N/a: Sorry for the delay in uptade this fic! Thank you for all reviews, alerts and favs! ;D

Chapter 3

"What do you think you're doing, Charles?" Elsie had entered his parlor like a whirlwind, closing the door quickly behind her. The noise of key loud, the heat in her eyespulsing, her face contorted in a mixtureof concern, moodiness and unbelief. She stopped in front of him, with her hands on her hips.

Casting a glance at her, Charles noticed that she was ready to give him an earful, like he was a stubborn child. Incredible that Elsie could simply forget the tension between them and the climate of pleasantries with which they were treating each other when something struck heron the head and made awake the dragon.

"Someone needs to do the job." He grunted in response.

"Certainly, but not you. Ask a footman to do it."

Charles's face became even more taciturn, slightly reddish. Elsie knew him well enough to know how nervous he was. Couldn't she just continue doing her business? Couldn't she keep ignoring I tand ignoring the last almost 20 years as she had been doing lately? The last thing he would want at that moment would be having her demanding explanations and behaviors from him when she barely talked to him herself.

"I asked twice, Mrs. Hughes." He was keen to stress the use of her last name, pronouncing it carefully, "And both times the service was sloppy so I decided..."

"You decided to do it yourself, try harder than necessary, getting anxious without a reason and risk killing yourself. Stop it, please!" Her tone was not as friendly as possible, but he knew, no matter how angry he might be at her, or her at him, that she was saying those things to him because she was concerned about his well being. Elsie and her preoccupation.

One of her hands caught his arm and tried to stop him.

"I'm almost done." Charles muttered between his teeth. He turned away from her touch and then rubbed the silver candlestick quickly, with frantic movements. How stubborn he was.

"Let go Charles." She demanded with her most commanding tone, the housekeeper.

"No!"

"Let go!" She tried to pull the piece out of his hands, this time as his friend.

"Stop..." The sudden and sharp stab silenced him and the candlestick fell to the ground noisily. "Aaarrrghhh ..." He groaned, curling up in his chair with his hand clutching his chest.

"Charles!" finally sounding like his woman.

Her voice echoed, sounding distant and muffled. The pain pinched his chest and he suddenly felt tunable to breathe. Everything went black. He had passed out.

"How is he, Doctor?" He heard her saying, muffled, but it was definitely her voice.

"He'll be fine, if that's what you want to know. But this time things were a little more serious, he must be careful, Mrs. Hughes. He must avoid unnecessary efforts and large amounts of stress. Make sure he stays in bed for few days, he needs to rest and maintain a slow pace until he recovers completely."

"Like he will listen to me..." she mumbled between sniffles. Elsie was crying?
He wanted to get up but could not, his body was heavy and he felt so tired. Charles opened his eyes and saw the doctor and her standing by the room's door. How did he get there?

"You'll need to make him understand, none of us is getting any younger," Dr. Clarkson said in his gentle tone, patting Elsie's upper arm. How dare he touch her? What was he thinking?

"Are you going to be okay?"

"Of course, Dr. Clarkson. He scared the life out of me for a moment, but I'm better, thank you."

"Call me if anything happens, I'm at your disposal."

When Dr. Clarkson left, Charles cleared his throat loudly, attracting Elsie's attention. Her eyes were a bit red and her face flushed. She arranged the raised sleeve of her dress when she turned to him. It was clear that she had lost control and the noise of conversation in the hallway told him she was not the only one. He reached his hand for her to take, giving her an almost imperceptible smile.

"How do you feel?" Elsie asked in a voice slightly hoarse, stopping beside the bed.

"Not as bad as I look."

"Well, you heard what the doctor said."
Their fingertips touched briefly. Elsie ran her fingers slowly across his, until they touched the palm of his hand. Her hand was cold.

"Try to rest, I need to go downstairs," she stepped back, regaining her composure and her seriousness. He watched her step back and take a deep breath.

"Will you come back later to keep me company?"

"Maybe I will."

He remembered that hellish afternoon a few weeks ago. She was so cold and distant as she sat in the chair beside his bed, keeping silent company while reading some book from the library. And even when he asked her to lie down a bit with him she hadn't relaxed. She was just there in person but with her thoughts away, far away. He felt her get up after a while and felt her presence for a little bit more while she watched his sleep from the chair.

