A/N: Hey! It's me again with another update, because it's the least I can do after abandoning you guys for so long! Anyways, please R&R! ^_^

Chapter 8

Ameline's POV

"That should be enough," I said, filling up his glass halfway, corking the bottle, and placing it in the top cupboard, so Adele couldn't get to it later. I turned around, and saw Claude staring at me, his face dimly glowing in the light of the small candle I had lit on the table. one eyebrow raised at the meager amount I gave him. "It was Lucas's special wine," I explained apologetically, "We drank it at our wedding, when Turpin was born, and when Adele was born." I sat down across the table from him.

"Ah," he took a small sip, "It's good. I take it that Lucas was your husband?"

"Yes."

"When did he die?"

I sighed, and looked down at the rough and splintered wood of the table. "About three years ago."

"Ah."

"It's hard, Claude. Being a widow, running this inn, and taking care of two children. Cook's great help, but... but it's not the same."

He stared at me, studying my face, "How did he die?"

I felt my throat constrict, "It...It was a rainstorm. There was a leak in the roof, and Lucas... he wanted to help. When the rain, stopped, he got his ladder, and climbed up to fix it. Well, there was mud, and the roof was slippery from the mud. The ladder slipped, and he fell, and hit his head. Hard. Three days later, he was gone." I felt tears trickling down my face, but I didn't wipe them. "Adele was too young to really remember, but Turpin was out there with his father. Only eleven and he saw his father die."

"My condolences," he said simply.

"Claude... I want you here. My children need a father figure. Turpin needs a man to look up to."

He choked on his wine, "Me? Turpin hates me! And I am not good with children... Trust me."

"I know you come from some sort of rank or nobility. The main reason I want you here is because I cannot read or write well, and my arithmetic is horrendous as well. I need your help to balance checkbooks and keep records."

"Me? Nobility? Where would you get that idea?"

"I am not a fool, Claude. Why else would you be so averse to physical labor and being told what to do?" When Claude remained silent, I continued, "I am not going to ask you to reveal yourself. But I need your help. Please, Claude, stay. If I can't keep up with records and taxes and money, I may lose this inn. Then what will I do? I have no husband, no prospects, and two children to feed."

"How long?"

"Well, I was thinking you could teach me an hour a day, and in three years, when Turpin is married, you will be allowed to leave and never look back."

"Three years?"

"Yes. By then I should be proficient in reading and writing, and Turpin's wife could help out in the inn, and when he has his family, it would be even more help."

He seemed to ponder my offer, and finished off his wine with a polite sip. "Fine. But in three years, I will leave. I promise that."

"That is completely fine with me," I replied, allowing myself to smile a little. "Thank you, Claude. When do lessons start?"

"Tomorrow night. Promptly after dinner."

"Claude, I can't thank you enough." I reached out across the table, and took his hand in mine. They were pale white, wrinkled, and had very long fingers. He stiffened, but I didn't release my grip. He needed to see how grateful I was.

Plus, if he was living with my family, he would have to get used to how affectionate we are. Better late than never.

Finally, his muscles relaxed, and he even returned some of the affection by giving my hand a quick squeeze. "You are welcome."

We sat like that for who knows how long, either sizing each other up, or trying to figure each other out. Finally, I asked, "How old are you?"

"Thirty six."

"Really? You don't look thirty six," I said, raising an eyebrow.

He rolled his eyes, "Yes, I am thirty six. Thank you for being so polite about it."

"Forgive me, I-"

"No need, I know it's hard to believe."

"What caused you to age so?"

Claude's face seemed to twitch, as well as his hand, which still grasped mine. "I should be getting to bed. It is late." He got up suddenly, his hand tearing away from mine, "Goodnight...er, moring I guess." With that, he quickly ascended the stairs, and I heard a door close shut not long after that.

A soft light entered the room as dawn began to break, and as the light of the candle slowly flickered out, I whispered, more to myself than anyone, "Goodnight, Claude."

A/N: I hope you liked this quick update, I seriously hope to update soon! In the meantime, please, please, PLEASE remember to review on your way out. Constructive criticism is welcome and encouraged. ^_^