Into the Future

[Scion]

No idea where this idea came from, but I quite like it. Sexy, pompous soon-to-be duke from Victorian England + 21-century tomboy + sneezes = just so much freaking fun! Okay, so I hope this is good. There isn't an overload of sneezing, but there's some, and much more to come. Oh, the things I am going to do to my poor, arrogant Ennis. Also, there's some, um, puking in the beginning, but it's nothing gross or anything, just a warning.

Part One:

Ennis Claybourne, heir to the Duke of Ashburn, was disgracing himself utterly. Bent over the rail of the Arabella, the young man of one and twenty gave in to the lowliest of weaknesses: his sea sickness.

This is simply unacceptable, he thought peevishly as he vomited into the acres of roiling black water. Pull yourself together, he berated himself as Isaac Cross, the Marquess of Marksville, Lord Marksville, guffawed at his left side. The ignorable wretch was getting far too much enjoyment out of this. Ennis ignored him.

And threw up. Again.

“Good Lord, Claybourne!” Marksville exclaimed far too jovially. “Are you quite sure that wasn’t your liver you let out in that last bout!?”

Ennis took a moment to glare at his friend. “Do you truly not have a more valuable way to spend your time?” he growled, fighting the rise of nausea.

Marksville grinned. “Certainly not. This is far more entertaining than anything else could be done on this blasted prison!”

Ennis renewed his glower. “Yes, of course. You are lost anywhere outside a brothel.” The insult would have been beautiful, had it not been punctuated by yet another fit of the heaves. Ennis lunged for the railing just in time--as he emptied himself, the ship rode up on a choppy wave. Ennis, already dizzy from his sickness, lost his balance and plunged headfirst off the ship. He hit the frigid water with a splash. Icy waves swallowed him, nipped at his skin.

The last thing he heard before blackness overtook him, was Marksville’s voice.

“Claybourne! Hold on!”

-----------

Fiona Baker was bored. Bored with life, bored with herself, bored with everything. She was a college junior, and yet she felt like she’d lived for at least forty years. What girl of twenty should feel so…melancholic? She wasn’t even sure about her career path anymore--and she’d wanted to be a writer since she was six years old. She had just broken up with her controlling, always-jealous boyfriend of one year, Troy Watson, so she was supposed to be feeling free, or at least more relaxed. But she only felt trapped.

That’s why she’d decided to take a run on Turtle Beach. The ocean never failed to help clear her mind. As she jogged across the deserted turf, she listened to the low crush of the waves, soothed by the familiar sound. Her bare feet squelched into the damp sand and, God, did she love that feeling. The wind in her face was a peaceful lullaby as it whistled through her tumble of dark curls.

When she spotted the figure lying across the sand, half-in, half-out of the water, she frowned. Who in their right mind would dare bathe in the water at this time of year? September, maybe. But December? She increased her pace, readying herself to shout some sense into whatever drunk idiot had decided to go for a little salty stroll in the middle of the night.

Closing in on the sprawled form, she began to make out more details. It was a man; he appeared to be young. He had a lean, tall build, and a head of pale blond curls. His outfit was…odd. His legs appeared to be encased in a pair of beige breeches which led down into black riding boots. On his chest, he wore a black waistcoat; beneath it, a white, button-down shirt lay just under a cream-colored paisley vest.

If she didn’t know better, she’d have assumed he’d fallen straight out of the nineteenth century. Approaching with caution, she nudged the man’s shoulder with her toes, watching as his lashes, darker than his pale hair, fluttered. She noticed with mild interest that the man was abnormally beautiful, with features that managed to be both delicate and manly at the same time. He had a straight, refined nose, and slightly arched brows a shade darker than his hair. Crouching next to him, she shook his shoulder.

His lush lips parted and a small groan escaped, but he didn’t rouse.

The cold water lapped at Fiona’s feet as she grabbed the man under the armpits and dragged him out of the wave’s reach. Breathing heavily, she knelt by his head again, touched his brow, which was a bit too warm for her liking.

Wishing she hadn’t left her cell in her car, she gave his alabaster cheek a soft slap. Then a harder slap.

The man’s eyes popped open, and he began to choke. Torrents of seawater came flooding from his mouth. Fiona gripped his shoulders to steady him as he caught his breath. Blinking furiously, he peered up at her through glassy, light-green eyes. “Where…am I?” he croaked out. He had an English accent, she noted; he sounded distinctly aristocratic.

Before she could respond to his question, the man clamped a hand over his nose, gasping, his chest heaving as a shudder coursed through him. When his brow cleared, he removed his hand and tried to sit up. Fiona helped guide him with a hand to his back. Moving discretely away from her touch, he said authoritatively, “Tell me where I am, miss. At once, please!”

His superior manner irked her, so she decided to tease him. “South Dakota,” she lied.

Confusion knit his brow. “Pardon?” Droplets of water danced down the sides of his slender face. His pink nose twitched. “Heh…huh…” He brought his wrist to his nose, waited a beat, and then let it drift back to his side. His gaze raked her then, and his eyes bugged out as if he were seeing a ghost. “What in God’s name are you wearing?”

Fiona glanced down at her ratty jeans and holey, blue sweatshirt. She shrugged. “It’s not like I’m at some fancy party. I like comfy clothes.”

He stared at her as though he expected her to suddenly sprout horns and a third eye in the center of her forehead. “I do not know what childish game you are playing, miss, but I assure you it is most undignified.” He glanced around the empty beach, scowling. “Where is your companion?”

“Don’t have one,” she replied dryly, chewing on her left thumbnail.

An expression of distaste crossed his elegant features. “Why are you putting that--that thing into your--your…heh…ahh…”

Fiona watched in amusement as the arrogant prig fought his oncoming sneeze with all he was worth. His brow scrunched up, nose wiggling, nostrils flaring ominously, lips trembling.

