She couldn’t wait for William to see her in it. She had to be honest; it was addicting to hear how he thought she was beautiful, even if she herself never thought of such things, it felt good to hear. It made her think that maybe she was. Like having a shot of espresso to get going, hearing William tell her how beautiful she was, was like having a shot of self-confidence. It made her hold her head a tad higher, gave her more encouragement to not hide herself from public view. She had a tendency to want to just fade into the background, when William made her feel beautiful however, she wanted to be seen, she wanted to know if it were just him, or if others found her that way too.
Of course, she’d never admit that to him. Or even really to herself.
So, it was with great care that Buffy prepared herself for William. She applied makeup carefully, taking great care to apply more than just her usual foundation and mascara. Further, she blow dried her hair, instead of pulling it back or just letting it tumble around her shoulders to dry. She even painted her toes and nails a deep red color. She wore nude hose, deciding that black would not match the almost black, but not quite, chocolate of the dress.
When Edina bustled by the door to announce that William had arrived; Buffy felt her heart flutter with nerves. Spritzing on a light perfume, she took a deep breath and exited the safety of her room in search of William.
William was feeling that things were staring to fall into place – finally. Buffy was making plans that would most likely extend her stay past the original month she’d agreed to, she had sought help for controlling her ghosts and her gift, and she had a lightness about her that she hadn’t had when he’d first met her. If he didn’t know better, he’d say she was starting to become comfortable in her own skin. He sensed hesitancy in her, as if she weren’t sure she should abandon completely the teachings of her bastard parents. He guessed they’d ingrained her unworthiness so deeply within her that she most likely unconsciously felt if she gave up that teaching, either something bad would happen to prove she was indeed unworthy, or else it would place her in a position to have to start over and re-learn a new way of life that she was not accustomed to. A daunting experience for anyone. When you’ve had certain concepts drilled in your mind, the changing of them can be difficult, often making one wonder what their place was and who they in fact were. He was willing to bet that was something that would send Buffy in a tailspin. Her mode of life had been one of isolation, of shutting out her feelings, of shutting out others. Coming into a world with even a new friend that actually cared was a big step for her, and he wondered if she even noted how significant it was.
He’d hinted at the feelings he had for her, let her know by skirting around the issue that he was falling for her. He wondered how she’d feel if she found out he had skirted right past ‘falling’ and was now fallen.
He was in love with her.
So, yes, things were going well, but he knew that things could only go well for so long before some upheaval got in the way. What it was, he did not know, only that it was there, tugging slightly at him. Something had to go wrong. He supposed it was quite a negative way to look at life, and perhaps by thinking that something had to go wrong only because everything was going right, was just putting energy into that idea and therefore making it happen.
Either way, it was best to be prepared. Though experience had also taught him that no amount of preparing can really prepare you. The bad things still managed to pack a punch. He just had to make sure they could weather the storm, and weather it together.
He heard her coming before he saw her, and he smiled up in the direction of the staircase. His smile dropped, however, when he saw her, and was replaced by a look of complete awe. She was a vision. An angel.
And all his.
She smiled at him. “Hello.”
“Buffy…” he breathed and shook his head. Moving toward her, he held out his hand as she neared and she slid her hand in his.
“You’ve never been speechless before, William,” she grinned.
“You blind me, sweetheart. You are a vision. A gorgeous vision.”
She smiled and drank him in. “You are too.”
“No, my love, nothing compared to you.”
He caught her slight flickering of surprise at that slip, but said nothing. Squeezing her hand, he brought it to his lips and placed a small kiss on the back. “Ready?”
She nodded, and he couldn’t resist claiming her mouth quickly before heading out the door.
William’s brow furrowed, “You felt nothing?” he asked, and sipped his wine.
She nodded. “Nothing.”
“But I thought that when you blocked them out, you felt nothing anyway?”
She shook her head, “No, I always feel something, William. Not strong and overbearing, but I always feel something. Kind of . . . kind of like feeling someone is watching you.”
“And you don’t feel as though anyone were watching you?”
She smiled. “For lack of a better way to explain it, yes.”
“Did it feel as though they’d gone? Or do you think the simple act of setting up the ballroom gave them the hint to back off?”
“I’m not sure. Even after I’d set up the room, I still felt something. When I say I felt nothing this afternoon, I felt nothing.”
“Do you think that maybe they were lacking in the energy to coexist around you?”
Buffy gave him a funny look, “How do you know about energy and ghosts?”
He cleared his throat, “I’ve been looking up on it a bit. Want to learn what I can, you know?”
She nodded slowly and took one last bite of her ravioli, and a sip of her wine. She gazed thoughtfully, almost dreamily, at the couples swaying to the soft music on the dance floor.
Smiling, he pushed out and came round to her, “Mi’lady, may I have this dance?”
She smiled up at him, and slid his hand into hers, rising from her chair. Guiding her to the dance floor, William felt his heart begin to race as a rush of emotion washed over him, causing him to want to drop to his knees and pledge his undying love.
Always the romantic poet at heart.
Drifting into his arms, she wrapped around him as if she were made to fit his body, and the few times he’d had the pleasure of feeling her against him, he felt that had to be true. Moving fluidly to the music, she smiled up at him and his heart constricted. Leaning in, he breathed in her ear. “Buffy. . . do you have any idea what you do to me?”
Clearly, she did not expect this, for she trembled a bit and there was a wobble in her voice when she replied, “No.”
“You undo me. With a simple look, with the flash of your eyes, your smile, with the sound of your voice.”
“William,” she whispered unsteadily.
“Tell me, tell me what you’re thinking.”
“You . . . you…”
“Yes, tell me,” he encouraged huskily.
“You make my knees weak,” she told him in a rush.
“Then we are even then, for you make my knees weak as well. Do you know what I want to do?”
He heard her gulp. “No.”
“I want to lay you down on my bed. Worship your body the way you deserve to be worshipped. I want to touch every silky part of your gorgeous skin and feel it under my hands. I want to feel your flesh against mine, I want to feel you writhe underneath me as I make you moan my name.”
“William,” she whimpered.
“I want to make love to you. I want to slide into you, join my body to yours and love you like no one has ever been loved before.”
Her whimper of his name once more, sent him over the edge and separated from her. “Let’s go,” he muttered and stalked off, leading her by the hand to their table.
“William?” she questioned.
“I want to make my fantasy real, Buffy, will you let me?” he asked her huskily, slapping down his card on the bill and shoving it in the hands of the waiter that passed by.
“William, I – I – the ghosts.”
He cupped her hands in his face. “They can wait, I cannot,” and he crushed his mouth to hers in wholly demanding and possessive kiss.