Where Did You Sleep Last Night?

Chapter 2: I cross my heart

Days passed since Genevieve danced with William, he couldn't get her out of his mind either. Her lips, oh how he wondered how they felt against his own; her bosom, a perfect pair that he had ever seen, not a single blemish upon them. He must see her again, he didn't know where to find her. Where are you? He thought to himself.

Genevieve laughed as she twirled around in her mistresses cottage. She never knew how charming, how charismatic a man could be to her. Avalon scolded her for dancing with Shakespeare, even though Genevieve decided to ignore it. She couldn't bear not seeing him.

"What is it you dance in joy for child?" Anne huffed, not amused at her maid. "Oh Miss Hathaway, I danced my night away into love." She giggled. The women looked at the girl in disbelief, she despised how beautiful Genevieve became each day.

"And who might this boy be?" She asked, folding her arms together.

"None other than William Shakespeare. Oh Miss Hathaway you should've seen his eyes, they melted into my soul. He is like no other that had come to seek my hand. Oh I am sick, sick in love!" She laughed.

Shakespeare eh? Anne thought, raising a brow. Perhaps I will go pay a visit to the glove makers son myself.

"My chores are done for today Miss Hathaway. May I go home now?" Genevieve asked politely.

"Hmm? Oh, yes, you may go now." Anne said.

"William!" His father shouted, "Get your head out of the clouds and finish repairing those gloves!" William shook his head, obeying his father. Oh Genevieve, where would I find thee? He stitched the battered glove back together, thinking of the long pale hands that entwined with his own. He wondered, did the beautiful lady feel the same for him?

He turned to see his father gone, hoping he had went to deliver a pair of gloves across town. William pulled out a piece of parchment and a quill, dipping it into a small jar of ink. He began to write:
Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?
Thou art more lovely and more temperate:
Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,
And summer's lease hath all too short a date:
Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines,
And often is his gold complexion dimm'd;
And every fair from fair sometime declines,
By chance or nature's changing course untrimm'd;
But thy eternal summer shall not fade
Nor lose possession of that fair thou owest;
Nor shall Death brag thou wander'st in his shade,
When in eternal lines to time thou growest:
So long as men can breathe or eyes can see,
So long lives this and this gives life to thee

As he read over the finished sonnet he heard the bell ring at the door, knowing someone had entered. He quickly wrote To Genevieve on the now folded parchment. "May I help you?" He called out.

"Yes, I was hoping you could tell me where I could find a William Shakespeare." A familiar voice said softly. William's eyes widened. Could it be his sweet Genevieve? He pulled back the curtains to see sweet emerald eyes staring back at his own brown eyes.

"Genevieve.. I-" he cleared his throat, feeling heat grow into his cheeks. "What brings you here?" He asked, running his hands through his hair.

"Well I had hope to see you again, William. I also came to ask for a pair of gloves that needed repairing. Are they ready?" A playful smile developed on her lips.

William looked down at the pair of gloves that were in his hands. "These are yours?" He asked, gesturing to the pair in his hands, a soft nod came from Genevieve. He smiled, handing them to her. "Thank you, William. My friend and I are going to an event tonight, at my mistresses home. Perhaps I would see you then?" She asked.

"Certainly, Miss Williams. I wouldn't miss it for the world." He kissed her hand softly. "Until then, Genevieve."