by Athena Dore
She could see how lonely he was living like that.
She sniffed. Oh dear. She hadn’t realised she’d started crying. She wiped her tears away.
She could give him a chance, get to know him better like she’d wanted to at the restaurant – this time, not romantically but as friends.
As the case had it, she didn’t see Xavier much during the coming days. He was away a lot and when he was there, he didn’t come and see her, at least not when she was awake. A few times, when she’d been either drifting off to sleep or near waking up, she’d heard him come in and ask whoever was looking after her that day how she was. He’d watch her for a few moments, apologise yet again, and then leave. It was kind of sad to see him so remorseful. But when she was awake, she seldom saw him. She thought he was giving her space, which she really appreciated.
Rochelle had lots to keep her occupied, anyway. At her request, the staff arranged for a black hair dresser to come round and rescue her hair. She felt much better after that.
A new wardrobe had also materialised overnight and there were some gorgeous outfits – all in her size. She could get used to this kind of life, she thought. Of course, she was planning on leaving them all here when she left. What a shame. She’d feel uncomfortable taking them with her.
A few items were not her style at all and she wouldn’t be sad to leave behind at all – when was she going to wear that fussy white blouse? The choirboy look was so not her. And this vintage dress was a must-have if you wanted to look like a celebrity – from the 19th century – It could almost be an actual museum piece. Rochelle smiled to the reflection of herself wearing the atrocity. Simple things pleased simple minds.
One day, however, he came to visit while she was awake. Feeling much better, she was sitting on the sofa texting her mum, wearing one of her new outfits.
“It’s a nice day” he said. “Mindy and I were wondering if you’d like to come on a picnic with us”.
“Um…” Mindy and I… The last time she’d been alone with him and Mindy, she’d hit him in the head with a book and scratched his face. But hadn’t she decided to give him a chance? She could start by not running screaming mentally as soon as he walked into the room…
“Okay. That sounds nice”.
They had the picnic in the gardens, overlooking the lake. Mindy was running on the opposite side, chasing ducks. It was lovely to be outside again, to feel the sun on her skin, to hear birds singing live, rather than filtered through a wall. She felt happy and content with how things were at this very moment.
She turned to him. They were both a bit cautious around each other, afraid to say anything that would ruin the idyllic mood.
“You know, I don’t know how to speak to you now you’re a duke’s son”.
“You can start by calling me ‘my lord’” he said. There he was teasing her again.
“And do I have to curtsey?” She’d only curtsied once in her life and that was when a duchess had come to her high school to present an award. It was the most awkward movement ever. Very easy to over balance.
“Every time I enter the room”.
He chuckled. It was nice to hear him laugh again. It went so well with the atmosphere.
“Just speak to me normally. I am a person above all else”.
Rochelle picked up a strawberry.
“Are you going back to Lower Ferton?” she asked.
After a month at Roseford, Doctor Astor had said she was very nearly well enough to go home.
He looked at her. The sun gave his eyes a striking amber colour. In spite of everything, why did his gaze make her heart race?
“I might”, he said, “If I have reason to”.
He might, which also meant he might not. Her heart sank a bit. Was she disappointed she might never see him again? But that wasn’t possible.
“Well, if you’re ever in the neighbourhood, you should come and visit”.
“Really?” he seemed surprised. Rochelle smiled.
“Really. I bet you’ve never had home-made Jamaican food before. I’ll make it for you”. Rochelle was confident in her cooking; after all, she had learnt from the best. Her Jamaican grandmother was an amazing cook.
“Well, I’ll look forward to it” he said.
They fell into silence.
“Rochelle…” he began. The tone of his voice was hesitant. She knew he wanted to address the incident, the elephant in the room, and she didn’t want him to, in case it changed things just when they were starting to get along again.
“Remember when I said I’d only care about the ‘you’ now?” She asked.
“I haven’t forgotten about what happened, but I want to move forward and focus on the present. Okay?”
She offered him her hand. He shook it and then pressed it to his lips in a brief kiss.
“Okay” he agreed.
* * *
Xavier had already gone out when she went down the next day so she had breakfast alone. There were unopened letters for him on the table. One was in a black envelope. Rochelle thought it was unusual, which made it pretty. As she buttered her toast, she wondered why envelopes were generally all the same colour. Who had decided that pink or blue or tartan were not acceptable? Trivial thoughts at any rate.
She idled away the rest of the day exploring the house, playing with Mindy in the garden and watching videos from her phone, though both the wifi and phone reception in the countryside were not the best.
