Da-dum da-dum

Hah hah

The slate colored sky with it's dark and threatening clouds lit up with a crack of lightning. A large branch from a tree fell.

Horse's hooves, thundering across the finely manicured lawn. Small divots the only evidence that he'd been there.

Da-dum da-dum

Hah hah

"Really, Cesare. I don't see what the worry is. Your father has been after you for years to find a suitable woman and settle down." Matthias lounged lazily on the leather chaise. As befit one of noble birth, he dressed in a poet's shirt, form fitting vest and dark trousers. Stockinged feet stuck off the end of the chaise. His heeled shoes had been kicked off the moment he entered the room. His chestnut hair, tied back with a leather thong at the base of his neck A lock of hair drifted over his face. He shrugged and grinned to his aggravated friend. "Sherise is not that bad to look at and it's her first season out. What is wrong with her?"

Cesare was agitated, indeed. The brandy snifter was held in his palm, fingers curled around the bowl. His dark hair was kept unfashionably short, but incredibly messy. Curls flopped this way and that, the light shining off of his ebony locks. He was dressed in a similar fashion to his friend, only his clothes were always black, except for the white poet's shirt with the ruffle down the front. That was always a crisp white. His heeled shoes echoed through the room as he paced. No, not paced, marched.

"I do not want to marry. Not now, not ever." His voice was a very deep baritone, and it had lowered to a threatening bass. "I don't care what my father thinks or says." Icy blue eyes glare down at Matthias from his intimidating height of six foot seven inches. "And she's a virgin, Matthias. More along your lines, I think." With a shake of his head, he turns his back on his friend.

"You can't hide here forever, Cesare." Matthias was finding this all very amusing. Cesare was trapped in a corner. The arrangements had been made between Cesare's father and Sherise's father and there was nothing Cesare could do about it. "Soon you'll be an old man, with younglings hanging about your ankles." The ridiculous thought had Matthias chuckling loudly.

Cesare did not find any of this funny. There was something he could do. Something that would break his mother's heart, but it was something he must do. He would not be trapped into marrying somebody that was not of his choosing. Throwing the brandy snifter, with what little was left in it, into the fire, he turned as the fire exploded in the fireplace. And then he was gone.

Da-dum da-dum

Hah hah

"Please, Cesare, Sherise is such a nice girl." His mother pleaded with him. Her care worn face crumpled as tears washed down her face. "Please, compromise with your father. I do not want to lose my bambino." She had gotten on her knees at his point, begging with her oldest son.

How could Cesare say no to that. Most thought of him as a man with a heart of stone. But his mother, his dear, sweet mother, he could never show her that side of him. So he conceded to a meeting. But the terms, he knew that Sherise's family would not accept.

If the marriage would take place, Sherise's place in society would be guaranteed. Her father was an up and coming baron, and a marriage into the Romano family promised lands, villas and titles. Just the thing the greedy man was wanting. The only down fall was the husband that his daughter would be laden with. Cesare had the worst reputation and never, not once, tried to clear his name. Only his title, Duke Cesare Romano, made him even fathomable for any of the society's young girl. Add to that he was older by eight years than most, and Cesare was not what a mother, or young girl, would dream of in a husband.

It was the day before Cesare had planned on leaving the only home he knew. His mother had put up quite the fuss, not wanting to lose her baby boy to the wiles and wild world. She had the entire household up in arms with her calls for smelling salts each time Cesare came into the same room with her.

"Really, mother. It will be just a month's time. I'll be home soon." He kneeled at her feet, and held her hand between his own hands. A gentle pat to her soft, supple hand. "Please, do not be upset. I promise to come home, mother. You did not react this way when I went on the Grand Tour."

But his mother would not listen to reason, would not calm down with his pleas. "You will leave the safety of Roma, and will be at the tip of a blade within a week! I know you, Cesare! Do not go out into that world. It is no good. Stay at home, let Mother take care of you. Marry Sherise. She will take care of you. Please, Cesare, mi bambino. Stay." Her eyes shone with bright tears and her lip quivered in fear for her eldest son.

Cesare, always a soft heart when his mother cried, smiled for his mother. But there was steel behind his icy eyes and he kissed his mother's hand. "I am going to do this, mother." He rose then and nodded to the servants that surrounded the prostate woman.

