XXXI

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ ˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

One Sennight Later

Aëghan came across Lillian in the gallery later in the day, having been called away to handle a particular lakey paddock problem in the forest village yet again. He knew that he would find her there- if there was anything he had learnt about her over the course of their time together, it was that she was a creature most comfortable in routine and order... and the gallery embodied just that for Lillian.

She enjoyed her coffee before partaking her breakfast and would fret if it was any other way. She needed to walk during dusk, as the day settled into night, almost every day, and she had to choose her attire for the next day the evening prior- if not physically, then at least mentally while she lay in bed beside him. She had to have a task that she was working on, something to keep her busy and occupied, something to manage her time as such a quality was ingrained into her very being, and most mornings she was considering his personal ledgers, or making an inventory of the larder and her most recent endeavour- his collection of art and artefacts in order to estimate their worth later. Around midday, every day, she would partake in a series of exercises to strengthen her wrists in an attempt to lessen the tremors- something she had previously done in private, but he had stumbled across it by chance soon after their first night together.

She woke up at the same time each day and tended to grow lethargic around a certain hour at night, as if her entire body was governed by these very routines. He doubted she was even aware of them herself, but he was. He was very much aware of everything that was her.

And should she have any free time in her orderliness, she would while it away in his gallery- where it was quiet and reflective, and marvellously beautiful.

The halcoon pup in his arms stirred, reminding him of his purpose, yet he found himself remaining poised on the threshold of the gallery simply to enjoy the sight of her longer.

Uninhibited, she looked peaceful as she perched on one of the many polished benches of the room, reminding him of the first time he had come across her as such and subsequently the first time he had kissed her, deliberately placing herself in one of the spots that was flooded with fading afternoon sunlight. Her face was upturned towards a painting in speculation, or inner rumination- he would never know, and for some reason he wasn't perturbed by that fact. Lillian would always keep parts of herself closed off and unattainable, and he could accept that because that was simply who she had learnt to become. In time, he knew, she would reveal those parts to him- but incrementally, as she had been doing all this time. And though he was hardly a patient male, for her he could be.

The desire to converse with her, be near her, was stronger than his desire to continue admiring her uninhibited, so he made his presence known by entering the chamber with a deliberately heavy footfall. He had learnt over the past several days that it was best to approach Lillian loudly (one of the many repercussions that lingered from her unfortunate time in the Other realm) and make her aware of one's presence rather than quietly sneaking up on her. He had made the mistake of playfully accosting her one afternoon as she walked down the passage to her chambers. She hadn't spoken to him for hours after that and he had a bruise on his arm that still hadn't healed.

As he approached, her head turned to him with a graceful tilt and a tiny, almost imperceptible smile tugged at her lips, but then her gaze dropped to the wriggling creature tucked under his arm and suddenly she was on her feet.

"Why is that in your arms?" she demanded.

"It is a gift."

Her eyes widened, and then narrowed almost in the same breath. "You did not..."

"He's rather cute, don't you think?"

"Aëghan, why would you think I would want one of these creatures as a pet? I can barely tolerate the cat, and let us not start on Millie's creature..."

He merely grinned, holding out the pup to her. Despite her ornery words and scowl, she took the little thing and cradled it protectively to her bosom. The pup squirmed and made a lamentable trilling noise, but quickly seemed to settle against her warmth. "I did not pluck it from its mother, if that's what you are thinking," he told her wryly. "He had a broken leg, probably from a fall which they are oft known to do, and his litter had already departed the area, leaving him alone and vulnerable."

Her expression softened substantially. "He had a broken leg?" She studied him expectantly.

"I healed him, of course."

A small scoffing sound escaped her at that, and her gaze lowered to consider the tiny creature in her arms. "Yet you refuse to do anything about the marks on your back."

"Those, my little cat, I wear with pride." His grin was unrepentant. If Lillian Adams was cool and composed as a representation of her role of leadership in her society, in his bed she was wildly uninhibited and prone to falling apart at the first touch of his lips.

And he couldn't get enough of her- of the sounds she made when she was overcome by desire, of how her body writhed through climax after climax- and he was wholly in awe of her, however many times she rose to his challenges to sustain herself longer each time. She may temper her emotions, actions and responses outside the bedroom, but there was an untameable and insatiable side to her that matched his own.

She had appeared shocked and mortified when she had seen the abrasions that had welted his skin at her doing, even more so when he had threatened to not wear a shirt when tending to several matters in the forest the next few days.

But it was somewhat astounding to him how urgent the need for her had become. It was almost constant, his state of arousal, and Lillian had no qualms matching that need. In truth, they spent most of their time tearing at each other's clothes, if they had even managed to put any on at all, and there was not a chamber within the ruins that he hadn't taken her.

He wished he could blame his carnal need for her on just that- lust, desire, and little else. He wished he could differentiate between the devotion he felt for her and the ever-burning desire coursing through him. But it was an effort in futility and he felt himself losing the inner battle against his common sense.

He had countless hours to rationalize it all while she slept, as he kept silent sentinel over her. Normally, she fell asleep on her stomach, her arms tucked under her pillow and her face turned to the side as she nestled against him for warmth, and it was in these moments, as he stroked the warm skin of her back and memorised the contours of her flesh- of everything that made her, her- that a peculiar sort of harmony befell him and everything was right in his world. It was during these hours that the cogs of his brain worked, that he endeavoured to rationalise how he felt about her, or how he attempted to convince himself that he couldn't feel anything for her.

The more he tried to rationalise how doomed their situation was, that he couldn't possibly be nurturing a blossoming love for her, the more she proved him wrong.

