And if you wanted
We could fly away on the moon
And only the depths of angels
Would ever know your name

The ground changed rapidly, grass to stone to dirt to grass again. She watched as small anthills made bumps in the road and how mens footsteps littered the earth like some sort of pattern. Of course one could not watch these things without her head completely stuck over the side and dangerously near the wheel, as Cecily was doing. Completely ignoring Lord Edmund now, she watched with interest how she was moving but not doing anything at all. Of course Lord Edmund was, so he couldn't tell her off or keep her from falling if she did - which, she thought with relish, would be quite a shock for his poor soul.

But within a few more moments of staring at the ground it became quite boring and Lady Cecily felt herself sit up. She now understood how this buggy worked, though the names of the objects escaped her. She'd just call the bit she was sitting on the 'rubbesphire' and the bit that was near the horse the 'anchliton' and the other bits the 'varexentons'. It was much easier than remembering real names, and almost as soon as she had invented them they ingrained in her memory.

"What is this place called? My Lord."

She added hastily, just in case he thought her a bit too rude. But she had yelled at him, laughed at him, ignored him and asked him a million questions and he hadn't budged. She was quite happy with his company, for she now knew she could test almost any emotion on him - he would be a worthwhile friend. Or should she say, 'dear acquaintance'. She laughed silently at her own fake respectability.

Edmund noticed her peering downwards, risking losing balance and toppling off. Almost gritting his teeth, he had continued driving without comment for awhile. Had he reprimanded her, he figured she would strike again with that sure-fire tongue of hers and leave him grasping for reply. An amused grin across his face, partially forced, part genuine. As she stared at the buggy's undercarriage, Edmund began to quietly inform her of the basics. "The brake, my lady, you see is this here which runs directly to the rear wheel... see the block of stone? The wheels themselves are forged by tradesmen, quite the sight to see if one has desire to watch..." It was difficult for him to keep speaking however, his eyes half watching the road in front of them and half directed towards her. Edmund only prayed she kept a firm seat.

Audibly breathing a sigh of relief as Lady Cecily then sat upright, his left hand held both reins as his right reached to her and gently touched her arm, nodding his head so that she would follow his gaze. There, about a hundred yards, stood a large doe with her coat showing traces of losing its vibrant red hue of late summer. "It will be cold this year," he said absent-mindedly, straightening himself as he refocused attention ahead. The sturdy beast ambled along, its thick legs and heavier weight impractical for much speed. Still, the pace was a fast walk, the beats in rhythm to the buggy's smooth motion.
Edmund glanced about as she asked their location, noting the trees and overgrown brush. It wasn't any certain place as far as Edmund knew.. just another unmarked spot along the packed dirt road. "Lady Cecily, I do believe this immediate area is in need of a proper name," he said in good humor. "What say you give it such right now?" He peered to her, those emerald depths flashing evidence of inner mischief. Edmund was enjoying himself, the escape from court a welcome relief at times. He felt oddly freed, the typical protocol seeming to lift slightly, leaving him to break down the stoicism he hid behind too often.

And if you wanted
We could fly away on the moon
And only the depths of angels
Would ever know your name

She saw the brakes and was seized by a desire to watch the wheels being forged or learn how to herself. What fun! Then she remembered she was a Lady, she did not do such things, she did not even talk without being spoke to. A roll of her eyes showed how she felt about these rules, as she imagined what her mother would say regarding how she acted and spoke. 'What shame you have brought upon the family, Cecily! You are supposed to be a Lady!' and so on.

She turned and looked at him, surveying his features, trying to picture what he would look like under a mask. She really had wanted to go to the Masquerade but there was no time to get to Lace and Ruffs... she stifled a sigh. It would have been so enjoyable, dallying with handsome men in lovely clothes, dancing, flirting...

Her attention was re-caught by the doe in front of them. Her eyes traveled down its coat, such a lovely hue, down its lean body and up to its eyes. She loved its imperfection, how its coat was changing, how some parts looked to thin, how it's ear was nicked. It regarded her with wariness and Cecily felt a sinking in the pit of her stomach. She would so love to stroke it, to feed it treats and call it a name and let it become her best friend. But there was no chance of that, not with the hostility in it's eyes, which was so shadowed in humans by a mask of protocol. She hated it.

