Rebel Hearts
Chapter 13: ‘Is He Not As Worthy?’
A/N: I’m not sure about this chapter, hope you like it. Please read the A/N at the end of this. Thanks, luv S
Buffy sat at her vanity table, the one she had brought from Boston with her, when she traveled down to South Carolina to marry Riley Finn. She stared into the mirror, the one she had gazed into since she was twelve-years-old, and pondered the reflection she saw there.
“Who are you?” she asked her reflection out loud. Her reflection could not answere, but Buffy continued to brush her long, golden hair, the hair that William loved to see down, about her shoulders and waist. Mahalia scurried about behind her, doing servant things, just to keep busy more then anything, Buffy supposed.
“I hope the bath I fetched for you and the vanilla I washed your pretty hair with suited you Missy Buffy,” her servant mumbled as she opened her Mistress’s walk-in closet. Buffy nodded at Mahalia, silently, then set her silver brush down on the vanity with a deliberate ‘thud.’
“Mahalia,” Buffy whispered as she held out her hand to her beloved servant, “please, come to me. I need you close, need to talk to you.”
“Missy?” Mahalia scowled at Buffy, her eyes were worried and her face concerned, but she took her Mistress’s hand in her own. Buffy dreaded to look her loyal servant in the eyes, afraid of the judgement she might see there.
“About the Captain and I,” Buffy choked out, her voice barely audible, “we, well, I mean he is holding this Plantation over my head. If I don’t ‘have supper’ with him tonight, alone, in the guest room…Captain Anderson will burn this Farm to the ground.”
Buffy was so ashamed, she could no longer meet Mahalia’s pretty dark eyes with her own.
“I understand, Missy” her servant mumbled as she picked up the silver brush and began to stroke Buffy’s hair, lovingly. “Can I say something, Missy Buffy,” Mahalia asked shyly.
Buffy noticed that it was the fifth time or so that her servant and beloved friend had used ‘Missy Buffy’ instead of Missy Finn or Mrs. Finn.
“Of course, Halia, you will say what you choose, anyway,” Buffy responded, her head hung down, gaze focused on her lap, but she smiled softly.
“He ‘is’ a good man, the Captain I mean. Jesse and me, we saw that right off, even though he burned that farm up in Virginia. The hardness in life can make a man mean sometimes, make him do bad things.” Mahalia continued cautiously, “it’s hard for a man like that to love and want another man’s wife, I know it, for sure. I was supposed to go to another man, on Master O’Connor’s place. Saul was a good man, but he wasn’t my Jesse, not by a long shot. That’s why Jesse and me, we made sure I got with our baby, Jacob. Thought Master Riley would be so scandalized he’d make sure Jesse and me were married, good and proper.”
“You see what I’m tryin’ to say Missy? Sometimes, men and woman, we do crazy things, make our plans and hope they go the way we want, but they don’t always. Your Captain, he’s crazy in love with you, so he’s doin’ what ‘he’ thinks is the only way to have you.”
Buffy glanced up at Mahalia’s lovely face, it was etched in sorrow. “Master Riley, well, like you know, he just laughed it off and told us to forget about it, when I told him about Jesse and me, and the baby. I was Saul’s and that was that. Then you came along, changed everything, Missy. Made sure me and Jesse were married proper and all. So, for us, our crazy plan worked out, maybe your Captain thinks his might too?”
“But, for now,” Mahalia continued, her face was a study in deep thought, “I’m more worried about you and why you doing this.”
The servant set the silver brush down and looked at her Mistress’s reflection in the mirror, she seemed to be talking to it as much as Buffy herself.
“What I’m tryin’ to say, Missy, is this; If you have to think, in your own mind, that you’re ‘havin’ supper’ with the Captain alone in the other room, cos’ you’re savin’ your husband’s farm? Well, then, so be it. If it gives you peace of mind and all. But, Missy, in your heart? What does it say? I mean, Jesse and me, we saw it right off, the spark between you and Captain Anderson. He’s the English man from up in Boston, isn’t he? The one you wanted instead of Master Riley?”
Buffy nodded sadly, trying not to cry, tears were not going to help any of them now. “Yes,” Buffy whispered miserably, “he’s that English man. But he is not the man I knew then, not my poet, William.”
Mahalia nodded, “ugliness, in life, it’ll harden a man, Missy,” she stated wisely, “a woman too. Makes them do some crazy things to get the love they want and gotta’ have. I’m thinkin’ that Captain Anderson is so wound up in you, that he ain’t thinking normal. Like he should. You never told the man, did you, why you didn’t run off with him back then? So, I’m thinkin’ that maybe, just for tonight, you could think, feel with your heart. When you and your Captain are making love together, maybe you could let yourself go. Enjoy him and your love making with each other. Take what he has to give you and give it back to him. Would that be so bad Missy? Would you think on it?”
