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INDEX
Voila! Viola? - Pg.1
Life on a Trapeze - Pg.4
Voila! Viola? - Pg.1
Life on a Trapeze - Pg.4
Howdy everyone!
I reckon I've been gone for a while and my usual thread, Muse Corner (https://www.indiaforums.com/forum/writers-corner-books-stories-and-poems/1334259/muse-corner-updated-02-11) won't let me edit, hence this new thread (with the hope that I will be regular here)
This is a one shot I initially penned for the valentines contest (those who have read my previous one shots will see the difference in genre (= ) but I'm quite delayed, and the word limit is outrageously exceeded ... I figured posting here was the only remaining option!
Although writing is a compulsive instinct, if you read, and possibly enjoy, a feedback is sure encouraging!
Voila! Viola ... ?!
It was hard to miss her.
The evening gown, not quite off shoulder, temptingly revealed a neckline that could boast of rare artisanship, the toned bust well outlined by a fitting silk. Hair were gathered in a bun marked by alternate snake fine braids and rain straight strands - an elaborate job, as it was elegant. An exquisite choker of bold diamonds and coordinated amethysts, a shrunk version of it circling her feminine left wrist, and plain diamond orbs bright in her ears, dancing in the rhythm of her facial gesticulation. To be fair to her - there were no ostentatious airs about her; to be fair to everyone else in the hall, of fairer sex, and the humbled 'non-fairs' alike - she was a flagrant distraction.
Gliding smoothly past groups, she missed greeting nowhere she ought to, and lingered no place in particular. A light laugh here, a dark wink there, she was all over the ballroom at once without allowing anyone the pleasure of her company enough. A knowing little tease!
There was a flickering of reaction in her eyes before they steadily met his. The lights dimmed to the softer music.
Gliding smoothly past groups, she missed greeting nowhere she ought to, and lingered no place in particular. A light laugh here, a dark wink there, she was all over the ballroom at once without allowing anyone the pleasure of her company enough. A knowing little tease!
His easy demeanor (superiorly languid, if one ought to say facts) was no hint for where his keen attention lay. But to her credit, she had given him a slip more than once - a feat, for how conspicuous she was. He was no fool, to toy with the idea, of fooling her with his outward laxity. Unless his instincts had begun aging two decades too soon, he knew she was as unlikely one among them, as he was.
It was an ironic intuition - they belonged.
Inattentively, he offered another of his new moon cut smiles to the painfully enthusiastic conversationalist who had currently undertaken the impossible task of entertaining him. Then again, he mused, as she brushed past him dangerously close, entertainment was not entirely impossible.
She wasn't playing safe - no black or white. She wasn't playing hard either - no red. It was an Indian violet silk- unusual, like she was. The current melody was coming to a close.
"Excuse me," he mumbled.
A server had approached her with drinks, and in time to grab his chance, he clasped her soft hand, extended towards a wine filled flute which remained unclaimed. He had twirled her around within the same instant and before she knew they were ready in position to share the next dance, as the new tune begun filling the hall.
There was a flickering of reaction in her eyes before they steadily met his. The lights dimmed to the softer music.
"Do I know you?" she asked forsaking the formalities of recognition, as he had.
"Don't you?"
A second lingered before she looked elsewhere, in pointed disrespect of what he had suggested. The dance passed uneventfully, his eyes on her, her ignoring him, and a perfect synchronization of steps. What she had not bargained for apparently was his grip around her waist which showed no signs of loosening as the musicians in attendance had begun to conjure a new tune. She inhaled sharply, raising a fiery gaze.
"You will let me go after this song ends."
"Easy kitty," he breathed into her ear, "Why pray, would I be so ungallant?"
"Because you don't want a scene," she informed him tartly, just before he turned her low into a dip.
Without a warning his lips brushed indicatively against her bare nape; and a raised eye challenged, in response to her question. Exploiting her vulnerability - even physically, for her only support in the position was his secure hold around her; her composed facade rapidly vaporized. The moment she was lifted back to her feet, her tall heal dug, not accidentally, into his right foot. But even his intense pain bought her no escape. It was intense, she knew, cause spontaneously his fingers dug into her delicate waist, almost harshly.
"You're hurting me."
"Look who's talking," he smirked darkly. Her eyes betrayed a furious storm. "Lets try again," he continued suggestively, never raising his voice a decibel over its deep baritone note, "Now, tell me what they call you?"
"That's not any of your business."
"You're right," he accepted after a silent considering moment, "It isn't. What I call you is ... " Another pause. His eyes went over her leisurely, unabashedly, in her understanding even contemptuously. Her frown, despite herself, when his eyes were back upon her own, was curious than defiant. "Viola!"
Her expression went from shock to disgust, and she barely contained her breath hissing back, "How dare you... How long have you been stalking me?"
"Stalking is too much effort my dearest. I'm just an observing man..." he shrugged unperturbed.