“Huh…haa…” He expression cleared, and he blinked the tears from his eyes.

Damn, she thought. He won again. “Listen, do you need some help or something? I have a cell phone back in my car.”

His eyes squinted in obvious perplexity. “Pardon? You have a what in your what?”

Ennis was starting to think this strange creature was even more unstable than she appeared. All this talk of cell phones and cars? And her outfit!? What in God’s name…? As he felt another tickle work its way up his nose, he clenched his teeth. Sneezing was absolutely unacceptable--it was nigh on as foul as vomiting--and he refused to partake in it in front of anyone, especially a lady, if one could call this…person…a “lady.”

Fiona watched the man study her, and felt the need to cover up, though she was already wearing a baggy sweatshirt. But she felt as if he could see right though her. And could he really not know what a car was? “You know,” she said. “Big metal box on wheels. We use them to get around on a daily basis. What are you, from the nineteenth century, or something?”

As all the blood drained from the man’s face, Fiona got an uneasy feeling in the pit of her stomach. Could he be insane? Could he possibly even be dangerous? He didn’t look dangerous, but one never knew, did they? “Of course I am!” he exclaimed angrily. “What joke is it you play? I am Ennis Claybourne, heir to the Duke of Ashburn, and I demand to know where I am this instant! Huh-ISHOO!”

The sneeze, she guessed, had slipped out before he could stop it. She would have laughed, had she had enough breath. His strange clothes were starting to make sense now. He was some kind of lunatic who thought he was living in another time. She’d have to break the news to him gently, see how he reacted. If he went nuts and tried to chop her up into little bits, then, well, at least she’d tried.

“Listen, buddy,” she said companionably. “This is the twenty-first century.”

After a moment’s pause, the man’s eyes rolled back into his head and he collapsed against the mound of sand.

Great, Fiona thought sourly. When I said freedom, this is not what I had in mind.

--------

So, is this okay? I don't know how everyone feels about the whole time-travel bit.

Anyhoo, more on the way.

[jezebel215]

this is silly and fun :-) the more pompous the better - as long as e caves eventually !

[walrus]

this is great! Please continue. I have read your work, and no joke it's brilliant!

Love the characters, and the story plot. It's quite humorous.

[Butch]

Oh goodie! Another story.. love where this is going so far.

[LetMeBe]

I'm into it. Keep it up!!!

[Aprilcot]

I like where this is going! Please continue!!!!!!!!

[Scion]

Oh, wow! So many comments in so little time! You all have seriously made my life sooo much happier.

Jezebel215: Haha, yes. Pompousness can only be sexy so long. Thanks, and I'm glad you like!

Immie Pattie: Whoa. Thank you soooo much! Words can't express how happy you just made me.

Mims: Nice to see you again! And thanks for all your amazing compliments. You never fail to make me smile.

LetMeBe: Yay! Thanks tons. And I'll be sure to keep it up!

Aprilcot: Thank you!!!!!! You're always so nice!

And now for the goods.

Part Two:

As Fiona started dragging the unconscious pinhead across the beach, she contemplated simply up and leaving him there. After all, it wasn’t as if he were a nice pinhead, and it wasn’t as if he were her responsibility. She should just call the local asylum and report the crazy guy.

She should.

But Fiona rarely--if ever--did what she should. It went hand-in-hand with the whole freedom-thing. So, huffing and puffing, she continued her trek across the sand and toward the parking lot.

Half an hour later, she’d succeeded in hauling her oh-so-precious burden to the edge of the lot. She swung open the car’s back door, clutched the man under the armpits, and lugged him onto the backseat. Done with that, she stuffed his long legs in with the rest of him by twisting them toward the floor in the most uncomfortable-looking position she could find, then she slammed the door and went around to the driver’s seat.

In seconds, they were off, headed in the direction of Quincy’s campus. Fiona debated calling her roommate, Amanda, to warn her, but what would she say? Hey, there, friend, I’m bringing home a random stranger I found on the beach; he thinks he’s the heir to a dukedom from the 1800’s. Yeah, that would go over well.

Moaning from the back seat alerted her to her little guest’s rousing. “No, no, go away, Abner,” he muttered drowsily. “Tell father I’m ill. I shan’t be getting out of bed today. I’ve a dreadful headache.” Pause. “So let him flog you, then! What care is it of mine!?”

Fiona chuckled. Such a nice guy she’d brought into her car. Honestly, she needed to learn from her mistakes. Last time she’d brought home a complete stranger, when she was eleven, the little girl with the pigtails had stolen her prized piggy-bank. What would Ennis Claybourne steal?

“Are you deaf!?” The sweet man suddenly burst out, and for a moment she thought he was talking to her, then she saw that his eyes were closed and she relaxed again. “You are dismissed! Get…heh…ISHOO! Get out before my dismissal becomes permanent!”

Fiona laughed full-out this time. Even in his dreams, the man thought he was some kind of duke. And apparently, while asleep, he couldn’t hold back his sneezes, which gave her a weird kind of satisfaction. She got the sense that he felt sneezing was somehow below him and his lordly rank, and she wanted to see him taken down a peg or two.

“Of course I am threatening you!” he slurred, moving restlessly, and Fiona could see his eyelids flickering clearly in the rearview mirror. “Am I not--hn’ISHAahh!--speaking clearly enough for you!? What is--get that thing away from me!” he bellowed, whacking the back of his head against the window. A second later, he shot upright, head swiveling anxiously about, eyes bulging, lips flapping soundlessly.

“What--where--who--my…God…” His voice faded as he took in his surroundings. “What in God’s name is this awful contraption!” he hollered, face going red with either rage or terror. Grimacing, he adjusted his position, and Fiona heard a few cracking sounds as he stretched out his limbs.

“I told you,” she said cheerfully. “It’s a car.”

