@Kristi Belle
As Emmanuel should have expected, Belle began to critique and insist he change his priorities. Belle, as she had stated before, did not hope for marriage, so he would obviously be foolish to see her as anything more than an attractive colleague, so her point seemed to be well founded. However, her understanding of his character was still very limited, and there was also something she did not know.
“Allow me to clarify, Lady Fleur. I told you that I am supposed to find a wife. That does not mean that I want to. Obviously, I do hope to achieve that some day, but I do not think it is well suited for me currently, which is why I prefer to spend my time which friends such as yourself. They contain no suggestion of romance.” He explained politely, trying to articulate the very messy situation he has with love by not elaborating on the reasons why he felt how he did.
“And if I may also give you some advice, you could also use kinder words to describe that aspect of life.” He said, looking down into her sapphire eyes as he said the next part. “Although you may not resonate with it, some of us definitely do.”
It was possible that the eye contact he had made while saying that could have been interpreted by a third person as suggestive, but trust that Emmanuel did not flirt intentionally. Sometimes, it seemed that there was just something wired into his demeanor, like the apple in his throat added a sweetness to his voice. Perhaps it craved more taste to savour.
Once again, she mocked him, and he chuckled, rolling his eyes. Of course she would tease him for that too. But that first ‘aw’ sound that escaped her lips invoked a desire of his to come closer to her. After just recently coming out of war, he had not spoken to women very much obviously. But this emphasized also that, not many women had spoken to him. He could not recall the last time a woman took him as an endearment, and he missed that lovely sentiment.
The way in which girls loved was something he craved badly. The way they pout when you seem cute to them, their loving teases, and how they embrace always so softly, like everything else they do with the grace of ballerinas. It was a shame he did not deserve that kind of love, though. With every day, he thought about it more. Especially now, after losing his mother, it was hard. Never again would she kiss him on the forehead, or call him her sweet boy regardless of how old he had gotten. He craved to seek any other form of validation from a lover, but it was like everything he touched shattered under his fingertips, so why bother. The only skin he had to curl into was his own, drawing up his knees to his chest under the covers he could not sleep in.
If only Belle knew the half of it, why he had been taught to avoid his ambitions. He would say that a part of him feared she would judge him, but he didn’t. He was not feared of being judged, quite frankly, he did not care whether or not he was liked, which was a negative trait to have for a prince. What he feared was to be unrighteous, that the raw image of his true colors would be too blinding, and a closer look at him would only reveal the hair on his back, and the beast’s face on the other side.
In reality, he just dealt with her sass, finding humor in her sarcasm. “You say this but would have been twice as reprimanding if I had instructed you.” He changed the register of his voice, imitating himself. “Go sit, Lady Fleur.” He paused, letting his hypothetical tone settle in. “You would have preferred the rhetorical question, right?” She seemed to convey some lighthearted annoyance, and he snickered.
She rolled out the carpet, and he began to settle the meal items, looking up at her to speak as he placed the last few things. “I too, am glad my hunger has led me to your basket. I must say I was quite excited for macarons. Though, I suppose the lady accompanying them is nice, too.” He teased her once again, and they sat down next to each other. As expected, the food significantly exceeded his expectations, and he popped a grape in his mouth, nearly melting as the combination of flavors and textures bursted on his taste buds. This was easily one million times more lovely than rations from the ship.
She offered him a macaron, and it took him maybe a fraction of a second to steal the cookie up. Out of respect, he waited for her to finish her sentence, but after that, it was pretty quick. Then, while chewing, he comprehended what she said concerning her kitchen maids. “That is quite sweet of you to say, Lady Fleur. And I concur, these are surely some of the finest macarons I have tasted.” He affirmed, attempting to demonstrate his gratitude for their service although they were not present.
He tried not to laugh with food in his mouth as she continued about poison. “Well, one never knows.” He said, at almost the same time as she did, then reassuring she would not poison him, regardless. “Do you now see why I did not approach other ladies? I am also saving you from detainment.” He smiled slightly, trying to further emphasize his previous point with a bit of prudence.
Finally, she explained what she might have been doing instead of attending the horse races. “I must say I did not expect that, my lady.” Emmanuel spoke between bites of brioche, as the duchess had suggested. “I believed it more likely that you be by the stables, as I heard your family’s stallion is participating in the race, is it not?” The man inquired. “But yes, I would have supposed you did have some connection to flowers. Lamentably, I could not tell you much about them, nor which one might correspond to me. Allow me to ask you, the expert; which one do you think might be mine?” He asked, curious as to what her vision was.