Topic: Punch Drunk

Mara Mallory

Date: 2013-04-26 08:07 EST
Dreven City; Meridian 1259

Summer had found the land of Shadokhan, bringing with it long hot days and cool nights. The rich had taken themselves away from the stinking city of Dreven to the shores of Lake Silvermere, and with their absence came a new kind of freedom for the young lovers. With no Leandra to make demands on his time, Duncan was free to spend his days with Mara, and she was not so constrained by the many eyes and ears that followed her every move. They had played their roles perfectly for a pair of cycles, and Mallory Senior, at least, had relaxed his guard, allowing his son to enjoy the leisure of having a mistress at his beck and call.

But today, the first day of Meridian, Mara had asked Duncan to stay away for a while, nervous of preparations she felt had been a long time coming. She wanted it to be perfect for him, and with Elise's help, she hoped it would be. As evening came, she had sent word that she wanted her lover to join her for dinner, and waited impatiently for him to arrive under the watchful gaze of her oldest and dearest companion.

He had wondered all day what she was up to. She rarely if ever asked him to stay away, and though part of him worried she might be seeing another suitor or "practicing" on someone else, he trusted her implicitly. She had promised to love only him, and he trusted her to keep her word, which brought him back to wondering what she was up to. With his father away on what he had called a "business trip", he was free to do as he pleased, and the air at Mallory Manor seemed to have lightened almost overnight. For the first time in a long time, the manor was full of life and laughter, no tiptoeing around for fear of crossing the master of the house. With his father away, Duncan had done a little digging to find out just how much money his mother had put away in his name, and much to his surprise, the sum was a tidy one, enough to ensure he and Mara could get away and start a new life somewhere else.

The apartments had been cleaned, though there was only one room that was intended for use tonight, and that had been laid with table and chairs, candles to illuminate the darkness as it would fall in the hours to come. The bed - a huge monstrosity canopied with silk and velvet - still seemed to dominate the room, but Mara had been trying to ignore it for most of the day. Even she had been prepared as best she could, bathed and garbed in her favorite of the gowns the Mallory fortune had provided her with, her hair pinned back to highlight the smooth line of her neck and the barest swell that peeped from the neckline of that gown. Elise had said she was proud of her, and she wanted to believe it, but she wouldn't be still until Duncan arrived.

Had he been summoned to Mara's apartments without mention of dinner, he might have thought nothing of it, but her message had been quite specific. It had specifically read that he was being formally requested to join her for dinner that evening. An odd request, considering he'd been joining her for dinner for the past several nights. Confused, he'd showed the invitation to his father's housekeeper - a woman by the name of Beryl who had been with the family as long as Duncan could remember and who was as much as surrogate mother to him as Elise was to Mara. Despite or because of his confusion, she had chuckled in amusement before telling him to take a bath while she set out his best clothes for the evening.

As the hour approached, Mara grew increasingly more nervous, to the point where Elise had sat her down with a glass of wine, all but forcing the young woman to drink it down just to steady those nerves before she changed her mind entirely. The summer days were long, and the dusk only just beginning to gather when the time came. Elise left her young charge to gather her wits and courage with an indulgent smile, moving to the door to greet the young master when he arrived with that same smile, fond and secretive with knowledge he had not yet been made privy to.

The truth was Duncan felt stifled in the doublet and trousers Beryl had insisted he wear. The doublet was made of the finest brocade in rich shades of silver and gold, a row of gold buttons lined the front, a black leather belt cinching his middle. He wore plain black trousers that were tucked into black leather boots that had been polished and shined for the occasion. He even wore a blade at his side, not only for defense but because Beryl insisted it made him look like a proper gentleman. His hair had been tamed as best it could and parted on the side, the ends curling stubbornly. He cleared his throat as Elise answered the door, seemingly as nervous as her young charge. "Good evening, madam," he greeted her with a cordial bow. "I have an invitation to dinner from Miss Devine."

Elise - dear, kind Elise who had scolded him more often than she liked to recall - dropped into a low curtsey as he came inside, utterly failing to hide her grin. "Good evening, Master Mallory," she greeted him in return. "Miss Devine may be found in her chamber." There was a beat, and she leaned forward, lowering her voice. "Whatever you do, don't laugh, or she'll stab you with whatever's to hand."

He arched a brow at her, wondering what was going on and whatever it was that might tempt him to laugh at Mara. "Am I overdressed?" he asked quietly, feeling suddenly a little silly in the brocade. He was far more comfortable in simple clothing, but Beryl had insisted. He was a little flushed, not only from embarrassment, but from the heat of the day and the cut of the outfit, which felt like it was suffocating him.