“A…car?” As his brow crinkled, he hid his face in his hands, his breaths coming raggedly. After a beat, she heard an almost imperceptible “Nggt!” And then Ennis was peering at her with unfocused eyes, his complexion slowly worsening as Fiona drove over a particularly deep pothole. His hand went to his mouth. “Let me out of this monster this moment!” he choked, sounding ready to combust. “I think--I’m feeling rather…”

Not wanting to add cleaning vomit to her list of chores, Fiona dutifully pulled the car over to the side of the road and hopped out. When she came around to the other side of the vehicle, she found Mr. Duke’s face pressed up against the glass, his fists banging desperately on the window.

“Let me out!” came his muffled order. Fiona did as he asked, and the man came tumbling headfirst out of the car, doing a face-plant into the brown grass. “How dare you!” he railed as he made it up to hands and knees. “I’ll be certain to tell your husband of your behavior!” he threatened. “I’m sure he shall have something to say about it! A chit like you needs discipline. You must--” He was cut off by his own stomach’s rebellion to the car-ride.

As he panted and choked, Fiona experienced an unexpected wave of sympathy for the horrible man. What must it have been like to suddenly be ripped away from his home and rocketed into another century--or at least, believe that this had happened? Grudgingly, Fiona sat down beside him and began circling his back with her palm.

After another round of heave-ho, he glanced over at her through watery eyes that spoke of bone-deep uncertainty, and--just for a moment, she thought she caught a glimpse into the real Ennis Claybourne--but then his aristocratic mask was back in place and he was straightening his waistcoat and pulling away from her. As he stood, he swayed a little, but Fiona knew better than to try to help him. He was far too proud for that.

He squared his shoulders and lifted his chin. “Take--” A sharp little breath, and he was stifling imperfectly against his wrist. “H’NXT-shoo!” Going on like nothing had happened, he commanded, “Take me to your home. I require a place to stay for the night, and a hack come morning.”

“Yeah,” Fiona chirped, holding back a giggle. “Sure. A hack. I’ll hook you right up.”

His brows lowered. “I am not certain I understand what you mean. Speak up, wench, or I shall be forced to add further complaint to the long list I already have to pass on to your husband.”

Don’t have a husband, buddy, she wanted to say, but that would only cause more questions, and Fiona was too tired for much more of anything. “Your wish is my command, Mr. Claybourne,” she said mocking.

Oblivious, the man nodded. “Thank you, Mrs.…?”

“Baker.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Baker. My father will hear about your kindness.”

“Uh-huh,” Fiona grumbled, rolling her eyes. Just what I always wanted.

---------

Stay tuned for more. I myself am looking forward to Fiona teaching Mr. Duke some much-needed lessons--and, of course, Mr. Duke finally losing control to his sneezes, because, come on, it needs to happen.

[Butch]

WONDERFUL story, and yes...he needs to lose control, I totally agree! Sneeze away!

[Dye]

Oh. My. God.

This is just so unbelievably hot. Ennis is such a wonderful character <33

Yahoo, sneezes abound!

Can't wait for the next installment!

[obsessed]

Oh my, what a fun concept! I would love to see more.

[Scion]

Mims: So true! It doesn't quite happen in this part, but probably in the next one! I love to draw things out.

Daisoku: Thank youuuu! I'm glad you're enjoying it. I <3 Ennis, too, even though he's so full of himself.

Obsessed: Thanks! It means a lot! More is definitely to come! Like right now.

Part Three:

“E’s gone, M’Lord.”

Isaac Cross, Lord Marksville, glared at the scrawny crewman, trying to contain his fury. “What do you mean ‘he’s gone!?’” he roared, advancing on the smaller man.

The man cringed, but held his ground. “Nuffin’ we c-can do, M’Lord. E’s g-gone!” the man stammered, showing a set of yellowing teeth. “Drowned!” he clarified, as if Marksville hadn’t understood the prospect of ‘he’s gone.’

“I’m not a simpleton!” Marksville barked, clenching his fists. He would not simply sail away and leave good ole Claybourne to perish. “But I am telling you there is still a chance! We can not leave him!”

The man appeared unmoved; he stroked his gritty beard. “We can and we will, M’Lord.”

“You spineless, inhuman cad!” Marksville shouted, and sent his fist into the sniveling creature’s leathery face.

Before the other man could retaliate, Marksville closed his eyes, took in a deep breath, held it, and dove over the side of the ship and into the rough waters below.

---------

As Fiona unlocked the door to her dorm room, with Ennis breathing down her neck, she prayed her roommate was asleep. She didn’t think she could handle any other explanations tonight. It was almost four in the morning, and she had class at eight AM tomorrow. She slowly pushed open the door, hoping it wouldn’t creak.

“What is this building?” Ennis asked loudly, and Fiona flinched.

“Shhh!” she hissed over her shoulder. “It’s a college dorm. Now shut up. My roommate’s trying to sleep.”

“College!?” her befuddled guest exclaimed. “But you are a woman!”

Fiona gritted her teeth. “And this is the twenty-first century, remember? Woman have equal rights now.”

Ennis laughed haughtily. “You jest!” he said, patting the tears from his eyes with a cloth he pulled out of his waistcoat--or at least she thought that’s what it was called--pocket.

Ennis watched as the woman’s eyes narrowed angrily. Vexed by her odd nature, he tucked his handkerchief back into his frock coat.

“No, I do not jest,” she gritted out. “Look, let’s just get some sleep, all right? You can spout out all your misogynist comments in the morning--sound good?

Ennis puffed out his chest. What was it with this chit? Did she still not comprehend to whom it was she spoke? “I will speak what I wish whenever I wish. And you, madam, are incorrigible, ill-mannered, and--and…improper!” As soon as he finished speaking, he clamped his wrist under his nose, battling against his renegade nose as a horrendous tickle started, causing tears to hop to his eyes. Oh, damn and blast! Why must he have taken ill at such an inopportune time!? He needed to have his wits about him if he were to survive in this barbaric world in which uncouth females frolicked about in trousers according their whims.

