The last ball she'd been to she'd met her current fiance. Maybe she'd get lucky and meet a new one... but Ewan wasn't that bad. He was boring, slow, lecturing. He made every word sound like a philosopher's musings. He made every day a mission. But then he was also nice, and kind, and unquestioning - one of the things the liked best. He was an easy person to be around, because he took things as they came and didn't worry about the details - like she used to. Now it was all details and no big picture.

She wasn't wearing as pretty a dress as she'd worn to the Pemberton Ball, of course - she was expanding everywhere. She'd tried to put that dress on and couldn't get it to fit over her stomach. It was repulsive, this size, and she hated it with all her being. Cecily was looking forward to the day when she could ride again, really ride, and not be terrified of falling off the horse and hurting the baby. For despite her disgust it came first and she loved it immensely.

So she was wearing a rather dull dress by her standards - something like what most women were wearing. She wasn't exploding with all manner of decorations today. Instead it was a rustling mixture of elegant trims and a low-cut bodice, because her breasts were bigger than they'd ever been before and she thought she might as well try to prompt some reaction from Ewan, or he'd stay a dull little stick his whole life and she'd fail as a wife.

She stalked over to him, more boldly than most of the women in the crowd, but didn't curtsy. He'd have to accept that of her - she was not showing his dominance to the crowd. "Hello Ewan," she said placidly, tilting her head slightly to the side, "lovely to see you here." Cecily's sharp brown eyes tore into him, trying not to think about how much prettier she'd be if there wasn't a child nestled in her belly.

[OOC: YES, I changed the title. That actually wasn't me... er.]

Ewan wished he could say that he recognized Cecily the way he recognized Aoife, as he made his way back into the ballroom after his conversation with his sister and the Lord Thorne. But to him, she was still a stranger. And like all strange women, a strangely attractive one.

It bothered him that she was now so obviously pregnant, not because it made her less desirable (Ewan was convinced that his desire for anything female was so strong as to be a curse). No, it was because it was a constant aching reminder of what he'd never have. He'd never have a child with the one woman he'd loved--and still loved, despite his new knowledge that nothing could ever come of it.

And what Duke Edmund had told him still bothered him. Did he really care about Cecily? Or was he just marrying her to escape? No, because for him it wasn't that--it was...

It was penance.

That wasn't what she deserved.

"Cecily." He met her gaze, and saw that she'd purposefully chosen not to curtsy, which pained him. Ewan hated formality, but with Cecily he felt locked into it. He would've very much liked to break the rigidity of the moment somehow, ideally by... his gaze was dragged downward toward her amply exposed decolletage... but his own guilt and timidity and sickness at the thought of betraying Aoife (nonsensical as it was) held him back.

"There's something I need to tell you. Before we dance, before anything--you're my fiancée, and I haven't been totally honest with you. This might not be the time and I know it isn't the place, but... look, do you mind coming with me? I've found a room--this isn't what it sounds like--" He was stammering now, practically as awkward as he'd been when they had first met.

He often wondered what would have happened, that day they'd gone swimming in the ocean, if he had given in to the overwhelming desire to kiss her.

She wasn't too worried about what she deserved. Sure, she could have had better, if circumstances were different, but they weren't. She'd made her choice - she had Ewan. She didn't care what other people thought or even what Edmund thought. He'd driven her to this, after all. But she wasn't blameless either. Both of them had suffocated their relationship with emotion, so that there was little to look forward to. But what could anyone expect? Stolen moments... make the best of them, try to make them memorable.

Cecily couldn't worry. She'd escaped immediate danger, she still had her life, she had a baby and a fiance. Every girl wanted this - just in different ways. No one could want this the way she'd got it. Not through the bush, winding through the whole forest, and coming out the other side relieved but worse for wear.

Still. She looked lovely. It seemed to be the fashion to have 'simple yet elegant' dresses, so that the whole room was turning into a simple elegant mess. At least she stood out. But Ewan still didn't seem to notice that, notice her, any more than he was required to. He'd be quite a mission to crack, if she was convinced there was something below the dull silence.

She was caught off balance when he said her name so sharply. She hadn't figured Ewan would ever speak in anything more than a sad mumble - she was wrong. But she accepted without question, for what else could she do? It was a woman's place to follow the man, always, no matter how boring and idiotic. And if she was finally going to see lust from him then it might as well be now, in the middle of a Ball - she'd prefer to have him want her than never at all.

