Julian stood leaning against the wall and watching the people dance. He would have asked her hours ago, but finding Maire alone proved to be more of a feat than he would have supposed. He was sure her parents were ecstatic, she had danced with several lords and two dukes this evening, popularity like that went a long way when looking for a match for their daughter. He sighed. He didn’t want to see her with anyone else. This was the spot she had been pickup up at, and propriety demanded that this was the spot he would return her to. Once her partner had left, Julian stepped forward and bowed to her.


“My Lady Kirwan, it is a pleasure to see you again.” He grinned at her as he straightened and he held out his hand. “I’ve been waiting for hours for this privilege, will you dance with me Maire.” He said quietly.

Maire smiled. Her face was already flushed from all the dancing she'd done, and she was sure her forehead was sticky with sweat; she didn't get a great deal of exercise most of the time. Still, she had enjoyed herself, even if none of the men she had danced with had measured up to Julian.

"Sincerely speaking, I have, too," she said, curtsying briefly to him. "It seems I've attracted more attention than I thought I would, so--" she shrugged and rolled her eyes self-mockingly. "Manners... one does not turn down a dance invitation, but I am very glad to accept yours." She felt more relaxed around him after a night of light drinking and dance with other lords. She took his hand in hers, feeling the warmth of his fingers seem to seep down into her core. "You seem not unpopular yourself, milord." Jealous? Was she? That was ridiculous. And of course he had the right to dance with the multitudes of prettier girls in the court. It didn't mean she couldn't enjoy his company as well.

Julian shuddered slightly as he thought of some of the simpering and then just plain outrageous women he had encountered this evening. Some of them had been, nice, and he had enjoyed a dance or two, but no one had captured his attention like Maire. In fact no one had managed to draw his attention completely away from her, as his eyes had followed her all night.


“I was slightly concerned you would be far to tired.” He said as she led her out onto the floor and took into his arms as they began the dance. “You look absolutely beautiful, my lady.” He had grown attached to looking at her, he realized. She didn’t even seem to have a clue as to how striking her beauty was, how bright, and vibrant. From her hair and skin, to the weight of the intelligence in her eyes, she was absolutely stunning. She had drawn a Duke across a room just to dance with her, he might have missed it if he hadn’t been watching as closely as he was, but that is neither here nor there. He looked down at her and caught her eyes as he smiled. “I would love to see this ballroom painted as it is now, all the opulence is hard to imagine otherwise, but I do not know of one could truly capture the entirety of it without the loss of some vital essence.”

"I will paint it," Maire whispered. She felt her body respond again as his touch sent new energy coursing through her. At once she felt both hot and cold, and she felt any sweat must have burnt off her forehead like the scum of oil burning off a flambé, seared by the heat of passion into combustion. She recalled being thirteen, and the desperate undoing of clothing in the stable with Thomas--and would gladly have tugged the lord outside with her, into the gardens, and--

She shook her head, feeling the tips of her ears flare red in embarrassment. How silly she was being!

"I will paint it, and I promise I will paint you," she said, looking up at him a little wistfully, "if you don't find yourself taken up by more important pursuits... men are always so busy, I find, and with what?--though I find my own amusements in art and study..." She was babbling, she realized, hardl thinking of what she said. His eyes were swallowing her up. Perhaps the few glasses of wine she'd had really were affecting her.

Her soft whisper thrilled through him. Her eyes seemed to burn with passion, and it pulled a reaction from him, one, that he was forced to closed his eyes briefly to push it back down. God, the things her proximity did to him. “I don’t believe there could ever be anything more important then time spent with you Maire.” He said, using her name again, for the second time. He had the hardest time thinking of her as Lady Kirwan, she was just Maire.


He grinned down at her, he would love to be able to blame one too many glasses of wine for the looseness of his tongue, but he had not indulged much, it was just his reaction to her. As they moved through the dance he realized he did not want it to ever end, as he did not want to release her. He tightened his grip on her slightly at the thought, even though the end of the dance was quite a ways away. “I will happily sit for you… and I will anxiously await the rendition of the ball.”

The dance was almost at an end. Maire closed her eyes as they moved around the floor; his arms would keep her in time and in step. She opened them at last, taking in the dizzying blur of the lights; and the dance stopped.

"Lord Julian." The words felt as though they arose spontaneously, to hang in the air, iridescent and humming as dragonflies over a pond. "Would you care to go for a walk? I could use the air." She was actually flushed with exertion, that was true; and she didn't want to let go of his hand. It was warm, and rough, and larger than her own. And her parents would kill her--absolutely kill her--if they knew she had fled the ball. They wanted her to marry at least into the upper nobility, and she knew that Lord Julian wasn't--but how could it matter--and after all her own father had married a Jew, so... her thoughts stumbled and tumbled out of control.

A new song was beginning. She didn't let go of his hand.

Julian held on to her hand as the dance ended, feeling her pulse race beneath his thumb. He raised his hazel eyes to meet hers, and smiled down at her words. “I believe fresh air would be quite delightful at the moment.” He said softly as he steered them off the floor and toward the back of the hall, and the doors to the garden. One the doors closed behind them and the shadows of the evening concealed them from sight, he sighed a deep sigh of relief. As stressful as it should have been, being alone with her seemed like the most natural thing in the world. As he drew her onto one of the paths he pulled her a tad bit closer and stopped looking down into her eyes.