As she was picking out an outfit for dinner, someone knocked on her door. It was one of the servants with a message. Xavier was back and wanted to see her in his bedroom before dinner.
After receiving the message, her outfit choice suddenly became a lot more complicated. However, she settled on a red dress and when she was ready, began the long journey to Xavier’s bedroom.
She knocked on the door.
“Come in” said Xavier. She went inside. He was sitting on the sofa, reading. He looked up as she entered.
“Rochelle” he exclaimed. His voice was warm and he smiled as he closed the book and set it down beside him.
“I got a message that you wanted to see me”.
He patted the sofa next to him, gesturing for her to sit down.
“I’ve got a present for you” he said.
“What’s the occasion?”
Rochelle crossed the room and sat down, trying to appear calm when really, she felt a little jittery and nervous. She loved receiving presents from people she knew well but it was awkward when it came from someone she was less well acquainted with. It felt like she was indebted to them somehow and she was a bit too independent to enjoy that feeling.
“There isn’t one” he replied, “I saw it and it made me think of you”.
He picked up a box lying next to his book on the sofa, and gave it to her. She took a deep breath and opened it.
It was an absolutely gorgeous necklace. Opening it should have been accompanied by a chorus of harp-playing angels.
A single diamond could twinkle but here, there were so, so many diamonds clustered together that instead of twinkling, they collectively shimmered, like the sun on the surface of a beautiful crystal blue ocean. Rochelle was mesmerised. And then moved. Warmth radiated from her heart to think that someone – that Xavier – thought enough of her to give her such an amazingly exquisite gift.
“Do you like it?” he asked.
“Yes. It’s beautiful…perfect. Thank you”.
“But –” She broke off.
“But?”
But… Waking up from her reverie, Rochelle’s analytical side launched into action. It was very obvious that the necklace was worth so much more than her annual salary had been. She couldn’t accept such an expensive gift. And it wasn’t just the price; the design was too special. It was the kind of present to be given to a significant other, like a girlfriend or wife – someone loved and treasured, not a mere acquaintance like her.
“I couldn’t accept it”.
“Why not?”<
br />
Oh dear. The twinge of hurt in his voice…
“I-It’s far too special”.
“Rochelle” he said, “I got this for someone who is special…to me”.
He looked into her eyes. Rochelle stopped breathing. She felt hot. Her heart beat faster. She looked away; she had to, for her own sanity, or she might end up kissing him.
“Would you wear it to dinner?” he asked.
She looked back up at him, just long enough to utter ‘yes’. He took the necklace from its box, gently, gracefully, and undid the clasp.
She turned so her back was facing him. His arms hovered either side of her as he draped the necklace round her. The metal was cold against her throat. He did up the clasp, allowing his fingers to brush along her bare skin as his hands slid to her shoulders. He leaned forward and placed a kiss over the fine chain of the necklace. And another. And another. She gasped. His lips nuzzled and caressed, sending tiny shivers through her.
This shouldn’t be happening. They were only meant to be friends. She wanted to tell him to stop but his name left her lips as a dreamy sigh.
“Xavier…”
Hearing his name spoken with such longing, he turned her round to face him. For a moment he looked into her eyes, stroking her temples. Looking back at him, her breathing came in irregular little rasps. Then, he kissed her. It was a wild, passionate kiss, that burned with his pent up desire for her.
She threw her arms around his neck to steady herself, pulling him closer. His hands moved from her temples to her neck, over her bare shoulders, down her back to her waist.
She climbed up onto the sofa to reach him better, straddling his hips. He groaned. The full force of it vibrated through her and she melted. She’d heard him growl before as a beast with menacing undertones, but as a man, it was alluring, tantalising, intoxicating.
“Er! Get a room” said a voice. Rochelle broke away. Sebastian was leaning casually against the doorframe.
“Have you forgotten how to knock?” asked Xavier.
“I was just coming to ask how to do it, actually” said Sebastian.
Xavier frowned.
“Are you two actually coming to dinner or would you rather dine on each other?” Sebastian continued.
“We’re coming” said Rochelle.
“Don’t be too long”, Sebastian said as he left, “You know how I hate cold potatoes”.
Rochelle turned back to Xavier and smiled. She tried to extricate herself from his grasp but he wouldn’t let go.
“Damn his potatoes” he said and kissed her again.
* * *
“I hope you enjoyed your antipasto” said Sebastian when Xavier and Rochelle entered the dining room, “I was beginning to think we had a double missing person case on our hands”.
They weren’t that late; only about five or ten minutes. Xavier helped her to her seat before sitting down himself.