"I like the cold. I like how when you breathe in it almost hurts, the air is so clear."

Her tone matched his, absent-minded, not really concentrating on what she was saying but speaking truthfully. Her brown eyes were watching the doe, wistfully, as if she was missing out on some secret. Subconsciously she reached out a hand as if to beckon, but realised her move at the last moment and clutched the side of the buggy.

"Hmm..."

She said thoughtfully, debating it seriously. Her mind ran through all of the words she knew in the tongue of the Amethyst Realm, and settled on one. It seemed perfect, somehow, and she liked it. Yet she spoke it quietly, musingly, as if she was unwilling to share it with the world and be scorned.

"Peccadille."

She said, turning to watch him defiantly, as if scared he would insult it. She watched his eyes instead of his lips, and saw a flash of colour that made her curious. He had green eyes. She'd never noticed them before.

Her words about the cold tossed in his mind as Lady Cecily aimed that wistful look of longing towards the slender deer. Edmund found her reasoning to be one of unique perspective, unlike any he'd heard before. 'I like how when you breathe in it almost hurts, the air is so clear.' The lord knew what she spoke of, having spent more than his fair share of below-freezing days either in hunt or work, both needed to ensure his family ate. He had come to regard winter almost as an opponent, having to remain a step ahead to survive. It would be so interesting to spend the approaching season in court this year.
Hearing her decide then on a name, Edmund remained silent until she spoke the single word, her voice almost stalling. 'Peccadille.' He hadn't time to think it over before she glared at him again, the fear of ridicule dotting those thickly lashed cocoa eyes. Edmund was beginning to read her better. He wondered what caused her guarded behavior, its sudden appearance no longer alarming him so. Lady Cecily was different... that was the word that repeatedly sprang to mind. Oh he had other conclusions as well. Her untamed spirit so thinly held in check intrigued the rigid codes of conduct Edmund held dear. She was strong at the same time he detected insecurity; quite a mix really and when you add those chocolate-hued eyes and dainty hands, it made for one of the strangest, albeit alluring, combinations Lord Edmund had ever known. He didn't know whether to chide her or hug her.
For now, he had smiled kindly, putting her fears of insult to rest. "T'is a fine name for such wild country," he said, glancing to her to meet her gaze briefly before he had to pay attention as the gray steed rounded a bend. "I only regret not bringing refreshment for this would be a fine place to stop and rest." He pointed with his right hand, directing her to see what lay ahead. The trees thinned, giving way to a partially open field nestled between a large strand of oaks. The grass looked inviting, the branches seeming to beckon one to enter their gnarled dominion. A faint sound of flowing water could be heard if one listened closely. Just beyond was a forest's edge, massive trunks interspersed with saplings. A rabbit sprinted into the brush, its flash of white tail alerting his companions of the intruding humans. Edmund thought it beautiful, this land. He slowed Jethro into a slow walk, the horse's loud snort resounding as his black-tipped ears strained forward, eyes fixated on the lush grass within sight as he chewed the bit.

And if you wanted
We could fly away on the moon
And only the depths of angels
Would ever know your name

A flash of anger in her eyes came when she saw his 'kindly' smile. Kindly! She hated kindly! But she steeled herself and ignored it, knowing full well that she would yell and scream and be a horrible person. Besides, she liked Lord Edmund. He did occasionally treat her like a child and that made her angry, but then he would put up with her and be nice to her. It was nice.

Besides, she liked the way his eyes changed. It was like her, but just in his eyes. It was comforting, really. It made her feel like she wasn't completely alone, but it also made her frustrated, him keeping up this stupid facade of respectability and rules. She wanted to know what he was really like, not his father or his manservant.

"Oh my!"

She said in delight, her mind forgetting all notions about Edmund and kindliness and does as she looked hungrily at the scene in front of her. She didn't listen to his words, they weren't important. They might be for him, Mr. I-Am-So-Bound-In-By-Rules-I-Cannot-Show-Emotion, but for her they littered the scene with rubbish. She wanted to drink it in, to investigate every nook and cranny, so she could come here again and again, with whoever she wanted or no one at all.

