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XV

**•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ ˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚*

For a mere second, Lillian stood transfixed before the door that had closed abruptly in her face, dumbfounded and trembling.

But now it was not just her fingers that harboured the involuntary tremors, but her entire body seemed to vibrate- to shake with the anger and indignation coursing through her veins like hot liquid flames. And then... then there was something else entirely, something that made her breath hitch and catch in her lungs when he had stood too close, something that had sent her pulse ricocheting as she had verbally sparred with him.

If Lillian wasn't aware of it before, she certainly was now. Aëghan was no mild-mannered gentleman loitering in ballrooms and luncheons. He was volatile, ignitable, and wholly consuming. And if she stood in his path long enough, she would be torn asunder by all that he was.

Her breaths were heaving from her aching lungs, and she blinked back the pinpricks of tears burning her eyes. It was good that he left her and put an end to their heated conversation- it was for the best. Her presence here was a matter of her own convenience, nothing more. She didn't need to befriend tempestuous and befuddling dragons who titillated her with every encounter, didn't need to indulge in conversations with the man that would no doubt only result in a fiery debate because her own inherent stubbornness wouldn't allow her to bend or quit.

Even as she was provoked to unfounded heights of anger by the male and his words, she couldn't help but feel... so very alive. Every part of her had responded- to his jibes, his words, his nearness, the way his coat and shirt hung haphazardly over his limbs in much the same way as his hair. Aëghan was a man of apparently impeccable taste and bespoke finery, even when it came to selecting his attire, yet he seemed to toss it over his form with nary a care if it wrinkled or was indeed buttoned to its entirety. And for whatever sordid reason, Lillian found that incredibly endearing. Perhaps it was because she had been so subjected to gentlemen that were always so flawlessly put together in their attire, yet more often than not she had found herself averse to their attentions regardless- put off by their mannerisms, their persistence and personalities. 

Aëghan was everything but a gentleman. 

For so very long she had quelled any wild emotion that would lead her into trouble, especially in the Otherworld. Now, upon her return, she wasn't sure she was capable of feeling anything in its entirety- not anger, not happiness or elation- so consumed was she by the lingering effects of her panic and survival-based instincts. It was wholly disconcerting and, at the same time, voraciously appealing to feel such undiluted torrents running through her once more. Things that weren't fear.

But that left her exposed and vulnerable, her decisions uncoordinated and uncontrolled, and Lillian wasn't ready to relinquish her control.

No, it was best that Aëghan keep to himself for the duration of her stay as his guest, and she would do the same.

So why her hands were reaching for the brass handles of the doors that had but moments before been thudded shut before her nose left Lillian in a numbed state of confounded need- the need to see him and be near him, to continue where he wouldn't.

Before the tips of her fingers were able to brush against the cool metal, the doors were thrust open, a blast of air whipping through the strands of hair that curled over her cheeks.

And Aëghan stood before her, his arms thrown wide as he braced them on either door that framed him, his chest heaving with deep, silent breaths.

"Say my name again," he rasped.

Lillian blinked, her lips parted with soundless shock, frozen by the sudden reappearance of the male who she had conceived to be irrevocably done with her presence, shocked that not a second before she had been about to chase him down- for what exact reason, she couldn't think of right then.

"W-what?"

He pushed off the doors, his arms dropping to his sides, and he took a slow, predatory step towards her. "Say my name again," he breathed raggedly, "and tell me to stop."

He was close again, so close she was overwhelmed by the size of him that compelled her chin to tilt up, the familiar scent that clung to his scarf stronger and prevalent now. "Aëghan," she murmured, her voice barely audible as the words seem to get caught in the back of her throat. But what words did she want to tell him?

There was nothing that he was doing that she wanted to stop, and certainly not when a tortured sound escaped him, reverberated through his chest, and he stepped into her entirely. His hands bracketed her face, tilted her further back to receive him, and the rough pads of his thumbs scraped tenderly against the apples of her cheeks, her temples, his fingers lacing through her hair.

"Tell me to stop."

She could feel the heat from his body seep into hers despite the numerous layers of clothing they both wore, and parts of him brushed against her. Right then, Lillian knew she had as much chance telling him to stop as she did telling herself that she didn't want him to, even though she should. She swallowed, and his gaze dropped to the movement of her throat slightly exposed beneath his scarf at this angle, and somehow she managed to shake her head just slightly from within the warmth of his fingers to either side of her face.

"No," she murmured.

His eyes found hers again and there was an imperceptible moment, a pause, where his midnight gaze flared with light, glinting like the stars, as if he were compelling her to change her mind, providing her the opportunity to do so, but then it was over and his lips came down upon hers with an exquisite force.

And it was no surprise to Lillian that he kissed in much the same way as he did everything else- with abandon, consumingly, as if he wished to destroy every part of her and rebuild it up to take it away from her yet again and again.

