Second Chances; A Regency Story (For Anna)

[Annabelle Hennessy]

Annabelle attempted to follow the conversation as best as she could without knowing the dialect pertaining to statues and restoration processes and the like. She managed to grasp the basics, but it didn't take long for her attention to wander. Her focus was grasped by the forearm muscles that would flex occasionally, ever so slightly under her fingertips as they causally strolled through the corridors.

When they came to a stop Anna's attention was once again grasped by the purpose of their visit. The large room was packed with marbles of different sizes and ranging from statues to panels. Even with her limited knowledge of statues, Anna knew that this collection was impressive.

[Dare Blackwood-Hardt]

The Earl had endless stories to tell, both of the marbles and the difficulties obtaining them. He considered the entire endeavor a success, no matter the cost and that the British Museum was stubbornly refusing to buy the lot for its own collection.

Alasdair let the man have center stage, but though he listened as habit, he now and then leaned closer to Miss Hennessy, softly giving his own opinions. He pointed out this statue or that, those which he found most fascinating due to a particularly effective pose or a small detail which many would have missed. He was enthralled, and hardly noticed the periodic touch of his hand to the back of that against his sleeve. It was natural to draw attention with such subtle gestures, and for now his mind was on an alternate plane.

[Annabelle Hennessy]

The stories from the Earl were fascinating to think of, the years of dedication he'd given to preserve and save these pieces from further destruction. The beauty and intricacies of each piece were amazing, even the ones that were damaged. She caught herself especially hanging on every whispered word from Mr. Blackwood as he shared details about one piece or another. She couldn't remember art ever meaning so much to her, ever wanting to devour every word offered on a specific piece. It was as if the atmosphere sucked her in, willing her mind to absorb all the details shared.

Throughout the viewing, a portion of her mind was still constantly focused on the man at her side. It was heightened with awareness of the weight of his hand resting on hers several times, only to be removed again. When they had finished browsing the collection and were once again standing by the door, Annabelle couldn't admit to anything short of amazement. She showered the Earl with compliments on his fine collection.

[Dare Blackwood-Hardt]

The Earl welcomed them back at any time they wished and saw them to Alasdair's curricle, the horses much restored by their rest and pawing the ground in eagerness to be off. Alasdair's mind made a slow switch from the magnificent art they had recently viewed to the lovely female at his side and, as before, thought nothing of the simplest way to lift Miss Hennessy from the ground to the waiting step. His hands closed around her tiny waist and he lifted her slight weight, amazed anew at it, and at the charge that swept through him with the contact. Her face was even with his now and he noted again the rich brown of her eyes, the flawlessness of her skin and the delicacy of her features.

[Annabelle Hennessy]

Annabelle had prepared herself for the inevitable touch as he lifted her up to the seat. Even then, her body tingled and her breath hitched at the intimacy of it. She was caught facing him eye to eye and the surroundings faded away into nothingness. She was frozen in time, mesmerized by his handsome features. Her eyes studied his face, roaming the hard lines and angles complimented by the kissable lips, and worked their way to the mossy colored orbs that were watching her as well.

She blinked, suddenly aware of what she'd just done, staring at him like she had. What is he thinking? She wondered if he suspected her attraction to him, but how could he have missed it in the tension of the moment? Could he possibly be filling the same way, or will he just think of me as a silly miss with an addled brain?

[Dare Blackwood-Hardt]

Alasdair was painfully distracted by his body's reaction. Three years he'd been alone, uninterested in seeking contact with others and so soon after he'd rejoined the world he was being caught up like this. It felt like a betrayal and the band of black cloth tied about his arm weighed heavily. Even so, the sensations persisted, the desire to hold someone again, to feel so close, and she was so beautiful that his baser instincts clamored for more.

There was a long pause where his gaze slid across her face, dropping to her lips in contemplation of things he wanted almost desperately. His mind provided the most scandalous scenarios, and it was only when it occurred to him how intently he was watching her that he took a mental step back and a forced breath. Part of him had wanted this, he knew. He had proceeded purposefully with the motions of courtship, so why he should shy now was beyond him. Perhaps because it was so very real now.

What must she think of his behavior?