"No, you look right handsome, Master Duncan," Elise reassured him with another smile, gently chucking him under the chin as she gestured toward the correct door. "Just be mindful - she's been planning this all day." It was as much warning as he was going to get, however unhelpful it was. Elise dropped him another curtsey, more to tease than out of deference to a boy half her age, and led the way to Mara's chamber, drawing the door open to announce him. "Master Mallory, my lady."

For a moment, Mara was completely still, almost lost in the play of shadow and light that filled the room until she moved, turning away from her contemplation of the fire to look over at the doorway hopefully. Her gown was as brocaded as his doublet, in silver and purple, fastened not with laces but with hooks, as the noble women were wearing this season. It was far more grown up than anything he'd seen her wear before, throwing her sharply into the light as a young woman. She truly was no longer a child. "Hello, Duncan."

There was that lifted brow again, as if he was trying to sort out just what Elise was alluding to. So, this was some sort of special occasion, but he couldn't think of what. It wasn't either of their birthing days, nor any other holiday he could think of. He returned Elise's bow with another short bow of his own before following her inside, one hand resting idly against the handle of his blade. In years to come, he and that blade would be inseparable, but that was still a little way off yet.

"Mara," he returned, heart lurching at the sight of her dressed as she was, looking almost like royalty. She was a vision to behold and lovelier than any woman he'd ever laid his eyes on. It was no wonder Stefan wanted her and Leandra was jealous of her. She was by far the most beautiful woman in all of Dreven - at least, in Duncan's mind. He was speechless for a moment, frozen in place, gawking like a schoolboy with his first crush - which, in all truth, he actually was. "You-you look lovely." So lovely, in fact, that he almost forgot the bunch of flowers Beryl had sent along with him, fresh-cut from the Mallory gardens. "Oh! These are for you," he told her, stepping forward and holding out the bouquet, somewhat shyly.

Her own moment was silent, shy surprise softening her features as he presented her with a bouquet of flowers that could only have come from his own gardens. Her smile burst forth, too bright to be concealed beneath silly form, and she advanced toward him, curling her fingers about the stems and his hand as she looked into his eyes. "Thank you," she murmured softly. "They're beautiful." Not that she'd done more than glance at them; flowers didn't hold a candle to him. She'd never seen him so dressed up before, and certainly not just for her. There was a quiet cough behind Duncan, and Mara blinked, reminded abruptly that she was supposed to be in charge of this evening. "Oh! Elise, could ....could you put these in water for me, please, and tell Cook we're ready to begin?"

There was a rustle as Elise took the flowers from her, though Mara's eyes were once again on Duncan's with shy warmth. "Yes, my lady."

Mara Mallory

Date: 2013-04-26 08:08 EST
He was suddenly at a loss for words, not even knowing what to do. He'd never felt so awkward in her presence before - not in a very long time - and it was a strange feeling. He wanted to ask what was going on, but thought better of it, content for now to follow her lead. Perhaps she only wanted to do something nice for him, or perhaps this was another kind of "practice". He noted how Mara was giving the orders and Elise was following them, as if Mara was the mistress of the house and Elise was only a servant. "Not nearly as beautiful as you," he replied, a little belatedly, due to his state of shock.

In another house, the lines between servant and lady were not nearly so blurred, for despite the orders given by Mara, Elise still did as she would ordinarily have done, offering a kiss to her little lady's cheek before slipping from the room. Mara blushed, fully aware of why her friend had done that, and grateful for the attempt at calming her frazzled nerves. She squeezed Duncan's hands together between her own, drawing him further into the chamber, keeping her back to the bed at all times. "You look very handsome," she offered quietly, daring to kiss him tenderly. "I ....I hope you don't mind all this, I ....Well, I wanted to do something different. Make tonight special."

He still wasn't sure he understood what was supposed to be so special about this particular evening, and that confusion could be seen on his face, but he let her lead him further into the room, sensing how very important this night seemed to her, for whatever reason. "Beryl said I should dress up. She said a lady doesn't send you a dinner invitation without expecting you to come dressed for the occasion," he explained, following her kiss. "No, I....I don't mind."

"Duncan ..." Mara seemed to hesitate, standing close, so close that he could see the gentle sheen of sweat on her skin from the heat and weight of the gown she wore. His confusion was endearing, softening further the shock of her nerves until she could feel herself relaxing, inordinately pleased that he genuinely had no idea what she was doing. She rose up onto her toes, her hands curling to his cheeks as she kissed him again, still tender and with a hint of something more passionate hidden beneath. "I'm ready," she whispered, not wanting to keep him in the dark when he might relax better with her knowing what she intended.

