Thread: Southern Girl [ Ariamella & Reydan ]

RE Southern Girl Ariamella Reydan Virgil paced the sunlit outer room, thinking. Thinking about Lucy. That intrusion into the dressmaking room had taken him back, the years melting away, to how they used to be. He clasped his hands nervously behind his back. Hells he muttered. It had been a party. Some society event his mother had organised? No, they were at her house. The setting floated back, like mist forming around the younger him, and he was there again. The flowers, violets, in every buttonhole. Her sister's sixteenth. He remembered now. Violets for Viola. That had been the joke. Lucy had fumed all day, seeing his buttonhole the same as the others, knowing that for once she was not the center of attention. Not even from him. She'd tweaked it out of his jacket, or tried to, as he came into the room. She'd been too short and he twisted this way and that, feeling her stretch to reach, laughing at her reddening face. Virgilllll! she'd practically shrieked, swatting at him in frustration. You're such a spoiled little madam he'd chuckled, letting her little hand connect with his cheek. It was a tiny blow, hardly felt, but he liked the caress of her touch. The small finger tips meeting his jaw. There was no-one else in the room, just the two of them. The rustle of her soft dress and the smell of her perfume filled his senses and he'd leaned in, cupping her face, and kissed her. Passionately. It had been one of the first truly loving kisses he'd given her, and her eyes had been wide open in surprise. When he drew back he bent down and, plucking the violet from his buttonhole, tucked it behind her ear. Here. Its Viola's day. So take this, behave yourself, and know that you'll always be the belle of my ball. Then he kissed her lips again, holding her close to him. I'll always love you Lucy Rayne he murmured to her and when you're my wife you can always tell me exactly how to dress to best please you. He turned, jolted out of his memories, when he heard Lucy call to him. His heart fluttered a little in his chest as he saw her stick her head out of the door, a cascade of golden locks tumbling down along the side of the woodwork, flashing him, inadvertently, a hint of tanned shoulder. He arched an eyebrow at her request. Two dresses? It was pure Lucille Rayne. Cheeky and spoiled and he felt himself instantly give way. This had been, before 1860, the life he wanted with her. Giving her everything. Spoiling her. Living to see that smile. I wouldn't dream of making a fine woman such as yourself pay he teased, stepping towards the door she skittered back from, I mean, this isn't Castle of Otranto or any of the gothic books you love so much. How else can I prove I'm not your evil jailo..... The words died in his mouth. There, on a slight pedestal, stood a cheekily grinning Lucille Rayne. He felt like his heart was about to burst at the sight of her. The dress was a pale white with scarlet ruffles on the skirt, whilst the bodice was red. A warm, deep red that caught the light. She shifted, turning on the spot to face him, and his breath caught. Lucy Rayne was, truly, a woman now. The dress had a scandalous neckline, at least by his new Yankee standards, and his gaze fell to her delicate throat and the swell of her breasts. The flesh was pressed up, creating a fine valley, but the dress as a whole seemed less tight than the last one. Lucille was free to breathe and, swishing her skirts at him, giggled before him. He swallowed. You.... he paused, thinking of Camilla. He pushed the thoughts aside. He was just cheering up an old friend, he tried to tell himself, just that. Virgil smiled, his old polite yet teasing smile from Virginia. It had been a long time since that smile, that had so often been reserved for her, had creased his face. You look the belle of the ball he smiled. Box it and charge them both to my account he told the girl. Within ten minutes Lucy was changed again and they were heading back into the carriage. He paused, on the pavement, considering. He had been meaning to take her to the theatre but maybe he needed her to see something else. To understand. Wo...Would you care to see my factory? he asked suddenly, earnestly looking into those eyes he now craved, I know it is hardly an exciting venue but....