"Of course," she said graciously, trying to make herself sound more acceptable. He was stuttering again. Cecily was in a good enough mood that it looked vaguely cute instead of annoying. It was a little pathetic, too, but she tried to ignore that. Hell, if this was the man she was going to spend the rest of her life with she shouldn't completely hate him. Cordiality was nice.

She followed him, past the throngs of people, to a room. It was with anticipation that she entered the room, turning to face him, expecting some gleam in his eye, some movement - she wanted him to want her.

Ewan followed Cecily into the next room and drew himself up, closing his eyes for a long moment, before at last he faced her. He wasn't a tall man, so he only had to look down a little to meet her eyes.

"The Duke told me about your liaison, and I know it's his child. I don't mind, Cecily, I don't mind at all, but what I'm about to tell you may make you want to call this off. But you have to swear to me that you'll tell no one. People's lives are in the balance here--not just mine--so I'm begging you. Tell no one."

He kept his voice hushed, so that his words would travel no more than a few feet. An eavesdropped wouldn't be able to hear. Ewan waited for her affirmation, his eyes fixed on her face, no trace of a nervous stammer here now. He realized it was what crept in when he was being--dishonest? Was that the way to put it? Yes--when he denied the truth, be it the truth of his desire or the truth of his sin.

When she'd given it, Ewan took a deep breath. "You need to know this. You may have heard rumors, but I want you to know that they're true. For several months my sister and I were lovers. She's the woman I told you about at the tourney--the one I can't have. I know now that it was wrong, and believe me, I know about the pain of giving up someone you love more than anything, but there's something--wrong--with what both of us were doing, Cecily." Why had he said that? Ewan wasn't sure, but something he had seen in the Duke's eyes, and something he'd seen in Cecily's...

Desperation.

It became apparent after a few seconds that he wasn't going to make love to her in any way here. She had to admit she felt disappointed - not because she wanted him, of course, but because she evidently wasn't the most important thing to him. She had been to Edmund. They could barely take their hands off each other when together - that or verbal exchanges.

Cecily sighed a little when he spoke. Of course he would have found out somehow - but she hadn't wanted him to. Now it seemed so obvious and most of her life was in his hands. Her choices, her future, her child... he could use them however he wished. She didn't like it. She'd been confident that Edmund wouldn't use her secrets to hurt her, but Ewan? She didn't know him well enough.

Intrigued. She was. What could Ewan, this Ewan, possibly have to say that was so important that he dragged her from the middle of a Ball? Surely he could have said this some other time? He didn't have to take her away now for what was probably some lecture - but the tone of his voice made that seem very unlikely and, for the first time, Cecily wanted to listen to him.

So she nodded. What else could she do? She wanted to hear this. Maybe - just maybe - this was about the woman he had loved, that he had spoken to her about? Maybe he was going to tell her something big, something life-changing, something drastic? His manner certainly hinted so. She waited with baited breath, biting her lip, eyes flickering on his.

"What?" she gasped, shocked. The rumours... she'd just assumed they were lies... he was a moral man, surely, everything pointed that way... how could this be? Cecily tried to absorb it for a few moments, thought after thought running haphazardly through her head, before composing herself. It couldn't have been easy for him - the closeness between siblings would obviously have meant they were closer than most lovers.

She was repulsed. A little and a lot. But she put it aside and tried to ignore it, stored it away for a later time. "Oh, Ewan... I'm so sorry. Aoife?" No wonder, at the Pemberton Ball, he'd fought a gypsy over her. It all made sense. "But - don't worry, of course I won't tell anyone. Really - it means the world to me that you told me this, Ewan."

Ewan shut his eyes in relief and reached out spontaneously, taking her by both hands.

"I couldn't--I wouldn't have let you marry me without knowing," he said. "I'm not so terrible a person as that. But that is why I agreed to marry you. I will be totally honest with you, Cecily: it isn't that I find you repulsive. In fact I've always had to hold myself back in your presence. But I agreed to marry you as a cover for my affair with my sister. It's over now. It won't start again." A faint shadow slid across his face, and he tilted his head downward. Her hands were still clasped in his own.

"So I'm not innocent, and I'm not fumbling. I seduced my own sister, Cecily, so you may need to rethink your assessment of me, and be honest about it, because if we get married I'm going to try o seduce you too." He paused to breathe out, very slowly, and looked back up into Cecily's eyes, totally unable to read the expression there. "I've been a liar and a coward. But I've promised to marry you, and for some insane reason, I think it might work out."