"Ready?" He didn't seem to quite understand what she was referring to right away, more than a little distracted by the gown that seemed to hug her in all the right place and sweep softly down over her hips. The fabric was rich and set off the golden drape of her hair perfectly, the neckline cut just so it hinted at what was not seen enough to entice. "Oh," he said as she kissed him again, more deeply than before, and he realized with a jolt what it was she was alluding to. The knowledge that she was ready to give herself to him, however, had the opposite effect on him. Instead of relaxing him, his felt his stomach tighten into knots and he felt a little lightheaded, but maybe it was just the heat.

As nervous as she was, his lack of enthusiasm for what she had just told him did not help her keep an even temper. Oh wasn't good enough to prevent her from dropping her hands from him, stepping back as hurt confusion colored her expression. "Did ....am I doing this wrong?" she asked uncertainly. "Have you changed your mind?"

It wasn't a lack of enthusiasm, but a state of shock that had caused him to react with a simple stammered, "Oh." He blinked, furrowing his brows and shaking his head to pull himself out of his stupor. "No, I..." He glanced from her to the bed, as if it was just hitting him, putting two and two together, though she had been plain enough in telling him. "I just wasn't expecting it."

She shrugged, rubbing one hand down over her opposite elbow, her own gaze casting about the room as her nerves flared. Her hands rose and fell in a strangely jerky motion. "Surprise," she offered, hope and unexpected regret mingling in her tone - regret that she hadn't talked to him about this first. A small flicker of the Mara he was used to burst through, not entirely tamed by training and circumstance. "Did I break you?"

"No, no, I..." He reached for her hands, suddenly sensing her nervousness and worrying that he hadn't helped matters any. As much as they'd both matured over the last year, in some ways, they were still as shy and awkward as children. It seemed that if things went as planned tonight was going to change all that. Odd how he felt more awkward dressed in a silly doublet than he had some cycles past in nothing at all. "Are you sure you're ready?" he asked, not wanting her to feel pressured at all, feeling a mix of excitement and nervousness.

Caught from stepping away any further by the wrap of his hands around hers, she stilled, letting the grip ease her closer once again. His question made her laugh quietly, a roll of her eyes betraying how fond she was of his serious, worried side as she stepped to him, squeezing his hands tightly. "I'm sure," she promised him in a soft voice, nodding as she spoke. "I thought ....I thought doing it like this was the right thing to do."

"Elise isn't going to watch, is she?" he asked, worriedly. Probably a silly question, but she had always been there whenever they'd been busy honing her skills, except for that one time when they'd come very close to giving themselves to each other completely. He felt a thrill of excitement rush through him, hardly able to believe she was really going to be his, after all this time, after all they'd been through. He gave her hands a squeeze, a warm smile on his face. "I've no idea, but I'm sure we'll figure it out."

She giggled, her tension broken by his silly question, the stiff set of her shoulders relaxing as she leaned into him. "No," she laughed, green eyes dancing with mirth. "No, she isn't going to watch, or give us instructions. We ....we'll be alone, all night." Once the meal was done, obviously, since someone had to deliver the food and clear the plates away.

Odd how he had been ready all those months ago, but she had not, and now that she was ready, it was him who was nervous. They would have to get through dinner first, but now he was so nervous, food was the last thing on his mind. He nodded his head, however, in understanding, finding himself muttering without realizing it, "I think I need a drink." It wasn't a very Duncanish thing to say, but apparently, he was suddenly feeling a case of nerves.

In any other household, it would have been the lady who served him with the drink he'd so unconsciously requested. It certainly wouldn't have been the lady's maid who, having unabashedly been eavesdropping at the door, let herself in with a grin, poured him a drink, and handed it over, saying, "Don't drink too much, or you'll be no good to each other."

"Elise!" Mara only just managed to be more outraged than amused by that comment, though her smile didn't exactly hide itself.

Elise smirked, and curtseyed to them both. "Dinner is served, my lady."

She was right. He didn't want to pass out from too much drink, not tonight, but he did need something to calm his nerves. He took the glass from Elise with some mumbled words of thanks and took a small sip of the liquid before draining the glass in its entirety. Thankfully, it was only wine and not something stronger or it might have gone straight to his head. "You two are teasing me, I think," he remarked, as he moved over to set the glass on the table and pull out a chair for his lady.

"She's too scared, and I'm supposed to not be able to dare," Elise chuckled when it became clear that Mara was too worried about offending Duncan to answer in kind for herself. She watched as the golden-haired girl sat down in the chair he held out for her, nodding in approval, and stepped out for a moment to collect the dishes. They still ate simply, even here, and the course laid before him was likely to be the only savory one; broiled trout with parsley butter, and set to one side, pears in mead for their dessert. These set down, Elise left the room, and this time they both heard the lock click over. Apparently even Elise thought it was about time they took this step.