Fiona watched Ennis struggle with his sneeze, his eyes closed to slivers of green, his jaw twitching as if wanting to open. “H’NXCTttu!” Annoyed, he shook his head, batting at his pink nose as his brows dipped and his lashes began to jitter again. “Ixxt!” The sound was so small, Fiona had to strain to hear it.

“Bless you,” she said sweetly, smiling impishly.

He scowled severely. “ I did not sneeze!” he announced defensively.

She chuckled. “Sure you didn’t. Now come on.” She turned back to the door, opening until she could slip through.

Ennis followed on her heels, wrist back over his nose, cheeks filling with a deep flush. “This…heh…is it?” he blurted, gaping around the small, cramped room in horror. “Are you a…” he shifted his eyes about nervously, and when he spoke again, it was in a barely-audible whisper. “…a lady of the evening?”

“Huh?” Fiona stared at him blankly. What in hell was he talking about?

He leaned in closer to her, hands making shushing motions. “You know…a fallen woman?” he said, even more softly this time.

What…? Fiona was so tired she could barely stand, and now she had to try to figure out what nonsense was coming out of Mr. Duke’s big mouth. And then it hit her like a falling house. Her mouth fell open. Her face heated with rage and embarrassment. “You think I’m a…a prostitute!?” she hissed.

“Are you not?” he asked innocently, before turning his face into his shoulder. “NXGT’uh! Heh…uh’NXT!”

“OF COURSE I’M NOT!” she fumed, shooting a glance over at Amanda’s bed.

Her roommate was curled on her side, facing the wall, her short red hair spread across her pillow; she did still appear to be asleep, thank God.

“I told you,” she went on with a tad more calm. “I’m a student.”

“I…huh…” Frustrated, Ennis punched himself in the nose, actually putting a good amount of force behind the blow. “Ow!” he bit out, massing the bridge of his nose and wincing. “Blast it!”

Fiona almost laughed. “Why don’t you just sneeze!?”

He stuck his nose up in the air. “I’ve no idea of what you speak.”

“Oh, for God’s sake,” she moaned, flopping down onto her bed. “Here, just…” She threw one of her pillows onto the floor. “Go to sleep or something, okay?”

Panicked disbelief entered his eyes. “Surely you do not truly expect me to sleep on the floor! I’m the son of the Duke of Ashburn, not some commoner! I refuse to be treated so by a mere female!”

By this point, Fiona was too exhausted to even feel insulted. “It’s either that or you sleep standing.” With that, Fiona stood, gathered up her pajamas (a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt) and went into her closet to change.

When she emerged again, it was to find Mr. Duke lying in her bed, blankets pulled up to his neck, soft, rasping snores escaping from him. As she watched, steaming, his nostrils flared, a fine line forming between his noble brows. “Huh-ISHOO! ISHOO! ISHOO! Huh-ESHOO! Huh…ehh…H’RRSSHOO! RRSSH’aah!” burst out of him, completely uncontrollably, but he didn’t stir.

“Royal prig,” she muttered without much heat. After retrieving her extra blanket from the dresser, she lay down on the floor and closed her eyes. “I’ll get you back for this.”

----------

Back at Turtle Beach, an unidentified body washed ashore. A few feet away, an authentic, year 1846, polished brass pocket watch sat trapped in a pocket of sand.

----------

Still liking this? It's a tad obvious where this is going, but, hey, it's fun! Anyway, this is waaaaay too fun to write. Seriously, I get way too much enjoyment out of torturing Ennis...and little does he know there's more to come!

Ennis: What right have you to use me so cruelly!? Did I not mention I'm the son of a duke!?

Scion: Sorry, my love. I know, I just don't care.

Back soon.

[count tiszula]

I love this type of story, and it seems very rare on the sneezefic front, for some reason. [Thinks; must write an f version]. You just can't beat a good dose of time travel.

I can never quite work out , though, why the modern girl always has to be so beastly [cf also "The Princess Diaries"]. Still, I know that Americans get upset when English schoolboys are depicted as being "so polite", so I spose it cuts both ways.

Keep up the good work; and , somewhat belatedly, welcome to the forum.

[Butch]

Scion - How do you keep updating so quickly? I love this story. I love that he won't admit to sneezing in front of her! Too funny. Can't wait to read more.

[Scion]

Count de Tisza: Umm, I'm really not sure what you mean!? I don't think Fiona is too bad. And I'm not sure what English schoolboys have to do with anything. Sorry, I think I missed something. But, um, thanks, I think.

Mims: I just love writing! I guess I'm used to it by now after getting though so many novels; this feels like a breeze! But thank you thank you thank you thank you!!!!!! And yes, Ennis is so funny. Love writing him. He just makes me smile.

Moving on...I'm not sure what the heck is up with Fiona in this entry. She's got a crazy mean side, apparently. Who knew. And...Ennis' loss of control is just over the horizon, and I can't waiiiiit. Anyway, hopefully this next part lives up to the others.

Part Four:

On Turtle Beach, the unconscious figure produced a hearty staccato of snores as the uncharacteristically hot rays of Florida sunlight warmed the sugary sand.

----------

“Heh’USHOO!”

Ennis hoisted open his stinging eyes, absently swiping his face over the warm, soft fabric of the pillow beneath his head. He felt wretched, blast it all. His throat ached and his nose was so clogged he could barely draw in a breath. He was also damp and freezing.

“Ugh, that’s disgusting!”

At the incensed feminine voice, Ennis bolted upright in the bed, his eyes going immediately to the woman who stood, arms crossed, at the end of the bed. He groaned as the previous night’s perils came rushing back to him. The sea sickness, the eccentric chit who claimed not to be fallen, and yet dressed in the most ridiculous of clothes, and traveled about on her own, and at night, too!

