((Contains material of an adult nature.))

August 9th, 1613

A very long day, filled with excitement and tension, ended with quiet plans made in the deep of the night was enough to take its toll on even the sturdiest of folk, fine and hale and ready for each day as it came. For a duke who had been battered in the lists, and a lady who was not made for such heavy hours, it proved the perfect recipe for a long, deep sleep, long enough to let the dawn come and go and the business of the waking court to begin. Oblivious to the fact that she had missed her chance to sneak out of her betrothed's rooms without being seen and commented on, Alys sighed in her sleep, rolling to pillow her cheek against Charles' chest, red-gold hair spilling over the sheets beneath them. Married habits in an unmarried couple ....not even the king's favor would save them the disapproval and disgrace if they were caught here and now.

Even in his sleep, as oblivious to the time of day as she was, Charles wound a protective arm around his lady's shoulders as she pillowed her cheek against his chest, which slowly rose and fell with each soft and even breath. He had only meant to close his eyes for a little while and wake her well before dawn, in plenty of time to find her way back to her own rooms without risk of discovery, but it was past time for that now, and if they didn't wake soon, they would surely be caught. The first rays of dawn filtered through the windows casting a warm golden glow on the sleeping pair and illuminating not only the bruise that marked the lady's cheek, but various shades of black and blue and yellow that were scattered over the duke's torso, evidence of the battering he'd taken the day before and the abuse she had suffered at the hands of the Count from Alanic.

It was the warmth of the sun that began to stir Alys from sleep, unaccustomed to the sensation in the opening hours of the day. Her own rooms were on the other side of the court suites of the palace, purposely so not to catch the morning sunlight. She breathed in, deep and slow, releasing a gentle sigh as her body began to wake, her senses rushing to inform her that she was naked and in company before she even considered opening her eyes.

Charles, too, was starting to stir awake, the sun filtering through the windows lightening the curtain of his closed eyelids. He breathed a soft sigh as he started to wake, his expression shifting as he consciousness slowly crept back into his muddled brain, and he realized he was not alone. He pried one eye open, only realizing too late that it was his Alys that was still sharing his bed. "Bloody hell!" he exclaimed, jostling her as he jerked upright in bed, eyes popping open and squinting in the early morning sun. "Alys! Wake up!" he called as he nudged her.

Well, she'd not been awoken quite like that before. Startled out of her half-sleep, Alys roused herself fighting, her arm flailing to try and extricate herself almost before her eyes opened onto the disaster that was Charles in bed in the dawning sunlight. Her sharp eyes took in the yellowing, darkening bruises on his chest and shoulder even as she rose onto an elbow, her head turning toward the window. "Oh no," she sighed, regret and alarm combining in the soft sound as her gaze returned to him. "I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to sleep so long!"

"Shh!" he warned, pressing a finger against her lips and perking an ear to the sounds around them of the wakening and arising courtiers and servants . "It might not be too late," he whispered, climbing out of bed naked to search the room for her clothing, thinking of her first, cursing under his breath at his own stupidity and the mess of discarded clothing they'd left all over the floor of his room. He knew his groom's habits and knew he'd be there any minute with his breakfast.

"Where the bloody hell is your gown?" he growled as he flung one article of clothing after another over his shoulder in search of those that belonged to her, scattering some on the floor, some on the bed, clothing going every which way in his haste to get her dressed before they were discovered.

"On the floor, would be the direct assumption." As frantic as Charles was in his scrambling out of bed to locate her clothing, Alys knew that just getting dressed was the least of their worries. "Charles, I can't walk through the halls in last night's ballgown," she pointed out, sliding to the edge of the bed, the sheet held modestly about herself as she watched him search through the mess of clothing. "Anyone who sees me would know, and even if they didn't do anything but tell their servants, word would get about."

"Damn," he murmured, his arms full of velvet and satin. She was right. Getting her dressed in her ballgown, while covering her nakedness, would not hide the fact that she had not returned to her own quarters, as was proper of a royal lady. He had to think of something else. "All right....We'll-we'll sneak you back to your rooms in some of my clothing."

"In your clothes?" Her brows rose as she looked up at him rather pointedly. He was a big man, and she ....well, she was a petite lady. "Would you like me to come and stand next to you, or can you work out just why that wouldn't work either by yourself?" She slid onto her feet, letting the sheet fall away as she moved to investigate the thrown clothing in search of a petticoat at the very least. "Your groom's clothes, maybe, love."

"My groom's clothing" Why ever would you want to..." He watched as she let the sheet fall away and padded toward him to search the pile herself, realizing she was right. She'd never fit in his clothing, and if she was seen, it would be obvious why she was dressed that way. "You weren't supposed to fall asleep," he blurted, not really blaming her, just flustered at the situation, knowing it could prove disastrous for him, if not for her. She could be sent away again, and though he doubted the king would agree to an execution, he would most certainly be stripped of his title and lands and find himself disgraced.