She had tolerated a kiss before- once, very long ago, when she first made her debut into society. It had been tepid, chaste, and left her with no feeling of endearment towards the young gentleman who had bestowed it upon her in a secret enclave on the night of Lady Cunningham's ball.

Aëghan's kiss wasn't chaste or tepid, and Lillian felt swept away by the torrential potency of his lips shifting and moulding to hers, the manner in which he angled her face to his ensuring that she was a willing hostage to the onslaught. A sound escaped her, inarticulate and involuntary, and she swayed into him, bringing every rigid and implacable contour of his body eloquently against hers, her hands rising as if compelled by a will of their own to fist the fine woollen lapels of his dark coat.

And when he parted her lips wide, his tongue dipping into her mouth and slaking against hers, they both groaned.

He withdrew from her slightly until a breath separated them, whispering so that she felt every brush of his mouth against hers, "You shouldn't taste so good. You shouldn't want me to kiss you."

Her eyes, which had slid closed the moment his lips had touched hers, opened at that and met his gaze, steady and irked. "You shouldn't talk so much."

A huff of a dark chuckle escaped him then, something like surprise entering his gaze, then his eyes dipped to her lips and he lowered his head slightly, pressing his mouth with tantalizing firmness against hers, pressing his chest against her breasts and shifting his fingers deeper into the tresses at the back of her head-

"Maaaw!"

It was Miss Felicity's unannounced and unceremonious disruption that caused Lillian to startle somewhat away from him, held dear by his grasp on her face, and blink up at him owlishly. His breath was warm and gentle as it mingled with hers, their lips so close together if she raised on her tiptoes she would be able to close the tiny distance between them.

However, it was the disruption of the second arrival that had Lillian lurching away from Aëghan almost vehemently, his hands dropping from her, and a notable distance finally separating them.

"Most sorry to interrupt," Enorae said from the foyer beyond the threshold, the female's voice arched with very prevalent amusement, "but I thought that I should inform you that dinner will be served shortly."

Heat burned her cheeks and Lillian silently cursed herself a fool. She wasn't the sort to cavort with handsome men in open chambers for anyone to see- she wasn't the sort to cavort, end of. Hurriedly, she averted her gaze from Aëghan who seemed intent to burn her to ashes by the way he was staring her down, and glanced at Enorae behind him. Miss Felicity, the deranged cat, was weaving about her ankles and mawing for all her worth, and the pretty fae woman tilted her head to the side and smiled at Lillian upon noticing her perusal.

There was no censure in her gaze, no look of condemnation filtering through her countenance or at her words, yet Lillian still felt horribly awkward at being caught in flagrante delicto. Had she been found in Ravensfield in such an embrace, she would be compelled to marry Aëghan.

She cut her gaze to him quickly at the thought, her heart picking up pace, but he was studying her with that same heat in his eyes, his face unreadable.

Suddenly, it was too much for Lillian and at once she became aware of her tremors, of the need still convalescing in the pit of her stomach at the remembered feel of his lips and body- and she needed a reprieve to gather her thoughts, to gather the modicum of sanity she had left.

To gather what remained of her pitiful control. 

"I-" she paused to ease the tension in her throat and voice, clearing the noise delicately as she turned to Enorae again. "I need to attend to a few things in my chambers; I shall be down shortly."

"Of course." Enorae inclined her head to her amiably and Lillian retreated in haste, unable to meet the gaze of the male who had rendered her senseless with the feel of his lips.

If she had, Lillian could not be sure what she would have done then.

"There will be a storm this evening," Enorae was saying as she placed a tray of warm, spiced bread on the glistening table where they had gathered some time later to share a meal. "But tomorrow the sky should be clear."

Lillian paused in her surveyance of the array of exquisite fare laid out before her- a veritable feast of croquets of fowel with a piquant sauce, seasonal vegetables and stewed potatoes, a saddle of mutton... it was enough to feed a small kingdom and seemed a waste for the three of them who were present.

She also wondered prior to being seated (beside Aëghan at the head of the table) who prepared the food as, other than Enorae, she had not encountered any servants or staff in the ruins.

But these musings were quelled at the mention of the storm and she glanced at the other woman sharply, her shoulders stiffening with the sudden announcement of impending weather. 

Her reaction went unnoticed by both Aëghan and Enorae as the former twirled the contents of his wine glass almost idly, and the latter took her seat at the other side of the Dravolese male. "And for the solstice?" he asked, his voice low and thoughtful.

Since returning downstairs, Lillian was surprised to find that Aëghan would be joining them for dinner that night considering his absence the evening prior. It had concerned her at first, the notion of enduring an entire meal with the male after their illicit embrace but a few minutes prior, but he had regarded her with cordial nonchalance and his normal, devil-may-care grin, and promptly ignored her presence entirely.

He made no mention of it and even his startling eyes had revealed nothing of his true feelings about the incident- and if he had any to begin with, then he surely hid it well.