The air was much cooler, but it did nothing to cool the heat caused by her. “Maire…” he whispered softly as he lost himself in her blue-gray eyes.

"Julian." Maire reached up and tugged him down to meet her, stumbling a little in the darkness, pulling him back toward her under the overhanging boughs of a cherry tree, only just in bloom. She felt blindly up the muscles of his arms, his body against hers. Her lips met his, clumsily at first. It had been a long time. But she tasted the sweetness of his breath, with the faint tang of wine. She smelled the cherry blossoms on the breeze, and crushed beneath her slippers. The bark of the tree was slippery with evening dew and chill against her back. Julian's breath was warm in front of her.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, drawing back abashed and pressing herself against the cool smooth bark of the tree. "I don't know what--" She looked up at him. His eyes were darkened in the gloom. She couldn't tell what he was thinking.

She whispered his named and Julian pulled her against him as their lips met. She tasted sweet and had slightly more experience than he would have thought, but the idea only inflamed him further. She drew away and he took a step closer following her further into the shadow of the tree. He stopped and looked into her face. “There is no need to be sorry.” He breathed as his dark eyes burned into hers. “If anything, it is my fault, it is hard to be a gentleman in your presence.” His hand came up to cup her face, his thumb brushing over her cheek.


“I will endeavor to better control my baser desires in your presence, my lady.” He said softly his eyes conveying the fact that he already found that promise hard to keep. He leaned down slightly speaking into her ear. “As difficult as that, is turning out to be.”

"Don't," Maire breathed. She kissed him again, fumbling with his doublet. She devoured his mouth with hers, moving her lips to touch his thumb as it lay along her cheek. She bit at it teasingly, then tugged his doublet open. It had been so long. So long, and she wanted that gratification she'd lost. Her hair was starting to come lose from its elaborate arrangement. The ground spun dizzily, the petals showering off the shivering tree, falling like snow around her.

"I wouldn't be so forward, but--" He stopped for a moment, breathing hard. "I want this, Julian. I promise you--I want this." She ran her fingers through his curly hair, touching the hollow beneath his jaw, feeling his throat moving as he swallowed. "We might marry, either of us might, and we'll never--we might never get this chance again."

“Oh sweet lord,” Julian intoned softly as she pressed back against him. His hands went into her hair, further disturbing the arrangement it had been twisted into. His mouth fed at hers not able to get enough of the sweet taste of her lips. The tree shivered raining petals around them, heightening the feeling of being in their own world, separated from everything else. Her hands opened his doublet, and touched his chest, before moving into his hair. He looked down at her, his fingers silencing her lips.


“And I want you, Maire.” He said softly his lips ghosting over the skin of her neck, as he pressed her into the tree. His hands came up and traced the neckline of her dress. He wanted her for more than just this moment in the garden, but want didn’t change the fact that her family would be looking far beyond him for their daughter. This, though they could not take away. His hands loosened the ties of her dress and slid his hands into the gap that was made.

Maire sighed under his touch and closed her eyes. Her knees buckled, and she felt herself sliding down the tree, wet marks seeping through the fabric of her dress. She twined her hands in Julian's hair, pulling him down with her. The next few moments were lost in a tangle of movements and words. She got his doublet and shirt off and tossed them aside, running her hands over the smooth skin of his chest. She kissed his neck, sucking hungrily at the skin, then moved back up to feed on his mouth.

Julian had by this time undone her bodice entirely, and Maire slid out of her dress, lying next to him in her shift.

He looked at her questioningly. And she said, "Yes."


((FADE TO BLACK))

Julian brushed the hair from her face as he looked down into her storm colored eyes with a smile. It was the one thing she had always been able to draw from him. His breath returned to normal, and he knew they didn’t have much time left to relax as they were. His fingers brushed over her soft skin knowing he would miss the feel of it, and wanting to memorize the feeling of it, every moment he spent with her he wanted to cherish. If they never did get this chance again, he wanted to recall every moment of the moonlight on her pale skin, of her red hair spread out beneath him, and her eyes gazing at him , darkened with passionate fire.


“Maire…” he said softly as he leaned over and kissed her lips once again. He didn’t want to bring reality crashing down upon them, but they had been missing from the ball for some time now. “We should dress, love.”

Maire nodded quietly, closing her eyes and running a hand down the side of his face. There had been some pain, but more pleasure. She knew she ought to leave and forget this, but she wouldn't. What did it matter, obedience? Honor thy mother and thy father.

"We can see each other again?" she whispered, tugging her shift over her head. When it was on, she froze like a startled rabbit.

"Get away from my daughter." Glendan's voice was cold, and his sharp hazel eyes--eyes he had passed on to Eavan but not Maire--were icy and wide with rage. Maire pulled her shift tightly around her body, knowing that they looked as guilty as they were.