Mara Mallory

Date: 2013-04-26 08:08 EST
The food didn't matter to him, simple or fancy. Despite the invitation, dinner was not the real point of this invitation. They had to eat, yes, but it didn't matter to him what the meal consisted of. On the other hand, he frowned a little at the dish that was placed before him, but only because he'd thought his father would have been paying for better fare than this. He seemed more than willing to pay for the apartment and for the fine clothes. It made no sense, but when had anything Eric Mallory did made sense" "Is this what you always eat?" he asked, arching a brow at the door as he heard the lock click.

Mara blinked, surprised by the question. He knew what she and Elise had eaten before they had been moved here, that this was a step up for them. "Of course," she told him, a little bemused. "You should have seen what they tried to make us eat when we arrived - I saw more food in one meal than I'd seen in an entire year before." Taking up her cutlery, she laughed softly, willing herself to relax a little more as they talked.

He was still frowning, as if he was trying to sort out why she wanted to eat so simply as this when she didn't have to. As for himself, he was accustomed to fine dining, though he rarely shared a meal with his father. "I should invite you to the manor for dinner. Sometime when Father isn't there. The servants would love you." He smiled, that twinkle in his eyes that showed he was in a good mood and was starting to relax a little, especially now that they were truly alone and there was no pressure to do anything but enjoy their dinner. He reached for the bottle of wine and filled both their glasses. "The cook makes the best peach cobbler I've ever tasted! Oh, and the duck. You must try the duck!"

He furrowed his brows as his sword got caught on his chair when he tried to sit down and he unbelted the thing and set it aside to lean against a wall, muttering, "Bloody thing."

"No, they wouldn't," Mara giggled back at him, knowing that the mere fact of her existence and friendship with him had caused more trouble than was necessary in the Mallory Manor. She doubted the servants would approve of her any more than they would approve of Leandra. His enthusiasm for food was something he hadn't shared with her before, drawing a fresh peal of giggles from her lips at the exuberance with which he expounded on the talents of his cook. "What is a peach cobbler?" she asked curiously, biting her lip in an attempt not to laugh at his difficulties with his sword, lifting her glass to sip at her wine. "It sounds like a fruit that makes shoes."

"Yes, they would," he insisted with a wide smile, lifting his glass for a long swallow. He was accustomed to drinking wine with his meal, but for some reason, it was going down faster tonight, and on an empty stomach, that meant he'd feel it a lot sooner, as well. He chuckled at her attempt at a little humor. "Silly girl! It's sort of like peach pie without the crust." He wasn't sure why, but once they were locked into her room alone, and the conversation shifted to dinner and away from the bed looming large in the room, they both seemed to relax. "You're wrong about the servants." A thought came to mind as he considered that statement and he glanced toward the door. "What does Elise think of me" Does she think I'm a bad influence?" He took up his knife and sliced into the bit of fish.

Of course, the wine was the best that had been provided for Duncan's mistress, a good deal stronger than the wines even he was used to in his daily fare. Mara could already feel herself beginning to unravel at the edges thanks to its potency, determined not to drink so much she couldn't do as she had planned tonight. She smiled at his query toward Elise, wondering how long he'd been worrying himself about that quarter. "She likes you," she assured him quietly, chewing for a long moment before continuing. "She ....Well, she told me she was glad your father had bought me for you. She says we're good for each other. And you should know by now - if she didn't approve of you, she wouldn't let you in."

A small frown touched his lips as he chewed on a bit of fish. "Yes, but....What does she think about us getting married?" he pried further, assuming Mara had told her about their plans. He washed the fish down with more wine, not quite realizing how much stronger it was than the wine he was accustomed to drinking. Another glass, and he'd be feeling lightheaded. He was already starting to feel more relaxed, the wine warm and soothing, maybe too warm.

Mara paused a moment, sipping her own wine, still on that first glass he'd poured for them and a little amazed by how quickly he was getting through it. Was the prospect of lying with her that terrifying" "She says it's a wonderful dream," she told him gently, remembering how angry she'd been with Elise when she'd finally confessed their plans to her oldest friend. "She wouldn't say anything else, but I don't think she believes it'll happen. She's too caught up on my place in society and yours."

"Blast society!" he declared with a flash of defiance in his steel-gray eyes. "I don't give a bloody damn about society. All I care about is you." It seemed the wine was loosening his tongue a little more usual, and he threw the second glass back almost as quickly as he had the first. He wasn't terrified of lying with her exactly, but he was nervous, afraid he'd disappoint her somehow, not live up to her expectations. Getting drunk was certainly not the answer, but it might help him relax a little, or make him angry. It was hard to tell at this point. It all depended on how the rest of dinner went. "It's not a dream, Mara. We're going to make it happen," he reiterated as he set the glass down.

