((Contains material of an adult nature.))
July 2nd, 1613
If there truly was a Hell, Alys thought she was in it. The fifth day of their journey from Monceau to Martel had proved to be the worst yet. Not through weather - which was glorious for spring - nor yet because of the conditions of their travel arrangements, but purely because they had spent the majority of the day passing through towns where their obvious nobility had drawn too much attention to allow her the leisure of stealing too many glances at her escort. They had been careful so far, though after the incident with the runaway horse, their retinue had stayed closer than was entirely comfortable, each of them concerned now that they might not deliver the king's kin safely after all.
Their nights had been spent in inns and taverns, leaving no time or opportunity for even a moment caught alone together, for in such places her ladies slept in the room hired for her, for her own protection. But this evening, this last night before they would arrive in the capital and be forced to take up the dangerous game for real, they were the guests of her mother's friends, the Earl and Lady Glanville. Separate rooms for all in guest quarters; the ladies and men of their retinue set in the servants' wing. Tonight, there might yet be a chance for few stolen hours before all eyes would be upon them once again.
Every day spent in the company of Lady Alys was a strange mix of torment and bliss. That first day after the incident with the palfry, Charles had insisted on her sharing his horse, which only added to his torment. No one had dared question the decision of the new Duke of Lonnare, presuming his actions were due to his concern for the safety of the lady in his care. Though they knew of the past history between them, no one seemed to suspect just what had transpired between them during the short time they'd found themselves alone. Days had passed, and he'd been careful to keep the conversation light and formal between them, his glances casual and brief, though inside he was dying a little more each day.
Each day turned his mood more sullen, and though the changes were small, they were enough for at least Alys to notice. He worried what would happen when they at last arrived at court. Would Will guess them out or would they be able to hide their deception until such a time as it was beneficial to reveal themselves to king and court' This last night was proving hardest of all. Finding himself seated beside Alys during dinner only made it all the harder for him to keep his true feelings at bay and when the talk turned to possible suitors, he had politely excused himself, feigning weariness from the journey.
The slow deterioration of his mood was worrying her, though she had learned in the courts of Edessa and Kediri to keep her thoughts from her expression. Lady Hannah had no idea that her chosen topic of conversation was utterly despised by her friend's charming daughter, and indeed, the earl assumed that the duke had left the table because the women's chattering was annoying him. As much as Alys would have liked to have excused herself soon after, she knew enough of her mother's friendship with Lady Hannah not to give the woman anything to gossip about, retiring more than an hour later to her own room. Even then, she wasn't free, enduring Bess' fluttering about until finally she dismissed her maid with a fond smile. Left alone in her room, all she could do then was wait, listening for the sounds of the house to quiet and settle. Waiting for the safest time to seek out her heart's desire.
The earl would not have been too far off the mark, though it was more the subject matter that was annoying the young duke, rather than the women's chatter. Even when it was subtly suggested that there were certain ladies about the household who would be honored by Charles' company, he only offered a strained smile and a brief apology before excusing himself to retire for the evening, his dinner only half eaten. No one seemed to question his decision, most of the attention given to Alys, rather than the handsome duke in their midst. Sleep, however, was the furthest thing from Charles' mind. A good long ride might have relieved his restlessness, but he couldn't very well go for a ride, now that he'd claimed the need for sleep. He had decided on his own that if things didn't go well for them at court, he would leave for Lonnare at the earliest opportunity. Perhaps a few border skirmishes would help relieve the frustration that was slowly building to crisis proportions.
Though in all great houses there was always someone awake and at work, those busy hands and prying eyes were far from the quarters of the honored guests. As midnight drew on, the house stilled, and Alys knew she had to take this opportunity or regret it through all the months ahead. Rising from her bed, she found her robe by moonlight, padding on bare feet to the door, grateful when it did not creak as it swung open. The hallway beyond was dark, unlit but for the flicker of moonlight from a window at the far end, a window that offered just enough illumination for her to see her way. The hem of her nightgown and robe swept the floor as she crept along, prepared to declare herself a sleepwalker if anyone were to come across her, pausing at the door to Charles' forbidden chamber to listen for a moment. Her hand rose, daring a quiet knock to rouse him to admit her.
As much as he wanted to, he dared not risk seeking her out; though he could have made any excuse to see her, the risk was too great for them both, but he was more worried for her safety than his own. He had been charged with keeping her safe from all sorts of danger, notwithstanding men such as himself, and there was a certain amount of guilt that hung heavy on his heart knowing he had willfully disobeyed the king and placed Alys' honor in question. Still and despite all of this, he found himself regretting none of it, replaying that day over and over in his head, until it was enough to drive him to madness. He had tried to sleep, but sleep would not come, and he was too stubborn to take it upon himself to find relief elsewhere, either in the arms of any number of women who would be more than willing or by his own hand.