"I beg your pardon?" If the words weren't enough, the deadly quiet tone of voice should have given him warning that he'd let his frantic concern get in the way of his common sense again. She dropped her handful of his shirt, straightening to look up at him with heated eyes that bordered on angry, her hands settling against her hips as she glared at him. "This is my fault' What happened to "don't worry about sleeping, I'll wake you?" Or better yet, "share my bed tonight?""

"Oh, so, it's my fault now, is it?" he countered, turning to her with that armful of clothing, brows furrowed angrily down at her as she glared up at him. If they weren't in such dire straits, he might have found it funny. Maybe if they weren't caught, someday he would, but for now, he was nearly in a state of panic. "Do you want to see me lose my head?" He was not talking figuratively, and as a knock came at the door, his face paled severely, and he shushed her again.

He was still combing through his hair when she barged her way into his room, and he flushed as he turned to face her. She was the one person in all of existence who never failed to intimidate him, but he wasn't going to let her intimidate him anymore. He was a man now, and not just any man, but a Duke, given the title and lands and authority not only because of his friendship with the king, but because the king believed he was worthy of the rank bestowed on him. All his life she had belittled him, but she could belittle him no more. "Grandmother," he greeted her, offering her a short bow. "I trust you are well."

The old woman sniffed, determined not to approve of a single thing she found here. She had never forgiven her son for marrying below him, and as far as she was concerned, Charles had done nothing to redeem his father's mistake. Until now. "Well enough," was her less than forgiving response. "You've been playing your silly war games again, so there's no doubting you're in bad shape. What did you do to get that girl to agree to marry you? Is she with child?"

His face flushed further, the only sign of his carefully repressed rage. Let her think what she wanted; he didn't care. She constantly pricked at his pride, like a parasite boring its way under his skin. He lifted his chin in prideful defiance, his muscles bunching with tension, though his reply when it came was cool and even and practiced. "Might I remind Your Ladyship that those silly war games, as you so call them, are designed to practice and sharpen a warrior's skills so that we are always at the ready to defend Francia against an invader" Those silly war games are in part what keep our forces strong so that we can keep the Coimbrans from our border." He ignored the questions regarding Alys for the time being, wondering if he dared hint that she was close to insulting the king's kin with her accusation.

She sniffed again, dismissing his pointed reminder of the voracity of his pastimes in favor of letting her sharp eyes look around his bed chamber, taking in every detail she could see as she stepped inside. "Really, Charles, you can do better than this," she informed him. "You are marrying into royalty. The least you can do is have your man equip your rooms with the proper dignity. These aren't even fit for a member of the highest rank of the nobility, which people tell me you are these days." She paused beside the bed, beside the shoe which thankfully had not been noticed yet, turning to look at him sharply as she leaned on her stick. "Well?"

He followed her with his eyes, moving with her as she made her way further into his domain, not noticing the shoe yet, though if she continued to stand there, he most likely would before long. "I have an entire castle at my disposal at Arindale. I see no need for any grander rooms than these when I am at court. Once Lady Alys and I are wed, I should think the king will find us rooms that better fit our rank and arrangement."

"Arindale, yes ..." Dame Beatrice drew the word out thoughtfully, unable to find much to complain about when it came to that palace. It was the most beautiful in the country, after all, and unlike her grandson, she had actually seen it. "Well, that - at least - is suitable for the king's niece." She lifted her stick to poke him in the ribs with the end. "Has her father stated what her dowry is to be yet' Monceau is land-rich, he can afford a good deal. And if this Lady Alys is as valuable as she is considered to be - not that I've seen much but a little girl who didn't learn anything from her first marriage - then you should drive a hard bargain, boy." She scowled up at him, glancing about the room as a quietly outraged noise made itself known from the stool chamber.

Though he tried not to, he couldn't help but wince when she poked her walking stick in his ribs, seemingly without effort finding a spot that was particularly sore. Thankfully, it was at that exact moment that he spied the shoe, and the poke in the ribs was enough of an excuse for the way his face suddenly drained itself of color. He rubbed a hand against his ribs as he moved closer, taking her by the arm to lead her from his bedchamber, a kick of the shoe beneath the bed as he came close. "Yes, well....Let us discuss it over breakfast, shall we" I'm famished and we wouldn't want it to get cold."

"Hmph. In my day, a lord your age would have been up for hours by this time, attending to his duties," Dame Beatrice sniffed once again, allowing herself to be guided from the bed chamber only because she wasn't entirely sure she should have walked herself in there in the first place. "I assume you have made the appropriate plans for your wedding and marriage, the inheritance of your children" You must be wary of any contract she asks you to sign, boy - children of her blood will be in line for the throne should anything become of the king and his family, Goddess forbid."

"Yes, yes, of course," Charles said, telling her what she wanted to hear, but not really agreeing with her, pacifying her just to get her out of his bedchamber and away from Alys before she gave herself away. He had already heard a muffled sound of anger from behind that door, thankful the old lady's hearing was no longer what it once was. "Nothing is going to happen to the king or his family," he assured her, wondering if she was bold enough to be hinting that she'd like to see their own bloodline on the throne - a thought that had never and would never cross his mind. He was the king's man to the death.

