Wow, I didn't think this chapter would turn out to be this long, but... Anyway.
Oh, and did I mention that I was nervous about this final chapter? No? Okay. I'm nervous about this final chapter. Great. Glad we have that cleared.
Enjoy!
Disclaimer: Nicola and the Viscount is Meg Cabot's. Not mine. The characters and plot aren't mine, either. I only fill in the blanks in between in an attempt to satisfy my fluff-hungry self.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Stretching his arms over his head with an "Ah," Nathaniel laid down on the grass, grateful for the time when he could finally close his eyes and listen to the silence. The day had been by all means enjoyable, but at that moment, Nathaniel wanted to just... be.
The journey from London to Northumberland was no walk in the park, but the long trip, as painful as it was in the behind after a few hours, was worth it. Beckwell Abbey, as Nicola generously descibed to the Sheridans, was a quaint manor situated on a beautiful expanse of green sloping meadows. A stream burbled beside it, and, not far away, sheep and cattle grazed happily.
Nana and Puddy—the caretakers of the abbey who raised Nicola since her parents' passing—were heartwarmingly pleasant. Puddy had welcomed Lord Sheridan's business-related input, and also Nathaniel's suggestions in keeping accounts straight for the abbey; Nana had had a grand time when Sir Hugh began cracking jokes while she made ginger cake for them. Even the workers in the abbey had their share of the fun when Phillip, ever bubbling to the brim with amusing ideas, snuck some duck eggs into the henhouse, causing a racket when the hen cackled the moment it saw its newly hatched chicks. The young man received an earful from Lady Sheridan, but behind her, both Eleanor and Nicola appeared to be on the verge of breaking into laughter but managed to keep prim and proper.
Strange, it was, that although it was his first time to set foot on Beckwell Abbey, it already felt like home to Nathaniel.
A small "tsk" beside him caused Nathaniel to open his eyes to see the soft curve of Nicola's back as she reached for something near her feet. Then, she sat back again, her slim fingers brushing a few locks of her glossy raven hair from the nape of her neck.
Nathaniel couldn't help smiling, remembering his encounter with her neck just a short while earlier. It was when he was inviting Eleanor and Nicola to the stream where he and Sir Hugh were teaching Phillip to swim. He had leaned in when Nicola suddenly turned away, saying something about his being dripping wet, and so the kiss landed on her neck instead of her cheek. It wasn't an unpleasant experience at all, and the half-shriek, half-giggle that Nicola let out was interesting, but it would have been much better if Eleanor hadn't burst out laughing.
There came another sound from Nicola... This time, instead of a simple "tsk" she harrumphed, still softly, as if she was trying not to be heard. Nathaniel saw Nicola toss something away—it flew to the grass so fast that he couldn't determine what it was—with a sharp flick of her wrist, and then she was leaning forward, and then she was sitting back again. Nathaniel's eyebrows furrowed slightly when more little things—white, Nathaniel noticed this time—were thrown—not just tossed, but thrown—to the ground. Fortunately, a small tilt of his head allowed him to catch a glimpse of what Nicola was so occupied with.
"You're not playing 'he loves me, he loves me not', are you?"
Nicola jumped in her seat, whipping around at Nathaniel's inquiry. If there had been a frown on her face a second earlier as suggested by the sounds she was making, then it was completely gone, replaced instead with a surprised look as her cheeks took on an embarrassed pink hue.
"Nat!" she exclaimed. "I thought you were asleep!"
"I may be tired, Nick," Nathaniel told her as he sat up, "but I'm not that tired to fall asleep in two minutes. And you haven't answered my question."
"Your question?" Nicola asked, batting her eyelashes innocently. Nathaniel raised an eyebrow. She wasn't trying to distract him with her bright sapphire eyes and that flirtatious curve of her highly kissable lips, was she?
Oh no, no, no. Nathaniel was not to be distracted.
Yet.
"Yes, my question," he said. "The one possibly connected to that daisy you are presently hiding behind your back."
"Oh, that?" Nicola laughed in a dainty—and positively defensive—way. "I was just... admiring it— NAT!"
Ignoring her gasp of protest, Nathaniel reached across Nicola to successfully procure the flower of discussion. It was already missing three or four white petals.
"And plucking out its pretty petals one by one? Hm, yes, ofcourse you were admiring the poor daisy. How could I have been mistaken?"
Nicola crossed her arms, looking away. The light tint of her cheeks grew to be a defninite crimson shade; whether it was due to Nathaniel's teasing sarcasm or his close proximity, he didn't really know.