She was still a little shocked. Who wouldn't be? She was marrying a man who had slept with his sister. His sister. This was definitely not a fairytale. But while he wasn't the knight he wasn't exactly the monster, and the knight had become something of a monster to her anyway, and she wasn't the unblemished maiden either, so maybe it was all role reversal. Or maybe they were making their own sort of fairytale, one that no one would ever want to read.

Except them. They had no choice.

That was something - he wasn't repulsed by her. Well, she'd never really thought so anyway. Actually, it was almost a revelation to think that he could have found her repulsive. She didn't think anyone would, for some reason. His speech was having the effect on her that he wanted it to have - she was understanding. She was getting to know him, and that made her want to be around him more. If there was someone, really someone, then who was she to ignore it?

Cecily grinned. Relief was creeping through her and she answered cheerfully. "Of course it'll work out. You're a man, I'm a woman, why the hell not? And as for you seducing me - God, Ewan, what do you think I am? I'm sure it'll be a much more entertaining marriage if you can take me every once in a while." She laughed, but it faded and she bit her lip. "But Ewan... really, I'm only taking your word for it that it's over. I'm going to try to trust you on this, I am, but it's hard. We're both using each other for such selfish reasons - maybe, just maybe, desperation can found trust."

This Aoife - his sister - she was just as much to blame. But from what Cecily had last heard, she was with another man. Her brother was so obviously upset, so scarred. How could she turn her back on him, come to an event like this with another man? How could she forget what they'd had and ignore the consequences?

"Oh, it's over, believe me," Ewan said. "I'm a sinner, and for longer than I thought--I've been a liar--but no longer. I'm still working out what's the truth and what's not. I mean--what are real feelings and what aren't, and how much of what happened is even..." He shut his eyes for a moment, and when he opened them again, he realized they stood very close together.

For the first time he let himself think of her as a woman. He didn't think of the many reasons why he shouldn't, and he didn't think of Aoife. He forced his mind toward the immediate: toward the moment directly in front of him. He wanted her, but Ewan knew that just admitting it wasn't that easy... there was the shadow of distrust lingering in her eyes, and he couldn't blame her.

They didn't know each other, after all. He realized this frightened him. Of course, how well did he really know Aoife?

And more importantly...

"Uh..." Ewan dropped his gaze. "So you don't find me repulsive, do you?"

She nodded slightly, and realised she accepted it. She trusted what he said and believed what he was going through - she accepted him. It was as simple as that. She felt much more comfortable just knowing that it was all clear and that she could trust someone. Well, was on the way towards it. For what was life without a little drama?

"It's hard to tell the truth here," she shrugged, "most of the time people just cover it up." Including her. She had yet to tell him a lot of things, but then it was so early - about to be married and hardly caring for one another. If only this was the passionate, loving marriage most little girls dreamed of. She'd never dreamt of it - for whatever she said, she didn't want to believe in fate.

He opened his eyes and it was like he saw her for the first time. Cecily smiled, happy in the limelight. She liked to be appreciated - who didn't? - and men looking her way made her smile. Vanity. It was definitely an artificial characteristic, because she'd never had it before coming to court. It had wound its way into her over the past year and a half and changed her into more of a Lady than she'd ever wanted to be.

"Slightly," she admitted, "but then you haven't exactly been your best, have you? Sidling around all the time, looking more depressed than anyone could have thought imaginable. But really, if you eat a little and calm down, I'm sure you'll get much more attractive. Possibly. Hopefully. Maybe not." She smiled at him again.

Maybe this wouldn't be as humiliatingly dreadful as she had thought.

Ewan felt the blood rush to his face, and knew he was turning brick-red. Uncomfortably, he stepped back, one arm coming up to scratch uncomfortably at his neck.

"Oh," he said quietly. Damn, damn, damn! It wasn't entirely clear to him why he cared so much, but for some reason, it really did bother him that she found him disgusting. He knew, of course, that he hadn't been taking care of himself, but he really had tried tonight (even if he'd only done so because he knew he'd see Aoife). All right, so he had to admit he hadn't been bathing as much as he might have. He could fix that. But it still hurt to hear, and he felt a wall slam down between them.

Then he realized he had done that in self-protection. What would he have said to Aoife, if she'd told him such a thing?

"I've always been afraid of a woman I admire telling me that," he admitted, and managed a half-smile.

But this was just vanity.

And if she couldn't look below the surface...

Ewan realized that he just didn't like her very much. She was shallow, she was self-interested, she was still using him, and he had just told her the secret that could mean his life and Aoife's.