“Pardodn? I do dnot catch your bmeadning.” Ennis clapped a hand over his nose, dismayed by the sickly quality to his once strong voice. He cleared his throat, sniffed surreptitiously, and tried again. “Pardon? I--”

“I heard you the first time,” the angry woman droned, searing him with her piercing brown eyes. “Look, it’s ten AM. Do you plan on getting up anytime soon? My roommate’s going to be back within the hour, and this time she’s not going to be able to wait for an explanation.”

Ennis rubbed his throbbing head. What was she going on about? “I’m quite lost. Are you certain you’re making sense? Perhaps if you speak more rationally, I--”

“God help me!” The woman--Mrs. Baker, he recalled foggily--threw her hands up in the air, seemingly outraged at him for a reason he couldn’t determine. “You really are crazy, aren’t you? I brought a crazy person back to my room. How stupid can one person get?” She gave an unrefined snort and threw herself into her desk chair, glowering at him.

“May I inquire as to the whereabouts of Mr. Baker?” Ennis tried, not wanting to provoke her again. She appeared ready to challenge him to a dual! Which, of course, was absurd. A female handling a weapon!? Impossible.

For a second, Fiona thought he was asking where her father was…then she remembered. “I’m not married.”

Mr. Duke looked as if she’d just announced she were a vampire from outer-space. His mouth moved without sound, and he pinched the bridge of his nose. “I’m afraid I’m still confused. You are unmarried, and yet you live alone, and you are not a lady of the evening. You are too young to be a spinster, I daresay. Are you perhaps a nurse of some kind? You can not be a lady’s maid. A lady’s companion?”

“For the third time,” Fiona sighed, fighting the urge to roll her eyes. “I’m a student.”

Ennis looked skeptical, but let it go. Or maybe he was just pausing to sneeze. In the next heartbeat, his nostrils splayed and his brow puckered, but he kept his jaw tightly latched. Discretely, he lifted his wrist to his nose. “Gxt! Nxt! H’NXGTchoo!”

“You’re going to have to let those sneezes out eventually,” Fiona warned, “or they’ll just keep coming until your head explodes.”

She could tell she‘d ruffled his feathers by the way his left eye began to twitch. “What is it with all your talk of sneezes? I’ve done no such thing.”

“Oh no?” She smirked.

“Certainly not! Are you accusing be of being dishonest!?”

Fiona had a retort ready on her tongue--at least until the sound of Ennis’ stomach rumbling made her pause. Her face split in a grin. “What was that noise?”

Flustered, Ennis put a hand to his belly. “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean. I heard nothing.” Another growl, and a blush bloomed across his regal cheekbones.

“Hungry?” she taunted, and picked up the bagel and cream cheese she’d prepared for him moments before he woke.

“Food would be welcome,” he admitted sheepishly.

“So you’re hungry, then?” she probed, wanting to make him admit to being human.

Red as a rose, he nodded, not looking at her. “You mock me,” he said, so softly it almost went unheard.

Taken aback by the hurt in his tone, Fiona backpedaled. “No. No, I don’t. I just want you to realize that it’s okay to be human. Sneeze, burp, admit you’re cold, hungry, thirsty, sick--anything.”

He turned his green gaze on her, and the full force of his beauty took her breath away. “It is improper to mention such things…”

“Maybe in your world it is,” she allowed. “But not here. Here, you don’t have to worry about any of that. I won’t judge you.”

He barked out a bitter laugh. “Won’t you, Mrs. Baker? Is that not what you’ve been doing since you met me?”

He had a point, she realized, but…“You’ve judged me, too. You’ve insulted me endlessly, and that’s not to mention your enormous ego.”

A vacant expression took hold of his face before he once again stifled into his shoulder. “Ixt’ah! Nxxt! Ih’ICHTtuu! Heh…h’ggt!”

Fiona rolled her eyes. Apparently, everything she’d said had gone right over his curly head. Jeez. When a devilish idea crossed her mind a second later, she held back a grin. If he wouldn’t do it himself, she would make him--lose--all--control.

She opened her desk drawer, sifted through its contents, and came up with a small packet of pepper. She opened up the bagel, poured the pepper on, and put the two halves together again. Then she got out another packet to have ready for…well…

“Here. Eat up.” She offered him the bagel after she scooped it onto a paper plate. Before he could ask, she said, “It’s a bagel and cream cheese. It’s good, so eat it and like it.”

“I do not take orders from insolent chits!” But he took the thing. “I expect that in the future you will think before speaking so freely to your better.”

Fiona ground her teeth. That was a tough one to let go. But if she spoke up, he would take longer to take a bite from the damn bagel, and she couldn’t wait.

He stared at the bagel for a moment, as if he expected it to be poisoned, then took the teeniest, tiniest, mouse-bite she’d ever seen. God. Even so, she saw immediately as his nose twitched, and, triumphant, she ripped open the other little bag of pepper and tossed the black powder into the air in front of Mr. Duke’s pink face. “Ah’NXGT! EXK! MMK! He’Nnntt! Huh…huh…ahh…ehh…” His whole face contorted as he used all his power to contain the bursts. His nostrils were fluttering wildly, his lashes flapping up and down like the wings of a bird. He buried his face in his shoulder again. “Hyee’ISCHT!”

Fiona gawked. He’d managed to stifle every single sneeze. How was that possible? Annoyed, she pinned a glare on him. “What did I tell you about sneezing!?” she snapped.

“For a young lady, you…hehh...seem to have a rather curious obsession with bodily functions,” Ennis said on a hitching breath.

“I do not!” she protested, mortified. This man was going to put her in an early grave, no doubt.

“If you say so,” Ennis replied, trying to suppress a yawn behind his fist. A shiver flared through him, causing his teeth to clack together. As another shudder claimed him, a sneeze slipped past his defenses. “RRSSHAaahh!” Quickly, he cleared his throat--as if she’d someone mistake a sneeze for throat-clearing; not likely.