It wasn't so much the possibility of having her bloodline inherit a throne as the prestige of being the great-grandmother to a generation who could inherit the throne. Ushered from the bedchamber, Dame Beatrice shook her arm out of Charles' grasp, her stick thumping against the floor as she moved to the table. "Your groom is an impertinent child," she informed him pointedly. "Have him better trained or removed, he does you no credit." This, in reference to the teenaged boy she had hit so hard with her stick that his nose was bleeding.

Shaken away from her, Charles narrowed his eyes. Was there no aspect of his life or his chosen relationships that she approved of? Oh, she most certainly approved of a marriage to Alys, but only because she was the king's niece, not because she might actually be happy for him. He glanced to the boy who was holding a cloth to his nose and his eyes flashed angrily. "I would remind you, My Lady, that whether you are my father's mother or not, I now hold the rank of a Duke, and as such, you no longer hold sway over me," he told her as coolly as he could as he started toward his groom, lowering his voice to whisper in his ear as he led the boy toward the door. "Go seek out Lady Alys' maid and tell her of our predicament."

Cedric lowered the cloth from his nose and mouth as his master led him toward the door, grateful to be given any task that got him away from the horrible old woman who had invaded the duke's space. "Yes, Your Grace," he nodded obediently, bowing to his master before hurrying out through the door.

Confined though the stool chamber was, both Charles and Alys had forgotten one important detail when she had been hidden inside. It was a stool chamber. The windows, such as they were, contained no glass, and the seat itself opened onto thin air above the open cesspit. As a result, it was very cold in there, even in the grip of full summer. Alys had done her best, sliding herself back into her ballgown as best she could and hugging the rest of the clothing to herself, but she was shivering by the time Charles managed to open the door and release her. Still, she'd heard enough to still be angry. "That h-h-horrible old h-harpy!"

He scowled with concern when he saw the state of her - shivering and shaking like a leaf on a tree - and he muttered some curse or other under his breath as he pulled her from the chilly room and wrapped his arms around her to warm her with his body, rubbing her back to get her blood moving. He suddenly felt like an *ss for shutting her up in there, but at the time it had seemed like his only choice. "I'm sorry, love. This is all my fault. I should have seen you safely back to your rooms last night. It was selfish of me to ask you to stay."

She didn't resist as he pulled her into his arms, dropping her armful of clothing to burrow in close to him, letting him take responsibility for warming her up without offering a protest or argument. It probably didn't help that she couldn't reach to tie the thick ribbons at her back, though Alys really didn't have any complaints about feeling Charles' hands moving over her exposed skin. "Don't be ridiculous," she told him as he blamed himself. "This isn't a disaster yet." She lifted her head, brushing her lips to the blunt edge of his chin. "Thank you for defending me to that nasty old biddy."

"She's always hated me. I don't know why. I suppose it's because of my mother." His mouth twitched a little, just enough for her to know how much it bothered him, though he'd never say so. "We need to get you warm. I sent Cedric to Bess for your clothes. Perhaps we can say I sent for you to join me for breakfast. It seems a shame to waste it." He forced a faint smile, more for her sake than his own, pulling her close again as if he needed to keep her safe in his arms if only for a moment. "She can't hurt us, Alys. She doesn't care a whit about me. She only wants to use our marriage to further her own social status."

"I know," his redhead was quick to assure him, unwinding one arm from his back to gently caress his cheek, tipping his face down to meet her gaze. "Stop trying to pretend it doesn't bother you. I know it does, Beau. I can't promise to be always polite to her, but I won't let her belittle you like that, even in private. She holds a lower rank than most ladies of the court. I'll make sure she knows it before I listen to anything like that bitter tirade again."

He shrugged, as if it didn't matter or maybe he was just used to it. He had given up trying to please his father's mother a long time ago, realizing it was an impossible task. He could do no better than a duke really - it was the highest rank he could ever hope to achieve - and he'd done it before he turned thirty. Regardless, he felt he still had to prove himself and earn such a title, whether the king believed in him and found him worthy or not. He knew there were those among the court who felt the same as his grandmother - while she was no doubt pleased he had elevated himself above that of a commoner, he doubted she would ever really accept him or be proud of him. "She had no right to compare you to your mother. You must tell me if she causes you any trouble." Though he'd threatened to send the old lady away, in truth he wasn't really sure he had the heart to do it.

Both her hands found purchase at his jaw, pulling him down until he had no choice but to look into her eyes as she gazed up at him. "My mother's reputation will always be there," she told him softly. "The scandal of your father's marriage will always be there. But we are not them. And I am more than capable of handling a bitter old baggage like that, I promise you." Her lips brushed his, trying to ease him away from the bad mood that had been brought on by his grandmother's unexpected, and unwelcome, visit. "And you need to do something very nice for me, to make up for shutting me naked in a cold little room."