How could he love someone so desperately and have her so close and not being able to live his love? He had committed errors of judgment, he knew it and would never deny it. He knew that most of their situation was his fauld, but Elsie always jumped to conclusions in a rush, closed herself off to the possibility of conversation. Stubborn; that was what his Scottish dragon was.

He learned later, by a comment from Anna that when the incident occurred Elsie called for help and bent down in front of him, holding his hands until the boys carry him up to his bedroom. Charles knew even that she locked herself in her room for a few minutes and when she returned to his bedside, her eyes were tortured.

Then, on another occasion, when Dr. Clarkson came to see how he was improving, he told him that the woman had a sudden drop of pressure and nearly fainted. "You'll end up killing yourself and her, Mr. Carson. The poor woman was really concerned about you." The doctor said with a tone of mockery, barely disguising the sharp comment. He had frightened everyone, downstairs and upstairs.

Since then they had talked less and less.

Casting a glance toward the hall clock, Charles noticed that it should not take too long before she would be back, but he was surprised to find her in his pantry when he opened the door. Elsie had placed a small bundle on the table and turned on her heel toward the door.

"Mrs. Hughes, were you looking for me?" he asked, closing the door behind him.

"Not exactly; I bought this for you in the village. I thought that perhaps you would like it." Elsie said, lifting the small bundle from the table to hand to him. He noted that she held the edge, trying her best not to let their hands touch. "It's just a new pair of cufflinks. I could not find your other pair when..." she paused, cleared her throat as she clutched the handle of the small black leather bag she was carrying. "Since we haven't found it," she finished, supplying the memory of the last time she'd seen Charles using his more formal pair of cufflinks.

He merely nodded, holding the package in his hands. His cufflinks were gone after the servant's ball. He drank a little bit too much in the solitude of his pantry and tried in the worst way to make a pass at her, appearing drunk in her room late at night and taking off his clothes.

"Thank you, I did not expect you to worry about these. Actually, you should not have done this. I should have bought a new pair myself. If you would like, I can reimburse you."

Charles realized that she would certainly take his words as an offense as soon as he said them. He felt incredibly foolish and looked over her eyes, with his head and back slumped forward. Elsie opened and closed her mouth, breathing sharply before swallowing hard and blinking her eyes a few times. He knew she was fighting to remain in control. Stubborn, both were extremely stubborn.

"No, I just..." She tried to speak in the most neutral tone she could manage, but her voice became shrill in the middle of the sentence and she said with a sigh. "It's just a gift. Forget it, Mr. Carson."

Elsie walked to the door, but he grabbed her wrist before she could leave, stopping her where she was. Their eyes met and he waited hopeful that she would be able to read the message in his eyes. In the recalcitrance, both were proud, too proud.

"Elsie, my love ..." he tried to say before she interrupted him.

"Don't do it Charles." There was a tone of appeal in her voice. She felt tired and maybe, if he knew how to play his cards right, this could be used in his favor.

"We need to talk."

"We've done it several times, we try to understand ourselves over and over and we don't. We got lost somewhere Charles" She sniffed, her eyes turned away from his.

He noticed the weakness as her words became more difficult and low. Charles brought her close gently, pressing their bodies together. How long since they'd been like that? Weeks? Months? He closed his arms around her, hugging her as if she was a fragile and delicate flower and laid a kiss on the top of her head. Her scent was the same and the softness of her body in his arms was exactly as he remembered.

Actions could speak more than words, couldn't they? Well, he just thought that maybe she would understand, know, and notice. He was there; alive, breathing, holding her against his chest and nothing would change that. He was not going anywhere, he was not going to leave her; not to Haxby and much less to death.

Maybe it was the way that he pulled her into his arms, or the tiredness she was feeling, but he felt no reluctance in Elsie this time. She allowed herself to approach him, burying her face in his chest so she could hear his heart beating. Charles had run his hands along her arms, touching her face gently and lifting it so that both could look at each other.

"Talk to me." His words were no more than a whisper.

Elsie's eyes blinked slowly and she tilted her head slightly to the side while studied him carefully before putting a small hand on his arm and she lifted herself on tiptoe; not yet equaling his height, but it did not matter. Their noses touched for a fraction of a second, rubbing each other and before he could realize it her lips brushed against his in the most delicate and subtle way possible, barely kissing him.

"Not now." She said letting go of him, tears shining in her eyes.

And she was gone.

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