The horse slowed to a walk and she restricted herself no longer. Of course she would never have leaped from a moving carriage - she didn't have the pants to pull that off - but walking was good enough. She hit the ground lightly, almost running already, and half skipped/ran into the field. She didn't bother to look back at Edmund in his silly buggy and pretty horse and fascinating eyes, for hers were for this place only. She stood in rapture, her attention bound by every little thing, the nature open to envelop her.

Edmund had been too lost in his own thought to prevent Lady Cecily from leaping out of the buggy. He stood, his mouth hanging open but not a sound managed to be voiced. Never had he seen a lady behave such a way! He wasn't sure whether he wanted to reprimand her or just sit back and watch the rapt look of contentment he spotted on her face. She was stunning, standing there without a care in the world. The realization she had so foolishly risked chance of self injury infuriated Edmund. He had promised to keep her safe and she was making it rather difficult. "M'lady!" he forced from his lungs, his voice one of disbelief.
Hurriedly pulling the buggy off the path, Edmund ensured Jethro was parked in shade, attaching a lead rope and then knotting it around a wide over hanging branch. There the steed could just barely reach the grass he was so eager for. Edmund knew he was satisfied so he quickly walked over to Cecily, face clouded with hints of fury. Reaching out to firmly grasp her arm, he aimed to spin her around so that she stood directly in front of him. At once his face was stern, condescending while his emerald eyes had darkened, their depths revealing a second emotion as well. Her suddenly close proximity hadn't gone unnoticed and Edmund breathed in her scent of faint flowers, the clearing humming a gentle breeze around them. The harsh scolding he had prepared on the tip of his tongue was lost as he was now suddenly staring into her chocolate gaze. Those thick lashes begged notice and Edmund was unable to look away. He felt weary, confused, even frustrated. His sight traveled downwards, her lips bringing images of passion to mind, her skin so soft against his roughened hands. Edmund fought internally for a moment, struggling to control the unexplained attraction he felt towards her. They were so different, his strict mannerisms in stark contrast to her wild abandon. Desire surfaced, his grip on her losing the initial anger and replaced by that of lust.

And if you wanted
We could fly away on the moon
And only the depths of angels
Would ever know your name

She felt his vice-like grip on her arm and was swung around. Why did he have to ruin this moment for her? Why couldn't he just let her stay, listening to the flowers, in blissful oblivion? Her legs were apart, arm still held crushingly by his hand, defiance and anger blazing in her face as she looked up at him. She watched his lips, waiting for the storm to come... but it didn't, and Cecily noticed the hand on her arm changing somewhat. Now it felt... smooth, tender, strong. She looked for the reason in those lovely green eyes and saw them bubbling over with the very look the boys at home had.

She was satisfied. She had successfully conquered Lord Edmund and his rules. The satisfaction lasted only a moment, for then it was swept away by confusion. What was that tingle down her spine? That heat blossoming from his hand? The parting of her lips? And then she realised. She liked him. She liked him? Edmund, with his 'M'Lady's and his buggy and his rules on what to do and how to think. She let herself be carried away on the current of desire, and as she did her emotions threatened to bubble over.

Well, not threatened.

"Oh, you horrible, terrible, indescribably disgusting man!"

She cried vehemently, hating herself for liking him so, hating him for having such lovely, beautiful, distracting, interesting, absorbing, colourful, different eyes and being so tall and strong... She tip-toed up and kissed him on the lips, a strong, unwavering, emotion-filled kiss that burst her lust and left her free to do other things. That's not to say she didn't like it immensely.

"Do not think that I am going to be your fool for I shall not be. You can and shall not woo me! How dare you think that you can... can... thrust your lust on me like some sort of savage beast? You should be warned that I am never, never going to be your bride, or even your partner in that bed of yours that is undoubtedly as flea-ridden as you! How dare you look at me in that way? I am not a rag doll, Lord Edmund, and I hate you for treating me so."