"Perhaps I should have let her find you here. It would have almost been worth the scandal to see the look on her face." He smiled a little as she touched a kiss to his lips, not wanting her to see how badly his grandmother's visit had shaken him. In the end, there was little the old woman could do to cause them trouble - she wanted this marriage too much, even if it was for all the wrong reasons. He leaned his forehead against hers, his smile softening, his body slowly warming hers. "Something nicer than breakfast and a walk in the garden?" he asked, trying to hide an amused smirk.

"Well, given that you woke up believing my presence here to be my fault, I think I've been punished for it, don't you?" Alys teased softly, deliberately pushing the anger and upset of the frantic awakening and unwanted visitor to one side, letting the warmth in her eyes speak for itself as she slid her hands down between them. "Unless you think I need to be disciplined further, of course. In which case, you will just have to be creative." She didn't worry so much about being caught now. He had said that his groom had been sent to Bess, her maid, and she had complete faith that Bess would come up with some way to get her freshly clothed and out of the duke's rooms without raising too many eyebrows.

For a moment, he felt torn - knowing his groom would return with her maid any minute, but unlike his grandmother, they would respect their charges' privacy and knock before entering. Besides, not only was the door to his bedchamber locked, but there was no one either could trust more than their two most loyal servants. Bess had been with Alys since she'd been born, and Charles had hand-picked Cedric himself in good part because the boy's father had served Charles' father before him. "Disciplined, eh' Your brother seems to think you need a good spanking," he teased, though spanking her was the farthest thing from his mind at that moment.

She laughed at that, deliberately rising onto her toes to bite the end of his nose impishly. "You wouldn't spank me," she told him confidently. "You might never get another chance to touch me if you did, and I know you, Beau. You just can't look and not touch." Amber-flecked brown eyes sparkled up at him, glad he seemed to be letting go of the agitation his grandmother's visit had risen in him.

They were certainly earning the danger they'd put her reputation in with their overlong sleep, lucky that both maid and groom were more than trustworthy with their superiors' secrets, and loyal enough that poor Cedric had been easily talked into wearing Alys' clothing beneath one of her cloaks in order to get that fresh change and Bess into the duke's rooms without arousing too much suspicion. Arched above her lover, Alys utterly failed to swallow her cry of pleasure as the frenzy found its peak, whimpering her tender delight as she fell over him in a sprawl of limbs, warm and breathless in the aftermath of unexpected desire.

Charles watched with rapt pleasure as his lover arched her back - watching, studying, memorizing every expression that moved across her face. She was beauty personified, as lovely as a sunrise, as tender as a rose petal, as strong as a blade. There was no one else like her and never would be. She was his destiny and he would gladly die for her. But there would be no dying today. He caught her as she fell against him, capturing her lips to smother the sound of pleasure that was caught in his own throat as his body caught fire in time with hers. The moment seemed to last forever as his pleasure spiraled higher and then slowly ebbed away, leaving him utterly spent and breathless with the force of their union.

A clatter from the room beyond drew her out of that wonderful moment of union faster than she would have liked, her head rising as she listened to what could only be her Bess berating Cedric for whatever he'd done to cause the sound that had disturbed her in the first place. But, relieved that it was only them, Alys laughed breathlessly, drawing her hair over one shoulder as she leaned down to kiss Charles once again. "I like your idea of discipline, my lord."

"That was not punishment, my lady. That was reward." He drew his fingers through the long cascade of copper curls to push it back from her face as he kissed her a second and third time, smiling against her lips. He'd heard the clatter in the other room, as well, and knew it was Cedric and Bess. "Will you breakfast with me, my dearest love?" he asked as he broke the kiss, fingers grazing her cheek softly.

She shared his smile, enjoying his gentle tenderness as much as she thrilled to the greater force of his touch at other times, answering his kisses with loving affection. "Only if you will ride with me afterward," she murmured, knowing that they only had a few days to enjoy each other. The king was eager for war, only awaiting the news of the Coimbrans' next atrocity as an excuse to ride out and take his generals and nobles with him.

He couldn't help but smirk at her remark, purposely misunderstanding her meaning. "I believe we already have," he said, smoothing a hand down against her bare arm, blue eyes dancing, the bad mood of a short while ago forgotten. No thought of the Coimbrans or of war in his mind, he would deal with it when the time came. Strangely, though his body still ached with the abuse it had taken the previous day, he did not take much notice so long as she distracted him from it.

She giggled softly, leaning down to him to nudge the tip of her nose to his playfully. "Ah, but would you not like to ride again, dear heart?" she whispered teasingly, her lips just barely brushing his with each word. "Somewhere beyond the city walls, where no prying ears may hear us." As she spoke, a knock resounded on the door to the bed chamber, the servants beyond apparently having completed stripping Cedric of Alys' clothes and antsy of waiting too much longer to get the lady decent.

"I would do anything you wish of me, my lady. I would even ride through fire if only you asked it of me," he replied, obviously and hopelessly enamored. "A moment, Cedric!" he called, turning his head toward the sound of the rap at the door.

