Daughter on his Doorstep (HC #2)

BONUS: Draft Scenes

Vincent and Thomas developed so much throughout the course of this book, and some scenes that I had originally written no longer felt true to their characters. Just for fun, I've decided to include them here, as well as some thoughts on why I chose to go a different way. I would love your feedback on which version you like best - of the scenes and of the characters! 

Scene #1: First Kiss

"Why do you stutter?" Thomas asked abruptly, his head titled at an angle.

The man did not merely sit in an armchair, Vincent decided, rather he draped himself across one like a piece of art. His legs were extended as he reclined at an angle, swirling his tumbler of port in one hand lazily, whilst his keen gaze was fixed on Vincent. Vin let his eyes drop back to the book in his hands.

"I..." Too self-important. "When..." Don't condescend. "If..." Ridiculous way to begin. "Matthew says I think too fast. By the time I get the first word of a sentence out I've often already thought about the repercussions of the phrasing or the amount of information I've supplied or how it will be received and so I amend it until I'm satisfied." He ran his thumb over the corner of his book, enjoying the way the pages rustled slightly.

"That must be exhausting."

Surprised, Vincent looked up at him and blinked. "Yes, I suppose it is."

Thomas swirled the drink again. "Are you always thinking then?" he asked. Vincent's gaze scanned his face for signs of amusement but saw only curiosity. He wasn't sure how to respond, so he merely nodded.

"So, what do you think of me?" The question still came across blasé, but Vincent was concerned. People didn't usually like what he thought of them, so he almost never told them. He looked back down at his book to delay responding. He felt more than heard Thomas rearrange himself. "Honestly, I'd like to know. I will not be offended, nor will I hold any assumptions against you. I'm just curious about what you see."

Vincent could not find a way to politely decline, so his brain began to sift through all the layers of information it could find. It was several moments before he spoke, yet Thomas didn't fidget or rush him. As far as Vincent could tell, he merely waited.

"You..." Too accusatory. "What..." Too speculative. "I see that you're comfortable here, but you refuse to impose. You drink Matt's port, but don't give direction to the servants, which tells me you have a sense of boundaries or honour. Probably the latter, because what seems to upset you most about your family is the immorality of their behaviour rather than the illegality. I think you used to be afraid of them corrupting you, but now you worry that your fear will ruin the brightest parts of you. Sometimes you seem to change your mind mid-thought, as if you realise the result and want it to be better. Sometimes you seem to... think like me."

He heard Thomas shift, and his voice grew gradually louder. "And what do you think about us thinking alike?"

Again, he wasn't sure how to respond so he didn't. The toes of Thomas' boots entered his periphery, and then his knees as he crouched down. His hands rested on the arms of Vincent's chair and on reflex the man drew all his limbs closer to himself so he wouldn't be in the way.

"Do you think we're thinking the same thing right now?" His voice was set low, just for Vincent despite the fact that they were completely alone. It brought that odd feeling back to his stomach, and he thought to distract himself from it by answering Thomas's question. He looked up to find the other man's face less than a handspan from his.

"What are you thinking now?" he asked quietly, shifting back slightly in the chair to try and see more than just Thomas' eyes.

That very gaze flared slightly, crinkling with humour and something less easy to identify. "I'm thinking about kissing you."