Every Time I Look At You, It's Like The First Time

Posted on August 24, 2018 by Adelaide Claire LaBelle

How wrong they had been, thinking that their daughter had merely been spirited, believing she would just simply grow out of her wilder tendencies, those imaginary adventures of climbing the tallest mountains and braving the deepest jungles. It had been a mistake for childish imagination and energy, her mother and father adamant on trying to convince the girl with dark hair to come inside she play with her dolls or perhaps play "tea party" with the other girls her own age who would come to the estate whenever their own parents would visit hers. She would protest at first, but when she had been so young, little, and terribly unaware of the fury that would one day seize her heart as she crossed the threshold of childhood and into maidenhood, it had often only taken a stern look and tone from her gentle mother to convince young Adelaide that she would be in a great deal more trouble should she resist any longer. So, begrudgingly, she would come inside when all she wanted was to be climbing those trees and having Townsend trail after her on those great adventures "across the world". How utterly boring it was, sitting there at what perfectly polished mahogany children's table with little porcelain tea cups as the other girls pretended to be princesses or adults gossiping like they surely saw the parents do. She tried to play along, especially when the other girls would look at her expectantly, waiting for her to enjoy the tea which really wasn't there. Oh, how many time she'd fake a sheepish smile, curl her fingers into the curved handle of that teacup, and lift the empty air to her lips. Truthfully, if she had wanted to be as deceitful as her father was, she could easily have done so. The young girl became rather good at smiling when it was absolutely expected of her only to be grimacing from within, and it only ever deepened when she grew into a teenager and her parents required her to attend those dinner parties with them. Even then, she had been certain the only reason they would subject her to wear one of those hand-made and perfectly tailored dresses and wander aimlessly and pretend to enjoy herself was because of the "well-bred" men that would be there, especially when that wretched nobleman had made it clear what his intended plans for Adelaide were. Every time her mother would come to her room and inform her of the evening's arrangements, she would cringe inwardly all for knowing that attempting to argue her way out of going would be a waste of her breath. Of course, those young men her age would practically flock to her, moving through the people just so that they might have a chance at speaking with the woman secretly wondering if there might be any way she could slip out of those stuffy, boring gatherings of every shallow and materialistic thing she despised. They would come to her with words of flattery, telling the Adelaide just how stunning she looked in that silken dress, or if they were trying painfully hard, how breathtaking the light of the sunset looked in her hair or reflected within her eyes of glittering sage. There were no words to describe just how difficult it had been for her to refrain from either rolling her eyes in exasperation and biting back the want to mutter under her breath how she'd only heard those very same words a thousand times over, instead having to force herself into offering a fake smile and empty "merci beaucoup, monsieur" before looking for any way out of the one-sided conversation she certainly did not want to be part of.

Ah, but as she grew older and became the beautiful woman she was, those dinner parties only seemed to increase in frequency. She'd lost count of how many times her father had asked her if she had a good time, how charming one of the young men had seemed, that perhaps she should invite him over to the LaBelle estate for an evening. And, like a dance that her mother and father seemed determined to engage the... spirited young woman in, Adelaide would tell them just how utterly boring the outing had been and that she would rather muck out Tristram's stall herself instead of strolling through the immaculate gardens of the estate listening to the "shallow and arrogant buffoon" go on and on about himself to try and make her think that he was the best of the best, the most eligible bachelor in France, how he would buy her anything and everything the dark-haired woman desired. After all, she more or less had everything that she could ever want â€" materialistically speaking, of course. What she'd craved most, she couldn't have, and so she'd tried to make do with what little she did enjoy trapped in the lifestyle that her social status seemed to dictate without even the slightest consideration on if she wanted to live that way or not. It was always the same story over and over again, each and every time some son of a nobleman would come seeking her affections. It only ever became more infuriating for Adelaide. Without Townsend to vent those frustrations with, the Englishman often able to take her anger and shatter it as he would make a humorous remark about the latest suitor, bringing alive the laughter in the French noblewoman who had needed it more than even she knew, there was little doubt in her mind that she might have lost her sanity. Some of the fondest memories of those past years were those mornings where Townsend would find her in one of those bitter moods and make a remark about how utterly displeased she seemed, going on to say how her father must have arranged for her to meet a monkey in a men's suit this time. And, she would be unable to keep that wicked smile from her lips, rendered powerless as the Englishman critiqued the latest man which would always coerce genuine laughter from the young woman. Speaking with him, sharing every piece of that annoyance with the only individual in her life at the time who didn't just nod absentmindedly at her ranting sessions, it has always been her saving grace. The Englishman always had a way of easing the growing restlessness that began to settle over Adelaide, only proving that she was so much more than "simply spirited". Gods knew just how intensely the fury that began to burn within the French woman's heart had become, and how utterly unaware of the storm that was rising in those eyes of fierce sage bound to break from the restraints which kept it at bay her mother and father had been... until she couldn't hold it back any longer. Only then did they realize that it had not just been stubbornness or spirit. No, it had been defiance and fury that had been planted there within their daughter, a wild heart that refused to bend to anyone's wants or needs which were not her own. And even then, as she rides through the countryside with Taylor on the back of the Harley in such revelry for the freedom that was hers it would surely have her father furious, the French woman isn't entirely sure they had yet to truly understand.