She laughed, nipping a last tender kiss to his lips before moving to slip from him, setting her gown until she was at least decent for his young groom's eyes. "I'm not asking you to ride through fire," she assured him sweetly. "Just to Fortitude's Cove." Which was a sheltered inland bay, tiny and useless to shipping, and a little over an hour's ride from the city.

"Alys," he caught hold of her hand as she moved to slip away from him, his expression serious, solemn. "Tell me you love me," he told her softly, needing to hear the words, to believe them, to know that she meant them.

Her expression, surprised at first by how serious he had suddenly become, softened into something impossibly vulnerable, a glimmer in her expressive eyes that belonged entirely to him. He was the only man who had ever touched her heart with so little effort. Her fingers smoothed through his, drawing his hand between her palms, to her lips, her eyes never leaving his gaze. "I love you, Charles," she promised him fervently, understanding why he had asked yet strangely afraid to ask for his heart in reply. "Only you. Always."

He had heard those words so many times before, and yet, they had never meant a thing, whispered during times of passion that faded with the morning light. The only other person who'd ever said those words with any meaning had been his mother, but she had not lived long enough for him to remember her or remember the love she'd once held for him. There was a sadness in him when she said those words, a sweet sadness that those words he'd so longed to hear and had long since given up on ever hearing came so easily from her lips. "I love you, Alys," he replied, his voice breaking with emotion, as hard as he tried to keep his voice steady, a momentary weakness for a man who prided himself on his strength of character.

Her heart almost broke for him in that moment, recognizing the sadness for what it was, wishing he had been able to hold onto some tangible memory of his mother's love for him through the long years without her. Drawing his hand to her lips once again, she kissed his fingers softly, turning his hand to lay a kiss to his palm - something to hold onto, though she would never leave him. Yet such a moment was not one he was comfortable with, she knew, and that knowledge urged her smile to return as she tugged on his hand. "You should cover yourself before Bess gets the key from Cedric," she told him sweetly. "I don't want even her seeing what is mine."

It seemed strange how now that they had their clothes on, they had returned to the behavior the court demanded when they were together in public, though as he reached across the table to hand her a biscuit, his fingers brushed hers and their eyes met, the fire mellowed but still burning brightly in his blue eyes. "I'm sure it will be no trouble. He's brimming over with excitement. I just elevated him to squire," Charles remarked with a small smirk, as nonchalantly as if he was discussing the weather.

His fire was met with hers, their mutual desire still a heavy spark between them no matter how well mannered they could appear. That meeting of eyes was what brought her smile back into play, though his words brightened the expression to warm mirth. "He'll be a credit to you, I have no doubt," she answered his comment fondly. "And I have someone I can intimidate into keeping you alive for me now, too." For just a moment, her playful streak showed itself in a taunting rise of brows as she ate, smothering whatever laughter wanted to make itself known in a mouthful of the sumptuous breakfast that was beginning to sate the natural hunger after their long night.

His smile faded a little at the casual mention of death, a very real possibility even in the best of times, but even more so with the threat of war imminent. He been never feared death and he didn't fear it now, but he did fear death snatching him away from her before they had much of a chance at building a life together. "I have no intention of dying, my lady," he remarked, in an attempt to reassure her as he turned his gaze back to his breakfast.

Death was a constant, even in times of peace, in a land where plague habitually struck without warning, and the relative ease with which commoners gave birth did not extend to the aristocracy. But Alys didn't linger on the subject, turning her eyes back to her own meal as she endeavored to make a sizable dent in the sheer amount of food he had placed before her. A tease touched her expression without warning, one she could not resist making known. "What should we name our first son, Beau?"

That question got his attention, his head jerking back up, brows lifting to regard her. Even if she was with child already, she couldn't possibly know it. "You aren't....are you?" he asked curiously, wondering if women might have a way of knowing before it became obvious to those around them.

Her smile was anything but sweet as she looked up at him, all manner of wicked, impish, playfully sinful beneath dancing brown eyes. "Don't be ridiculous," she told him laughingly. "Even if I were, how would I know" I am not some mystical wise woman from the distant past. Though I do have every intention of enjoying the means to become so whenever possible, dear heart. Do you like to swim?"

He sighed, giving up on any attempt at serious conversation. She was all over the place, hopping from one subject to another, asking one question before he could properly answer the other. Her question sparked a particular memory from childhood - the three of them - Charles, Will, and Alys - splashing and swimming in the river near Trevithic Castle, where he spent some of his youth. Days of innocence, before she had been sent away, breaking both of their hearts. "You know I do," he replied, knowing she must remember as well as he. "You are indeed full of questions this morning, my lady."

"Perhaps I should rephrase that," she giggled softly as the memory lit up his face. "Though I wonder what might have happened if I had been allowed to swim with you after I began to sprout." She was definitely teasing him now, setting down what remained of her breakfast meal with a contented sigh to finish her tea. "I find questions the best way to keep a conversation from devolving into something else, my lord," she told him innocently, though there was that fiery glimmer of a tease in her eyes to warn him of what was coming next. "Who deflowered you? Was it after I left, or before?"

