A/N: And since I had a look at Chapter Seven and thought it a bit short, here's another one for you. This is for all the loyal readers!

And since I love the Brits and I'm featuring one in this story (hopefully accurately), I'm dedicating this chapter to Cheamcat who helped me so much by dedicating Ch. 22 of her story A Model Mother. She's an awesome author and champion of other WP writers... I thought this was appropriate because Sebastian talks a little bit about his background here and she was also among the first to vote for this story when it first went online.

***

When I woke up from my nap early afternoon yesterday, Sebastian was still there next to me, fully awake and watching me, his fingers combing through my hair in slow, leisurely strokes.

He smiled—a half-fond, half-wry quirk of his lips was more like it actually—and pulled me close, his lips grazing down the bridge of my nose and pressing softly against my lips.

Ah, that really had been heaven.

In the space of a few seconds, the future had flashed at me—mornings of waking up like this, wrapped in Sebastian's arms. It was an alluring thought but one I chastised myself for thinking, knowing that beyond this summer, Sebastian would always remain a dark prince in a fairytale that didn't exist in reality.

We spent the rest of the day at the garden before making a quick dinner of chicken and vegetable kebabs. We finished the evening off with a walk along the beach, watching the sunset.

He had walked me to my bedroom, kissed me an ardent goodnight and with great reluctance, walked away.

The next day, Jennison arrived.

He quickly chatted with me as he helped me with the fresh laundry I was carrying into the linen room and although he didn't ask too many details, I could tell he was ascertaining for himself that nothing of concern had gone on. When he was satisfied, he bid me goodbye and headed to the library/office where Sebastian had been all morning, going through some paperwork.

"With Alfred gone, I'm now the chairman and CEO of the company," was his brief explanation when I reached up and kneaded the deep lines on his forehead that morning at breakfast. "People openly admired his leadership while they considered me too savage. They're growing restless knowing he won't be around anymore to tone me down. I'm doing what I can to reestablish some peace of mind. A few hours, that's all. I promise."

I didn't even ask him for anything but I let him swear on his heart (the one he claimed wasn't always there) that he would be done by lunchtime.

He made good on that promise—Sebastian didn't make light of his promises—and joined me for lunch, even extending an invitation to Jennison if I didn't mind. The man had looked awkwardly uncertain for once but I just grinned up at him and asked him to help us bring out the salad bowl and platter of sandwiches out to the covered patio. The small team of guards who usually accompanied him stopped by at my request to grab some food for themselves before resuming their jobs probably patrolling around the grounds.

Jennison, who didn't really seem used to having any other kind of regular conversations with his boss about anything else but work, gave Sebastian several updates including the media interest in him after they speculated that he'd gone into hiding. He suggested we stay in as most people believed Sebastian was somewhere abroad right now (which he had been as Alfred had been in his vacation home in Italy when he passed away) but that if they got one whiff of him around Cove Manor, they'd show up and try to barrel down the gates. His PR team had already released a statement saying that Sebastian will officially take up his additional role come fall after he'd had some time to mourn a dear, dear friend.

Sebastian seemed to have taken all of this in stride, his expression somber yet thoughtful. I was curious to know of his plans but he didn't say much about the matter.

After Jennison left, Sebastian came into the kitchen where I was loading up the dishwasher and handed me an envelope.

"What's this?" I asked, peeking in.

I gasped and stared up at him. There were crisp, new hundred-dollar bills in there.

"That's about five thousand dollars in cash," he explained calmly. "That should cover some of our food expenses for the week."

"This is too much for a week!" I sputtered in disbelief, instinctively thrusting the envelope back to him. "Take this back. This is too much money."

He grasped my hand with both of his and gently pushed it back towards me. "If we have money left over, spend it the following week. Use it as you see fit. Tell me right away if you need more."

The look on his face told me this was such a minor thing he was irritated for us to be both fussing on. I sighed and slipped it into the front pocket of my apron. "Alright. I'll forward you a detailed list of expenses at the end of every week with receipts attached. Another couple of weeks and Mrs. Simmons will be back to sort this out again anyway."