[Annabelle Hennessy]

Annabelle tried to slow her racing heart as she managed to break the spell that was weaving between them and take her seat in the curricle. She graced him with a warm smile before turning her attention to settling her skirts. She hoped that she wasn't entirely crimson with her normal habit of blushing, or that he would be too busy with settling the horses to notice. She wished she was better at reading people to know what he was thinking. One thing Anna knew for sure, at this rate their picnic would be anything but boring. She only hoped their journey wouldn't end with her making a fool of herself like a school girl with an unrequited crush.

[Dare Blackwood-Hardt]

Annabelle had not been so fortunate as to hide her blush, and it was emblazoned in Alasdair's mind as he took his seat and the reins. Had that touch affected her as well? He set the horses forward without a word, trying not to think so hard on what had happened, but to focus on what was to come. A simple picnic, an excuse to enjoy the fine weather with a lovely female and perhaps pretend for a while that he could be normal again.

[Annabelle Hennessy]

The quiet stretched on for several minutes while Annabelle struggled to compose herself, as best as she could with the object of her distraction sitting so near. Her diary entry tonight would certainly break the mundane existence it had lately. Writing always helped Anna sort out her thoughts and she was in serious need of clarification. She had long ago turned her back on men, on the type of lifestyle that other young ladies dreamed of. Her heart had been hardened after a few seasons of meaningless flirtations and heartbreak. She'd sworn off all thoughts of love and companionship with the opposite sex, so what was all this about? How could, after being set in her ways for so long, she allow herself to let this man break through and capture her attention so easily?

The quiet began to weigh on her and she knew she needed a distraction from her thought that were running her mind in circles. She grasped at the easiest straw to reach and turned her attention back to engaging Mr. Blackwood in conversation. "Thank you so much for taking me to see the Elgin Marbles. They were quite exquisite."

[Dare Blackwood-Hardt]

"It was my pleasure," Alasdair said, the words automatic, though the slightly crooked curve of his lips was not. He looked aside at Miss Hennessy, noting again the details of her face which he found so pleasant. He thought that he might like to draw her, simple charcoals to capture the simple ease of her beauty.

He caught himself and looked ahead again, navigating the horses around a wide bend. He knew that he should speak more and keep the conversation, but she was distracting and he wished that he had brought his supplies. He hadn't expected to be seized by an artistic inspiration, however. It was a rare occasion.

[Annabelle Hennessy]

She noticed the movement of his lips and subconsciously licked her own. If his looking forward again was a sign that he didn't want to talk, she ignored it. She knew if she didn't talk she'd get caught up in dangerous thoughts that she should wait and ponder upon in solitude.

"They seem so old, so full of history. It makes me wonder if they could talk, the stories they would tell." She'd always been interested in history, in literature and stories of lives so beyond her realm of living. The beauty of art always caught her attention, but it was the story behind the art that interested even more. Usually she would make up a story to go with a scenic picture, or a reason a statue was posed as it was to appease her vivid imagination.

[Dare Blackwood-Hardt]

"But they do speak," Alasdair said. He looked aside at Miss Hennessy again, his eyes lightly laughing, though most likely at himself. "They speak without words, and I heard them most clearly. I believe you did as well." The marbles spoke of power, of desperation, love, hate, and struggle. They spoke of things beyond human wisdom, imbued with the souls of their creators and far more that even those skilled men did not recognize in themselves.

[Annabelle Hennessy]

Annabelle thought on his words for a moment before choosing to respond. "Perhaps you're right." Anna had been thinking more concrete, but she could grasp the concept he brought forth. It was interesting to imagine that each person standing, viewing a particular piece might all have different things spoken to them. "Is that why you paint Mr. Blackwood? To evoke such impressions on people that your paintings might share some sort of story?" Annabelle had never seen any of his works, so she didn't even know what it was exactly that he painted, portraits or landscapes.

[Dare Blackwood-Hardt]

Alasdair's smile shifted, less humor in the set of his lips than introverted thought. "Ah, far less noble reasons," he said. "I paint because it satisfies some natural longing. We feel a need to eat, to drink and rest, to move. We feel a need to create and to surround ourselves with beautiful things. I quite enjoy sharing the beauty I see with others, but I paint to make solid things which cannot be spoken in words."

[Annabelle Hennessy]

"A picture is worth a thousand words." Annabelle said softly, not sure where she had originally heard the adage. She found herself drawn to him, hanging on his words. He was interesting in far more then the physical sense and she wanted to know more about him. "Do you do specialize in landscapes then?"