He rolled his eyes, clearly perturbed by this line of questioning. "You know it was after. Why do you ask me such questions?" he replied, his voice betraying his agitation. It was almost as if she was trying to incite an argument. "You should not ask questions for which you do not want answers," he warned, finishing off a bit of sausage and moving to his feet, either because he was finished eating or because he was annoyed. "If we are going riding, I need to get dressed."

"I am curious, that's all." She refused to rise to the bait of his agitation, sending him onto his feet with the same glimmer of a wicked smile. "You know who deflowered me, after all." Not that it had ever been a secret who she was to be married to all those years before. She, too, rose to her feet in a rustle of skirts, drawing her knuckles down his back fondly. "Change," she told him warmly. "I'll send Cedric to have our horses made ready."

"Shall I ask what it was like to be bedded by an old man?" he asked, considering his question tit for tat. He didn't want to know what had gone on between her and her deceased husband anymore than she wanted to know about all his former lovers, and he didn't understand why she was asking. "I should have deflowered you before you left," he grumbled, though they both knew why he hadn't. That would have been a scandal that would have led to disaster for them both. He paused when he felt her touch his back and he turned to catch her wrist. "Why do you seek to anger me" Why do you ask questions you know will only annoy me?"

But his tit for tat question had hit a sore spot directly on the nose, and Alys didn't have an answer for him at all. She was already turning away as he caught her wrist, her pale face high with color as memories of her previous marriage bed flooded back with unwelcome clarity. "All I wanted was a name," she said quietly, exerting gentle pressure to try and slip her hand free of his grasp. "It does not matter." And there was the submission her late husband had beaten into her before his decline; the lying acknowledgement that her wish was less important than his will. "Try to forget that I asked at all."

He let go of her wrist at the slightest attempt to free herself, looking confused and bewildered by the turn in conversation. "No, it does not matter," he agreed. "We cannot change the past, Alys, but neither should we let it hurt us." He took her by the shoulders to turn her toward him, gently, his expression changing, softening, needing her to understand that none of that really mattered now. "We are together now. I love you, and nothing is going to change that." He drew her into his arms, as if sensing there was some underlying hurt she would not or could not speak of, his anger melting quickly away.

He felt as perplexed as he had only a few moments before as she found her way into his arms and pressed her face against his chest. As baffled as he was, he wrapped her in his embrace, his mind wondering once again what it was that was troubling her. What could it be that upset her so, and more importantly, what could he do to help her" Was there a child no one knew about' A lover, perhaps" Was it something about her late husband" What could it possibly be? Whatever it was, she assured him it could not hurt them. Memories only, but what of? He held her there for a long moment as these thoughts filtered through his head, before at last, he lifted her chin to face him, his expression somber and serious, but showing a vast depth of compassion he allowed few to see. "Whatever it is, it will not change how I feel about you. I love you, and nothing can change that."

She was reluctant to look up at him, knowing those memories would hurt him if he knew the full detail but also knowing that she was doing him a terrible disservice not to trust him with at least a little of the truth. "I ....My marriage was not ....not a happy one," she told him softly. "Not until the last months, when he was too weak to do more than sit and talk. He ....Henri liked to have everything his own way, and ....and he knew how to get it." She shook her head, not wanting to say anymore, but unable to leave it at that. "Yes, he was an old man and I was a child, and ....and I didn't know that not every man was like you. He was not a man to take no from his wife."

Though she did not tell him much, he was smart enough to fill in the blanks. He had known men like Henri about court, men who treated their wives like chattel, like whores even, and though Charles himself had done his share of womanizing, he had never raised a hand to a woman or been abusive in any way. Though they might be jealous of his betrothal, not a one had ever complained of mistreatment. He narrowed his eyes at the thought of anyone hurting his Alys in any way and he pulled her into his arms once again so that she couldn't see the look of hatred that burned in his eyes for any man who could do such a thing, especially to her. "I wish I'd known," he told her quietly, though if he had, he wasn't sure what he'd have done about it. Complained to the king, most certainly. Started a war over her, quite possibly.

"I didn't dare tell anyone," she whispered against him, letting him hold her, hating herself for giving him a reason to truly despise the man who had first bedded her. But even as a fifteen-year-old bride, she had known that if word of her treatment had got to the ears of her family, much less her best friend, it would have been a cause for war. Christian would not have let such an insult to his blood go unpunished, regardless of the consequences. "I shouldn't have told you. I should have left it in the past."

"No," he disagreed quietly. "It weighs on your mind, and I would have no secrets between us," he continued, one hand rubbing at her back beneath the fall of her hair. "Some part of me died the day you left. I tried to tell myself that you were better off without me. You were to marry a king. What could I offer that could possibly compete with that' Had I known, I would not have let you go so easily. I should have never let you go," he told her, berating himself for what she had been subjected to. He would never have treated her in such a way, but what she said was true - what was done was done. All they could do now was move forward.

