James grinned all the wider as the woman deigned to play along with his impromptu fantasy, taking Brenna's hand in his own as she stepped up to him. She was light and warm in his arms. Taking great pains to account for her injured leg, he began to lead her into an improvised waltz with a faltering step so that she might not aggravate her wounds all the more. James hummed under his breath, a made up tune that was (even he had to admit) rhythmic but certainly lacking in anything that might make it actually music. All the same, he giggled a bit at himself whenever he faltered a note. "Oh, my," he jested ruefully, "The orchestra leaves something to be desired, I'm afraid."

Even as he mocked himself, the smile on his lips and in his eyes never left as he looked into her face. As they glided about the cottage's floor, the gentleman was overcome with the strangest sensation of deja vu. Multiple sensations at once, actually. Hadn't they done this before?? He was almost positive this wasn't the first time he had danced with Brenna like this, yet this was the first time he recalled ever being here or seeing her. It was as though a multitude of memories was flashing through his head where this entire scene had been enacted out time and time again, albeit just the tiniest bit different each time. Where did these visions come from, he wondered. Why does it seem that this... this had all happened before, or is yet to happen again, or both? Is this some spell or witchcraft that is flooding my mind?

James' body continued on its own as his mind was lost in a delightful puzzlement, a riddle whose answer was somehow to be found in that lovely face that made his lips smile and his heart pound. He gave her a last slow twirl half around until she rested with her back to his chest, nestled in his one arm with her head looking back up at him. One hand still held hers while the other rested upon her hip. It was a breathless moment in which they hung, faces mere inches apart while their bodies were pressed close to one another. It would have been such a simple thing for him to lean his head forward and down those few scant inches towards her and-

His throat was suddenly dry, and he had to swallow to speak. James heard his own voice come out, hoarse and... sad? "I'm... sorry, I should not have... You've been very kind, and I shouldn't..."

In the back of his head, a voice was shouting back: Yes, you should, you dolt! Kiss her!

Oh, to heed that voice! Only his station and rank in society hung heavily on his shoulders, weighing him down again with a resignation. What would this woman, whom he had only just met, do if she should feel he was leading her on? Was it far to her to stir interest in her... and in himself... if there was little that could come of it? Surely this seemingly carefree woman with her teasing glances and bold looks had no interest in a spoiled brat of London society. If only those repeating scenes of them dancing together did not linger so in his mind.

The simple dance that he led her in seemed all the more beautiful because of its simplicity and Branna quickly found herself forgetting all about her aching leg and losing herself among the fantasy of her tiny cabin transforming into an elegant ballroom and could almost feel the brush of silk against her skin and the gentle weight of gems adorning her throat. She found she rather enjoyed the touch of James's hand against her hip, the pressure sending a zing of electricity through her veins, provoking a smile into life that crinkled the corners of her chocolate colored eyes. Looking up into the handsome face above her, she began to hum along with the notes without a tune, managing to weave a halfway coherent melody with the same rhythm, surprising herself when it managed to harmonize enough to turn out to an almost recognizable song. After a moment, she found herself giggling as well. "at least they manage when they work together." She lilted playfully, giving the warm soft fingers beneath her hand a gentle squeeze.

Too soon for her liking however, their melody began to wind down, the steps of their dance to slow, and Branna found herself being guided around into a half circle, her back pressing against James's strong frame. Her head instinctively fell back against his shoulder, turning just far enough to maintain eye contact. As they held this position, she suddenly felt an overwhelming sense that this very thing had happened before... Or rather, that she had been living in preparation for this moment. Slightly confused, she almost moved away, wanting to put some distance and clarity back into focus, but found that she didn't have the strength to move even a single inch. James was so close she could feel the heat he generated radiating off of the skin of his cheek and for some strange reason she could not grasp the meaning of, she took comfort in it.

"I'm... sorry, I should not have... You've been very kind, and I shouldn't..."

His words sounded remorseful as they whispered into her ear and tickled the skin of her neck with their breath. She stiffened slightly, realization of what nearly had happened flooding her thoughts and creating a warmth that blossomed within her stomach. Her mouth momentarily fell open with surprise before she found her lips curling into a soft smile.

"James... Dear James." The words slipped out in a whisper, unhindered by the note of warning at the back of her mind. "I don't accept your apology.... For there is nothing to be apologetic about.." Putting most of her weight onto her Good leg, she lifted her face to his, and gently pressed her full lips against his cheek in a tender kiss. Slowly lowering back onto her feet, she quietly consider the situation they were in and then added after a pause. "...Thank you for the dance. I shall cherish the memory always."