She exclaimed, her only expression her face and shoulders as she had not tugged her hand free. The lust was coming back again and she stepped closer, unwittingly, and it wasn't until she was so close to him they were barely half an inch apart she was happy. Deliriously so, but she didn't say it. He would not make her happy!

She looked up at him questioningly, then fluttered her lashes expertly, biting her lip and looking away. It almost made her laugh how she was playing this part, but it had always worked on the boys at home and she was sure it would work on him now. She was quite disgruntled that she was wearing her traveling dress... it was so unattractive. The good thing about it was that it clung to her shape, so that there were no lies as far as her body was concerned.

When Cecily had first returned his own look of desire, Edmund had wanted to just stand there and kiss her deeply but then her angry words cut through him quick as a rapier. The harsh scolding brought a dark burning shame to his face but then she drew closer and kissed him just as he had imagined, that passion and energy overwhelmingly present. Edmund responded without conscience thought, his groan audible even as she pulled away. When she continued to berate him, Edmund stood in shock, the realization of what he nearly did... wanted to do... more punishment than any litany of insults she could voice to him.
Edmund was bewildered, unsure how to answer her. Just as he was about to mumble some sort of hasty apology, she stepped even closer. He saw the lust, knew she wanted him just as he did her. When she bit her lip and glanced off, he almost groaned aloud again. Those lips... those chocolate eyes veiled with thick lashes.. her smooth, creamy skin. Edmund gulped, wrestling internally to squash the heat he felt throughout his lower half. Cecily had unexplainable power over him, her seductive manner driving the minor lord half-crazed. He didn't approve of her unladylike behavior, was outraged that he responded so. Was completely lost as these thoughts pressed against him, just as she had... the warmth he felt pleaded to return, his hands ached to touch her. She was an untamed filly, a part of the very wilderness surrounding them. He knew she had an amazing body, her dress strongly hinting at what lay beneath.
Lord Edmund felt in a stupor, his hand reaching to her chin. His gaze was filled with surprise, confusion, desire, shame... but no remorse. Even as he knew it was wrong, he had no regrets. Lady Cecily was as uninhibited as he was bound to chains of honor and for now, Edmund wanted to be free of them.
His voice was hushed, shaky, his face flushed from emotion. "M'Lady... I... It's just that.. " He fell silent a moment, wanting to vigorously shake his head as if that would help clear it. Instead his hands released her, one on each side of his forehead now as he tried massaging his temples. Looking back to her, he spoke again, "I never met to treat you like a ragdoll, Lady Cecily." He watched her and then, sounding foolish he said in a little, far-away voice, "I said I would protect you." His gaze faltered and he stared at the ground, unable to meet her in the eyes. Unable to trust his own feelings yet.

And if you wanted
We could fly away on the moon
And only the depths of angels
Would ever know your name

She almost laughed as he flushed. How adorable! The desire in her eyes dimmed a little, as she did not want a boy. She wanted a man. Why, if he was going red at the remembrance of one kiss, he would likely burst into flames if she let him even touch her. She stood like a man, but not feeling like one. Why, what power she had over him! She had assumed that a Lord would be more powerful than a man from home, but she guessed she was wrong.

She took a minuscule step forward, and slowly placed her arms around his neck. There was no room for courtesies here, and she knew that he didn't care or he wouldn't be in this far. Standing on tiptoe to reach his ear, she whispered.

"But you see, Edmund my Lord, the very thing I need protecting from is the thing that offered me protection. I think that is a well-played scheme."

She was at her most seductive, her most vicious. Her mind flitted back to the groan he had unknowingly voiced, a tiny smirk on her lips, contrasting to her innocent eyes. She had felt regret before, she knew it well. It was her companion in bed at night, more often than any man would ever be. It also egged her on, begging her to drown it out with something even more idiotic. At the moment, she wasn't listening to regret. She was listening to her senses, her bones, her body.

She took her hands away from his neck, stepping at least two feet away and wiping all traces of the temptress from her face. She stood, feet together, looking at him innocently, seeming bewildered he was looking at her like that and they had even gone this far.