His sudden outburst made her jump, startled by the vehemence as much as by how open he was in expressing it. She was more used to Duncan clamming up than expressing himself in clear terms, though she wasn't sure that was better than this. "I know it isn't a dream," she assured him, hoping to at least calm him down a little. "That's what Elise says, not me. And until it happens, she's going to keep thinking it's a dream. It's just the way she is." She eyed him thoughtfully over a forkful of fish. "Duncan, are you feeling all right' You look awfully flushed."

He drew a breath and wiped a hand across his brow, which had broken out in perspiration. "Why is it so hot in here?" It was summer, after all, and the wine was doing its work to raise his temperature. He reached for the buttons on the front of his doublet to loosen one or two. Beneath the doublet was a tunic, both of them dressed in layers far too thick for the heat of summer.

She hesitated, her eyes drawn unerringly to the loosening of his buttons, a little disappointed to find more cloth underneath. Biting her lower lip, Mara blushed faintly herself, as overheated as he was but with less recourse to removing layers without becoming indecent. "You can take it off, you know," she told him helpfully. "There's no point in making yourself uncomfortable just to stand on ceremony with me."

There was that confused expression on his face again, that made him look more boy than man, though he was quickly growing into the latter. "I wore it for you," he remarked, unsure if he should remove the bloody thing or not. It suddenly felt like it was stifling him. "You..." His eyes raked over her, feeling a flush of heat that had nothing to do with wine or the temperature. "You look....lovely." Lovely wasn't even adequate to describe her, in his opinion. Beautiful. Gorgeous. Desirable. Delicious.

Her smile brightened, that shy light in her eyes once again at his flushing, stammering compliment. She could hear the words he hadn't spoken, see them in his eyes, and her blush rose higher, burning not just her cheeks but the tempting hint toward the rest of her hidden by her gown. "Thank you," she murmured, delighted more with his reaction to her than his perception of her. "But really, Mal ....I'd rather you were comfortable. You're wearing so much, it's a wonder you haven't melted." She laid her knife and fork down, her appetite suffering under the warm spike of desire that had risen with the look in his eyes. "Should ....should I help you?"

He was still frowning, feeling a little nervous again, despite the desire to get the doublet off and be able to breathe again. He could only guess how she must feel in that dress, but at least it wasn't buttoned up to her chin. "If you help me, I doubt we'll be finishing our dinner," he replied, practically. It would be a shame to waste the meal, but his mind wasn't really on food right now, as hungry as he was.

Mara Mallory

Date: 2013-04-26 08:09 EST
She was old enough now to see his words for what they were - not a rejection, but a warning - and she giggled softly, ducking her head with girlishly playful delight at being told just what she was somehow doing to him without even trying. "I could just watch," she offered then, just a little bit wicked with her teasing.

"You'd like that, wouldn't you?" he remarked back, with a pout. "To see me fumble with my own clothing." He really didn't relish wearing such clothing and rarely did, except when it was a special occasion or expected of him. He much preferred more practical clothing to what someone of his station was expected to wear. He picked his fork back up, frowning a little, leaving the two buttons loose on his doublet but going no further. "I don't even know how to get you out of that dress."

His pout made her frown, her eyes narrowing just a little before she lowered her eyes, returning to the meal before her. "It's easier than getting me out of my other dresses," she offered up, a slight snap to her tone. "You've never had any trouble before." She could feel her petulant side welling up, rebelling against nerves and shyness in the face of his pouting. This was supposed to be a good night, something special to share. Now it looked like they were going to have an argument.

He caught a hint in her tone of voice that said she might be annoyed with him and he continued to frown, a little stab of guilt for making her angry. He reached for the bottle of wine and refilled his glass, promising himself it would be the last one. "I'm sorry. I guess I'm just nervous," he admitted reluctantly, averting his gaze, afraid she would laugh at him.

"You're not the only one." She watched from beneath her lashes as he poured himself another glass of wine, lowering her gaze to where she was just playing with her food now. Setting her fork down, she folded her hands in her lap, swallowing down the slip toward bad temper with a deep breath and a smile. "Would you like me to play you something" I'm much better at it now; you can even recognize a tune sometimes."

He took another swallow of the wine, which was definitely going to his head, especially since he'd hardly eaten a bite from all his nervousness. "You should eat, Mara," he replied, even if he wasn't. It wasn't that he didn't want to hear her play; it was just that he worried she'd make herself ill if she didn't eat.

She blushed again, her fingers playing uncertainly with a loose curl at her shoulder. "I, um ....I'm not really hungry," she admitted quietly. "I promised Elise I'd have a little of everything she gave us, but ....I don't think I can eat a full meal tonight." Green eyes lifted to meet his with promising longing. "Perhaps we'll be better ready to eat a good breakfast in the morning?"

