Why Roses are Red

The day was uneventful and a certain golden green eyed Earl was bored out of his mind. Nothing of interest had aroused his concern enough to investigate. Not even his precious poisons could make him smile to-day. Cain was sprawled out on the settee in the living room, his legs hanging over one of the arms of the settee and his eyes closed pensively.

As minutes passed in reserved silence, Cain could hear the almost mute footfalls he had been anxiously waiting for all morning. The door to the living room was quietly pushed open and Riff entered with a silver tray of tea things in hand. At seeing his lord in an indecent poster, he frowned.

Riff set down the tray on the low table in front of Cain and internally sighed. He could tell the young earl was bored.

"Lord Cain your tea." Riff evenly said not bothering to make reference to Cain's indecent posture.

Cain fluttered opened his eyes and smiled at Riff cordially. Riff returned the smile and poured his lord a cup of tea and handed it to him.

At the offered cup, Cain languidly sat up and took it into his elegant hands and sipped it carefully.

After sipping it and allowing the soothing concoction to warm his stomach, he set it down on the table and looked at Riff curiously. His eyes traveled up and down the other man until his attention landed on the bandages adoring his manservant's slender pale hands.

Cain frowned and took Riff's hands into his and studied them attentively. A delicate frown erased his smile.

"How did this happen, Riff?" Cain glanced up and looked into the other's majestic blue eyes.

Riff stiffened visibly as his lord held his hands and stared into his eyes. Abashedly Riff averted his eyes and small hints of red appeared on his pale cheeks. Cain noticed and smirked. He found it amusing when his manservant blushed with even the slightest brush of their hands.

"I was cutting some roses from the gardens at Miss Mary Weather's request. She wanted them to make her room look brighter and pleasant. But I admit my mind was not where it should have been and the thorns bit into my flesh." Riff explained.

Cain arched a fine black brow. They remained in their intimate position for a few seconds longer before Cain abruptly asked another question.

"What color were the roses Mary Weather had you get for her, Riff?" Cain asked curiously. Riff was taken aback by the question, but he answered it as was his duty.

"Why they were red, sir. Almost the same shade of blood." Riff said.

Cain smiled and found Riff's latter comment to be ironical. No doubt his blood was now adding to the red pigment where his blood stained the petals of the roses.

"And do you know why roses are as red as blood, Riff?" Cain inquired of his manservant. He thoroughly enjoyed Riff's surprised countenance. It lasted only a second before it returned to its custom impassiveness.

"I'm afraid I'm ignorant as to why roses are red, Lord Cain." Riff explained himself furthering adding to his embarrassment.

The smile Cain wore never flattered. Still holding his hands in his, Cain stared intently at Riff and invited, "Would you like to know, Riff?"

Riff could only nod his head in response. He could not trust himself to speak as Cain fiddled with his fingers and traced the visible veins on his palms and up his wrists. He kept his emotions from showing as best he could.

"Very well, then I'll tell you. To-day we see an abundant variety of roses, but originally roses were the color of virgin white snow. No other color existed then, only white. However when blood was spilled and seeped away from its source, it happened to travel to nearby roses bushes. When the soil was saturated with blood, the roses were forced to taste the impurities of blood. Gradually as the earth absorbed the red liquid, the once white petals began to transform into crimson until each rose bush that had been touched by blood turned red." Cain lowered his gaze and stared at the floor.

The silence betwixt them was almost unbearable to stand. Riff cleared his throat gently and said, "Where did you learn that from, Lord Cain? It sounds like something out of the Bible."

Cain lifted his eyes and smiled. He nodded his head in agreement.

"It does, doesn't it? But no, it's my own personal theory, Riff. It's something that's been on my mind ever since I was a child when my father used to punish me and use to utter verses from the Book." Cain's voice was soft yet steady.

Riff lowered his gaze, regretting he had asked.

"Lord Cain…." Riff began, but he was stopped when Cain did something that made him start.

Cain brought Riff's hands to his lips and kissed them ever so gently. He smiled when he heard Riff breathe in sharply. Riff felt like he was about to collapse from shock. His pale cheeks turned redder as he felt his lord's velvet lips against his cold flesh. Cain stood erect and suddenly dropped Riff's hand and headed for the door.

He looked over his shoulder before he left and said playfully, "When you've recovered, Riff, come meet me in the gardens." With that he left without another word.

It took several moments for Riff to recover and go after his lord. Riff was the sole person Cain had entrusted that little story about why roses are red. Not even Mary Weather was aware of the story's existence. It was Riff and Cain's little secret that always made Cain and his manservant share a knowing glance when ever they saw Mary Weather come into the room with a buddle of freshly cut roses, especially if they were red.

I hoped you like this. The theory why roses are red is something I considered last year during my physical science class since we were studying plants and photosynthesis and this idea just came into my mind. My most sincere apologies for the occ-ness. Thank you for reading! Please review.