"I did learn to love him," she confessed softly, her eyes closed as she leaned into him. "In those last months. He was a different man. He begged my forgiveness for what he had done to me, he taught me so many things. He was my friend, in the end." Her arms hugged more tightly around Charles as she breathed him in, taking more strength from his embrace than she had thought was possible. "But I never loved anyone the way I love you. The way I have always loved you."

Jealousy and perhaps even envy stung his heart for a man she had come to love, anger that he'd treated her wrongly, confused how she could have come to love him despite his treatment. Despite the fact that it was in the past, he could not help but feel these things, wishing things could have been different. He wasn't sure if he was glad she had finally become fond of the man who'd been her husband, or if he wished she'd hated him. He wondered if he should confess his own sins, though his reputation was well known, but instead he said nothing, ashamed of his own behavior and even of his own jealousy when she had only had one lover to his many.

Alys clung to him as he held her, hating Henri deep in her heart for the pain she had given her Charles in confessing the secrets she held so close. "I never meant to hurt you," she told him fervently. "I thought I could keep it all a secret, but I couldn't. I'm sorry, dear heart. I wish I could be stronger for you."

"You have nothing to be sorry for. It is I who should beg your forgiveness, allowing you to be given to a man you didn't love and abandoning you to him. I tried to write. There were so many times I'd start writing, only to find I could not. There were so many things I wanted to tell you, but they were not the kind of things one says to a woman who belongs to another." He sighed, needing to make a confession of his own, though he had already told her as much once before. "I've had so many lovers, Alys, but I never really loved any of them. When I kissed them, all I could think of was you. I tried to forget you, but I could not. When I'd heard your husband died, I wanted to shout with joy. I wanted to go to you then, to beg your forgiveness, to ask you to run away with me so that we could be together, but I was a coward, Alys."

"We have each other now." Perhaps it would not seem quite such a wondrous coup to any other, but in Alys' eyes, having suffered two years of marriage to a man who did not even like her at first and a further three exiled at a different court, to be returned home and given freely to the man she loved and had loved for years was a miracle she would forever be grateful for. Her hand rose to stroke his cheek, drawing his gaze down to hers. "I am gladder than I can say that you didn't forget me, selfish though it is. I should have come straight home, but the king's decree was that I go to Kediri. What else could I do?" And though she didn't say it, that delay on her uncle's part - or rather, Bereth's influence on her uncle - would never be forgiven. "But there is no need to linger on what is past. I love you, and we will be married before anyone can change our fate again. I promise you."

He quickly brushed an errant tear from his cheek before she could notice, drawing a slow breath to calm his clashing emotions. He looked back at her through a veil of tears, putting all the pain and suffering of the last five years - both hers and his - in the past, where it belonged. "How could I forget you when I have loved you forever?" He lifted a hand to brush a thumb against her cheek, leaning close to press a tender kiss to her lips, as if wordlessly answering her promise and her declaration of love with a kiss so tender and proving that his love could not be mistaken.

"No," he replied, frowning as his mood soured a little at the mention of his only known living relative. "I will prove my worth, thereby restoring honor to the Beauforte name, but not because of her." He did not bother to explain why this was so important to him, but it had very little to do with his grandmother's wishes and more to do with himself and his own need to prove that one did not have to be of noble blood to be worthy of the title granted him. As grateful as he was for the king's kindness, he did not want his charity. He would prove his worth or die trying. It was that simple.

"Charles." She'd felt his mood beginning to sour once again, drawing herself to a halt just inside the doorway that looked out over the courtyard, where his groom and hers stood with their horses, waiting patiently to help their lord and lady mount up. "You have already proven yourself, a dozen times over. My uncle wouldn't have elevated you if he didn't think you deserved it over the many others vying for the same position." Her hand curled to his jaw as she drew him down to her. "And if you don't smile right now, I am going to kiss you in a way that will almost definitely attach some scandalous gossip to our names."

"I have not," he disagreed as he came to a halt beside her, frowning back at her. "I have done nothing to prove my worth, but give up winning a tournament that should have been mine. There are those who will say I am only a duke in name, but not in action. That I was only given my title and lands because of my friendship with the king. I have not even seen Arindale yet, though I would have liked to have seen it with you first. You were born to this, but I was not. I have more to prove than most, Alys, and more to lose." He knew she must already know this, but he needed her to understand it before she regretted joining her name with his. He met her gaze as she drew him close, not really caring if anyone saw her kiss him. They had already seen them in the garden, and now that they were betrothed, they no longer had to hide their obvious feelings for each other.

"Exactly. I was born to it. I've done nothing to prove that I'm worthy of it. You have." She could almost have sworn that for a moment there he was trying to talk her out of the course they had both decided upon, the stubbornness in her rising in response, refusing to be talked out of the future her heart was set upon. Her hands gripped his collar, pulling him down to her to let her lips capture his, slow at first, languid with tenderness that slowly grew deeper, hungrier, fired with the deep loving desire that always seemed to be just beneath the surface. And ignoring the shocked mutterings of a matronly pair of ladies who were taking the morning air together.