And Lillian should know better than to expect anything forthcoming from the male. If she harboured the intention to discuss that kiss with him, to firmly set down her intentions to never allow it to happen again, it had flown from her mind the moment she realised he had chosen to outright ignore what had occurred between them.

Perhaps that was for the best- Lillian was adept at pretending just how unaffected she was by her external environments. She could damn well pretend she was as affected by him as he was by her.

"Three days is too far in advance for my abilities to predict an accurate reading, Aëghan," Enorae explained wryly. "It could yet be too farfetched to say that the weather will hold."

"Why would you need the weather to hold for the solstice?" Lillian asked, her curiosity getting the better of her. She did, however, direct her question to Enorae and not the vexing man beside her.

Enorae gestured to the food before them, indicating that they should indeed begin to serve their own plates, which was the same manner in which they had eaten the night prior. Less formal than Ravensfield, yet somehow more appealing just the same. "It is a celebration of sorts," Enorae said with a smile. "Every year, Aëghan holds it for the fae and humans who remain in his-"

"It commemorates the end of this blasted winter," Aëghan cut off Enorae abruptly, setting his glass on the table for emphasis, "and the gradual beginning of spring." When he looked at Lillian, his grin was almost feral. "Fertility, regrowth, and all that."

Lillian narrowed her gaze at him but continued to ignore him. "What happens during the solstice?"

Enorae's eyes practically lit up with enthusiasm and delight, and she forgot about the plate of food she was piling food onto entirely. "Assuredly, you will adore it," Enorae said cheerfully. "The castle comes alive and every person who wishes to attend may do so. There will be food in abundance, and dancing, and music, and warmth." Then her smile turned secretive as she paused, mulling over her next words almost carefully. "It is a night not meant for inhibitions, my lady. Though clearly you have come to understand that here there are never very many to begin with."

"That's enough, Enorae," Aëghan reprimanded lightly, coaxingly, "lest you frighten our duchess so much that she flees all the way back to Ravensfield."

Lillian notched her chin up in the air, suitably pricked by his words. Oh, she was not all unaware that Aëghan was merely contriving some sort of response from her and she was merely rising to his bait, but she could hardly allow him to presume her as frigid.

Even though she was. Dismally so.

"Need I remind you that I have spent four years of my life among your kind and your so-called lack of inhibitions," she pointed out. "A little libation and dancing won't frighten me."

"Certainly not," Enorae assured quickly. "However, it is common practice for... uh... that is to say-"

"It is common practice," Aëghan finished for her, tapping the edge of his wine glass with one long finger, "for one to take a lover for the evening. Or multiple, should you so desire it."

Lillian refused to look at him even though she could feel his gaze burning into the side of her face, even though it took every ounce of her willpower to refuse the urge to turn to him and witness his expression. She also refused to allow how his words affected her, how she longed to ask whether he would take a lover that evening even though she knew it was none of her business whether he did or not. Instead, she reached for her own glass of wine and finally brought the bright red liquid up to her lips for a sip. It was surprisingly sweet and pleasant.

"What you do in your own home is neither here nor there," she said quietly, "nor does it affect me. As I have been told countless times, I am a guest. The happenings of the solstice shan't bother me, and need not involve me, in the slightest."

"Oh, but you have to be involved," Enorae urged, a plea in her voice. "It is the most sought after celebration for our kind in this land- you will be most welcome and not at all uncomfortable, I will ensure it."

The last thing Lillian wanted was to seem rude and dismissive of the fae woman who had shown her nothing but amiability since her arrival. So she smiled warmly at Enorae and murmured her thanks. About her, a few white blooms drifted lazily from the vines curling through the ceiling arches of the chamber- yet another magnificent room- and settled daintily on the surface fo the table and the floor. Though Lillian thought that there was not a chamber in all of England that could adequately compare to the magnificence of the gallery she had whiled away a few hours in that afternoon. It would always be her favourite, though she would never admit that to the Dravolese beside her.

The rest of the meal continued with aloof politeness and, bless her, Enorae continued to hold the weight of the conversation as Lillian harboured no desire to address Aëghan directly unless she outright needed to.

When the meal commenced, she was quick to dismiss herself and quickly departed their presence, noting that the emaciated feline Miss Felicity was trawling in her wake with a look in her eye that spoke of wickedness. Whatever it was, Lillian knew she would bar the feline entrance to her abode, sure that she would awaken to a face full of tiny yet painful scratches.

It was while she was ascending the spiral staircase that the first, distant roll of thunder met her ears and caused her to hesitate. Outside, the wind howled through the ruins and the trees, compelled the wood to creak plaintively in the dimness of the evening. Lillian knew then she would not rest peacefully that evening and that she would battle endlessly to conceal the panic from the male in the opposite chamber to her own.

She was not entirely convinced it was a battle she could win. 

~~~

A/N

You all have @PrincipesaPCY to thank for this early update (and two cups of coffee, and one cup of tea). Happy birthday, hun! 



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