“Bless you,” she said churlishly, not expecting a reply.

Suddenly, Ennis clutched at his head, letting out a loan moan.

Concerned, Fiona flew to him, touched his shoulder. “What is it? Are you okay?”

“It’s…” Big, shuddering breath. “…the beach…he’s…” Another groan, and he dug his hands through his hair, grimacing.

“What?” Fiona put an arm around his back and felt his fiery heat burn her skin.

Ennis lifted his head and stared at her with huge, terrified eyes. “We must return to the ocean.”

“Why?” she rubbed the small of his back, still worried over his condition.

He regarded her solemnly. “It is my friend, the Marquess of Marksville. He has followed me here.”

-----------

Much more Ennis, Fiona, Marksville, and Amanda to come...oh, and sneezes, of course. Hmm...

[walrus]

I meant what a said and i said what i meant. This is amazing!

I only usually enjoy male, celebrity fics (yeah i am very picky) But i am inlove with this!

please keep going.

When you said in your last post, that it's a tad obvious where it is going, i don't think it's obvious. I like the element of surprise!

Please keep writing stories. I wish i could write like you.

Ennis sounds yummy

[LetMeBe]

I'm REALLY REALLY LIKING THIS!

[Butch]

Scion - I can't tell where the story is headed.. I'm just enjoying reading every update! Can't wait to see what happens next.

[Scion]

Immie Pattie: Aww, you just make me so happy! Thank youu! I'm glad it's not as obvious as I thought.

LetMeBe: And I'm REALLY REALLY enjoying your kind comments! You're awesome!

Mims: Okay, maybe it only seems obvious to me. But I'm glad you're still enjoying--I can't tell you how much that means to me!

So, this'll be a little shorter than the others, but...there is something in it I've been waiting anxiously for, soo:

Part Five:

“We’re almost there,” Fiona said for the third time, nervously eyeing Ennis, who had his head out the window, looking about as green as the peppers she’d had on her pizza last night. “Just hold on.”

“Unnh,” he groaned, blond hair swaying with the force of the wind. “Hurry, please.”

Fiona smiled. He’d actually said “please.” Maybe they were making progress after all. She pressed a little harder on the gas, zipping into the empty lot and pounding the car into park. “Okay, we’re here. Let’s go.”

Ennis struggled with the door handle. “How does one…open this…this thing?” he asked, panicky. “This design is not to my liking! I’m telling you, this machine is a death trap!”

Shaking her head, Fiona got out of the car and went around to open his door for him. He shot out of the vehicle at lightning speed, his face a mask of sweet relief. “Solid ground!” he exclaimed lovingly, throwing his arms out to his sides and exhaling in great, liberated gusts. Then he arrowed a glare at Fiona. “I refuse to be subjected to such torture ever again! As a member of the aristocracy, I demand that you--”

But she was already walking away toward the beach. “You wanna find your friend or not?” she called over her shoulder.

“Of course I do!” he blustered. “How could you possibly think otherwise?” He caught up with her, long legs eating up the pavement.

“It was a rhetorical question.” Fiona bit her lip as not to laugh at his earnest outrage.

“You mock me still,” he grumbled, angrily increasing his stride to pass her. “I oughtn’t put up with your unladylike boorishness. It turns my stomach.”

“Oh yeah?” she rolled her eyes.

He paused mid-step, his back and shoulders tensing. His arm went up as his breathing snagged. “Heh…Heee’INGT! NGGTtuu! Huh…ESH’nxt!”

“God bless you,” she sang cheerily, elbowing him in the ribs.

His scowl quivered with his nostrils as he started in again. Disappearing his nose behind his forearm, he began walking, Fiona right beside him. When they reached the beach, her eyes immediately started scanning for washed up bodies. At least it had warmed up since last night, she mused, or else Mr. Duke’s friend would likely be sick as a dog by now. Though, really, why she even believed Mr. Duke in the first place, she had no idea. The guy was obviously a nut job--but the way he’d looked when he’d announced that they needed to return to the beach…so serious, so sad…she hadn’t been able to resist those sorrowful eyes of his.

Mr. Duke’s sharp voice brought her back to reality. “Look! There he--ISHOO!--there he is!”

Fiona followed his gaze and nodded. Sure enough, the prone form of a man, who appeared to be dressed just as strangely as Ennis, lay crookedly across the sand, one arm thrown out in front of him, the other crushed beneath his torso.

Ennis took off for his friend, all lordliness forgotten, apparently, as he shot down the landscape like he’d been shot from a cannon. “Marksville!” he shouted.

Fiona sprinted after him, cursing herself for getting stuck in such an absolutely ludicrous situation.

Ennis grabbed his friend’s face in his hands and shook it a little, trying to force him awake. “Marksville!” How had the man gotten here? Why? “Marksville! Wake up, old son. Come on, open your eyes.”

Marksville groaned softly. “That you, Claybourne?” he slurred dreamily, and Ennis saw with relief that, not only was the man coming round, but some of the color was reentering his bleached face.

With the rush of gratitude came that blasted tickle again, irritating his sinuses. And, damn it all, he was tired of stifling, but the thought of sneezing freely in front of Mrs. Baker made him want to crawl under a rock. Unfortunately for him, the tickle persisted, growing so intense he wasn’t sure he could effectively stifle, let alone hold the wretched things in. Furthermore, his head had become so light he felt as if he were floating in the clouds, and he couldn’t seem to hold a thought for more than an instant.

Fiona witnessed the moment when Mr. Duke finally lost his reins of command. The desperate, terrified look on his face, combined with the widening nostrils, the parted lips, the scrunched brow, and the dancing lashes, told her he was done for.