James reluctantly let go of her and took a step back as he blushed. It wasn’t a sensation he was used to, this sudden heat and flush rushing to his cheeks. He’d often played the rake and the entertainer at social gatherings, the wit and the rapscallion! If pressed, James would not have been able to admit when he might last have blushed so in the presence of a woman. “The… memory. Yes…”

Something in his heart wailed in anguish against his own stupidity and stubbornness. Why did it have to be only a memory? The lord of the manor felt he had more in common with the is lively woman than with any of the daughters of the highborn or nouveau riche. James did not believe in love at first sight, thought it was nothing more than a foolish romantic notion created by writers to advance their plots. Yet there was a connection! So not love, certainly, but the recognition of a kindred spirit no matter how separated by class and circumstances.

There came a rumble of thunder, far off from the little crofter cottage but loud enough to startle him out of his emotional paralyzation. The sound of the wind picking up and winding its way through the forest’s trees could also be hard now, a soft rushing noise that carried the scent of cool rain. Looking up at the rough hewed ceiling beams, he gave a slight chuckle. “Should have known a storm was coming on.” James looked back at Brenna and spread his arms wide. “All the more reason to be thankful for you generosity, I should think.”

Gesturing to the table, he stammered only slightly as he sought for something more to say. The more he spoke, the more he found his tongue once more and fell into his more charming manner. “The food… smells wondrous. Shall we eat then? No, you sit and rest that leg, miss, and I’ll do the serving.” James gave her a rueful grin. “I think I can work a ladle and spoon without spilling too much over myself. Just give me your commands, and I shall see to it straightaway! Let the server be served! Or something like that at any rate.” A sudden thought came to him. “I do have a flask of brandy in my waistcoat pocket that should have survived my fall. Perhaps we might have that as our desert!”

Oh, How she enjoyed the color that rushed into James's face, Even causing her own cheeks to turn pink. Why was it that after only a handful of hours knowing this man her heart ached when he let her go? She felt as if she had known him for years with the ease of how they spoke with one another, the comfortable feeling that she had within her soul. She saw her own pain reflected in his eyes as they looked at each other for an immeasurable amount of time. Then a distant roll of thunder brought her out of her misery, Causing her to blink and glance towards the ceiling instinctively. It was a welcome distraction.

A soft smile touched her lips. "You were tempting the elements by being outside of course, It is no wonder that they tried to make you all The more soaked. But see, you have the better of them, for you were swifter then the winds." Branna lilted playfully, making as if to step towards the pot of soup simmering over the open flames.

James's offer caught her off guard however before she could take more than a step and her smile brought in dazzlingly, Instead directing her feet to the small table. Sweeping out her skirts, she sat herself into the nearest chair, folding her hands into her lap and looking rather pleased. "I am no fool and as such will gladly accept your offer!" Her ankle and calf twinged with the absence of her weight, Diminishing her smile somewhat, but the woman took the opportunity before her falter was noticed to incline her head towards one of the cupboards. "You will find bowls and a soft loaf of bread in that cupboard. A knife, spoons, and ladle are in the only drawer."

Leaning back into her chair comfortably, her warm Brown eyes followed his progress as he collected The various items. Her thoughts momentarily drifted towards the time after they have finished the meal, brandy warm in their stomachs... She quickly had to pull her thoughts away from that thread, Lifting her voice to ask, "So tell me, What was it that you were doing before you decided to outpace the sun and a storm?"

He deftly followed her instructions, albeit with a few errors as to which cupboard or drawer she meant at any given time, and soon the table was set before them with a feast that was simple but mouth watering. James, once the drinks were poured, sat down as well across from Brenna with a sheepish grin. “Not used to doing the serving,” he admitted sheepishly, “Rather enjoyed it actually.”

Her question caught him by surprise, and James had to chuckle at himself again. “Oh, yes. The state of me when I appeared upon your doorstep. Chasing a legend, I’m told. I was hosting a hunt, you see, to be followed by a grand dinner afterwards. No doubt all and sundry are wondering where I am now, though I must say I prefer the current company. Ah, but one of my guests put a word on my ear as to a local myth, a fabulous hare that can outrun any hunter or hound, a cunny so black as to be night with fur so silken as have come from the Orient: The Bonny Black Hare. Some sort of local superstition, I gather. Perhaps you’ve heard of it?”

Giving a shrug that indicated his own foolishness, James sighed as he admitted to folly. “No sooner had my guest told me this when out of the scrub comes just such a beast! Determined to prove that this was no ghost or witch to sour milk and scare babes, I was away and after it before I could think twice on the matter.” There came a genuine laugh. “I won’t say this hare was the fabled creature of local color, but God’s Breath! It could run!”