Buffy, blushed bright red, but smiled slightly and squeezed Mahalia’s hand, “I’ll think on it, my friend. Promise I will.”
That settled, Buffy sighed and looked at her own reflection in the mirror as Mahalia went back to being all businesslike servant.
“You want that pretty green silk dress, Missy,” she turned at the closet to smile at Buffy.
“No thank you, Mahalia,” Buffy responded softly, “I am wearing something else. I will get it out and prepare it. Thank you, dear Halia, I do not know what I would do without you. You go on down and tend to your man and son now.”
The servant smiled warmly and left her Mistress’s bedroom quickly. Buffy stood up from the vanity and padded across her bedroom floor to the closet where there hung a full, gold gilded mirror. She eyed herself, skeptically, in the mirror as she untied the proper white robe she wore and let it fall to the ground at her feet.
“I wonder,” Buffy sighed at her naked reflection, “I wonder if William will like my body?” although, she already full well knew the answere to that. Riley does, certainly, but then, who cares if he does. And why in the world am I thinking about my husband’s likes at a time like this?”
Still naked, Buffy reached into her closet and searched for the outfit she wanted. She pulled it out, still wrapped in it’s paper cover, a sign it had never been worn once before. Laying it on the bed, Buffy unwrapped the beautiful dressing gown with near reverent care. Her heart skipped a beat when the treasure was completely revealed, she had not seen it since the day her Mother had given it to her, her Wedding day. It was beautiful, the emerald green dressing gown, with it’s tiny, dainty scattered white blossom design.
Made of the finest, sleekest Chinese silk, it was as soft as clouds must feel to the touch. Buffy wrapped the gown about her tiny frame with half closed eyes of sheer pleasure. When she opened her green eyes and looked in the full length mirror, she saw they matched the color of the gown, perfectly. The gown itself just flowed down her body, nearly to the floor and tied with a matching sash.
However, it was not just the shade of green, or the few white cherry blossoms that adorned the material here and there; it was the fit of the gown that completed the magic it weaved on Buffy’s body. Instead of fitting Buffy like a robe, or proper receiving gown, this beautiful work of art fit like a second, silken skin on her form. It left nothing to the imagination and Buffy knew that William would love her in it, and out of it.
She shook her head and shot herself a sarcastic smile in the mirror, ‘Buffy Summers,’ she sighed, ‘you are a real piece of work, you are. You know Will is going to love your body, your heart, your mind, he already does. So, why go to all this trouble?
Because,’ she blushed at her own reflection, ‘you need to feel special. You want to feel special and you know, in your heart, Buffy, that William is going to make you feel that way.’
Spike paced nervously back and forth on the floor of the room Buffy had lodged him in. ‘Why the fuck am I so bloody nervous. I’m worse then a school boy the first time he’s with a woman.’
Then he looked in the mirror on the wall, caught his reflection and shook his head, “because you wanker,” he hissed at himself, “Buffy is ‘the’ woman, the only woman for you.”
He lit another cigarette and looked at the match, carefully before he extinquished the flame. ‘Why, Buffy, luv,’ he sighed sadly, ‘why can’t you just admit that you want me, feel for ‘me’ like I do you. Then I wouldn’t be forced to do this, not this way.”
His conscience had been troubling him for a couple of hours now, and Spike had done his best to brush the pesky bloke’s words away from his mind.
But his troublesome conscience still persisted, “Buffy is another man’s wife, remember, your Mother raised you Catholic, William Michael Anderson. What would that poor dead woman think? Why are you doing this thing, like this, something you know in your heart that you must not?”
Spike had done pretty well to dispel the harsh voice, he simply repeated a mantra, “why does a man do what he must not? For her. To be hers.”
Shaking away the pesky voice, Spike surveyed himself in the mirror. He wore pants, of course, but for a shirt, he chose a simple, white broadcloth that tied at the neck. His naturally curly hair, he had slicked back as usual and though his clothes were simple, he felt they were appropriate. ‘Not goin’ upstairs to dance at a party,’ he smirked, ‘less we have to take off, the better.’
The little clock on the shelf of his room struck 6:00 PM and Spike practically jumped, he was so startled.
“Christ, I am a pathetic, stupid, love sick ponce if there ever was one!” he hissed gruffly. He poured himself a whiskey, then decided against drinking it, “don’t need a repeat of the other night,” he warned himself harshly.
“I don’t know, though, if Buffy tries to wiggle her way out of this, tonight, I might have to have a shot of courage to persuade her to go through with it.”