"Good." He smiled and pressed a quick kiss on my mouth. "And whenever you feel like it, I can accompany you to Dover's and get you your books."

"Jennison said it's best if you lay low for now," I said. "It's not urgent. We can do it when there's a better time."

He argued with me a little about that but in the end he left it to me to decide when and where.

The next couple of days went by like a dream.

We still spent the mornings together having an early breakfast. The rest of the day we spent out in the garden or swimming by the pool. Late afternoons, we walked by the beach or stayed in read at the library. We made dinners together and spent the evenings sitting outside watching the moon and the stars or snuggling in the library, sipping tea or listening to him read me some of his favorite classics and most beloved poems. In a matter of days, I was fully immersed in the poetry of Neruda, Keats, Tennyson, Rumi and many others. For someone with a supposed flinty exterior, he had quite a romantic heart.

As for our physical relationship, Sebastian was still holding back just a little, but what little resistance he had quickly melted away at the slightest touch or invitation. I think in his mind, he worried he was taking things with me a little too fast but I didn't push him. I just didn't hold back as much, considering all that I'd have with him was this summer.

We kissed between snuggles and cuddles, we held hands while we walked along the beach, we wrapped ourselves in each other's arms as often as we could.

One evening, while I lay in bed, waiting for sleep to come and struggling not to leap out of my room and hurry down to join Sebastian, I made my decision.

Here and now, in this slice of paradise, was a man I wanted like no one else.

There will be no other man like Sebastian—as uncertain as the future was, this I was sure of—and if all that I could hang on to for the rest of my life was the memory of our magical summer together, I'd be happy.

I wanted to be as close to him as he'd let me and the logistics of reality were inconvenient but to me, they mattered very little.

I wanted to gift him with something that was mine to give and if it indeed became the greatest mistake of my life, it was my mistake to make and my own self to blame.

Tomorrow, I thought sleepily, a smile hovering on my lips for the first time since I tried to sort out the riot of my thoughts that evening. Tomorrow, I'll tell him.

***

But just like all best laid plans, it wasn't going to go well.

I woke up as sick as a dog the next day. The sniffles and sneezes that plagued me for days concluded into a masterpiece of a bad cold.

I woke up briefly with the sunrise but with my head heavy, body aching all over, skin burning up, throat scratchy and hoarse and my chest tight as if someone parked a truck on it, I rolled back to bed and didn't wake up again until I felt hands running all over my forehead and cheeks and neck.

"Cassandra, it's me. It's Sebastian."

I cracked my watery, bleary eyes open, fighting the glare until the shape of Sebastian's head cleared up.

Instantly, I felt a little bit better, as a dying man could probably appreciate a bit of comfort, and I smiled, feeling my dry lips stretch and crack with the effort. I opened my mouth and mumbled his name but even I could barely make it out from the rasped sounds that came out of me instead.

"My God, Cassandra," he said in a strained voice, his fingers gently sweeping the hair off my eyes and face, their cool touch against my burning skin making me shiver. "I waited for you at breakfast and when you didn't show, I kept pacing outside your door, calling to you but you weren't answering. And then I walk in and find you looking like death warmed over. Baby, what's wrong?"

I smiled at his rant but it only hurt my lips more as they cracked slightly at the corners.

"Water," I mouthed because the sound that came out couldn't have possibly been mine.

Instantly, he reached for the glass on my nightstand and guided it to my lips, his large hand cradling my head as I struggled to elevate myself a little.

I moaned at the relief of the water on my dry mouth and throat and I blinked my eyes close as I settled back on my pillow.

"You're burning up so much and your nose is running," he went on almost despairingly as he dabbed my cheek and upper lip with a towel.

It faintly registered to me that I was dripping snot all over him and I should be mortified but I was too far gone to do anything about it. My chest heaved and I curled into myself as a fit of coughing took over me for a good few minutes.

"That's it, I'm calling the doctor," he finally said as he brushed a hand across my cheek now sticky with the tears from the effort of coughing. "I can't bear to see you suffering like this, Cassandra. Hang in there, darling. I'll make it better, I promise."