She remained quiet. Most annoyingly, so did he, only adjusting his hold for a closer waltz. The song had passed itself on to the next. And to the next. Before, in a much controlled voice she spoke again, "I thought you were traveling to Paris."
"I was." he replied, swirling her around with the ease one would, the dregs of a coffee mug. "Then I met this fair maiden across the waters. I'd think it was you but for the hair and the name. Paris had to be postponed." He looked her straight in the eye, and she didn't dare look away. "She owes me ... " he paused, and she hung on to his words without realizing how obvious it was. Purposely, he said no more. Truth was, her perfect deceit had impressed him. And being impressed, was not his habit.
"What do you want?" The question was meditatively coy, her caress tender on the back of his neck, concealed from the prying eyes, by the under curls of thick jet black hair.
"My lady proposes stakes too high..." There was a hint of a hidden laughter in his voice.
Abruptly then, he tipped her head higher and met her lips with his own - brazen and full on the mouth - fleetingly, two seconds, or three, before the respectable distance between two formal acquaintances had been restored. Shell shocked, she stared at him, feeling a swelling in her lower lip, a gush of blood no doubt showing itself as a deep color in her cheeks. The smile had vanished from his face, which was only intimidatingly clouded now.
"Where is your husband, my lady, I wish to inquire after his failing health." So he had worked through her web of lies. She remained quiet. "Meanwhile, I've been trying to resolve the matter of your encroached virginity ... since he was an invalid, bed bound and I, a stranger from the next cabin, sleeping soundly when it all happened."
"I can explain... " she begun quietly but he cut her off.
"You certainly will. The owner of the royal vessel, an Earl and a close friend of mine was somehow mislead into believing that the dishonor had been my doing." Again, she remained quiet. "Of course there was a heavy penalty I had to part with immediately, but money is of as little consequence to me I assure you, as the victim claimed it was to her."
"I was in dire need."
"We're talking of her."
"I really was ... am ..." she insisted, meeting his eye in the earnest. Her previous treachery did not let him believe her. But it was happening again, he felt drawn beyond his will. She had to be a notorious black magic witch.
"You could have asked me plainly."
"And you could have refused."
"Or I could have helped." She scanned his face to see if he meant it. Then lowered her gaze unable to keep up at it. "I mus have appeared too much of a fool to you, more a target than a benevolent." She sighed and he felt the warmth of her breath tingle his chest.
"I apologize."
"Its not enough."
"What do you want?" This time the question held no pretense or vanity, instead was anguished. As was the almost accusing questioning in her eyes. Mentally, he cursed - he was the wronged one here, not this pretty faced lying cheat. "I can't return your money." It nearly shocked him, her solemn latter confession, even more her averted eyes and lowered head. Warily, he swallowed hard.
"I want the truth."
He had to know.The image of her face had kept his sleep at bay this entire gruesome week, until he had finally tracked her down to this ball tonight. Presently, he let go of his grip around her waist. The song had come to an end, and the next had only begun to fill the hall; the gaiety would continue into the wee morning hours. She should have taken her chance and made a run for it, there were enough people to lose herself and flee the town before dawn, but her feet refused to budge. Involuntarily, her eyes for the last time rose to meet his. Then she nodded.
"I don't think you will understand..."
"I might not." He agreed. She wore a resolute expression before continuing.
"You set out on this journey to avenge the theft in your treasury.You imposed a fine upon the suspect, which he never could pay"
"I gave him the option to defend himself or return the gold."
"HE DID NOT STEAL!" She hurled the words at him, only the music saved them privacy. Weirdly, he looked at her, but she did not flinch. "He did not steal, he was framed by your trusted minister." she continued, her voice becoming increasingly bitter although it had retired to whispering, "And you threatened to ... to ... "
"To have him beheaded. It was the royal militant treasury."
"He has a family."
"A sister who... " He stopped in his words. And in a certain dawning of facts his eyes widened, the first unchecked reaction that betrayed him blatantly. The sister had been studying in Rome from her young years. He only remembered meeting her when she was very little, and so was he, as was her brother, his long time close mate to remain. He stared at the hazel of her eyes and wondered how he could have ever missed them.
"Thats me..." she whispered in affirmation. Then turned upon her heel and walked away. Viola, he thought to himself, the name he had learned after tedious investigation. It was the middle name of his only girl childhood friend. The only girl who's feminity had commanded his attention again after so many years, and he had thought her a witch. There may have been no love, but women there had been many; eventually she had faded indistinguishably into a far away past. She had never been referred to by her formal names among the three of them anyways ... Overwhelmed at this turn of events, he ran an uncertain hand through his dark mop of hair.
There was that glaring evidence of the theft which he had resigned to believing when William offered no explanation. And there was the return of Elizabeth 'Viola' in his life. Richard had a sinking understanding of the reason behind his inexplicable attraction to this lady - the forgotten Lizzy from once upon a time...
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(S.L.)
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