When the knock came at the door, it was both unexpected and unwelcome, and he growled softly as he rolled out of bed to see what was wanted of him. No doubt it was one of the servants asking if there was anything His Grace required before the house settled for the night. To say he was surprised when he found the object of his desire standing barefoot outside his door was an understatement.
"What are you doing here" Are you mad?" he whispered, the first words to fall from his lips as he darted a quick glance down the hall to make sure there were no prying eyes hiding in the shadows. He didn't wait for a reply, but took hold of her arm and tugged her into his room, a final glance down the hall before closing the door behind her.
Whatever she might have said in greeting was swept aside by his whispered accusation of insanity, a soft gasp breaking from her lips as he pulled her inside with little care for her comfort, only for the concern that she might have been seen. But Alys found she didn't mind that possessive dominance, knowing as she did that it was born from fear of discovery. She waited until the door was securely closed, her hand rising to pull him down to lips that had been burning for his kiss since they had made their determined promises to one another three days before, hungry to taste him and feel him close once again. "I had to come," she whispered against his lips, stalling herself with another kiss that did nothing to sate her passionate heart. "I can barely stand it, Charles, don't send me back." Another kiss found his lips as she pressed close. "Not yet."
He returned those kisses with equal passion, his mood mellowing at her touch, his hold on her upper arm loosening as he reached around her to bolt the door closed. "You shouldn't be here," he whispered against her lips, warming to her kisses, which did nothing to release his tension, but only made it more difficult to bear. He had no intention of sending her away, though his conscience told him that was the wisest course of action.
"I know," she whispered back to him, and her lips were suddenly curved with a wild grin that threatened to spill laughter from her if she had not known such a sound would draw attention even at this hour. She couldn't help herself; even here, in relative safety, assured of at least a few hours of privacy in the quiet still of the night, the thrill of risking discovery, of being unable to stay away from him, was enough to rouse her past caring as her lips plied his with tender passion. Her dreams had been filled with him, her waking hours torture to be so close and unable to do more than meet his eyes with their secret. "But I could not face another night with only dreams and memories to fill me."
July 2nd, 1613
If there truly was a Hell, Alys thought she was in it. The fifth day of their journey from Monceau to Martel had proved to be the worst yet. Not through weather - which was glorious for spring - nor yet because of the conditions of their travel arrangements, but purely because they had spent the majority of the day passing through towns where their obvious nobility had drawn too much attention to allow her the leisure of stealing too many glances at her escort. They had been careful so far, though after the incident with the runaway horse, their retinue had stayed closer than was entirely comfortable, each of them concerned now that they might not deliver the king's kin safely after all.
Their nights had been spent in inns and taverns, leaving no time or opportunity for even a moment caught alone together, for in such places her ladies slept in the room hired for her, for her own protection. But this evening, this last night before they would arrive in the capital and be forced to take up the dangerous game for real, they were the guests of her mother's friends, the Earl and Lady Glanville. Separate rooms for all in guest quarters; the ladies and men of their retinue set in the servants' wing. Tonight, there might yet be a chance for few stolen hours before all eyes would be upon them once again.
Every day spent in the company of Lady Alys was a strange mix of torment and bliss. That first day after the incident with the palfry, Charles had insisted on her sharing his horse, which only added to his torment. No one had dared question the decision of the new Duke of Lonnare, presuming his actions were due to his concern for the safety of the lady in his care. Though they knew of the past history between them, no one seemed to suspect just what had transpired between them during the short time they'd found themselves alone. Days had passed, and he'd been careful to keep the conversation light and formal between them, his glances casual and brief, though inside he was dying a little more each day.
Each day turned his mood more sullen, and though the changes were small, they were enough for at least Alys to notice. He worried what would happen when they at last arrived at court. Would Will guess them out or would they be able to hide their deception until such a time as it was beneficial to reveal themselves to king and court' This last night was proving hardest of all. Finding himself seated beside Alys during dinner only made it all the harder for him to keep his true feelings at bay and when the talk turned to possible suitors, he had politely excused himself, feigning weariness from the journey.
