songbirds had begun their morning melodies, Louis would be woken up by his chambermaid, Ellen. She would gently call into his bedroom with slight hesitance that hindered her plaintive voice. And every morning, her trepid tone was met with a disgruntled grumble from underneath a tangle of covers.

From bed, Louis would drag himself into an adjacent bathroom. There, he would find his pearly porcelain tub already filled with hot water. As he washed off the sheen layer of sweat that licked his body, Ellen would lay out his clothes and quietly dismiss herself to repeat the same actions for Louis' six younger siblings.

Haphazardly, he dried himself off and stood in front of a perched vanity. The tiled floor was cold underneath Louis' feet as he combed out the tangled knots of his hair. With a bit of effort, he was able to smooth out the brown tendrils until the ends tickled against the nape of his neck. In the vanity, his blue eyes stared back at him. His skin was flushed tan from the hours underneath the Caribbean sunlight, his nose speckled with freckles. With a last pat against his hair, Louis turned back to his bedroom.

His navy duvet was neatly stretched across the mattress, thick pillows fluffed and settled at the head of the bed. Nestled at the foot of the mattress, a pile of folded clothes. A flowy tunic came first, the creamy material soft against his skin as he shrugged it over is shoulders. Next, a fitted pair of beige trousers that tightly hugged the thick muscles along his thighs and cut off just underneath his kneecaps.

Louis sat on the bed as he pulled up a pair of white socks that tucked underneath the hem of his trousers. At the bottom of the pile was a brown vest lined with ornate gold buttons. It was a gift from his father, Commodore Mark Tomlinson, on his eighteenth birthday. The gold buttons flaunted their "higher" rank in society. Or at least, that's what the attached card had told Louis. While stability was something to be proud of, Louis would have chosen to spend his birthday with his father rather than gold buttons.

Regardless, he wore the vest every day.

Mindlessly, his nimble fingers secured the vest down his front. Crossing the wooden paneled floor, Louis stopped at a granite wardrobe. He pulled open the top drawer and thumbed over three thick belts, eventually opting for dark brown leather. Securing the belt over his waist, Louis cinched his middle and made sure the thick buckle rested in the center. Slipping his feet into a pair of buckled brown shoes, Louis was ready for the day.

The house was filled with mumbled conversations, voices becoming clearer as Louis descended the grand staircase. His heels lightly clicked against the floor, drawing attention as he passed by different members of the staff.

"Good morning, Sir. Beautiful day," an older man politely greeted as he bowed his back. His dusted wig remained secured on top of his head with the motion.