The mention of breakfast made him realize once again that he was not only here for dinner, but expected to stay the night. It was not the first time they'd spent a night together, but it was the first time they were expected to do more than just sleep. Maybe that was what the problem was - the expectations of both Mara and Elise, expectations he wasn't sure he would live up to. They had almost made love once before - it had happened all on its own, without a plan, without any expectations, without any pressure - but she had not yet been ready. He wondered what the hell was the matter with him. Maybe it would be better if she did play a little for him after all; maybe it would help relax them both. "I'm not really hungry either," he admitted quietly.

She drew in another breath, shaky, proving that for all she believed herself to be ready for this, she was still as nervous as he was, perhaps moreso. "Why is this so awkward?" she asked him quietly, her slender hands moving to press against the stiff fabric of her bodice as she made to stand up, chewing on her lower lip. "It isn't as though we haven't almost been here before. Did ....did I make this worse, trying to make it better?"

He felt a flush of guilt, as well as embarrassment. She had tried to make this a special evening, just for him, and he was completely ruining her plans. He averted his gaze again, not wanting her to see the guilty expression on his face, the shame at having made her feel bad when she'd been so excited about this evening. "It's not you, Mara," he said, his gaze fixed on the wine glass as his thumb traced some unseen pattern on its surface. He blew out a sigh of breath. "I just....I don't want to disappoint you."

"Duncan ....you could never disappoint me." She turned, her hair ruffled in the breeze from the open window as she looked down at him, her hands falling to her sides as she shrugged. "I thought this was the way it was supposed to happen. If anything, I'm the one who's disappointed you. I've made you awkward and uncomfortable, and I'm wearing this ridiculous dress in the middle of summer, and ..." She sighed, shaking her head. "It doesn't have to happen, Duncan, really it doesn't."

His head shot up and he gave her a sharp look, not only startled that she was taking the blame on herself, but sorry he had said anything at all. He should have just gone along with her plan and tried to enjoy himself, instead of feeling pressured and nervous, but he wasn't a man who had come here to partake of her services, nor was he a suitor hoping to earn her favor. He was her oldest and dearest friend, and he loved her, no matter whether she offered herself to him or not. It would happen in its own time. Why did it have to happen on a timetable" "I'm sorry, Mara. I don't want to disappoint you." It seemed that their timing was all wrong. When he had been ready, she had not, and now that she was ready, he was not.

She couldn't quite meet his gaze, guilt of her own playing over her face, making her feel uncomfortable where she had been almost all right before. She'd made him feel bad, and that had never been the intention. With a maturity that was beyond her years, she came to a decision, lifting her head with a smile that was only a little strained. "Let's forget I said it then," she suggested firmly. "Forget I said anything. It's just like any other night." Her gaze strayed to his sword, and her smile became more genuine, sweeter and familiarly impish. "You can just teach me how to fight instead."

"Fight?" he echoed, eyes widened. "Why the devil would you would want to learn how to do that?" He was still feeling guilty for making her feel bad, but hoping they could somehow return to how things always were between them. She was his closest friend, after all, and he was normally easy-going and comfortable when they were together. He picked up the knife and cut off another piece of fish. "It's dangerous." He gestured to her with the knife as he chewed his fish. "You could get hurt." He swallowed the bit of fish, thoughtful a moment before continuing. Though he was reluctant to teach her to use a sword, there was something else he might be able to teach her instead. "You should know how to defend yourself. I can teach you that," he added, helpfully.

"Why should boys have all the fun?" was her protest at his refusal to let her near the sword, though she was smiling as she said it, dropping back into her seat to take another mouthful from her own plate. Yes, it was still a little awkward, but this was Duncan. He knew her better than anyone, and she him. She knew how to make him relax with distractions. "So teach me that. I bet I can punch better than you."

He couldn't help but laugh at that. "You" You're a girl!" he exclaimed doubtfully, but with an amused smirk on his face. He took up his wine glass and drained it before setting it back down and moving to his feet, swaying a teensy bit as the wine went to his head. "Come on. Let's see what you've got," he told her, reaching for her hand to tug her to her feet, daring her to back up her claim with actions.

Mara giggled as he took her at her word, not seeing the telltale sway that was their warning that the evening was probably going to come to a premature end. Her hand slipped into his as he tugged her up, one foot kicking her skirt out of the way as she squared up to him in the manner of the gentleman's woodcuts, all form and no practical application, fists raised like a cat boxing at thin air. "Come on, then, put them up!"