Spike grinned, despite his misgivings about the ease of his plan to seduce Buffy, “bloody little brat, if she tries to escape me, I’ll lock us both in that fucking room and wear her down.” (anvil alert) His chuckle was not forced and he felt more calm then he had in days.
Buffy sat, anxiously watching her clock on the bedroom mantle. At precisely 6:25 PM, she heard footsteps and voices in the connecting room.
“Thank you, Jesse,” she heard Will’s strong voice call to the man servant, then, a soft close of the guest room door.
“You can do this, Buffy,” she told herself as she took a deep breath, “this man loves you, truly. Is he not as worthy of your love and passion as your unworthy, traitorous husband?”
She slowly walked to the door that connected the two rooms and unlocked it from her side, “I can do this,” she assured herself again, “I ‘can’ do this.”
Spike was pacing like a nervous, expectant father, in the moderate sized, but quite plush guest room. He resisted his urge to pour a glass of wine, that had been laid out on the table there, along with a huge, covered silver platter. Just as he was about to lift the platter cover and survey the food underneath, he heard the connector door’s knob jiggle.
‘Oh, thank God,’ he sighed with relief, ‘she’s showing up, this time anyway.’ His face felt hot, flushed and he was more excited then he’d ever been in his 24 years of life.
As he watched Buffy, in awe, she entered the room and shut the door behind her. Spike was struck frozen in awe and admiration at the sight of her. Her hair was down about her shoulders and waist, it shone like spun gold and the gown she wore, it was mesmerizing. Emerald green, with a white design, the silky gown fit his Buffy like a glove and left nothing to the imagination.
“Jesus,” Spike gasped, ‘is she naked under there?’ he wondered, even more arroused then just minutes before.
“Good evening, William,” Buffy murmered, shyly as she walked to the table and waited for him to seat her.
“Buffy,” he rasped, pulling her chair out to help her sit, “you look amazing, Princess.”
Buffy blushed hot and pink, making Spike’s pants fit even tighter between his thighs and he hurried to sit in his own chair, to hide his arrousal from her. Though, God only knew why he would hide it, she knew exactly why they were there, in that plush guest room, how the night would end.
“Thank you, William,” she whispered as she lifted the platter cover to reveal fried chicken and potatoes. “I hope this supper is all right,” she continued softly, “I know how much you like our fried chicken so I thought…”
He just gazed at her, silently for a moment or two then finally responded, “it’s perfect, luv. Absolutely perfect, just like you.” She blushed again, but rewarded him with a soft smile, she seemed happy that he was pleased with the meal.
They ate in silence for a while, at least William did, Buffy was too nervous to eat much of anything. Will kept staring at her, as if he was looking at an aparition, or perhaps an angel, she was not sure.
‘Get over yourself,’ she chided, ‘he is looking at the woman he is about to bed. You are hardly an angel, Buffy Summers.’ When she looked up from her plate, she caught him, staring at her again, his head tilted to one side. ‘Why does he have to be so damn adorable when he does that,’ she sighed with a shake of her head.
“What is it, luv,” Will asked with concern, “you’ve barely eaten. You worry me, Buffy dear, you don’t eat enough I think.” Buffy set her fork and knife on the table and reached for her glass of wine, “I should not drink this, Will,” she explained simply, “but I need to. I need to get my courage up for this.”
Spike felt a tug at his heart, ‘she has to get up her courage to sleep with me? Christ, Anderson,’ he thought to himself with disgust, ‘how can you do this to the woman you love?’
“Buffy,” he began softly, tossing his napkin on the table, “come here to me, please.” She wiped her mouth daintily and slowly rose to join him at his side. He took her in his arms and pulled her to his lap, then embraced her tightly to him.
“I love you, Buffy,” he whispered as he nuzzled her warm, soft hair with his mouth, “love you so much. I just, I can’t tell you how I think about you, always. Nightly, since Boston, three years ago. You are like the sea to me, luv, and I’ve been drowning in you forever. What can I do? You’ve been so close to me, finally, the last few days that I’m sick with want for you. Do you know something,” he turned her face, gently, to meet his gaze. Her green eyes, they were so wide and innocent and guileless, it near broke his heart right then and there.
“Ever since I came to this place, to your house,” he continued in a low, husky voice, “I’ve lain in your guest room, in my lonely bed and willed you to come to me.”
She turned her face away from him again.
“Willed you to come to my room, my bed…like a bloody school boy, sick with love. I ‘am’ so sick with love for you that I can’t even stop myself from blackmailing you into sleeping with me. Oh,” he sighed harshly, “I’ll probably burn in hell for it, of course, but I don’t care anymore. I just want you. I want an us, my sweet Buffy.”