Further they drive down that graveled road, and Adelaide can hardly keep herself from daydreaming of a chance to call a place like this, far from city lights and roaring traffic, all her own. And truth be told, it was likely that she could have it as soon as she decided she no longer wished to wait. With how business was going at the bistro, having grown in popularity and practically self-sufficient anymore as her loyal and hard-working staff seemed to function flawlessly without the dark-haired woman needing to oversee them, it could very well be mere weeks for her to seize such a chance. But, in the same moment, she knows that now was hardly the time to take such an opportunity. Everything was still relatively new, despite the ease that fell over her day to day life now that she lived within Sacrosanct and now having the heart of a man whom she knew would walk through hell and back every step of the way without faltering for even a second. Something told her that now was not that time. It would come, all she needed to do was be patient... and yet, it was often a struggle against the temptations and the subtle impatience that would brush against the back of her mind. It was as though it were very nearly within her reach, but there was that sign hanging there telling her not to touch it, practically teasing and taunting her as that fierce determination only urged her to try and take it. Thankfully though, she knew better. She needed to be patient, remembering that things were no longer just what she wanted anymore now that she knew without even the slightest doubt she wanted Taylor there with her. And so, she contents herself with watching as they drive deeper into the countryside before finally he slows the machine and brings it to a stop in front of a stable. Getting off the motorcycle and making her wistful remark, Taylor nods and offers his own thoughts on the matter and she smiles warmly."Perhaps it's something we should look into", she says casually as she walks beside him, an innocent gleam illuminating her gaze as he chains up the bike before taking her hand in his and walking down the street along that white picket fence. His next words have the dark-haired woman laughing lightheartedly in turn as that almost devilish smirk etches itself into his handsome features, brow lifted in that ever teasing and playful way she endlessly adored."Who said anything about the man having to live with us, hmm?", she teases effortlessly back in lilted words, that once warm smile taking on that ever-familiarly bold and daring appearance. It was certainly an amusing thought, thinking of Townsend in a maid's apron as he hung clothes on a clothesline outside or perhaps out in the barn milking one of the farm's dairy cows. It was very nearly impossible to see the man thriving with the bare minimums, and yet if there was anything that the French woman knew of her dearest friend, it was that he had an uncanny way of adapting to whatever adventure Adelaide so drug him along on. Sure, the man might have a few complaining words, but he would learn to adjust, just as they had when they moved what felt like an entire world away from the city she was more than happy to leave in her rearview mirror for the rest of her days. If ever she somehow ended up returning to Paris for even just a single day for some ungodly reason, it would be far too soon for her taste. For what little memories she did have of her life before Taylor, before Sacrosanct, they would never be enough to call her back. Not if she could help it. And gods knew that she would do anything and everything to keep herself from needing to see those familiar hills and city lights of Paris.