It became apparent after their first night together that Aëghan could no longer maintain that their relationship was intrinsically sexual. Not when she ventured into the village and began to befriend his tenants- his people- and when that wasn't enough, she took it upon herself to catalogue their needs and desires for their impending relocation. He had yet to definitively decide upon a land or property that was suitable, and without provocation Lillian was doing just that.

The next day she embraced the high-top rope bridges (alone, while he tended to a disruption on the border of their property) and, with a journal and pen in hand, went about to every individual and family with an array of questions to ascertain just what they would need to make their transition comfortable. It was a menagerie of different species and different people that he catered for in the settlement, and Lillian seemed to embrace that unquestionably- even when some desired woodland and some preferred aquatic-based locations. She noted it all with a pleasant, if somewhat detached demeanour, but that was her- a born leader, who could govern her kind, but not connect. Not entirely.

He admired that about her, and it was a commonality they both shared. Where he was quick to hide his intentions with a grin or a flippant remark, Lillian merely masked all emotion, making her intentions almost impossible to discern.

Then there were the moments they were alone, when he wasn't inside her and they simply conversed. Those moments were his undoing, ingrained into his memory as if emblazoned by fire. Branded and searing for eternity.

He would never forget Lillian gilded by the firelight of the hearth; a crystal tumbler of whiskey held to her cheek as she turned to give him a seductive smile because of some quip he had made.

The pillow she had thrown at him during one of their spats. Composed until the last moment, Lillian had accused him of deliberately provoking a reaction from her by denying her a cup of morning coffee (he had been doing exactly that) and when that composure had finally shattered, she had expelled more until they were nothing but children mindlessly battering each other with cushions until the room was covered in downy feathers.

Lillian, covered in feathers and laughing at the vined ceiling of his chambers.

Lillian, on her knees before her armoire imploring a cantankerous feline not to shred her favourite pair of stockings.

Lillian, sharing a rare giggle with Enorae at dinner about the other female's lover.

Lillian, pushing him from her chambers with a determined little pucker to her nose so that she could don appropriate attire for the day.

The week since they had become lovers had flown by in fleeting moments of poignancy that left him with very little doubt in his mind that he loved her, that possibly the mark had been nothing more than a catalyst of their union entirely, and that posed a problem.

"You are too much," she muttered, stroking the creature in her arms gently. It made a noise of contentment, burrowing into the crook of her elbow.

"Yes, but you know this and like me all the same."

Her smile was self-deprecating and she chose not to comment on that particular remark, as he knew she wouldn't. Terms of endearment, devotions of adoration, were strictly off-limits with her- as well they should be. Conversation, at least, had been kept utterly devoid of what was transpiring between them, even though he could feel the impact of her in the marrow of his bones.

"You are the keeper of unwanted strays, it seems," she commented flippantly, nudging him with her elbow as she began to walk from the gallery.

"If you are referring to Miss Felicity, that cat belongs to Leowyn," he told her receding back. "As for the halcoon pup, it belongs to us. We should name him."

At that, she froze mid-step. Aëghan inwardly berated himself, knowing immediately he had made a detrimental mistake in his phrasing. Her shoulders stiffened visibly and a tension rippled from her that was ripe with unease and turmoil.

"Lillian," he amended hastily, "I meant-"

"Don't."

Her tone was clipped, edged with something he couldn't identify- something new and devastating that he hadn't heard in her voice before. When she made no inclination to move, he came to stand before her so that he could read her expression but found her shuttered.

Briefly, her gaze found his and he thought he saw something like despair flash across her countenance, but it was so fleeting he scarcely believed it was there at all. Then she lowered her lashes and studied the creature in her arms.

"Buttons."

He felt his brows snap together in a curt frown of consternation. "What?"

"His name should be Buttons," she said flatly. "He's quite round. He reminds me of... a button."

For some reason, he didn't like that she was quietly dismissive of his labels of them- together.

Us. We.

He knew, Gods he knew, there couldn't be such a thing- not if he held everything he knew dear to him- everything he had been working towards for years. To throw all of it away, his dreams, the dreams of an entire people, on the whim of a courtship that had transpired barely longer than a fortnight...

"Fine, his name is Buttons," Aëghan clipped. "Lillian-"

Her eyes snapped to his suddenly, cold and translucent like the most pristine glacier. There was an unreachable implacability to her now, and even though it filled him with trepidation, he couldn't help but marvel at her inherent capability to master and control every vehement reaction he knew she must be feeling. "I do not wish to talk about it, Aëghan," she told him firmly. "Kindly desist, if you wish things to remain the same between us-"

"Lillian." But what could he say? Because if things did not remain the same between them, then they would become nothing at all, and the possibility of that left him hollow and aching. Instead of saying more, he pulled her into his arms, halcoon and all, and felt her shoulders stiff and unrelenting in his arms. Then all of a sudden she seemed to relax, her forehead dropping to nestle under his chin.

A deep, shuddering sigh escaped her, and several long moments passed in silence. Even as she accepted his embrace, Aëghan sensed that something was not right, that something was off... it was an inherent unease coming off her, something troublesome, something akin to resignation, and he felt his throat tighten at the sensation, at the inevitably of what was to come.

It was in that moment, while the silence grew heavy and thick about them as the sun set and cast melancholy silhouettes over their embrace, that he felt her lashes flutter against his neck in a delicate, tickling caress, and then her words- her words reverberated through him with a devastation he had never known before-

"Whatever it is we are doing," she whispered, "I do not think I can do it anymore."



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A/N

Ash x