"You know," Nathaniel began, twirling the daisy in his fingers, "this game is rather pointless."
"Of course," Nicola said, shaking her head, "a man who thinks that poetry is silly seems unlikely to appreciate simple pleasures of life such as this."
"But it is!" Nathaniel insisted. "See here. Loves me, loves me not. It's alternating, correct? So just see if the number of petals is even or not: Even-numbered petals end with 'loves me not', but odd numbered ones don't."
"How mathematical of you."
"First at Oxford, ma'am, and proud of it."
"Good heavens, is this what I am to live with for the rest of my life?"
"Quite. And even when you grow tired of me, you shall not be able to rid yourself of me."
Nicola laughed—a delightful, melodic sound—as she leaned back on her elbows. Nathaniel wasn't sure if Madame Veuxvincent would have approved of such a position—for ladies were of course expected to always sit or stand gracefully, like a swan—but Nicola seemed comfortable enough, and no one else was around, so Nathaniel really didn't mind at all.
Thus their positions were reversed. Whereas Nicola was now the one reclining on the picnic blanket and looking up at the sky, Nathaniel became the one absently fiddling with the daisy. He did not, however, find the urge to pull at the flower. Who invented that useless game, anyway? Nathaniel could not imagine what that person could have been thinking.
"And to think," Nicola began, pulling Nathaniel from the possible history of 'he loves me, he loves me not', "that I very nearly got myself trapped into spending my life with Lord Sebastian..."
The daisy stopped twirling.
"I suppose I was too swept up by the romance of a dashing young viscount falling in love with an orphan that I failed to distinguish poetry from reality," Nicola went on. "My focus was on the wrong thing. Even if he wasn't a proud man who cared about nothing but himself, it still wouldn't have been right."
Nathaniel tore his gaze from the daisy when Nicola paused to sit up.
"I'm sorry," Nicola said, her eyes directed at the grasslands in front of them. "I know that Lord Sebastian isn't your favorite topic of discussion..."
"It's all right," Nathaniel told her. And it truly was all right, because while Nicola mused out loud, Nathaniel realized that he found not a fiber of resentment in himself. Oh, Sebastian Bartholomew was far from being a friend. Perish the thought! But it was quite a refreshing feeling indeed to not anymore be affected by the Viscount Farnsworth.
"It's just," Nicola continued, "I've never considered myself to be shallow, but there I was, being as shallow as shallow could be. And I don't believe I've ever thanked you for all that you did—"
"Nicky..."
"—You didn't have to concern yourself with me, but... Oh, if you hadn't knocked some sense into me...!"
"Nicky," Nathaniel repeated with a little more force, causing her to finally look at him. "Nick, you've thanked me enough. It only so happened that you did it in other ways, and a bit unknowingly, it seems."
If someone had been watching Nicola, they would have thought that she was mulling over Nathaniel's words, and was trying to think of how she could agree—or disagree—with him. Indeed, that was what Nathaniel himself would have thought when Nicola didn't respond.
Except... he couldn't help but notice when her breathing hitched. And when she began blushing. And when her gaze dropped to the general direction of his lips.
Why, Miss Nicola Sparks seemed to have misunderstood him! When Nathaniel said that she had thanked him in other ways, he had meant her bringing him tea when he became too busy in his study, as well as her continued efforts of building the perfect dining room fortress with him and Phillip. And he could never forget her patience with him when he—by his own decision—struggled to learn to appreciate poetry, even for a little bit. Unfortunately, he had failed miserably at it, but Nicola had only smiled at him and told him that he needn't force himself into it just for her.
Instead of all this, however, it appeared that Nicola thought that he was talking about kissing! Not that Nathaniel was complaining, of course, since he quite liked kissing her—liked it so much, in fact, that he had to summon every ounce of his self-control just so he wouldn't kiss her every waking second of the day. That wasn't proper, after all, no matter how appealing it was—
"Nathaniel..."
—and it certainly was especially appealing at that very moment. Really, if Nicola had wanted to distract him earlier, all she should have done was say his name, because the way it rolled off her tongue always sent pleasant shivers down his spine.
Well, Nathaniel absently thought as he crossed the small distance to her lips, I haven't kissed her today, the one on the neck didn't count since it was an accident, so—
"Oh!" Nicola suddenly gasped sharply, causing Nathaniel to reflexively jerk away. "I nearly forgot! Earlier, Eleanor told me what happened to the others!"
"... The...huh?"