"Cecily, I can't marry you. I can't, and I won't, because now that I'm being honest, I've realized that I don't even like you. You're beautiful, but I don't like you, and we would both be miserable. Now that I finally don't want to be miserable--I can't--neither of us deserve it."

She tried not to roll her eyes, but it was hard. For God's sake - the man didn't wash or make any effort to clean himself, yet he got offended when it was pointed out to him! The last time she'd seen him was at the Tourney and he hadn't exactly been caring for himself then either. And if he was going to be so bloody temperamental... she had to try, again, to stop herself from letting her irritation show in her voice.

"Come on Ewan, I was joking - of course you're not that bad. And you do have a chance, really you do. If you cheer up a bit and have some time for yourself, well, you'll be one of the most handsome men here," she said comfortingly. She was on the verge of saying something else when he spoke again and she felt another stab of annoyance.

He didn't want to marry her now? Cecily was many things, but passive was not one of them. She would not let him walk out on this marriage - she'd given up so much for it, so much time and painstaking lying, so many plans put into motion. Hell, she'd told Edmund that she was getting married. She couldn't back out now, and neither could he. She had nothing else to do. She'd only barely held onto her dignity as it was, and if the supposed child of her baby left her...

Her eyes narrowed dangerously and her mouth set itself into a resolute line. Panic was settling in again, the familiar feeling fluttering in her stomach - she couldn't let this happen, couldn't. "You don't like me - Ewan, you don't even know me! Just before we were getting on fine. Really, what do you want from me? To hide things I think? Because if that's what you want then I'll do it, I'll never let on a thing, I'll be docile and pretty - I'm not sure I'll manage it, but I'll try. But you can't walk out on me, you can't."

Cecily wouldn't let herself be weak in this moment, no matter how much she longed to sit down and close her eyes and rest. The smallest of actions would let down her guard and so her argument - but she felt like crying so much! Promises meant nothing nowadays, and everything around her was curling into smoke.

Ewan shut his eyes to Cecily's desperation.

"No, Cecily. It isn't that you've judged me, Cecily. It's that you care more for the superficial, and I think you always will. That you think my sadness is--is a cosmetic problem, not a problem of my soul. It's that your only reason for marrying me is your own reputation, and even if I was guilty of the same--I shouldn't have asked. I know it seems as though I am ruining your life, but... I don't think you have ever shown the slightest real care for me. I will give my name to your child, if that's what you want. You can rightly blame the broken engagement on me.... I'll do what I can to save your reputation; I don't have much money, but it's yours if you want it. But I won't make us both miserable by marrying you."

Ewan's voice softened, and for the first time he found himself able to touch her. He raised a hand to her shoulder gently, then let it drop.

"You are a beautiful woman. But I don't love you and I never will. The Duke even told me as much--told me I didn't deserve you, and you didn't deserve me. And maybe he'll acknowledge your child and save some of your reputation, but..." Ewan looked at her, not without sympathy, but quite without love or even liking. "I am sorry, Cecily."

He tried not to let the pitiful spectacle before him shake his resolve--but there was still calculation in that gaze, wasn't there--

He took a few steps backward before turning his back on her.

Ferocity snapped her features into sharper focus. She wasn't even vaguely peaceful now; the serenity that had crept on her with her child had evaporated in the face of this new problem. Her hands jumped to her hips - the perfect example of feminine determination. Her dress crumpled under her tense fingertips, her brown eyes flashed, and her shoulders squared.

"No it isn't, Ewan. It's that you've let yourself show it. Everyone can see your unhappiness - do you have no shame? Pull yourself together. My superficiality is only there because you have let yourself fall into this state. Appearance is everything." She flicked a strand of hair from her face. It had been prepared so nicely for this Ball, and she hadn't even minded - secure in her future. Damn.

She'd have to do something else. All over again, the uncertainty washed over her. If it wasn't for this child, she wouldn't be in this situation at all. She could do as she wished... but Cecily had grown to love this child and she wasn't going to let it be ruined by her -and other's- mistakes. "No, Ewan. This child will not have your name. I'd rather it be known as a bastard than have your name," she spat.

She scowled as his hand touched her shoulder, and shrugged it off. Her voice was low and hissing, but rose to a shout as she let go of all her fury. "I am not running to him with my problems because yet another man walked out of my life. Do you have any idea how close I was to happiness? Do you know, at all, how I am going to suffer now? You have killed me. You have killed my future, my child, my reputation - your selfishness has ruined me! God, Ewan, my child will be ruined now, my name sullied, because of you! I am dead! Why should I even try, Ewan? You can just walk away, can't you, but I can't. I can never take this back, and I am hopeless because of YOU!"

