Nick awoke in a daze. He was surrounded by a tunnel of whirling colors, and a female voice that echoed the same words repeatedly.
The next thing he knew Nick had awoken in a bed, to the sound of knocking on the door.
He sat up and looked around, This wasn't his house. This wasn't his bed. These weren't his clothes!
The room was small, and lit by candles. It was plainly decorated, with wood furniture, and looked extremely old fashioned. And his clothes looked like something out of the eighteenth century.
As Nick surveyed the room, wondering what was going on, the knocking on the rather small wooden door persisted.
Groaning, he climbed out of the bed, and pulled the door open.
Danielle stood before him, wearing a floor-length, plain blue dress that had at least three skirts, and a large, brown cloak was draped over her shoulders. Her normally thick, golden brown hair fell stringily down her shoulders. It seemed longer then usual. Much longer.
Rain poured down on her in the darkness of the night, and she was beyond soaked.
"Please, sir," she said, a thick French accent flowing from her lips. "Might you be so kind as to give me room and board for one nights time?"
"Um. . . all right. Come inside. Your soaked."
What's going on here? Why is she talking so funny? Why is she wearing that? And why did she call me sir?
"Thank you, sir."
Danielle stepped inside.
Shaking his head, Nick rested one hand on her back and led her to the fireplace, where a fire was ablaze.
"Here." he said. "Sit by the fire, and dry off."
Nick helped remove her cloak, and hung it up to dry.
"Baby," he began, walking back over to her.
"Baby!" she snapped angrily. "I am *not* a baby. I am a grown woman."
"All right. . .Dani,"
"Dani?"
Obviously this woman was extremely confused. Or. . . was he the one confused? Nick shook his head. No use confusing himself over who was confused. He would just play along with whatever game she was playing.
"Never mind." Nick sat down next to her.
"I beg your pardon, sir, but, might I ask your name?" Danielle asked.
Nick looked into her beautiful green eyes. Everything about her told him she truthfully didn't know his name.
"Nick," he replied. "Nick Lachey. And yours?"
She hesitated for a moment, then sighed, and spoke. "Daniella Fountaine."
Pleased to meet you."
Danielle-or Daniella-studied him for a moment. "Does my name not sound familiar to you? You greet me as if you do not know of my position."
"And what position would that be?"
"You mean, you do not know?"
"No."
"If you do not know, I would much rather keep it that way."
Nick nodded. "If you say so."
"Please, Sir Lachey-"
"Nick," he interrupted. "Call me Nick."
"Nicholas," she spoke his full name uncomfortably. "I am very tired. I have had a rather long day. Is there a bed I can retire in?"
"Yes. I can sleep on the floor because there is only one. Would you like some clothes to sleep in? If you sleep in that wet dress you might get sick.
Daniella nodded. "Yes, please."
Nick got up, walked over to what looked like a dresser, and pulled open a drawer. Sure enough, there were clothes in it. He pulled out what seemed to be pajamas, and handed them to her.
He turned around at her request, as she changed, then she climbed into bed.
Nick sat down in the most comfortable chair he could find, and watched his love sleep, wondering what the heck was going on.
What seemed like hours later, Nick drifted off the sleep.