James paused for a moment, lost in the recent recollection of watching the hare seemingly fly across the forest’s ground and the memory of his admiration. His voice was full of awe. Staring into the flames of fireplace, he could almost imagine seeing it all over again in the dancing light. “I don’t know if you’ve ever seen such a thing, but this hare was… amazing. It ran as though not just for its life, but for the love of the run! It was as though this hare loved the hunt just as much as I did, that it was all a grand game for its own amusement! It… No, she, I’m positive now it was a she thought I couldn’t tell you why. She was… beautiful…”

He fell to silence, a faint smile of regret upon his lips that the chase was over and that he might never have such a hunt again in his life, successful or not. Then James glanced towards Brenna and chuckled. “No doubt you think me a foolish man. So did this hare! She led my poor Ninny right up to the ruins of an old well house, where my horse decided that I required bathing posthaste and then threw me into the pond there where I learned quite what it must be to live like a frog. Not finding it to my liking, and not knowing exactly where I was, I set out to find this place. My uncle’s solicitor had mentioned it to me, but assured me it was nothing more than a four walls with neither roof nor chimney.”

Raising his wooden mug in Brenna’s honor, he smirked. “As always, I was happy to find a man of the law to be completely and utterly wrong!”

Steam curling up in A mouthwatering cloud from her bowl of simple vegetable stew, Branna enjoyed the tantalizing sent as she sliced the loaf of dark bread, revealing the nut studded innards and adding an additional sweet smell to the air. She enjoyed listening to James's awe and the adventure that he spun, Bringing smiles and a bit of laughter accompanied by frequent glances towards his face. Her wounded pride at her earlier near capture even smoothed over somewhat, a excited thrill of the chase that day once again filling her with warmth. When he reach the part about his horse throwing him over the broken wall into the abandoned pond, She couldn't help but throw her head back and release a peal of delighted laughter.

"you did make quite a fetching frog, I must say. The comparison is quite accurate." Her dark eyes dancing with amusement, she scooped up a bite of potatoes and carrots, Blowing on them to cool them off before taking them into her mouth. Chewing quietly for a moment and enjoying the savory flavors, She managed to gather her thoughts on his earlier questions.

Tearing off a piece of the crust of one of her slices of bread,, she considered the dark bread between her thumb and forefinger for a moment, shaping it into a ball as she rolled it between her fingertips. "admittedly, I have heard several stories about the fey Bonnie Black Hare, her fur so dark, with eyes that shine like stars with her sheer joy and and immense love of life... But I myself have never before looked upon such a creature with these eyes. Maybe one day I will see her, but then again May haps not."

Sighing wistfully and even beginning to try and imagine what it would be like to see herself from another's perspective, scooping another bite of soup into her mouth. "you are not a fool." She finally said, growing somewhat serious as she looked up into James's eyes. "The stories and sightings of the black hare are meant to inspire hope, laughter, and friendship. She may sometimes end up making you look a fool, but never intends to make you a fool... Or at least, that is my opinion on the matter."

James gave Branna a bright smile, part shy and part rueful as he offered, “I’ve never minded looking like a fool. If I am one, I would dearly like to think I’m an honest one.” Another taste of the delightful stew, and the gentleman sighed wistfully. “It is a bit sad though, for in all honesty I doubt I’ll ever see the beast again. How often can something like that happen in a lifetime, I ask you. And if it does appear, I fear I’ll have no recourse but to chase it because I shall not be able to help myself. The sight of that cuny, darting here and there beneath the brush, leading the trail back on itself, jumping right over… Seeing it, I wouldn’t d be able to do ought but try my best to catch it.”

He looked up at his hostess with a queer look in his eye. “And yet, what if I did catch it? What then? The hounds will have killed one of the most… beautiful creatures I have ever laid eyes on, at my command no less… and that thrill would be gone. The game would be over for good. Where is the fun in that, I wonder. I doubt I should ever hunt again, after that.”

“Still,” he offered with smirk, his gloom dispelled, “Be it a faerie, a witch, or a dream, I should thank her! You speak of hope, laughter, and friendship? And sure enough, what is it she had led me to but you?” James laughed loudly then as he thought more about it. “How does one thank a hare, though? It’s an exasperating notion! Somehow a bouquet of flowers would seem more a meal for her than an expression of gratitude, and I doubt any trinket of silver or gold would easily adore her paw! Feh. I tell you, it’s worse than trying to shop for my sainted mother!”

The meal finished, James pushed the bowl a tad away from himself as he waited patiently for Branna to finish. He would gladly clear the table as he had helped set it. Whatever the extend of her injury, James found he would not have her exasperate on it on his accounting. Yet as she ate, James regarded her by the hearth light. How daring was this woman? Not only was he loathe to think of leaving her company, this person with whom he had felt the closet connection in ages, but she might appreciate helping him with a bit of a joke. There was a nagging sensation that it really wasn’t a joke as per se, but James could not quite nail down the source of that feeling. He decided to table it for now.

As the storm continued to rage and blow overhead, he eventually helped to clear the table to her direction and satisfaction. Quickly enough, he joined her at the table once more to sit a bit closer so that they might share the remains of his brandy. Passing the silver flash to her first, he coughed delicately into his other hand. “It’s getting late enough that I fear I should ask. There is but one bed. I would not drive you from it with your leg as it is. Do you have a spare blanket and pillow, then? I can stretch out upon the hearth.”