Debutante's Daydream

Chapter Sixteen

        He had been anxious when he received the Duke's letter to be at Hyde Park when he met with the Marchioness. John had thought it was a practical joke, that the Duke would rub in his face that he was out in public with his angel. But the man had acted honorably with the young debutante and he knew when the man told her about John's presence because her face searched the park before finally settling on him with a bright smile. 

        With a few words to the Duke, she bound towards him, her dress complimenting her dark coloring. He made his way into the forest and when she broke through the trees, she threw his arms around his neck, her body knocked into his and he held her by the waist tightly. He almost forgot what she looked like in the daylight. Only once prior to this point had he seen her in the light, when they had sneaked off to then glen in which he painted her. In their time apart he found himself going back to admire his painting of her. 

        He had done a good job capturing her likeness and while it looked just like her, nothing could ever beat having her with him. Her scent of vanilla and warm skin filled his lungs and his mind conjured improper images of her beneath him, hair fanned out across his pillow. With a hard swallow he banished those thoughts and pulled back from his angel. 

        "You look beautiful," he breathed, hardly able to keep the words contained within himself. He rubbed the back of his neck, shy about sharing his thoughts with her. 

        The smile she gave him could have brightened a pitch black cave and a small flush crept up over her chest and neck, splotching her skin. "You look quite dashing yourself, Johnny." She blushed harder and he smiled at the cute name she had given him.         

        He offered her his hand and she took it and he led her deeper into the forest to a clearing where he had prepared a small picnic. He hadn't been sure what she liked so he brought a little of everything. And soon he learned she had a sweet tooth. 

        Carolyn sat on the blanket and tucked into lightly buttered rolls, which seemed to be her favorite food of what he brought. She smiled sheepishly. "My apologies, I am a picky eater and my mother counts how many rolls I eat. Although, if she wouldn't I would most certainly keep myself in check. But since she feels the need to count I then feel the need to eat as many as I can when she isn't watching." She giggled and picked off small pieces of her roll. 

        "No need, angel. Eat however many you'd like!" He himself ate a simple finger sandwich. It had been difficult to get out a picnic basket stuffed full of food and drink without anyone noting the strange behavior. Luckily, Ben had a potential bride meeting and that kept his parents busy. 

        When she polished off her fourth roll, she flopped onto her back and stretched out on the blanket, her hand rested on her soft yet slim belly. He watched as the sun played in her golden brown hair, admiring her casual pose. 

        "What endeared you to art?" She asked, raising to take a sip of water before rolling onto her side, her delicate breasts strained against the neck of her day dress. 

        John forced his eyes away from the lush plump skin of her chest and rolled his neck to work out the tension kinks. "I am not sure. It was just something I was always good at. It was also something that didn't require me to speak to others." 

        Carolyn propped her head in her hand, watching him, her kind brown eyes warm and seeing too much of him for comfort. "It is so difficult for you to speak to others?" She asked gently. 

        He didn't want to tell her about his complete inability to speak to people. About the cold sweat he broke into when forced into crowded rooms with people. She would see him as weak. He had never heard of anyone having such an irrational fear before, talking to others was a part of life. 

        With as much steel as he could muster, he nodded. "It is. I find it difficult to put myself in social situations. I don't know what to say and an itch crawls under my skin pushing out until I am a fidgeting mess and cannot think of one coherent word to say." 

        Her brows furrowed and he found he wanted to lean in and kiss it away. "But you've always seemed to be at ease around me," she pointed out and shifted until her head rested in his lap, her back to him. 

        John found it much easier to confess his inadequacies without her eyes on him. "It is strange. With you I seem to have an inability to keep my thoughts to myself. It's easier to feel comfortable with you." 

        She looked up at him and he stroked a hand down her hair gently. "I'm glad you feel that way with me. I don't find you odd, I liked you're countenance. It speaks to a part of me that feels uncomfortable around people too. It's not as bad as yours, I just find myself unable to relate to the other girls my age." She confessed.

        Now it was his turn to furrow his brows. John couldn't think of a reason why she wouldn't be able to relate to girls to her age. "Why is this?" He asked, his fingers found their way into her hair and he massaged her scalp. 

        A soft flush crept up her chest, claiming her neck and jaw the way he longed to. "I theorize it is because I was so close to my aunt. I had cousins of course but they seemed to play some sort of game that I did not have the rules for. They sparred with words in a way that just utterly confused me. It just all seemed so... trivial." She bit her lip and John looked down at her. 

        "I'm sorry to hear that. You'd be a great friend for anyone to have," he said, he meant every word. She could listen and carry a conversation and she was kind. 

        His words seemed to please her because she smiled and shifted into a sitting position between his legs and leaned her back into his chest. 

        The embrace was scandalous and improper and if anyone were to find them there would be strong consequences. Even with that knowledge, John couldn't keep his hands to himself and wrapped his arms around her waist and tucked his face into the crook of her neck. Her body relaxed and came into more contact with his own body and he pressed her tightly into his front. Carolyn's hair tickled his face and her featherlite fingers brushed over his arms. She slid her fingertips under the sleeve of his coat and his skin caught flames beneath the skin of her fingers.

        "I wish could stay here all day," she murmured and he brushed his lips over her shoulder which caused her to shudder against him. 

        In the sunlight, her hair glinted with undertones of red and while before he thought the night had been made for her, he realized it was the sun. The sun made her come to life. "Me too," he whispered against the smooth skin of her neck. 

        In the moment, he vowed, that one day they would be together in the light and not have to hide in the shadows of night.