He drew his sword. "Ravish my daughter, dishonor my family!" he raged. And Maire knew he wouldn't stop until Julian drew his own sword. Her father wasn't an evil man or even a bad man, but he was protective of his daughters.

"No," she whispered desperately, stumbling to her feet, cringing as she knew that her state of undress was a sign of their iniquity as sure as the glistening blood spilt on the churned bed of petals they'd laid on. "Father, please..." The words fell from a numb tongue, as though they were words in a play and not her own. His eyes were remote. He was playing a part too, that of the enraged father--and Julian?

He pulled his shirt on over his head, and turned to get his breeches, but they were a bit out of reach. He scooted closer and reached out his hand to grasp them, nodding at her question as he turned back to look at her.

"Get away from my daughter."

Julian froze and turned toward the cold voice and into a pair of furious eyes. He sighed and looked over at Maire. His eyes pleaded with her to be careful, as he didn’t know if her father’s anger was only directed at him, or if he would lash out at her as well. “I meant no disrespect to your family, Lord Kirwan.” He said as he pulled on his braes and stood up, running a hand through his hair.

He stepped in front of Maire hiding her from view and giving her a chance to pull on her dress, and compose herself. He didn’t want to draw his sword, not against her father. This was not the way, to prove that he should be allowed to marry her. “I will not cross swords with you my lord, for to do so will only upset Maire, and I do not wish anything to cause her further pain.”

Maire scrambled to get her dress on, pulling it up hastily and barely taking the time to tie the ribbons on her stays. Her father might cool down, she thought, eyeing him over Julian's shoulder. Her fingers fumbled, but at last she was at least dressed. Her slippers had vanished somewhere, and her hair was in disarray, but she walked diffidently over to stand beside Julian.

"Father," she whispered, leaning forward to put a hand on his arm; he jerked away.

"I should have known you would be Godless," he said, looking at her in a way he never had before. "Worshipping the horned devil of Hebrews and heathens!"

She paled. She knew he didn't approve her their religion, but to say it straight out, and like that...

He turned his gaze back to Julian. "And you, Lord Kesteven," he said, shaking his head. "You'll pay for what you've taken from my daughter. I'm not impetuous, but for this--how could you, Maire?" He turned to look at her. "You have ruined any prospect of marriage with anyone but this--this--this-- moneylender!" And if she hadn't, he thought but did not say, he would have to wed her right away to someone else. The thought that his daughter, at a bare sixteen years of age, might get with child made his bile rise and his blood boil. He loved his daughter, and this wretched curly-headed satyr had taken her innocence.

He took of his glove, deliberately, and flung it at Julian. "Maybe not a duel, but I'll have your neck for this."

Julian felt Maire come up and stand beside him, having managed to get her dress back on. He reached out his hand and took hers, interlacing their fingers together. It was partially a gesture of solidarity as well as one of support. He could nearly feel how shaken she was. He closed his eyes briefly as he thought of the moment she had said yes, so sure of herself, the passion burning in her eyes, for him.


He looked into another pair of eyes now, and the passion in them flamed from another source… born of anger. Each time Lord Kirwan spoke to him, he would open his mouth to speak, but the chance would be gone, he was off once again, yelling at Maire. Julian tightened his hand on hers.


He nearly laughed at the moneylender comment, but that would have been grossly inappropriate given the gravity of the situation. As true as it was, he was still nobility, and his interest in trade did not tarnish it, no matter what his parents, and obviously hers thought about it. The man took off his glove and threw it at Julian’s head. His hand came up and caught it before it could strike his face. “I am more than willing to make amends, my lord.” Julian replied to him as he looked into the pained man’s face. “But I will not fight you.”

"Make amends." Glendan's lips were set in a tight line. "There's nothing you can do to give my daughter back what you took. Maire--" He glanced down at their joined hands. "Come with me. We're going to discuss what to do with you." He tugged at her arm, more roughly than necessary, pulling her away from Julian.

When would she learn that men wanted only one thing, and weren't truly on her side? This Lord Kesteven--he hated the family, and though he knew nothing of the boy he had good reason not to trust him. He would marry Maire off to something less than a duke if he had to. But not a Kesteven. Not this lecherous too-polite--

Maire looked helplessly back at Julian as her fingers slipped out of his grasp. But she knew she'd misbehaved. How could she ask her father that if the issue was marrying her quickly, she wanted Julian--when she wasn't sure if he wanted her?

Julian watched, his face impassive, as Lord Kirwan reached out and grabbed Maire, pulling her out of his grasp. "I will marry her." He had taken nothing she hadn't given freely, and it wrenched at his heart for them to be torn apart like this. "I wanted to marry her before, that hasn't changed."

But her father was not listening, and Julian was forced to watch as they walked away. This wasn't the end, he would not let her go, not like this. He followed after them, careful to keep his distance. He needed to change, and think things through, there was much to be done, if he was taking a wife. He closed his eyes as the scent of cherry blossoms and her assaulted his nose, as he shook out his doublet. A soft smile came to his face, he knew he would always think of her when he smelled the blossoms in bloom. Maybe she would paint it one day and they could look back at the painting and recall the good moments, and not the ones filled with pain.