She cannot help but admire the gentle-looking mares that come up to the fence, ears pressed forward in curiosity. Refusing to let go of his hand, she moves towards the fence and Taylor follows in stride, Adelaide catching that smile that finds his features when she reaches out to the mare whose blaze and dark bay pelt reminded her of the one love she hadn't been able to bring to Sacrosanct with her. A soft sigh ushers through the dark-haired woman as she thinks back to Tristram, remembering how on those days when the Englishman was preoccupied with his beautiful new bride, it was riding Tristram which had been the only other comfort to her aside from those books in the study. The day bay stallion would always whinny when those dark mocha eyes would catch sight of the dark-haired woman walking towards the stables. The bond between Adelaide and Tristram had been a strong one, the two seeming to move as one on that training course she would ride him through. It had been the closest feeling to freedom that she could taste back then, reveling in how her hair would stream out behind her as the powerful stallion would canter around the rink. She would feel the way he shifted beneath her, sloped shoulders tensing and handsome head lifting just so, those hardened and muscular hindquarters would become taunt mere seconds before the tension would release so they propelled Tristram into the air and over those jumps with amazing effortlessness. It almost felt as though she could fly when she sat there in the saddle, and it always made her spirit soar ever higher when the stallion seemed to pick up on her excitement and bliss, showing his own vigor and happiness through the occasional toss of his head or subtle crow-hop she hardly bothered to correct him on. In a way, she'd often felt that his own spirit reflected the wild nature of her own, and when she would walk him through the gates of the covered arenas and into the open expanse of the estate only to turn him loose with her on his back... the rush had been indescribable. Taylor's tenor tones pull her from the memories, Adelaide rubbing the mare's forehead softly and silently reveling in that horse smell she hadn't been around since she left home. She is thoughtful for a moment, silent as she regards the mare, running slender fingers through its raven-hued forelock before reach to scratch at the poll, the one place Tristram had always loved for her touch to be."I imagine they still have him, since they seem to think I'll come back...", she says quietly before shaking her head slowly."Trying to have him shipped would give away the fact that I'm determined not to go back. The last thing we need if for my parents to decide to try and find us", she says with a sense of finality. The dark bay stallion was in good hands, this she knew. Her parents may be controlling, and they might be equally as determined to bring Adelaide back home just as she was determined not to, but if there was any sort of trait that might almost be a redeeming quality, it was that they spent their seemingly endless wealth on nothing but the best, and that meant the best care for whatever it was they invested in. And, so long as they thought that she was coming home eventually, she was certain that they would keep the stallion there and under the best care that France would be able to provide. Although, it would be a lie if she said that she did not wonder if Tristram was getting the same attention that she gave him.

When she poses her own question to Taylor, she turns her eyes of glittering sage to his of hunter green, watching as he shakes his own head before revealing that he'd never been horseback riding before. His shrug and almost sheepish expression was endearing, dark lashes blinking over her gaze as a daring smile curls the corners of dusty rose-colored lips."We should fix that, then", she whispers boldly before looking away from him with hope to see if there was anyone around that might know who owned the mares. As luck would have it, she catches sight of a man with raven hair dressed in overalls and plaid undershirt making his way down the other side of the fence with a bucket in each hand, the mares turning away from Adelaide and Taylor at the sound of him and walking over to where the wooden feeding trough was. That had to be the owner! She gives Taylor a daring look before releasing his hand, almost reluctantly and yet not wanting to drag him behind her either like a child at the fair."Excuse me", she calls out to the man in her silken, accented voice and offering a kind smile as she closes the distance between herself and the stranger. The man looks up, a surprised expression falling over his face for a moment before he returns his own friendly grin."Hello there, ma'am. Can I help ya?", he says kindly. He studies her for a moment, perhaps trying to see if he could place her face or if she was just someone in need of direction, neither of which the French woman was. She extends her hand to him and he takes it in turn, the two exchanging that casual handshake."Actually, I was wondering if perhaps these mares were ridable? We're visiting, and I couldn't help but wonder if you might know the owner and if they might allow someone rent them? In exchange for payment, of course", she inquires curiously. If the man was the owner or at least knew who owned the two mares now happily indulging in the grain that the man poured into the trough, Adelaide was hopeful that she might just see if Taylor would be up for the challenge. They seemed quiet and gentle enough, after all. It wasn't as though the dark-haired woman would attempt to try and put him in the saddle of an animal like Tristram that had tendencies to get frustrated beneath the hands of an inexperienced rider. The man nods then, seeming almost taken aback that someone might ask him such a question."You're in luck, little miss. I happen to own these two sweethearts â€" Sable and Jazz are their names. I'd be willin' to let ya borrow them for a while. They could use the exercise, I don't get the chance to ride them as much as I'd like", he answers in a smooth drawl, glancing at Taylor for a moment, the French woman unable to guess at what the man might be thinking, if anything at all."I'll go and get their tack for you, if you'll just follow me over to the barn", he says then before grabbing the bucket he'd sat down on the ground beside him, turning and making his way towards the barn in the distance. His words have Adelaide's smile brightening at his warmth and willingness to allow for two complete strangers some time with his horses. It was likely the offer of money that had him so readily agreeing so the dark-haired woman's request, and yet that was hardly even a fleeting concern for her. There wasn't a price too high for an experience like this, too much time having passed since last there was a moment like this for Adelaide.

She gives Taylor a coy smile, a mischievous gleam in her gaze then as she looks up to the man she loved."So, what do you say, darling? Up to the challenge?", she whispers daringly, leaning towards him as her slender hand reaches for his own once more. She wouldn't make him do something that he wasn't comfortable with, but all the same, Adelaide was curious to see if he would. Even if it was Adelaide that wanted to do whatever it was that Taylor would want to do, this opportunity was one that she simply could not miss out on, not knowing when there might come another chance quite like this.

Adelaide Claire LaBelle
i'm the hero of my own story; don't need a knight in shining armor

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Every Time I Look At You, It's Like The First Time

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