Mara Mallory

Date: 2013-04-26 08:11 EST
He laughed again, clearly amused. She was just a little thing compared to him, and as such, he wasn't taking her very seriously. "Loosen up," he told her, reaching over to adjust the way she was holding up her fists. "Always aim for the nose, if you can. If you can land a punch to someone's nose, chances are, they won't fight back." He stepped back to look over her stance. "Keep your feet spread and stand with your knees bent. You want your back leg to take most of your weight. Like this..." He spread his feet, left foot forward, and curled his hands into fist. He threw a single punch at the air to show her how it should be done.

It was difficult for him to see what her feet were doing under the heavy sway of her thick skirts, but Mara was actually being surprisingly attentive as she watched him adjust his weight. She hadn't done much in the way of physical learning in her lifetime, and he was right, she was tiny compared with him, not simply in height, but in the development of the muscles she was about to make use of. She couldn't help grinning at him as he demonstrated a punch, balling her fist a little more successfully and echoing the movement with little force. "Like that?"

"Not bad, but you need to put some force behind it. Get angry! Imagine..." He paused to consider a moment, a thought forming in his mind. "Imagine I'm someone you hate. Imagine I'm Stefan!" He lifted his hands, palms forward to give her something to swing at. "I'm Stefan, and I've just tried to kiss you," he added, giving her something to get angry about, or so he hoped. She more than likely wouldn't notice, but he was not quite as fast or as light on his feet as he should be, the wine slowing his reflexes down and causing him to be slightly off-balance.

"But I don't want to hit you," she protested, but her eyes narrowed at the scenario he had brought up. They both remembered a day when exactly that had happened, and she had been pretty much helpless to prevent it. Her jaw set in a stern line, and her hand punched forward again, hitting him squarely in the palm with a reasonable amount of force. Not enough to break a nose, though.

"Not bad..." He smirked, egging her on, "...for a girl!" The punch wasn't bad for a first try. Her aim was good, at least, though she needed to put a little more muscle behind it. He was only playing with her, really. If she was serious about learning how to defend herself, he'd teach her, but he'd go about it an entirely different way. She had claimed she could punch better than him, and he had taken up the challenge, but in all truth, if she really had to defend herself someday, fisticuffs wasn't the way to go about doing it. A well-aimed knee in the groin would be far more effective.

"For a girl"!" She let out a huff of indignant laughter, knowing she'd done better than he was letting on. Perhaps the wine had gone to her head, too; she certainly was letting him get under her skin more than she should have done. But Mara didn't like to be bested when she hadn't even begun, and his smirk was already irritating her. Again, green eyes narrowed, and she threw all her scant weight behind her next punch. This time, however, her aim wasn't as good as it should have been.

"Better!" he encouraged with a grin, as her fist flew past his hands and nearly landed against his shoulder. "But your aim is off. Put your weight behind it and try again, but aim this time!" Unless, of course, she was aiming for his shoulder; then she was dead on. He leaned forward to tease her a little and tweak her nose, swaying a little as he pulled back. "You can do better!" he encouraged as he teased, not really taking her very seriously at all. She was a girl, after all. He wasn't worried.

Her mouth drew together in a faint pout at his teasing encouragement, the narrowing of her eyes suddenly a great deal more business-like than it had been a moment before. "Right." Straightening up, her hands disappeared beneath her skirt, and a moment later the gold brocade of her underskirt dropped to the floor, revealing silk stockings gartered with ribbons and a thin chemise rising above those. She kicked the underskirt away, and pulled the ribbons from her sleeves, folding the silk back to her elbows before resuming her stance, freer now a layer had been removed. "You," she told him, advancing with a smirk of her own, "are squiffy." This time the punch hit his palm again, and with force.

He dropped his hands a moment while she freed herself of the dress' constraints, chuckling a little to see her in what was basically her underthings. In any other circumstance, he might not have found it amusing. In fact, he normally have found the sight enticing, but seeing her in her underthings trying to look fierce only made him laugh. "I am not!" he countered, trying to keep a straight face and look insulted but failing miserably. The punch to his palm gave him pause a moment, and he beamed a proud smile. "That's it! Better!" He backed up a pace or two to put more distance between them and make her come to him.

"And now you're laughing at me!" she declared indignantly, skipping forward on those slender legs to close the distance between them. "You are, you're as drunk as a skunk. You wouldn't know a decent punch if I did clock you one!" Smirking again, she drew her fist back and snapped it forward, a little offended by his teasing now. Just because she was a girl didn't mean she couldn't be just as good at this as he was, with practice.

He dropped his guard, just for a moment, scowling indignantly back at her. "I am not!" he insisted again, resisting the urge to stick his tongue out at her. Unfortunately for him, just as he lowered his hands was when her fist snapped forward, connecting with his jaw and sending him sprawling backwards onto the bed, dazed.