Her breath came out in sharp gasps. He turned away from her and walked away, again, all over again... another man walking out on her. The fourth. Her father was the first - he gave up on her early. That other man was the other, her first affair here - he left early too. Then Edmund - he turned away from her for asking for a future. Now Ewan - he left her too, and she was alone again.

"Don't worry, Ewan. I don't forget easily. And what I have, what you just told me... it's worth everything in a game like this." There was no smirk on her face, no hint of happiness at the prospect of revenge. Her hair had come loose from her anger and was clouding the edges of her face, her scornful gaze glared through him as angry tears sprung up in her eyes. She felt exhausted all of a sudden, and battled against the increasing need to sleep.

Ewan felt his face go white. When he spoke, his voice was quiet but very rapid, almost panicked.

"Dear God, Cecily, how could you possibly think threatening my sister and myself could possibly salvage this situation? I didn't ruin your life--you did. I didn't even touch you, and everyone knew of your condition by the time we were engaged--please, Cecily, keep your voice down." He leaned forward, his expression intent and uneasy.

"I'm sorry if appearances are life to you. But I'd gladly give up my reputation, my money--everything--for real love--and I'm offering you the chance to do the same! You'll never love me, and I'll never love you, so for the love of God, Cecily, please try to see reason."

Looking at her, he softened--but he wouldn't soften further. She looked tired and worn, and he thought of her child... but it wasn't his child. It would never be a replacement for the child Aoife had lost, and he couldn't make it so.

"Please, Cecily, find it in your heart not to accuse my sister and me--it could mean death, real death, hanging or burning--I was only being honest with you. Please. I refuse to take part in blackmail, but please show me you're human."

"You aren't." Her eyes were slits and she would not keep her voice down. He couldn't command her - she'd tried to be nice, tried to care about what he was going through, but she was sick of it. Sick of having to act like she was someone she wasn't. Sick of having to pretend that everything was fine. Sick of having to lie and swear people to silence - she wanted everything out in the open now.

"You're giving me the chance to marry someone I love? The only man I've ever loved left me in this position, and you followed his lead. And what man would want to marry a pregnant woman who's been left by her fiance? Who will accept me now?" As for his sister - Cecily felt no pity for the woman. If they were intelligent they should have known that it was wrong; instead they covered their tracks with other people's desperation then destroyed it.

She laughed a laugh full of contempt, but with very little humour. It was a laugh made to cut him, to hurt him - laughing at his life with every bit of cruelty she possessed. She'd let too many people walk away from her unscathed, but this... this was the worst. "The devil asking for its victims to be human, then? The lying, ignorant, sinful man asking someone to be human? Why should I? What have you done to show me you're human, Ewan? If this is the only card I have left then God, Ewan, I'll play it. I'd rather no hand than a hand full of filth." Her mouth curled viciously around the words.

Her anger didn't abate; it throbbed and hummed away, turning any logical thoughts into a storm of fury. The same thoughts threw themselves at her, over and over, repeating themselves... he can't do this, there's no time, you're finished, he betrayed you, a liar, a cheat, using you like everyone else... it made her want to scream. Instead Cecily stormed over, slapped him, gave a snooty toss of her head and left the room in a huff, slamming the door after her.

She had to get away from that man.

Ewan stood very still, one hand to his cheek where she'd left the stinging imprint of her hand.

He felt awash in a sea of confusion. He knew what he'd done was right--he knew it. They would have been miserable, nothing less; he would have been miserable, and Cecily was a conniving, cruel woman, that much was clear. He had met her only twice before asking for her hand. That was not enough. How stupid of him. The mistake had been to ask in the first place. Maybe, if he hadn't--Aoife would not have been angry--she would never have met Kit--

No, no, this was the wrong path entirely. Ewan forced his thoughts onto a different track. What was done was done.

But Aoife. If Cecily spoke to the wrong person, she would ruin them. Ewan could only hope her words would be seen as no more than insubstantiated gossip. After all, she had no proof, and the affair was over now.

As for Cecily--Ewan felt a surge of anger. He hadn't seen the full breadth of her calculating coldness before--hadn't seen it until he crossed her--thank God he'd ended this farce of an engagement before he'd ruined the rest of his life. Ewan crossed the room to sit down on a couch, lowering his head into his hands. He could only hope he hadn't signed his own death warrant at the very moment he'd reached for a chance at happiness.