Turning away from her, he brought both arms up to his face to shield it as he let loose with an irrepressible fit. “Hee’YESHOO! Hu’AAIESHOO! ESHOO! Huh’ISH-OO! ISHahh! Haa…heh…HRRESHOO!”

Marksville, who'd fought his way up to his elbows, was smiling fondly at his friend, as if this were an everyday occurence. Fiona caught the man’s eyes, and he rolled his eyes--then narrowed them as he took in her appearance. He opened his mouth, but was cut off by--

“AAESSHOO! Hii’EXXCH’ahh! ISH’ahh! Uhnn.” Ennis sagged, clearly depleted. When he swiveled back to them, he refused to meet Fiona’s gaze, and his face and neck were so red it was a wonder his head didn’t explode.

“Don’t even try to pretend you didn’t just sneeze.” Fiona crossed her arms over her chest.

Ennis winced. “My apologies. I’m afraid I’m feeling a mite under the weather.” He sniffed covertly.

“Hey, what’s a few sneezes between friends, uh?” Marksville put in, then grew sober. “Hey, Claybourne…”

“Hmm? Yes, what is it?” Ennis replied, still pink in the cheeks.

“Where in God’s name are we?”

--------

Yes? Well, I think so anyway. Oh, Ennis. I'm going to miss you when this story is over! Anyway, more will be forthcoming.

Ennis: No, it most certainly will not! I forbid it!

Scion: Sorry, Ennis, but I control you.

Ennis: ( ) You do not! You are nothing more than a lowly commoner! I am--

Scion: Yes, I know. You're the son of a duke.

Ennis: Indeed I am, and I demand respect! There will be no more sneezes in my future!

Scion: ( ) That's what you think.

Ennis:

[Butch]

Scion - It just gets better! I love it! Looking forward to the next update.

[blackrose]

this is great! i can't wait for the rest!

[Dye]

Oh mai, Ennis, you legend. <33333

*melt*

[obsessed]

Wow, this is such a cool story! Ennis sounds like a cutieee.

[Scion]

Mims: As usual, you rock. Thank you times infinity.

Blackrose: Thank you! I so appreciate your kindness!

Daisoku: Your comment made my whole day so much brighter. Seriously. And Ennis' too, of course. You're doing a number on his ego.

Obsessed: Thanks a bunch! I know, right? I just want to hug him!

Okay, so I was writing this and it just started to feel like the story was over, so this is gonna be the last part. It gets pretty corny toward the end, so brace yourself for some sugary sweetness. I hope I didn't ruin the story.

Part Six:

Marksville, or whatever the hell his name was, started laughing again as Fiona pulled into her usual parking spot behind her dorm, and she was tempted to duct-tape his mouth shut. Between Mr. Duke’s moaning and groaning about how her car would “be the death” of him, and Marksville’s endless chortling, she was ready to combust.

“Shut up, the both of you!” she roared, slamming herself out of the car.

This time, Ennis managed to get his door open on his own. As he alighted, his knees buckled; Fiona lunged for him, catching him up against the side of the car.

“Jesus!” she gasped, clutching onto his arms to support him. “What--?”

“The apocalypse has arrived!” he moaned melodramatically, his face chalky. “The world is spinning and spinning and spinning! We shall soon perish forever!”

“I think it’s your head that’s doing the spinning,” Fiona said dryly, watching as Marksville swaggered up to them, his dark, wavy hair, matching stubble, and long, angular face giving him the look of a pirate.

“Don’t mind him,” Marksville said to her, smiling roguishly. “He tends to be a bit…intense.”

“Keep away from her, you scoundrel! She is untouched! She is…she is…” Ennis drooped, and if not for Marksville's help, Fiona wouldn’t have been able to hold him up. “She is a lady! Pure as the finest silk! Do not even think of putting your grubby hands on her, or I’ll call you out!”

“Call you out?” Fiona mouthed to Marksville, who rolled his eyes and chuckled.

“He’s threatening to dual with me, the silly fool. Can’t even stand on his own two feet and he thinks he can outmatch me.”

For some unknown reason, Fiona did not like hearing someone other than herself insult her duke. “He’s not a fool,” she snapped as Ennis slumped against her, moving away from his friend. “He’s very intelligent, and I don’t wanna hear you say otherwise ever again. Got it?”

Marksville’s harsh features softened, and he regarded her with something akin to respect. “Of course he isn’t. It was all in good fun, Mrs. Baker. Claybourne and I have been friends since we were practically squalling infants.” His gaze grew curious. “You have feelings for him, don’t you?”

Shocked, Fiona shook her head. Of course she didn’t! Mr. Duke was a horrible, pompous jerk. “No,” she choked out.

“Hhh’EIISSHOO!”

Fiona jerked guiltily as Ennis sneezed onto her neck. His head was lying on her shoulder, his golden curls tickling her neck and his eyes were closed, but his nostrils were getting a pretty good workout. “AEESHH’eeeww!” A slight spray hit her throat as he began hitching yet again. “Hehh…uhhh…Nn’ISHOO! RRESSHOO! RRSSHH! Don’t touch her…” He sniffled. “I saw her first, Marquess…I’m…duke…”

What on…? Could he be talking about her? She met Marksville’s eyes, and blushed as he waggled his brows suggestively. “Come on,” she said sharply, embarrassed. “Let’s get him inside.”

When Fiona found the door to her room unlocked, she cursed under her breath. Amanda was back--and now, not only did she have to explain one freakish duke-wanna-be, but yet another wacko, this one claiming to be a marquess. Yeah, this was going to be a boat-load of fun.

“Hey,” Amanda said from her seat at her desk, back to Fiona as she entered the room, two loons on her heels. “I was wondering when you’d be…” Her voice trailed off as she turned and caught sight of Marksville. Her brown eyes enlarged, her jaw dropping almost to the floor.

