Alexander took Guinevere's hand in his, rubbing her knuckles. His voice dropped incredibly and his eyes searched hers. "You would rather go dance in the rain than stay here with me?""It is not raining now." She replied softly. He was aware. "And Alexander, I do not think I appreciate how easily you touch me."Alexander brought her hand to his lips, as he tried to kiss her knuckles, she pulled her hand and he released her, a leer coming to sit on his lips. He exhaled. "Alright then, pour me another cup of tea." He requested.She stared at him for a moment, sighed, and brought the pot over, and refilled his cup. As soon as she replaced the pot on the table, her eyes wandered to the sword case. Like someone possessed, slowly, she reached for it, opened it, and exhaled loudly.Alexander's eyes kept on her. She was intrigued. Her eyes remained fixed, while her fingers tightened against each other. Alexander moved the case slightly, and her eyes flew to his."I see you are interested in my
***Gwen could do nothing but stare, completely taken aback by Alexander's words. She had never known force. Everything she had and loved had come to her with ease, and for everything she had worked for but could not obtain, she had learned to let go. There had never been a need to force anything, so she couldn't comprehend Alexander's reasoning. A love that was forced? One that must be accepted? That could consume, could it not? What if the other party was not ready to accept it? What if the other party couldn't accept it? What then becomes of such a forceful love?The thought frightened her, and his eyes on her unsettled her. He believed every word he had said and from the manner he had forced her to stay at the castle, she was certain he was not prepared to change his notion.And the night before, he had told her he loved her. She could not accept his love, however, it may be. There was too much to consider, and she did not like him. What then becomes of it? Would he force her to a
Sanity ultimately returned to Gwen. Appalled at her behaviour, her eyes bulged and she squeezed herself from between Alexander and the wall. Her neck was hot and her heart was racing. What had she done? Had she lost her senses? Allowing him to touch her like that?She stepped away, trying to compose herself, her hands trembling slightly at her sides. The tension in the room was almost visible, the air heavy with unspoken desire. When she turned to look at him, he was watching her. She looked away, her mind a whirlwind of confusion and guilt.Gwen never expected things of the sorts to happen. How did it happen? Taking a deep breath, she turned back to Alexander. "I… I'm sorry. I don't know what came over me. I don't know what I was doing.""I knew what I was doing."She swallowed hard, her heart racing with anxiety. "I wish to leave. Please.""Running away won't change anything." He said, remaining in his spot by the wall, hands now behind him. "The inevitable will happen."Her stomach
Gwen nodded. "I watched your tournament once. You won."Alexander remembered. It was when she had first visited Mainecroft Castle. "I saw you standing, with your cousin, by the wall." He recalled the moment vividly. "You saw me too." Guinevere blushed at the memory and looked away. He let it go. Then, "Are you familiar with any other weapons?"She shrugged her shoulders and shyly said, "I am familiar with the knife, if it matters. The kitchen knife.""Tell me about it." He urged. When she brought her eyes back to him, he nodded and repeated. "Tell me.""Back at Westside Manor, there's only Mrs. Grace. She is the butler, helper, and cook. She is all the household staff we can afford. So Beth and I would assist, of course, with the chores in the kitchen and around the house." She explained, and licked her lips. Alexander clenched his teeth. "I can handle a knife to cut vegetables, but I'm not quite sure it's the same thing as fighting off a person."His eyes fell to her hands, rememberi
Alexander picked up the letter that Edmund had carefully placed on his table. The missive was from Brand. At long last, he had sent a reply, and Edmund had told that it had arrived during the quiet hours of the previous night.He felt for the size of the letter and frowned at its lightweight. The envelope was slightly creased from its journey, but the seal remained perfect and intact. He crossed over to the settee and threw himself on it. Whatever reply Brand had decided to send after all this time should include his arrival for his birthday or he would make his brother suffer the consequences, he vowed.The letter read:'Your Majesty,I cannot say I was not pleased to receive your letter, as you will have my head, but I can say that it found me in good health, enjoying the finest weather – which you always disagree with – but I hope that this letter finds you in the same fortunate state.'Alexander rolled his eyes hard. Brand was becoming quite bold with his dare.'America is indeed
***Guinevere's hands trembled as he hit her blade strongly. She lost her grip and the sword slipped from her grasp and clattered to the ground at her feet."Ow." She complained lowly, her eyes accusing him. Was she injured?Alexander's gaze drifted from her face to her hands, lingering on them for a moment before he lifted his eyes back to meet hers. His expression was stern. "You must never let go of your weapon so easily, or else, you are courting death. Hesitation and carelessness can be fatal when fighting. Keep your weapon with you if you wish to survive.""But I was hurt." She protested, cradling her right hand gently in her left."On the battlefield, getting hurt is inevitable." Alexander replied, his tone unyielding. "Injuries are a mighty part of any battle. If you pay too much attention to them, you will die."Guinevere grabbed her sword off the ground, annoyance flashing in her eyes. "I am simply learning to defend myself. I do not care for battlefields or the chaos they b
Alexander scoffed. "There is no such thing as the perfect blow, nor can anyone deliver it." He remarked, shaking his head slightly. Then like her, he stuck his sword to the ground and crossed his hands over his chest. "Guinevere? Look at me." She obeyed, meeting his gaze. Her cheeks were flushed, from either the mild sun or from embarrassment. He would decide on the former. "If you are learning to fight to cause harm to another, then it is already a lost cause."When he had first taken up the sword to learn, it had been to waste away the days. His father had just discovered Lady Wilmot and so had become infatuated, so much so that he did not care any longer for his son and heir. His mother had been more obsessed with her husband and his mistress than caring for her son. He loved the sword, not because he was good at it, but because for the longest time, it had been his closest companion. Carlisle had come after his mother had died so he had been given a friend but the bond with his sw
***Denney stood by the window overlooking the field, watching his nephew and his little mistress engage in a swordfight.He had received news from his spy at Mainecroft Hall that a note had come for Lady Wilmot, inviting her to the birthday dinner of the bastard son of his late brother. Immediately, he had rushed to the castle, only to be greeted by yet another horrific surprise: the king playing in the evening sun with his supposed lady-in-waiting.Denney did not want to admit it, but it seemed his nephew was quite taken with this one. He had known Alexander since he was a boy, struggling to be seen by his father and acknowledged by his jealous mother. From the moment Alexander decided not to concern himself with his parents anymore, nothing had seemed to affect him. Nothing. His nephew had truly never really cared about anyone, except of course his bastard brother and that wealthy lord who never smiled.Alexander was surrounded by the wrong and most bothersome people. How could som