The afternoon sun was hot when Cesare left the house. He wanted to wander around the grounds to his childhood stomping grounds one last time as a bachelor. He knew, just knew, that when he returned home he would be a husband. The thought of having a bride made him frown. He wasn't ready to settle down. Too many fish in the sea to just settle for one.

He found himself at the natural spring on the property. A warm dip would certainly relax his muscles and the stress would simply float away like the steam off of the surface of the water. Clothes were stripped and hung on a low branch. Then into the water he lowered himself. With a contented "Ah." he sank into the water. Lower and lower, until his hair floated upon the surface.

And, with a flurry of bubbles, that hair disappeared under the surface.

Cesare lay in the twin sun's light, gulping for air on the beach where he found himself. Except for the two glowing orbs in the sky, everything looked just as normal and mundane as anything he'd ever seen. Rocks were gray, trees were green and brown, the grass green and the lake at his feet was a blue-green-grayish color. But he knew, beyond the shadow of the doubt, he was not at home.

Another thing Cesare knew: He was completely and utterly nude. The thought floated through his head that this was possibly heaven and that angels would soon appear to robe him with a golden halo, white gossamer wings and ivory silk toga. He even wondered if he'd have a golden harp.

Then he shook his head with a laugh. Laughter, even in his condition, laughter because he knew beyond a shadow of doubt that he'd commited one too many sins in his lifetime. Pride, coveting, gluttony he'd commited them all. And without asking for forgiveness while he was alive, he knew it was too late to beg for it now.

He curled his fingers into the powdery soft sand beneath his hands and turned his head. Glancing around at the immediate area, he seemed to be all alone. He'd never been so utterly alone in all of his life. Even when he'd visited the country home that he'd inherite some day, there was always somebody around, always noise that made him feel wrapped up in a security blanket.

But now he only heard silence. Crickets had struck up their song, as well as the tree frogs that whined to complain about the heat of the day. But human noises, horses, carriages, none of that was to be heard. Maybe hell was made to be spent all alone.

So when the grass crunched in the not so far distance, his head whipped to the side. Deep, midnight blue velvet skirts swept nearby. There was a laugh from the female above the skirts. A finger pointed and Cesare felt, for the first time in his life, shame. He curled his body, grasping his private area.

The woman finally introduced herself to Cesare as Lady Ashford. She was kind and took in the naked stranger, giving him a roof over his head and clothes to wear. But, to Cesare's chagrin, she expected payment. And it was not a price he was willing to pay.

"Is she gone yet?" Cesare lifted the curtain just a bit to take a peek outside. Unfortunately his room faced the rear of the house and it did not offer him a view of the front of the house. The front is where the carriages picked up and dropped off passengers. For all he knew, the dowager widow might still be seated in the parlor, entertaining her gentleman guest.

Cesare was relieved that Marie finally found somebody, other than himself, to ply her feminine wiles on. With her dead husband's estate, plus the money that Cesare had socked away for her, she'd be a catch for any man looking to settle down. Again. By no means was she young enough to find a husband looking for a first time wife. Add to that the fact that she'd been a mistress to more than one married man of equal or higher rank than her dead husband. Cesare began to rethink his impression of Marie. He was now surprised that she'd have a single gentleman to entertain at all.

He peeked, fruitlessly, out of the window again. There was nothing to see but the dark sky and the crescent moon, reflected on the little pond in the back yard. A sigh escaped his lips and he sat on the windowsill with his arms folded across his chest. "Why doesn't she just go?"

Cesare had taken to sneaking out on the nights that Marie had either gone on trips or had gone out herself. It was easier than arguing with her and dealing with her pouts, flailing arms and faiting spells at the thought of "her" Cesare going out on the town. No, Cesare had enough. His personal life was his own, and Marie would be none the wiser.

Finally the stable boy who was his lookout ran into the house and smiled up at Cesare. "She's gone, m'lord." He bowed politely and then held out his hand. Cesare admired the boy's pluck and dropped two silver coins into the boy's palm.

Cesare took his leave of the house, his destination already set in his head. There was a small place not that far away that served brandy as it should be served, allowed him to smoke his cigars and had all the ample bosomed women that he could handle. And Cesare could handle quite a bit.

He opened up the doors to the Widow's Peak Bar & Grill and disappeared inside.