He would have argued with her further, but he was cut off by her kiss. No argument there, however, willingly accepting and returning her affection, his own heart afire with equal love and desire. While he didn't really want to talk her out of her decision, he did want her to understand the risk she was taking in marrying him. It was not so much that he did not think himself worthy or believe in himself that worried him as it was what other people thought of him. He'd heard it all before, and he wanted more than anything to prove them all wrong, including his grandmother. Despite the shocked expressions on the faces of a few passersby, their grooms were grinning widely at the pair of lovers.

Teasing her fingers through his hair, Alys was slow to break their kiss, breathing him in tenderly as she stroked her hands down his chest. She knew the risks, but held to the belief that the reward was far greater. And infinitely worth whatever the risk they encountered. She smiled up at Charles, nudging his nose with hers. "I think I should definitely ride with you," she teased him softly. "You can't be trusted to keep a clear head without my hands on you."

He reluctantly let her break the kiss, his hands resting lightly against her hips as he nudged his nose against hers. "And will you ride with me to battle, as well, or do you trust me to keep a clear head with a sword in my hand?" he teased, her kiss having the desired effect in lightening his mood.

He had delivered her a perfect line, and one she was not at all worried about rising to, even if there were ears straining to hear her reply. Her smile had widened as he teased her, her fingers shifting on his doublet as she giggled softly. "Are you sure you wouldn't rather I held your sword for you?"

He laughed, making no effort to hide the amused expression on his face or to lower his voice so others wouldn't hear him, replying to her question with a remark of his own that was equally scandalous. "Oh, I think there are other things I'd rather you did with my sword," he said with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes.

She giggled, nipping his cheek fondly for his reply, and stepped back, dropping a low, teasing curtsey for his amusement. "I bow to your will, my lord." Then, with a laugh, she straightened, tweaking his nose between thumb and forefinger, and turned to make her way out into the courtyard, dismissing her own groom and mare with an apologetic smile for the man who had been waiting so patiently for her. "Thank you, John, but I'll be riding with His Grace today."

"Oh, good Goddess," Charles muttered under his breath as he watched her saunter away from him to dismiss her own groom and mare with a wave of her hand. She was going to be the death of him, to be sure, or at the very least, a source of scandal in connection to his name and a reason for further tongue wagging. But then, he'd wager his life would never be boring so long as his beloved Alys was near. Charles sighed as he fell into step after Alys, an apologetic aside to her groom, loud enough for the gossip-mongers to hear. "She is still afraid of riding after her fall." She was, of course, nothing of the sort, but it was a halfway believable excuse for her to be sharing his horse when there was nothing wrong with hers.

To her credit, she didn't argue with this offered excuse, knowing when not to push her luck, even if it was only with her lover and their own people. John, her own groom, nodded his acknowledgement, bowing to the duke and his lady before turning to lead the palfrey mare back toward the paddocks and stable-block. Alys stepped to one side, waiting patiently for Charles to decide where he wanted her, her eyes demurely downcast.

His horse was arguably the larger of the two and the more dangerous for a lady who was supposedly afraid of riding, but no one dared argue, and it was unlikely she'd fall so long as he was there to protect her. "My lady," Charles said, offering her a short bow, before placing his hands against her hips to lift her off the ground and onto the saddle.

"My lord." No one else would have dared lift her onto the saddle in so familiar a manner - even the grooms were permitted only to offer their knee or cupped hands to assist a lady to mount. But the Duke of Lonnare had carte blanche when it came to Lady Alys, and she certainly didn't mind. She jumped as he lifted her, hoping to make the move easier on his battered frame, and twisted herself easily over the pommel of the saddle, sliding her fingers into his horse's mane to hold herself steady until Charles joined her.

Charles required no assistance in climbing onto the horse's back. He'd been doing it from the time he was a boy, and as he got older and taller, his horses grew with him. Riding was another skill he had mastered from boyhood and something he could practically do in his sleep. "Cedric, inform the king that the Lady Alys and I have gone for a ride and will visit with His Majesty when we return." It was a bold move, but he did not feel he needed the king's leave where Alys was concerned any longer, at least, not so far as a ride through the countryside in broad daylight was concerned. He reached around his betrothed for the reins and without another word to his groom, kicked the stallion into an easy gait.

"Aye, uh ....I mean, yes, Your Grace." Cedric's stammering answer followed them across the courtyard as Alys settled back against Charles' chest, nestled into the frame of his arms as he urged the stallion beneath them out through the gatehouse and onto the wide path that would take them out of the confines of the city toward the wilder green of the country at large. It was a beautiful day, warm in the manner of early summer, lit with golden sunlight and cooled by the gentle breeze that washed over them from a sea covered over with threatening clouds. And so long as they were away from the city, they could have been any couple in love, their rank and station left behind in the halls of Bannoc Rise.

((Another long'un, and believe it or not, there's more of this to come! Hope you're enjoying it - we are! And many awesomungus, hugiflorious, fantabulosic thankums to Charles' player!))