"It appears that Lady Honoria ran off to America with Harold!" Nicola told him excitedly, as if she had already completely forgotten what was so close—so painfully close!—to happening. "Isn't it just curious? And here I thought she would go away with her mother; misery loves company, so they say. Perhaps she so greatly repulsed the idea of residing in the Continent. Why, even I am wondering myself why Lady Farelly chose the Continent to flee to. I suppose she was just in too much of a hurry to leave the country, out of the severe embarrassment that her husband and son had been found criminal and sent to Newgate Prison along with the Grouser. Thank goodness I won't be having that problem—"
Truthfully, Nathaniel couldn't have cared less about the Milksop and the Bartholomew ladies, nor the earl, the viscount and the baron. Not when Nicola's narration failed to avert his attention from her mouth. In fact, the speed at which she spoke made Nathaniel want even more to silence her in the most effective way he could think of at the moment.
But he wasn't given the privilege of feeling even a light brush of lips, because Nicola, when she noticed that he was once again coming towards her, placed a firm hand on his chest to keep him from getting closer.
"Nat!" she cried. "What are you doing?"
"Trying to kiss you!" Nathaniel stated, fighting the urge to growl, or roll his eyes. Or both. "What does it look like I'm doing?"
"But what if your mother catches us?"
"So what if she does?"
"We're not chaperoned out here, Nat," Nicola reminded him. "It shall be two years before we wed— Oh, don't roll your eyes. For your information, I quite like it that your mother had us wait until I'm eighteen before we marry. You know I appreciate your parents rightfully bossing me about."
"Because you're an orphan, yes, I know," Nathaniel finished for her, the disappointment in his voice too obvious for his liking. Nicola, however, didn't seem to notice. She also wasn't done speaking.
"Be it two years or two days," she carried on, "there are simply some things we cannot do until we're married."
"Like kissing?" Nathaniel challenged, one dark eyebrow disappearing under the lock of hair that had fallen across his forehead. "Nicky, I don't think that was one of—"
Nathaniel stopped, only then realizing what Nicola might have actually been talking about. As for Nicola, her sapphire eyes widened, she, too, only then realizing what her words had sounded like.
"No, wait, that wasn't what I—"
"I say," Nathaniel interrupted, grinning. "Miss Sparks, are you thinking about those things already?"
"Don't look so smug," Nicola commanded, narrowing her eyes at him.
"Oho, you don't deny it, then? Well, I didn't think you found me that irressistable."
At that Nicola's cheeks turned scarlet, and the hand that was still on the cream material of his waistcoat attempted to push him farther away.
"You, Nathaniel Sheridan, are impossible—!"
Nicola wasn't able to say anything else, because Nathaniel had covered her lips with his own, finally finally tasting the sweetness of her kiss. In the next few moments, Nathaniel felt as he always did whenever they kissed: light-headed and euphoric. The overwhelming feeling of love engulfed him, as well as a significant amount of... want.
But, as always, Nathaniel kept himself in check, never letting things go beyond an innocent kiss. He slowly began to pull away, and when the kiss ended a soft sigh escaped Nicola before her head swayed forward to rest on his shoulder. Her slender hand, which had at some point slid from his coat to his neck so that her fingertips were buried in his hair, stayed where it was.
And it was as Nathaniel was sitting so contentedly, his hazel eyes gazing at the horizon, that Nicola said, quite breathlessly, "I love you."
Nathaniel had heard many times that love wasn't all romance and flowers. His father had told him that it came with responsibilities, sacrifices, and a fair portion of pain.
"But," the Lord Sheridan had also said, "the rewards of love, and being loved in return, is glorious."
Glorious, he had said.
Quite honestly, Nathaniel couldn't agree more.
From the Author: Well, there you go. I hope you romantics enjoyed that. If you're wondering why I said I was nervous, it's because this chapter is obviously not in the book, and I was afraid that I might not close the book justly. Add the fact that I wasn't so confident with the kiss. I'm not exactly a veteran in writing kisses.
Nervousness aside... I reread all your reviews today, and MAN you guys have been AWESOME! If I haven't said it before, I'm saying it again. Your reviews are just the best, and you've convinced me that my first attempt at a fanfic wasn't so bad after all. Haha!
I'm happy and sad at the same time that this fic is finished. I want to continue writing for Nicola and the Viscount but I have no idea what I'm to write about. Aiyayay.
BUT I am already starting on my next fic! The girls at the Meg Cabot forum have convinced me to write forVictoria and the Rogue. (I think this is no surprise to those who've read my profile recently.) So watch out for that!
Again, I thank everyone who read and reviewed. I'm still overwhelmed by the response this fic received! I really really love this book, and I really really love this fic, and I thank you all for sharing this with me. Thank you thank you thank you!