Instantly, Mara switched from aggression to mild horror, her hands snapping back to cover her mouth as wide eyes watched him pitch backwards and land heavily, looking for all the world as though she'd just committed a heinous crime entirely by accident. "I'm sorry! I didn't mean to!"

The only reply she received was a groan, as the dazed and half-inebriated teenager lay on his back on the bed in a state of semi-consciousness. Stars were dancing before his eyes, and his jaw felt like it was on fire. Whatever it was she'd set out to do, she'd made her point. She might not be able to punch better than him, but one well-aimed fist had been enough to lay him out.

"Duncan?" The bed shifted as she crawled up onto it beside him, one hand gently stroking against his tender jaw as he groaned. Despite herself, she was smiling. She knew she hadn't really won anything, but he was never going to be able to live down the fact that the night she'd set aside to give up her virtue, he'd ended up dazed by a punch from a girl. "Oh, sweetheart," she giggled softly, leaning down to kiss his cheek. "You do walk into these things, don't you?" She sighed, all plans for the evening gone, and set about unbuttoning his doublet. At least he was already on the bed; all she had to do was get him out of his clothes so he could sleep off the wine.

His eyes fluttered open, but for a moment he was seeing two of her, and he had to blink a few times to bring her into focus. He lifted a shaky hand to rub at his aching jaw that was going to be sporting a colorful bruise by morning. "Are you gonna kiss it and make it better?" he asked, groggily, slurring his words a little, his tongue feeling strangely thick. He made no effort to stop her from undoing what remained of his buttons and probably couldn't have stopped her, even if he'd wanted to. Now that he was flat on his back, there was a strange buzzing sound in his head and it felt like the bed was spinning.

"I thought I already did," she laughed softly, but the sound was fond, loving, even as she heaved to bring him onto his side, dragging his doublet and tunic from him in the same motion. Despite their difference in size, and the fact that he was little more than a dead weight, she managed to get his clothes off him, cajoling what little cooperation she could to get him to the pillows, covering her inebriated lover with the cool silk sheet. Lying there beside him, she brushed a kiss to his lips, her fingers stroking through his hair. "Go to sleep, Duncan. I won't go far."

His limbs felt suddenly too heavy, like he was filled with a great weight, and he allowed her to strip him and tuck him beneath the sheets. A warm, summer breeze wafted in through the window, feeling deliciously soothing after being cooped up in the heavy brocade all evening. He frowned as he turned his head toward her, and she brushed a kiss against his pouting lips. He knew how much this evening had meant to her. "I'm sorry, Mara. I ruined everything."

"No, you didn't." It was the work of a minute to slip her overdress, stockings and bloomers from her body, pulling the pins from her hair before she slid between the cool sheets with him, modest in her chemise still. She leaned over him, nose to nose, grinning like the cat that ate the canary. "I'm the only girl in the world who can say she punched Duncan Mallory's lights out."

He smiled a little, mixed with a slight wince at the ache that smile caused in his jaw, and reached to weave his fingers through the silk fall of gold hair. "You're so very beautiful," he said, his voice soft and aching with longing, even if he was unable to do much about it this night. "Do you have any idea how much I love you?" Maybe it was the wine that was loosening his tongue, but he needed her to know these things, to know how very much he loved her.

Her smile softened as he spoke, hearing the truth as the wine slipped his reserve free for the night, settling herself onto her side to face him. Her fingertip drew tenderly down the line of his nose, over his lips, and turned to run the backs of her fingers along his jaw in a slow, loving caress. "As much as I love you," she murmured softly. "You're my world, Duncan."

His smile widened, despite the bruise. He'd suffered worse injuries in the yard and had lived to tell about them. He wasn't going to become a master swordsman without suffering an injury or two now and then, but being a master swordsman wasn't what he really wanted to do with his life. That dream had been shared with no one, not even Mara. His eyes were growing heavy, the wine making his brain fuzzy and making him feel drowsy. "Is this what it will be like to be married?" he asked, feeling strangely content, even if all they were doing was going to sleep. They were together, and that was all that really mattered.

"It will be, for us." The promise was softly spoken, gently given, a secret to share in the darkness that enveloped them as she shifted closer to touch a kiss to the tip of his nose. "Sleep, sweetheart. I'm here ....and I love you."

What more did he need than that' Having a hard time keeping them open, he let his eyes drift closed, falling to sleep with a soft smile on his face, content knowing she was right there beside him. Soon they'd be married, and every night would be like this one, just the two of them.

((Well, that's one way to finish a formal dinner date! Hugilicious thanks to Duncan's player! More backstory on the way!))