Doctor Astor had also come to join them for the evening.
“Now you’re mostly recovered, we should all go somewhere fun” she said. Rochelle thought that would be a good idea. As much as she liked Roseford and had found many places to explore, she’d been cooped up for a month now and it would be nice to get out.
“I agree”, said Sebastian, “but your idea of fun is hiking up some impossibly steep hill…”
Doctor Astor made some sort of retort but Rochelle wasn’t listening anymore. She was distracted by the butler approaching Xavier. He said something quiet. She tried to read Xavier’s expression but it remained impassive.
He rose from his seat.
“Excuse me” he said and left.
Rochelle wondered where he’d gone.
“What do you think, Rochelle?” asked Doctor Astor.
“Sorry, about what?”
“About putting a nuclear power plant in Alden?”
When had they changed to this topic? Weren’t they talking about a day out a second ago?
“I suppose it’s safe until a disaster”, she said, not really paying much attention to her words, “So it depends on how they maintain it and what the locals think”.
Sebastian and Doctor Astor discussed what she’d said between themselves, both trying to use it in their arguments. Xavier returned. He sat down again. His mood seemed to have taken a turn for the worst.
“Are you all right” she asked.
He sighed.
“I’m fine”.
“You don’t seem fine” she said.
“It was just some idiot outside making a fuss, but hopefully, everything’s been sorted now”.
He patted her hand.
* * *
Rochelle woke up to the sound of frantic knocking on her bedroom door.
“Rochelle” called Xavier, bursting in.
She sat up. Oh no. He’d see her with a scarf on her head. She wrenched it off and combed through her hair hurriedly with her fingers before switching on the lamp by the bed. The light glared into her eyes.
“We have to leave. Now”.
“Why?”
“There’s been a gas leak”.
“What?”
He opened the curtain and looked outside.
“A gas leak”, he repeated, “And it’s not an accident”.
Rochelle scrambled from the bed, picking up her phone and the box with her necklace from under her pillow, and throwing on her dressing gown. A gas leak. That meant Roseford could explode at any moment if exposed to a naked flame. There would barely be time to escape…or they could die of carbon monoxide poisoning. Gosh. What if this was how she died?
Xavier threw open the window. Rochelle could hear the commotion of some of the staff in the grounds below.
He removed his dressing gown and walked towards her. The moonlight and lamplight shone on his torso, illuminating the muscles of his abdomen as they rippled with his strides. They illuminated something else too: the curve of his wings as they unfurled.
“Xavier…?”
He was…turning? She took a step back from him.
“It’s okay” he said softly. It didn’t look okay. She flinched as he placed his dressing gown round her. He took her hand and led her over to the window.
Realising the plan, she pulled away from him.
“No”, she said, “No way”.
“Rochelle, we have to go now”.
She…she knew that but this was…she wasn’t sure if…She needed five minutes – no, ten – to get her head round things, to prepare. But she had only seconds. Her breathing became fast and shaky. She trembled, unable to focus on anything but fear.
“Do you trust me?” he asked.
She trusted him but… She looked out the window, at the grounds, at the night sky. She couldn’t. She just couldn’t.
“Rochelle”.
He rested a hand on his shoulder. With his other, he guided her chin upwards, forcing her to look at him.
“If you trust me, I promise I’ll keep you safe”.
She took a deep breath, closed her eyes and nodded. He kissed her forehead. Her hands clenched into fists as he scooped her up in his arms. Her eyes were still closed. Tightly.
She felt him climb onto the window sill.
And jump.
Suddenly, they were plummeting. She cried out and threw her arms round him. Her stomach lurched. She could feel the wind rushing past her cheeks.
The next moment, they were soaring. Up. Up. Ever higher.
Rochelle relaxed and opened her eyes. Below, the acres of land that made up the grounds of Roseford rushed past, lit by the ethereal glow of the moon. It was amazing, brilliant, wonderful. Such clarity and definition that she couldn’t see from the likes of a plane.
And then she heard the deafening explosion. It startled her. Roseford was on fire. The heat of the blaze lashed at them.
She looked back, like Lot’s wife at the burning city of Sodom. Part of the house was engulfed in flames. Sebastian. The staff. Mindy. Had they all managed to make it away safely?
She lo
oked at Xavier. She knew it wasn’t his main family home, but she wondered whether he had memories of Roseford that were smouldering right now. If he did, he didn’t display any emotion. He carried on moving forward.
As they got further away, the intensity of the heat of the fire diluted until the air around them was cold once again.