Author's Note: What?! Another submission!! You mean this ISN'T a DEAD one?? ^_^ Anywho, I thought I had lost this file. And after some hemming and hawing about the fact that I didn't know how to tie the beginning and the middle together, I have finally decided what to do. There is no sex in this chapter, but plenty of plot. Now all I need is a proof-reader... any volunteers?
***
A splash of cold water snapped Niadia out of her pleasant daydreaming as it was promptly dumped over her head. She shuddered and stood up quickly to let Margarie towel her dry.
Niadia had been staring out the same window in the morning for the past few weeks, her thoughts fleeting from one question to another. She had yet to come up with an answer.
She had not seen one glimpse of that... man... since she had meet him all those nights ago.
Rather upset at his crass treatment of her and the whole situation she found herself in, she had gone down to breakfast with a sour disposition that neither the closet full of rich clothes, the opulent meal, nor the politeness of the house staff could disperse.
Ready to do battle with the oaf, she had stormed into the lovely full dining room only to find that he was not there.
She ate alone.
Still upset and non-phased by her host's lack of an appearance, she had spent the entirety of the day searching through his large house in search of him. It was only when she had finally demanded from Achillien's personal man, Yuglov, where he was hiding that she was informed he had left that early morning on pressing business and should return by nightfall.
She had been furious. Calm temperament had always been one of Niadia's more pleasing personal attributes, but that man had pushed her too far.
The rest of the day was spent snapping at staff members and tearing apart anything she could throw at a wall.
That night she sat up, waiting for him to materialize like a ghost to haunt her.
He never arrived.
The next morning she was awoken by Margarie and given another through washing. As she stared out the window, Niadia noticed the fresh snow against the glass.
"Did it snow last night?"
Margarie lathered up her mahogany hair in a few long seconds before answering. "Yes, the pass is blocked. My Lord will not be able to return until it melts."
Niadia felt a few moments of relief before guilt settled in at her childish behavior the day before.
"Margarie, I am sorry for yesterday. I promise to help clean up the disaster that I created."
A bucket of cold water turned over her head before Margarie responded. As it flushed over her skin and caused goosebumps, Niadia suspected the lack of warning and the chill of the water was a way of her maid telling her exactly how she felt about the display.
"No need, Lady, we took care of all that last eve. Although I would warn you that the staff will not take kindly to you if you continue to tear through like a crazed puppy."
Niadia shivered and stood in the bath, allowing Margarie to towel her dry.
The next couple of weeks had been a blur. She had taken to eating her meals in the kitchen, swapping recipes and ideas with the cook. At first the cook, a rather skinny man for his profession, had only answered her in grumps and hand motions to move out of the way. Over time he had eventually warmed up to her personality and, as with the rest of the staff, he had begun to look forward to her routine.
Her bath with Margarie, breakfast in the kitchen, an hour or two in the library, a walk outside in the snow, accompanied by a visit on to the stables, lunch in the library, cleaning with the house staff (something of which the boys still had not gotten accustomed to), dinner in the kitchen, then early to bed.
She did the same thing in and out every day.
She was bored to tears.
That was why, this early morning in particular, she had been excited to see that the snow was almost completely melted. Not because that meant that Achillien would be back, but that she could possibly go for a walk. Perhaps even convince one of the boys to let her have a horse.
As she wrapped herself in a deep plum dress trimmed in black hare fur, she turned to Margarie.
"Do you think the snow will last much longer? I was told that the flowers bloom late up here but they are quite colorful when they do."
Margarie sat her down in front of a large mirror and started to comb out her wet hair.
"That is true. If we do not get any more snow, we should start to see some green in the next few days. Late storms are not uncommon, but they do not usually last as long as this one. Besides, I am sure the Count is quite excited to return home and see you. You both had just entered into the breeding contract before he left."
As Niadia frowned, Margarie tugged especially hard at a lock of hair.
"Do not disrespect that man, Lady. You may not be overly fond of how he did things, but he is a good man. He takes great care in what belongs to him. I would suggest that you well remember that childish spurt you had and make sure that it will not be repeated before he returns."