The slow deterioration of his mood was worrying her, though she had learned in the courts of Edessa and Kediri to keep her thoughts from her expression. Lady Hannah had no idea that her chosen topic of conversation was utterly despised by her friend's charming daughter, and indeed, the earl assumed that the duke had left the table because the women's chattering was annoying him. As much as Alys would have liked to have excused herself soon after, she knew enough of her mother's friendship with Lady Hannah not to give the woman anything to gossip about, retiring more than an hour later to her own room. Even then, she wasn't free, enduring Bess' fluttering about until finally she dismissed her maid with a fond smile. Left alone in her room, all she could do then was wait, listening for the sounds of the house to quiet and settle. Waiting for the safest time to seek out her heart's desire.
The earl would not have been too far off the mark, though it was more the subject matter that was annoying the young duke, rather than the women's chatter. Even when it was subtly suggested that there were certain ladies about the household who would be honored by Charles' company, he only offered a strained smile and a brief apology before excusing himself to retire for the evening, his dinner only half eaten. No one seemed to question his decision, most of the attention given to Alys, rather than the handsome duke in their midst. Sleep, however, was the furthest thing from Charles' mind. A good long ride might have relieved his restlessness, but he couldn't very well go for a ride, now that he'd claimed the need for sleep. He had decided on his own that if things didn't go well for them at court, he would leave for Lonnare at the earliest opportunity. Perhaps a few border skirmishes would help relieve the frustration that was slowly building to crisis proportions.
Though in all great houses there was always someone awake and at work, those busy hands and prying eyes were far from the quarters of the honored guests. As midnight drew on, the house stilled, and Alys knew she had to take this opportunity or regret it through all the months ahead. Rising from her bed, she found her robe by moonlight, padding on bare feet to the door, grateful when it did not creak as it swung open. The hallway beyond was dark, unlit but for the flicker of moonlight from a window at the far end, a window that offered just enough illumination for her to see her way. The hem of her nightgown and robe swept the floor as she crept along, prepared to declare herself a sleepwalker if anyone were to come across her, pausing at the door to Charles' forbidden chamber to listen for a moment. Her hand rose, daring a quiet knock to rouse him to admit her.
As much as he wanted to, he dared not risk seeking her out; though he could have made any excuse to see her, the risk was too great for them both, but he was more worried for her safety than his own. He had been charged with keeping her safe from all sorts of danger, notwithstanding men such as himself, and there was a certain amount of guilt that hung heavy on his heart knowing he had willfully disobeyed the king and placed Alys' honor in question. Still and despite all of this, he found himself regretting none of it, replaying that day over and over in his head, until it was enough to drive him to madness. He had tried to sleep, but sleep would not come, and he was too stubborn to take it upon himself to find relief elsewhere, either in the arms of any number of women who would be more than willing or by his own hand.
When the knock came at the door, it was both unexpected and unwelcome, and he growled softly as he rolled out of bed to see what was wanted of him. No doubt it was one of the servants asking if there was anything His Grace required before the house settled for the night. To say he was surprised when he found the object of his desire standing barefoot outside his door was an understatement.
"What are you doing here" Are you mad?" he whispered, the first words to fall from his lips as he darted a quick glance down the hall to make sure there were no prying eyes hiding in the shadows. He didn't wait for a reply, but took hold of her arm and tugged her into his room, a final glance down the hall before closing the door behind her.
Whatever she might have said in greeting was swept aside by his whispered accusation of insanity, a soft gasp breaking from her lips as he pulled her inside with little care for her comfort, only for the concern that she might have been seen. But Alys found she didn't mind that possessive dominance, knowing as she did that it was born from fear of discovery. She waited until the door was securely closed, her hand rising to pull him down to lips that had been burning for his kiss since they had made their determined promises to one another three days before, hungry to taste him and feel him close once again. "I had to come," she whispered against his lips, stalling herself with another kiss that did nothing to sate her passionate heart. "I can barely stand it, Charles, don't send me back." Another kiss found his lips as she pressed close. "Not yet."
He returned those kisses with equal passion, his mood mellowing at her touch, his hold on her upper arm loosening as he reached around her to bolt the door closed. "You shouldn't be here," he whispered against her lips, warming to her kisses, which did nothing to release his tension, but only made it more difficult to bear. He had no intention of sending her away, though his conscience told him that was the wisest course of action.
"I know," she whispered back to him, and her lips were suddenly curved with a wild grin that threatened to spill laughter from her if she had not known such a sound would draw attention even at this hour. She couldn't help herself; even here, in relative safety, assured of at least a few hours of privacy in the quiet still of the night, the thrill of risking discovery, of being unable to stay away from him, was enough to rouse her past caring as her lips plied his with tender passion. Her dreams had been filled with him, her waking hours torture to be so close and unable to do more than meet his eyes with their secret. "But I could not face another night with only dreams and memories to fill me."