I drifted off sometime after that.

I woke up again sometime later when I felt the biting cold touch of steel on my chest.

"Cassandra, this is Dr. Newman. He's here to make sure you're okay," I heard Sebastian's calm, soothing voice nearby and opened my eyes and saw him sitting on the other side of my bed, holding my hand as the white-haired, middle-aged doctor whose smile was as silly as the bright red glasses he wore, was leaning over me with his stethoscope, examining me here and there.

I nodded weakly and let the good doctor do his job.

I've had something like this once before and I was certain it wasn't anything a couple days of rest and loads of chicken soup and vitamin C couldn't cure but the look on Sebastian's face—one etched with suffering and worry—told me he wasn't going to take anything but expert advice on my welfare.

After a few more tests, the doctor patted my head and scribbled on a notepad before handing the ripped sheet to Sebastian.

"Just a typical case of the flu," the old man declared. "I've written her up an antiviral but it should clear up on its own in three days or so."

Sebastian stared unseeing at the sheet before looking up at the doctor. "Just a flu? She looks like she's dying. It must be something else. We should take her to the hospital—"

"She's a little dehydrated but as long as you keep a steady supply of fluids—water, juice, soup—on hand, she'll recover faster," the doctor interrupted with a dismissive wave of his hand which I found amusing. He was one of the few who didn't cower in fear at the glare Sebastian was directing him. "Give her soup and crackers and fresh fruit—nothing too fancy or complicated. And let her rest plenty. You'll see, she'll be as good as new in a few days."

"If she isn't, you'll hear from me," Sebastian said with a grim nod, glancing at me as his eyes briefly flashed with anxiety. "Thank you for your time, doctor. I'll see to it that she gets everything she needs."

"I'm sure she will, Sebastian," the doctor acquiesced as he stood to gather his things. "She looks to be a healthy, beautiful young lady. I have no doubt she'll bounce back with no problems especially if she is a cousin of yours. I've never known you to be sick since you were but just a little boy."

Through my steamed, bleary gaze, I raised a questioning brow at Sebastian who pressed his lips together awkwardly, caught in his lie.

"Well, uh, she's more like a family friend, really," he told the doctor with a reluctant shrug. "But we think of her as family, you know. She's just visiting for the summer."

Dr. Newman seemed to have taken that without suspicion.

He turned to me and beamed. "Cove Manor is the perfect summer retreat and I'm certain you're having fun. You'll be out a few days but there's still so much left of summer, I'm sure you won't miss out on much. This young man here has spent almost a lot of his summers here growing up. He can show you a lot, isn't that right, Sebastian?"

With the familiarity of his conversation with Sebastian, the old doctor must've known him all his life and seemed quite exempt from his usual intimidation. Sebastian just smiled tightly at the doctor as he ushered him to the door.

Left alone in the room once again, I took another long sip of water and reached for the small compact mirror I kept by the top drawer of my nightstand. With an unsteady hand, I lifted it up to look at myself.

I groaned and snapped the compact shut.

Great.

Here I was, finally decided on taking this leap with Sebastian for this summer love affair I'll never forget, and I looked like hell.

My hair was a mess, my skin was red and blotchy, my eyes swollen and watery, my nose red and raw and my lips chapped and bluish gray in color.

Grabbing a pillow, I held it over my face to muffle my frustrated groan but that only caused me to double over, racked with another coughing fit.

Sebastian dashed back into the room with a glass pitcher of water which he set down on the nightstand. He sat on the bed, pulling the pillow away from me.

"Take it easy, sweet," he murmured as he held me with an arm across my chest, his other hand rubbing my back. "You'll be okay, I promise. I'll take care of you."

I leaned back against my pillows after the coughs subsided and turned away from him, pushing his hand away from me.

"What's wrong?" he asked, leaning over me and capturing my chin with his fingers. "Baby—"

"Cousin, remember?" I managed to rasp, unsure why I was particularly annoyed about this.