Marksville had a similar awestruck expression on his face. After a beat, his blank look of shock morphed into one of coy calculation. Fiona looked up at the ceiling, praying for God to smite her where she stood.

The electrified silence was cut by Ennis’ sudden pronouncement. “I refuse to consume anything that has yet to be born! Get those detestable things away from me or I shall scream!” With that, he wavered to one side and almost went down before Fiona gave him a great shove toward her bed. The man went sprawling headfirst across the mattress, slamming his head into the wall with a thunk.

“Shit!” Fiona screeched as Marksville guffawed. “I didn’t mean to--” She rushed to him, stroked his head. “I’m so sorry!” She scooted onto the bed, pulling his head into her lap so she could massage his temples.

“Umm, Fi? Mind telling me what--”

“I’m Lord Marksville,” the man himself said, cutting Amanda right off. “It is such a pleasure to make your acquaintance, my lady. May I ask your name?”

Smooth, Fiona thought acidly. The man was a real charmer, unlike his unconscious buddy over here. Still, she wasn’t the least bit bothered that his attentions had shifted from her to her roommate. Fiona only had eyes for Mr. Duke. Now wait a minute! Where had that come from!?!

As the two talked, Fiona concentrated on Ennis, smoothing her fingers through his thick curls, tracing his beautiful brows with her thumb, gliding her pinky over his wide lips. It was as she brushed a touch over the bridge of his fine nose that he finally reacted; his closed lids pulsed, and his full lips parted as light, panting breaths escaped. “Hehshoo!” It was a small sound, worn out, and his body barely jerked with the release. Anxious, Fiona felt his forehead and found it too hot for her liking. Sweat had started to bead across his brow, slicking across his hairline.

“You’re really not feeling well, are you?” she whispered tenderly, wiping the perspiration from his face with the corner of her sleeve. “Ennis? Can you hear me?”

No response.

Marksville, hearing the urgency in her tone, put in, “Hey, Claybourne. I’ve got some nice, runny eggs for you! Bon appetite!”

The reaction was violent. Ennis rocketed up in bed, choking and gagging, his face a sort of mottled gray-green with peaks of red at his cheekbones. His shoulders jerked with every hacking explosion. “No eggs! Please! I…unnh,” he moaned, clutching his stomach. “I’m dying!” he wailed, starting to shake. “I must be dying! It feels as if I’m dying!”

“You’re not dying,” Fiona said calmly, grabbing him by the shirt collar and yanking him to her. His head smacked into her own, and they each let out a hiss.

“Now you’ve killed me!” Ennis rambled on as spasm after spasm wracked him. “My head shall surely shatter!”

“No, it won’t. Shh.” She guided his head to her breasts, which seemed to calm him right down. His antics ceased as he released a raspy breath. “That’s it. Just relax.”

“Ahhh…huhh…” His face crumpled and he turned his red nose into her shirt. “H’ESHOO! Uhh’YSSHHOO! Haa…uh…Un’USHahh! Heehh’EISSHAA!”

She felt the fabric of her shirt grow damp, but didn’t mind. She rubbed his shoulders, his back, soothing him.

When she noticed Marksville and Amanda staring at her, she said defensively, “What!?”

“Nothing!” they said in unison.

“Nothing at all,” Marksville added, whistling a little and looking deliberately in the other direction as Fiona fumed with mortification.

That’s when Ennis’ eyes flapped open and a gravelly yelp of surprise ripped from his throat, breaking the awkward silence. When he saw where his head was resting, his entire face turned the color of tomato paste; he pivoted away from her. “Good lord! What was I--what were you--I mean I didn’t…I don’t know how that happened! On my honor, it was a complete lapse in judgment due to the state of my muddled wits! I would never presume--”

Fiona held up a hand to stop his tirade. “It’s okay. You don’t have to apologize. Really.”

He looked relieved, but also stunned. “You are not angry with me?” he asked hopefully.

She smiled. “No, Ennis. I’m not angry with you.”

His eyes grew to the size of saucers. “You just…you…used my Christian name.”

“I suppose I did, didn’t I? Do you mind?”

“I most certainly do! We’ve only just met--and, may I remind you that I’m--”

“The son of a duke,” Fiona finished for him, rolling her eyes. “Like I haven’t figured that out by now.”

Ennis sighed, shook his head. “May I…I never asked your Christian name?”

Fiona blinked. Had she heard him right? “You want to know my name?”

He shifted a little on the bed, clearly agitated. He was tense, as if preparing himself for rejection. “Please,” he murmured, and flicked a quick glance at her before turning away.

“It’s--”

“Huh-ISHOO!” Ennis’ face landed in the crook of his elbow, but she could see the skin around his cheeks turn pink, and she felt herself melting.

“My name’s Fiona,” she told him, unable to hide her beaming smile. She finally felt like she’d won something, like she’d made some kind of difference.

Ennis returned the smile tentatively. “Fiona.” The sound of her name on his tongue nearly sent her over the edge of sanity and into madness. “It suits you.”

Fiona cleared her throat and leaned in toward him, prepared to get her way if it were the last thing she did. She wanted a kiss from those luscious lips, and Goddammit, she would get one! She wouldn’t shy away from life anymore. She wouldn’t be afraid.

She’d take care of her duke, and she’d make him see that he didn’t have to hide, either. Never again would this gorgeous, warm-hearted man stifle a sneeze, nor be embarrassed by one. Not with her around. Not ever.

Whether he was crazy or sane, a duke or a librarian, from the past or from the future, she was determined to keep him.

She’d asked herself what Ennis Claybourne would steal from her.

And now she knew.

Her heart.

^*^*^*^

The End.

-----------

I hope that was an okay place to end this. I'll be writing another story soon, but there may be a slight delay due to the truck-load of homework I have to get done. But I'll be back with more soon.

*hugs*

[Butch]

Aww! I love the ending. The whole story is great!

[obsessed]

How cute!!