As her arms encircled him, Edmund stood unmoving. He neither drew her in closer nor did he push her away. His desire was evident, his mind slow to catch up to bodily need. It was the last sentence she spoke that suddenly woke him though, as if she had effectively slapped him across the face. He glanced sharply down to her, watching her become the innocently surprised young maiden once more. His gaze brewed with its own storms, those of lust but also the beginning traces of understanding. The scheme she spoke of was one Edmund wondered if she had played before. Her rapid emotions, the seductress versus the unsuspecting lady, they all clouded his thinking as he stood there staring at her. His hand reached up as if to ward her away, his mouth thinned as he slightly frowned. Edmund was regaining control now, his body finally dwindling its rush of flame.
"Lady Cecily, I think the only well-played scheme is this game of yours. Do you find amusement in frustrating a man so?" He asked her in clipped tones, his anger returning. Anger was good. If he was peeved, then he could control the passion that threatened between them as thick as humid air. He brushed his hand through his raven locks, looking away from her. Do not watch her. She is dangerous.. far more dangerous than any sword-brandishing foe. Edmund instead concentrated on 'ol Jethro. The horse was clearly showing signs of impatience, having chewed away all the grass within his reach. He tried to toss his head, the restricting bridle attachment hindering his wreckless movement. Edmund spoke, this time directed to the hitched steed. "Easy, Jethro. Easy." He had to focus elsewhere for his mind still haunted him with her cocoa eyes, the feel of her hands around his neck... Edmund shook his head, peering briefly to her as he practically barked the order: "Time to head home Lady Cecily. T'will be rain soon." He pointed to the far off darkening in the sky, its deep purple clouds pending a shower within due time. He wanted her to just get into the buggy... wanted her to wrap those arms around him once more and leave a path with her lips.. Edmund's brow furrowed more, his forehead lined with enough wrinkles to be comical. If she didn't get into the buggy soon, he dared think he would just scoop her up and plop her down, proper or not.

And if you wanted
We could fly away on the moon
And only the depths of angels
Would ever know your name

She raised her eyebrows at him as he began to get angry. Was it a scheme for her? She had to think about that one. No, she didn't think it was. She just wanted to block out the past. She was surprised at this logic, and hastily thrust it away. There was no need to examine her feelings, they would just make her sad, depressed, lonely. The strength she had gained since hearing the Jester's story was receding, leaving her cold and unwanted.

"No. I do not think I will."

She said coldly, crossing her arms and staring at him. The lust was long gone, replaced with fury and sadness. Who did he think he was to be pushing her around? She wasn't some orphan to be thrust on each unwilling family member. She had her own emotions, her own feelings too. Tears welled up in her eyes as she thought about how this man was like all the rest, wanting her but hating her. Maybe she'd be better off at home after all.

"I am going to walk home. It was a pleasure to meet you, Lord Edmund, and I hope that the sun shines on you."

She said, sarcasm heavy in her voice. Her stony glare was amplified as she turned on her heel and walked away, past the buggy and to the path beyond. She wiped away her tears harshly but inconspicuously, arms wrapped around herself in a hug that she so desperately needed, feet carrying her away.