He winced and gently ran his thumb along my jawline. "I sort of panicked, okay? Dr. Newman had known me since I was in diapers. He's a local and knows everyone in my family. When I called him, I don't know why I felt I had to explain who you are. I guess, I worried he'd see right through me and then we'll be in trouble."

I closed my eyes and let his words sink in, aware that they made sense.

"We have to talk about that," I told him as I pulled the sheets up to my chin, letting the exhaustion take over me. "When I get better. Okay?"

"Okay," he answered as he scooted up on the bed and tried to pull me into his arms.

I inched away. "You can't stay here with me. You'll get sick. Go."

"You heard Dr. Newman. I never get sick," he chastised, hooking an arm around my waist and pulling me against him so that my back rested against his chest. "Let me hold you until you fall asleep, Cassandra. Your prescription will be arriving shortly and before you take another nap, I'll make sure you've eaten and had all the fluids you need."

"I don't need a nurse," I told him as my eyes drifted close. "I can make soup once I've rested. No need to trouble yourself—"

"I'll trouble myself to hell and back when it comes to your welfare, Cassandra," he snapped angrily. "I told you I'll take care of you and you're going to let me, dammit."

I managed a small smile. "Swearing at me isn't helping."

"Sorry," he said with a deep sigh, his voice having completely lost its heat.

He lightly raked his fingers through my hair, brushing it back. "You're mine to care for and protect, Cassandra. Always remember that."

I wondered at the finality in his statement but the fevered haze was quickly stealing back what consciousness I've managed to hang on to for the last few minutes.

"You might change your mind," I murmured through the sleepy veil. "After I've been a horrid patient for a couple of days."

He chuckled softly. "I might be more horrid as a nurse, to be perfectly honest. You'll have to forgive me in advance. My skills don't lie in health care but I'll do my best."

I squeezed the hand he entwined with mine. "And please, try to remember I don't always look like this. I can be... pretty, again."

His fingers stilled for a second. "For God's sake, do you think I'm sixteen, Cassandra? I'm not as shallow as that. You're sick, not hideous."

"Yes, but I've got to give all I've got," I murmured distractedly, fighting the urge to fall asleep. "You never settle. Don't need to so I understand."

"What are you talking about, Cassandra?" he asked patiently, his fingers resuming their strokes on my hair.

"Women—beautiful, glamorous ones," I answered slowly, my tongue feeling thick and heavy. "All want you. I have... a summer. Is all. So can't look like this."

He was silent for a moment and I wondered what the hell I was blabbering about to begin with anyway. The fever was going to my brain, for sure.

"You're right, I never settle for anything less than what I want," he said quietly, his chin tucking in lightly behind my ear. "Which is exactly why I'm sitting right here holding you in my arms."

My brain clouded and for a moment, I thought what he was saying made sense but then I lost track of the conversation and didn't remember what we were talking about.

"Sleep, Cassandra," he murmured to me, his breath warm against my ear, and the familiar words he'd spoken to me before working like a vial of sleep magic.

I ceased the struggle and let darkness claim me.

***

"You make good soup."

I looked up at him and smiled at the fierce and serious expression on his face as he brought another spoonful towards my mouth.

"I wish I could take credit but I can't," he said after I swallowed a mouthful of the rich, heavy broth full of chicken cuts and vegetables. "Since Bart is still on vacation, I called a chef who owes me favors and told him to make me the best chicken soup he's capable of making and to have it on its way here in two hours. He runs a five-star restaurant and he swears this is his grandmother's prized, secret recipe and it will do wonders. There's enough for today and he'll be sending more tomorrow."

I eyed him wryly. "He must be pretty busy if he runs a restaurant. There's such a thing as canned soup, you know? I'll happily eat that."

"You have to eat only the best and freshest of food so you can get better quickly," he said with a dismissive snort. "There's a large fruit and vegetable tray that arrived if you feel like snacking on them."

Sure, he didn't make the soup but for Sebastian to supervise the catering to feed me the best soup and crackers the world had to offer, it was a pretty big gesture.