Marie Hellene de Saint Clair, youngest daughter of the Count and Countess of Saint Claire, was always a fragile girl, yet her heart was bigger than all of France and its provinces combined.
Spending most of her years in a nunnery, as was normal for the daughters of the nobles in 17th century France, she grew up from a shy little girl to a beautiful 15 year old, the age she left the sisters to return home. Her parents had arranged a marriage for her eldest sister Valentine with a Scottish duke, and now wished to find her a proper suitor. At her age she was already more than old enough to marry, but her oldest sister took precedence and due to their wealth, influence and power being rivaled only by that of King Louis XIV, it had been hard to find someone that was not beneath her in any way possible.
She had never seen the man, but her sister had written to her praising his beauty, fine manners and gentle touch. And yet she also spoke of strength of his arms, and the way she sometimes appeared more like a knight of the tales their nurses spoke of when they were but little children, strong and misterious and hardened by battle. She told Marie that he was an old friend of her mother's family and that his was rather wealthy and not at all like a savage like they often imagined Scots to be.
Her return to Saint Genevieve, the family home, had been bittersweet has she had hoped her parents would allow her to take the vows. She had never been as happy as when she lived with the Sisters of the Sacred Heart.
A devout catholic girl, she strived to be humble and good. She hoped nothing more than to spend the rest of her days praying and performing her duties and strict routine, but since that was not to be, she took solace in the knowledge that she would be reunited with her family, most of all with her beloved sister Valentine.
Fate had other plans though. Her sister was away upon the time of her arrival and her frail health began to take a toll a few days after her arrival. It was the small signs at first... feeling so tired... the paleness of her skin... the fever... the coughing... the difficulty breathing... When she began coughing blood her family realized that consumption had taken hold of poor Marie and steps were taken to make sure she would survive.
It was around that time that she began to have strange dreams... In her dreams her mother would come to her at night and sing a sweet lullaby to her in a foreign language that she did not know, her voice so hypnotic that she felt she almost levitated and the pain in her body left her.
Then her mother would place her wrist over Marie's lips and she would feel something warm and metallic go down her throat. But every time she woke up from such strange dreams there was no one in her room. Still... the taste somehow lingered upon her soft lips as did her mother's scent upon her chambers.
And in her sickness she became even more beautiful somehow. Her long auburn hair seemed brighter and softer, her skin, though still so pale, seemed to have a strange radiance, as if she were an angel come to earth. Her green eyes, legacy of her mother, Countess Rebecca de Saint Clair, seem lit up from within and her lips, her soft, sweet lips, those had a tinge of red to them that made them so desirable that they could bring even Christ himself to his knees.
The servants whispered in secret that the girl had been kissed by death and death itself had lent her such grace just to make her its beautiful bride.
Someone else shared that same opinion as he gazed her sitting there in her pale blue silk dress that was embroided with flowers in silver, reading, blissfully unaware of his presence, her slender neck adorned with pearls and diamonds, her hair caught up yet with little adornment, unlike the women at court. When she became aware of his presence she was startled.
In front of her was this red haired male, tall, statuesque, dressed almost like a king and yet with an aura more dominant than one, his eyes two emeralds, though she felt somehow that they were endless pools in which she would happily drown forever. For more than a few moments she was unable to speak, to breath, she just sat there, gazing at what had to be, in her mind, a creature of the divine.
It was he that broke that awkward silence and quasi spell that had set in between them, one of utter adoration. He had never been one to believe in love, much less one at first sight but there he was, completely spellbound by the mortal before him, one so close to death that he could almost taste it, smell it surrounding her. Kissed by death indeed, closer to the fall and yet with immortal blood keeping her there, alive, suspended in time somehow.
-I am sorry to disturb you, I am Lord Gabriel, your humble servant. You must be Mademoiselle Marie Hellene de Saint Clair, no?
She blinked a couple of times, trying to find the words. His French was perfect, as if he were not a foreign. He kept on introducing himself, a friend of the family spending a few days at their home. His voice... His voice made her heart race within her chest, made her feel her blood boil within her. Her lips parted as if she were to speak at long last, but all she could do was dig her nails into her bible and struggle to control her breath. In front of her, the most beautiful man in all of creation, looking at her as if he could see into her very soul, stirring desires she knew not she had.
-I-I... I... Yes... - she rose to her feet and then made a graceful courtesy, though she shook almost uncontrollably - I am sorry... I was unaware we had any visitors; I thought I was by myself in the garden.
-By all means, I was the one that interrupted your reading. - he looked at the book and found it amusing and yet so appropriate that she chose such... light reading. And the original sin no less, was what she read about. In his mind he could see all sorts of sins they could commit and it took great will not to let his body show them. He could read her mind easily and confirmed what her body language already told him. Though that she would consider him an angel was quite amusing. And yet... such innocence as she gazed at him, her mind at conflict with her body, such purity the likes he had rarely seen. He gazed at her luscious lips and suddenly felt the urge to kiss them, a desire only fueled by knowledge of how much she wished to be kissed by him.
A couple of steps took him closer to her, until they could feel each other's warmth coming from their bodies, the scent of her perfume capturing him. As their lips met he felt her shake and gently held her.