Edmund heaved a long sigh, at once feeling rotten and monstrous. He knew he had pushed her too far, her misery so plain to see. What was it about this woman that frustrated him so? Edmund had never behaved so callously, his hands clenched as he watched her walk away from him. Game or not, she had struck a nerve within the minor lord. He didn't want to hurt her.. hurt anyone... sprinting after her, he left the gray horse to stand there forlornly, nickering after him in confusion. These people behaved oddly, and the steed wished only to return to his dry stall and ample hay. Jethro tugged sharply upwards, snapping the tie hard enough to loosen the knot. He followed in behind Lord Edmund then, dragging his lead rope as he slowly walked the same path as the two humans. To an observer, it would have been highly amusing. Lady Cecily's sad pace, Edmund's frantic one, and 'ol Jethro's trailing behind, snapping off leaves here and there that he could reach.
But to Edmund, amusement was far from his mind. He felt guilty as well. By God, he had wanted Cecily right there in the clearing only to then become angry when she tore away. Catching up to her, he reached to spin her about, his hands wishing to rest upon her shoulders as he looked directly into her cocoa gaze. "Cecily, I am sorry." He dropped the formal Lady before her name.. weren't they beyond formalities by now? She had seen a part of him that rarely surfaced. It wasn't pity but true empathy. Edmund knew what it felt like to be outcast and he wasn't about to be the cause of those same feelings within her. His voice was certain, his voice hushed as he continued; "I never meant to hurt you or make you feel cheapened. Can you forgive me? I'm afraid my manners have been worst than Jethro's."
The horse had paused when the lord and lady had stopped, the buggy creaking as he shifted. Serious now, Edmund wanted to reassure her and let her know she did mean more than some disposable body. He had grown fond of her but he wouldn't lie. Edmund's heart was fast becoming someone else's and it was the knowledge of this conflicting desire for Cecily that molded into anger. He didn't understand it, didn't understand her, but he couldn't deny the truth.
He offered a small smile, his fingers tracing over her chin. "How if I tried to make it up to you? We could head back and I shall have a dinner prepared in your honor." His tones were sincere, his intentions genuine.

The first drop hit him on the end of his nose, its coolness trinkling down his shirt. The rain had arrived, its slow, soft sprinkling a thin veil as the weather held off no longer. Edmund laughed once, his face turning up to the darkening sky. They didn't have alot of time before the light spattering would become a brief early autumn storm. Distant thunder was audible, the sky's purple hue deepening into gray. Edmund peered to Lady Cecily, his expression hopeful.

And if you wanted
We could fly away on the moon
And only the depths of angels
Would ever know your name

She turned back to him, her eyes showing her emotions - threatened, cold, sad, impatient, all mixed together in some sort of emotion milkshake. She wondered at the dropped formality. What had caused his lack of 'proper courtesies'? Was it her sadness, or her anger, or his own lust that went unsatisfied? She wanted to be a Lady but she couldn't help the way she was, the way she acted, and the more she tried to cover her emotions the more unruly they became.

"Jethro has lovely manners. Look - he is waiting so patiently."

She said, arm extending past Edmund to the direction of Jethro. He wasn't like the horses at home, who would have run away by now. Mind you, that was the way she liked it. It was so much more... natural than Jethro, just as she was more natural than Edmund. Who invented all these courtesies? Whose idea was it for people to live in a cage of titles and lies?

"Why in my honour? I have done nothing. Let us make a dinner for Jethro, Lord Edmund, and pray that he receives it more gracefully than I ever could."

She said, walking past him, hardly looking at Edmund. She hadn't refused the offer but she didn't want to see the confusion so soon, how his eyes shadowed with doubt and anger and lust. It wasn't nice to know that you were just a hand-me-down, knowing that he must already have someone else, for no man such as Edmund could be unhindered.

Edmund peered backwards to Jethro, the thick beast randomly ripping leaves from the trees lining the path. The horse was still hitched, his lead rope filthy from being dragged through the dirt. It was common for experienced driving horses to remain alongside their handler. It was as if Jethro knew the buggy held him prisoner and he lacked the desire to fight such knowledge. He had pulled wagons and buggies, carriages and sleds, for far too long. In a sense, Jethro had indeed surrendered to the expectations of the human world, much like Edmund typically conformed to proper protocol. Jethro didn't leave and neither did the minor lord. Edmund caught his hanging rope and led him forward as he walked after Lady Cecily. The sprinkling of rain spattered mud against his pants, the horse's heavy hooves making deep imprints as they slowly headed home.

Edmund heard Cecily's words then, wishing for their dinner to be in Jethro's honor. Edmund grinned in spite of himself, slapping the broad shoulder of the creature. "You, lad, have better standing than I ever could," he mumbled, his eyes following the form of the lady a few steps ahead of him. She had been vague in her reply and Edmund was left wondering how serious she was about preparing a dinner for a horse. Had she meant it quite literally? He shook his head as he thought of presenting a fine gold-edged plate with a flake of hay and scoop of oats. Thank you Jethro, you dumb 'ol beast. Now I shall have a dinner full of fiber, eh? He chuckled, feeling in another world now as his booted feet walked onward as if he were some servant not permitted to ride. Was Lady Cecily finding humor in this? He dared to peak at her face, quickening his step so that he was nearly level to her. It wasn't as if he could do so unsuspecting for Jethro and harness jingled and jangled every inch of the way.

