The Truth About The Many Worlds Of Printed Pages

°•○•°Nine°•○•°

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.