P. A. Featherington

(20) Uninvited Guest

Illford House, Galway

"Good day, is Penelope Featherington home"

The man at the door shrugged "Never heard of her" Pen had told her friend that she no longer went by her old name, simply Margaret. Although she did not inform him of her true name.

"Red hair, avid writer. Likes to be known as Lady Whistledown"

"Ah you mean Margaret. She has just left for town sir. Just head down the street to the right"

"Thankyou" Colin nodded.

He had walked for only five minutes when he saw a hint of red curls in the distance. His breath stopped for a beat. There she is.

She was laughing with a man on the market stall before she waved goodbye. He feared that he would never see that smile again. She was dressed in a comfortable dress. Nothing like her attire back home. She was radiant. Smiling at everyone she walked past. She had made a home here and blended into the society with such ease. She placed bread, honey and some ground spices into her basket. She put her hair behind her ear and made her way home.

Her smile diminished fast when she saw none other than Colin Bridgerton looking back at her. Her slow pace increased, trying her best to pass him on the small cobble road.

His eyes traced over her. It seemed rather invasive that when his attention was back to her eyes. She scowled at his reaction.

Ireland looked good on her

His brain concocted such scenarios when he was asleep. He would watch her surprise and joy at being found. One where she embraces him before pulling his face down to her for a kiss so passionately that he would wake up in a hot sweat. Knowing full well that if the dream continued he would surely take her no matter where they were and who was watching.

Damn his brothers, they had gotten into his head. Talks of marrying Pen, spun him around now he found himself unable to think of anyone else.

God, he missed her. He smile, the way her hair cascades down her back, how sometimes he imagined what it would be like to touch those curls. Trace them with his finger and breathe her locks in. The closer he was in proximity to Pen, the sweeter she smelt. Like a sweet nectar of the gods.

Damn you brothers. He did not want to think of Pen in such graphic terms. He had always held back but now knowing one day he may find her. A rush of excitement would rush through him when he would imagine what she would feel like in his arms. His hands cupping her bottom. Or good god, her beasts.

DAMN YOU, GREGORY!!! His mind growled.

Back to reality, something else was etched into her beautiful eyes. A look of sheer terror and anger.

"Pen?" her face hastily looked to the ground.

He doubled his efforts "Pen? Please look at me"

She glared at him "You are a long way from home, Mr Bridgerton"

The sound of his heart breaking, he had to clench his chest to make sure his heart still had rhythm. Mr Bridgerton? She had never spoke so formally since their first introduction. He had lost her.

"No one left in town to hang on your every word" she scorned.

"You really think so little of me?"

"I think you will find that is you who thinks so little of me"

"You truly think I would spend every day searching for you because I don't care" he touched her cheek gently "Pen" before retracting his hand, placing it to his side before he did something he would regret. Of all those images he dreamed up. That look on her face was not one of them.