***Her eyes were closed, her breathing was calm and her being was at peace.In the softly lit room, sitting, with Alexander by her side, Gwen let her fingers speak and she made her soul pay attention. Lightly, the music was birthed from the piano and powerfully, it came to her. Each note rang out clear and pure, filling the space with a melody that danced on the air like sunlight filtering through leaves. She was lost to the music, she was completely lost to its beauty.Playing the piano was more than just a skill for Gwen - it was a passion. It was the only way she could express herself. It was the only means she was allowed. With each chord she struck, she felt a sense of liberation, as if the music had the power to lift her spirits and transport her to another realm; to a much better realm.Her fingers moved with fluidity and grace, causing the music to swell and ebb, and a sense of joy washed over her. It was the feeling of contentment. Where she was or who was with her did not m
Gwen inhaled sharply, realizing she had. "I suppose."He chuckled. Then, "Can we agree, my dear, that this conversation of candour is preferable to your attempts to avoid me?""I believe my return to Westside Manor is a more preferable option."Alexander laughed lightly. "You're just as obstinate as Brand." He said, but Gwen disagreed. She was as obstinate as him. "I heard an intriguing rumour today.""What rumour did you hear?""I heard that you referred to yourself," he paused, "as beautiful."Gwen flushed, embarrassed. "That… that… was…" She cleared her throat. "It was in the moment." She had only said it to rebuff Lady Farrington and her words."It must have been quite a moment." He remarked. Gwen's flush deepened, and she averted her gaze. His voice lowered suddenly. "This is a promising turn of events.""What do you mean?""This." He murmured, brushing her cheek gently and offering her a smile. "I should make you flush more often."Alexander's smile disarmed her completely. Gwen
***A knock at the door startled Gwen from her reverie. She had been sitting by the fire, staring at it since she came to the room. "Who is it?" She called.A voice from the other side responded. "It is Paula, My Lady.""Enter."The maid entered and bowed. "Good evening, My Lady.""Good Evening." Gwen replied. Then, "I thought you had retired for the night.""I cannot, not when you have not been attended to for the evening."Gwen took a deep breath. She was not helpless, and certainly not an invalid. She could attend to herself. She had been doing so for years. "It would not be a crime if you had retired before me. What if I had spent all night in the piano room? Would you have stayed the night up?"Paula shrugged. "I suppose."Gwen stared, realizing the maid truly would stay up all night, waiting for her. "That is not entirely right. You are free to retire to bed when you ought to. If ever I need your services after, I will call for you.""Alright, My Lady. I shall help you out of yo
Jane Farrington sat comfortably in one of the plush chairs in her room, flipping mindlessly through a book as Sarah worked diligently to relieve her of the tension in her feet. Jane had no idea what book she was holding, nor did she care. It served only as a distraction while Sarah carefully massaged away the pain caused by her new shoes. The brown leather shoes, though elegant, had made her feet ache terribly. They were a gift from the king, sent along with the new dresses. She would continue to wear them until they adjusted to a more natural size, and if they hurt, Sarah would simply relieve her of the pain once again.The room was filled with a soothing quiet, the only sounds being the soft rustle of pages and the gentle murmurs of Sarah as she worked. Jane closed her eyes, allowing herself to relax fully. Clothes, shoes, the finest of food and his presence, she had it all and despite the discomfort, she couldn't help but feel a sense of pride and privilege. The king's gifts were a
She tossed the letter onto the table and walked to her armoire. "Lord Denney told me that she is the daughter of a baron, and that is all I know about her." She said, her tone sharp. It was not enough. If she needed to send Lady Fitzgerald away from the castle, she needed to know more."Why would you bother yourself about her, My Lady? You are better than her in all ways." Sarah said.It was true, yet it did not matter. Not to the king. "The king thinks her to be, well, interesting. More interesting than me, and I am irked by it. I need to know more about her." She walked away from the armoire and decided to return to her seat. What was it about Lady Fitzgerald that was so interesting that she was second fiddle?Settling back down, she looked at Sarah and Cliff expectantly. "Think harder, will you?" It was not a request.Sarah adjusted the vase of flowers on the table. "Well, My Lady, I do not think she is happy to be here."Jane scoffed. "I refuse to believe that anymore." Who would
Alexander held up one of the parchments but was not paying it any attention. He knew why he didn't want to leave for the trip. Guinevere.After she prematurely retired the night before, he had lingered in the piano room, trying to recreate her beautiful rendition. It was one and the same she always gave, it was the same one he had first heard on that fateful day when she had stumbled into the piano room.He remembered how she looked so engrossed with her piece it seemed nothing else mattered. The memory of her playing was vivid in his mind - the look of serenity on her face, the subtle movements of her hands, the soulful resonance of the notes she coaxed from the instrument. For another time, he would ask her to play a different piece. One of his, perhaps."Your Majesty," Edmund called, placing an enveloped letter before him. "This needs your seal."Without a word, Alexander pressed the seal of his office onto the hot wax Edmund had poured, not asking about the contents of the parchme
His anger at Lady Farrington had little to do with her and much more to do with the fact that Guinevere had left prematurely the night before. It irked him how disobedient she was, even if he admired it. After all, he preferred an opinionated person over a sycophant or, worse, a fool."Your Majesty, if you will," Edmund said, still by the table. "This is from Lord Michaelson and has been sitting here for almost a week. I believe he expects a response today."Alexander took a sip of his cognac. It was still morning and he was already drinking. "What does it want?""Your signature."He walked to the table. Taking up his quill once more, he signed his name, dropped the snifter noisily and stalked out of the room. A few seconds later, Edmund emerged, having tidied up the parchments. He hurried ahead to prepare the horse.As he passed by the portrait room, walking with more anger than grace, Alexander thought he saw a shadow, but he was mistaken.***Jane paused at the threshold of the din
She closed the door behind her carefully, making the littlest of sounds as it clicked shut. The light from the hallway vanished and the room was plunged into a soft, intimate dimness, save the candles atop the fireplace. However, she did not move from her place by it, her silhouette was outlined faintly against the darkened space.Alexander sat on the edge of the bed, relaxed yet attentive to her presence. He was patiently waiting for her, biding his time. There was a raging urgency in the air and he let the tension room grow. It was heavy and crackled with every second that passed.He could sense her arousal. No, more than that, he could feel it. He saw it in the way she stood, heard it in the rhythm of her breath, the slight hitch that punctuated the silence of the room. Each breath she took seemed to draw him closer, and every one of his, responded almost immediately.His right hand slowly clenched into a fist. "Why don't you come closer?" he murmured, his voice a low, intimate whi