When he finished, he buried his face in the back of her head, in her golden hair he loved so much.” Spike was so embarrassed by his weakness, that he could barely register his own shock when she reached back behind own head, to embrace his neck with her tiny left hand.
“Will,” she whispered, so low he barely heard it.
“Yes, my darling, darling Buffy,” he kissed her brushed aside her locks to place a gentle kiss on her warm neck.
“Before we do this, I need to tell you something, something important. I need to make you understand, so neither of us have any misconceptions as to exactly ‘why’ this happening, here and now.”
Buffy lay her head back against Will’s strong chest, her eyes were half closed in memory, or pleasure from his embrace, she was not all that sure.
“I understand,” he rasped sadly, “I understand completely and…”
She shook her head firmly, “no. You do not understand and you will not, can not until I explain to you many things. I will start with what happened that night in Boston and I ask that you listen to me, with your heart, your mind and your soul.” She felt him nod into her neck and felt the courage to go on with her sad, unhappy tale from the past.
“First,” she sighed, “please believe me when I tell you, I had every intention of meeting you in the Boston Parkway.” She felt him tense up beneath her, but continued, “in fact, I was on my way, when my Father appeared home, quite early from his factory. He was livid, ranting and raving about the house, downstairs, like a mad man. Before I could make it out of that tomb I lived in, he had stormed upstairs and into my bedroom. To say Papa was frightening, especially in this condition, would be an understatement. He was terrifying.”
William clasped her more tightly then before, causing her to gasp slightly. “I do not know for sure, who it was that betrayed us, but I do have my suspicions. There was a kitchen maid, a vindictive woman, older then me, but not my parents age, yet. Her name was Maggie and she had worked for my parents for years. Anyway, I always suspected her feelings for my Father were stronger then an employee’s should be. She detested my Mother, resented me and I think she is the one that warned Papa of our meeting, out of jealousy for our family, no doubt.”
“It makes no difference, I suppose, now, anyway,” Buffy continued sadly, “Papa found out and turned on me it a fit of rage. He confronted me, called me filthy names and threatened to send me off to Riley Finn, immediately if not sooner. I did try to stand up to him, told him that I was going to meet you, Riley, Papa and the whole of Boston could be damned for all I cared.”
William chuckled softly behind her and she actually smiled from it. “Papa stormed out of my room, slamming the door behind him,leaving Winnefred, my maid and myself behind. When I tried to leave the room, I found the door locked, from the outside. I was furious myself now, and more determined then ever to meet you.
Papa must have known me better then I thought, because when I tried to climb out of my bedroom window, there was an armed male servant standing guard on the ground below it.”
Spike felt sick, his eyes had teared up earlier and now he wanted to roar with anger at the whole, unfair situation.
‘She was going to come, to meet me,’ he choked on the words, ‘her fucking Father ruined it. Passed our death sentences without a thought so she could be sold off to that fuck Riley…’
“Papa kept myself and Winnefred locked in that room for two nights and three days. I do not know if the poor man servant was supposed to shoot me if I crawled out the window, or you if you showed up. However, you didn’t show up, you left for England.
I was even foolish enough, once I had escaped my Father’s watchful eye, to try and book passage to London on the next ship out, search you out there. Sadly, it occurred to me that you probably hated me by this time and I realized that our time had passed; I had lost you and was doomed to marry Riley Finn.”
When she finished her story, Spike felt her little body shaking and he knew she was weeping, as he was. He spun her around to face him again, his eyes desperately searched her wet green ones to seek the truth there.
“You’re telling the truth, aren’t you?” he asked her hoarsely, “you would have met me. Married me, even, wouldn’t you have?”
She was sobbing by this time, but she found the strength to nod her golden head.
“Oh God, Buffy,” he groaned, pulling her into him and nearly crushing her little body with his strong arms.
“I’m so sorry, luv, so fucking, stupid I am. I just thought you dismissed me, like some fool from your life. I am a fool, my darling, darling love.”
Spike began to pepper her wet, hot face with kisses, cradling her tiny body to his, lovingly. “You are not a fool,” she cried with a pout, the pout he loved so. “You are a wonderful man and I just wanted to tell you everything, so you knew…well,” she seemed to hesitate.
“Knew what, Princess,” he smiled at her through his tears.
“So that you knew that I want to be ‘with’ you. Not because of some stupid Farm, but because I long for you too, Will. Since Boston, I’ve longed for you.”
A/N: Okay, that being out in the open…Now Spuffy can really happen! Hope this chapter wasn’t too hokey! Next chapter NC-17 rating. Thank you for reading, please review. Luv, Spuf
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