"Lady Cecily, please I beg of you. Can we talk this out in the buggy? I fear you will ruin your gown," he said it by way of explanation so that she did not think he would come onto her again. Edmund was back in control of himself. He continued speaking, his gaze unwavering, "And if it pleases m'lady, why you can drive." There, he hoped that would spark her interest. He felt the rain increasing, knowing they would not make it back in time if they didn't ride now and ride hard.

Her attention caught, she spun back around. She could drive? But how sad that would that be? She would hate to be so controlling of such a magnificent creature, Cecily with her small hands and stupid emotions. She didn't have any right to control such a beautiful creature. She would, however, head back to the carriage, for Jethro seemed so disgraced, dragging his rope, not proud and strong like he should be.

Her gown? Why on earth would she care about this traveling dress being ruined? She hated this dress. It was so deathly ugly! In fact it was getting wetter and more skin-tight and uglier in the rain, so that you could see... well, everything. She didn't really care. He didn't want her any more anyway, she had extinguished that hope. Heaving a short sigh she stuck her tongue out, catching drops of rain on her tongue.

She took off her slippers, as it was muddy now. Walking back to Edmund, she ran his words through her head and realised he had re-added the 'Lady' in front of her name. So, there went her comforting stand in his emotions. She stopped in front of him, looking up at his mouth, her own slightly parted as if she was about to say something. Her gaze flickered to his eyes, roaming his face, taking in his features - she noticed he was handsome. She hadn't before.

His face spoke of perfect imperfections, chiseled in his features, rough in his way of wearing them. He had perfect shadows across his cheeks, ones she wanted to reach out an touch... but she wouldn't. She'd been unladylike enough today. Her frustration peaked as she drank in his features like a desert nomad would a oasis, before leaking away as she looked into his eyes, leaving only contentment.

For a moment, Edmund thought his plan had worked. He caught her instant look of interest as she faced him and he grinned, thinking he had gained the upper hand. They would head back to the stable now and he could remain on safe ground, teaching her a quick lesson in driving. Certain she would take the bait, Edmund waited for her to enthusiastically agree. Surely Cecily couldn't pass up such an offer...surely. That is, until Edmund heard her sigh. Her sigh carried weight of exasperation to his ears and he was clueless how to remedy the uncomfortable silence that now hung between them. He sensed she was sad, and he knew not why exactly. He wished he hadn't hurt her, wished he knew what to say that would comfort her without insult but he didn't. He felt a foolish man standing there in the mud watching her catch raindrops on her tongue in a gown that hugged her body much too closely. Edmund felt reality slipping away, his mind unable to quench the beads of desire that her image evoked. He wanted to chuckle as she removed her shoes, his hand wiping water from his brow and effectively smearing dirt there instead. He wanted to find amusement in this unexpected turn of events but he couldn't. He just stood there, as dumb as the beast behind him, and continued to watch her as she moved to stand directly in front of him, those thickly lashed eyes aimed at his mouth. He met her look then, his guarded emerald stare seeking the depths of her own chocolate gaze. Why does she test me so? Edmund could not glance away, seeing so many emotions within her that he felt but a puppet on string.

"What do you want of me?" he asked her, a hoarseness creeping in to his hushed voice. He tried to break away, tried to refuse that silent judgement she was so intent on giving him but he was drawn to her. He wanted to touch her, stroke the dampened hair that clung to her neck but he clenched his hands instead. She was already angry at him for his earlier barbaric behavior. He wouldn't give her further reason to loathe him. Reaching out to take her slippers, Edmund remained but a few inches from her as the rain fell down upon them now in harsh wrath. Droplets of water trickled from his face, his hand still extended towards her as he waited. It was all he could do.