"My dear, the pleasure is all mine, I assure you," the woman returned, sweeping across the floor to give the poor, confused girl a matronly hug and a kiss on the cheek. So much for propriety. It was highly likely that this woman was more of an influence on the lad than his own parents. Anyone who loved her Duncan was family, in her book. "I must say..." she started as she pulled back to take the girl in with that same warm, welcoming, maternal smile. "You are lovelier than I imagined."

Mara let out a soft yelp of surprise as she was swept into a warm embrace, the last thing she had expected from the woman Duncan spoke so highly of. She'd been expecting an interrogation and a warning, if she was even acknowledged at all. But Beryl's embrace was so unexpectedly affectionate that Mara found herself reaching up to return the affection with a shy smile, biting her lip as the housekeeper looked her over. "Thank you, Miss Beryl," was her quiet response, automatically dipping a small curtsey as though the woman really was the mistress of the manor.

"Come, my dear," she said, as she reached for Mara's hand to give it a pat and linked their arms together. "Let's not keep poor Master Duncan waiting. He's nearly coming unraveled at the seams." She chuckled lightly, seemingly amused by her young charge's nervousness, finding it all ridiculously sweet and innocent and romantic. If only she could know what would transpire in the days to come, she might have done something to prevent it.

Though part of her was as eager to see Duncan as he was to see her, another part of Mara couldn't help a mild flash of smug satisfaction. After all, she'd been a bit of a nervous wreck the one and only time she had invited him to dinner. With her arm caught firmly in the wrap of Beryl's, Mara found herself smiling along with the woman's chuckle, blushing just a bit at the realization that she probably knew everything that had passed between her young charge and his courtesan. "I'm sure we could put him back together again, between us," she remarked without thinking.

Not everything. Despite how fond Beryl was of her charge and how close they obviously were, Duncan did not tell her everything, and she did not ask. She was happy for those things he did tell her, but grateful not to be told too much. What mother really wants to know what their child does when they are alone with their beloved, after all" And he was no child, really. He was nearly sixteen and hence, would soon be deemed a man. She laughed at the girl's remark, replying quickly. "I'm sure he would prefer your ministrations to mine," she remarked with a mischievous twinkle in her eyes.

The blush that lit up Mara's cheeks was vibrant and unrestrained under that twinkling, mischievous smile offered in her direction, urged on by a giggle that didn't seem to want to taper off anytime soon. The sound echoed through the manor, preceding the two women, as the golden-haired girl fought to compose herself once again.

It was taking all of Duncan's self control to restrain himself from dashing from the drawing room to meet Mara and sweep her into his arms, but instead, he waited patiently, hearing her laughter echoing through the hall, a sound that had not been heard in the manor in a very long time. It warmed the hearts of every servant who heard it, not the least of which was Beryl. It was not the sound of the cold, calculated laughter than came from Leandra, but the sound of warmth and youth and happiness.

It took a couple of minutes, but Mara did finally get her giggles under control again, still blushing as she drew in a deep breath. "Goodness, I think I might actually be more nervous than he is," she admitted, trusting Beryl not to be taking her on a tour of the house before delivering her to Duncan. She wasn't sure either of them would be able to take that delay.

The drawing room was decorated in shades of red and white, set off by dark cherry furnishings, a chandelier hanging from the ceiling, portraits lining the walls of people no one remembered anymore. And in the middle of that room stood a young man, his face strained with nervousness as he awaited the arrival of his beloved. His face lit up when he saw her, like a breath of fresh air on a stifling hot summer day. She was as lovely and as delicate as a flower, and he felt his heart soar with adoration at the very sight of her. Beryl gave him a look that told him to mind his manners and he offered Mara a cordial bow, going along with the little game, at least for now. "Miss Devine, welcome to Mallory Manor. I trust you had a safe journey."

The formal bow took Mara by surprise, having expected a welcome warmer than this one, however wonderful he looked, however delighted she felt that he seemed to have gone to so much trouble, just for her. Her mouth worked silently for a moment or two, a shy glance offered to Beryl before Elise's lessons kicked her in the backside. Releasing the older woman's arm, she stepped toward Duncan and lowered herself into a deep formal curtsey, inclining her head in the same movement with the grace that had been drilled into her for years. "Thank you, Master Mallory, for inviting me here. You have a beautiful home."

"Well, it's not really mine. It's..." He broke off at a look from Beryl and a shake of her head. If he played his cards right, it would be his someday, at least, but for now, all of it rightfully belonged to his father.

Sweeping in to rescue him yet again, his housekeeper broke in. "Dinner will be ready shortly. In the meantime, why don't you show Miss Mara around?" she asked, letting go of Mara's arm and stepping away from the couple to let them figure it out for themselves.

"Oh," Duncan replied, looking properly chagrined. "Yes, I suppose I should. Shall we?" he asked, offering Mara his arm.

Rising out of her curtsey, Mara's eyes met Duncan's, and for a moment, her lips twitched, threatening to burst into laughter and destroy the illusion of formality they were playing at back and forth. Biting the inside of her cheek, she managed not even to smirk at the back and forth between Beryl and Duncan, finally allowing herself to smile as he addressed her directly once again. "I would like that, thank you, Master Mallory." No, she couldn't resist teasing him by drawing out the title in a drawling tone as her arm tucked fondly about his.

He rolled his eyes at her, and it took all of Beryl's self-control not to break into laughter at the attempted formality between the pair, who she knew had become close, but this was good practice for them. There might come a time when they had to act like this in public, and it was better to practice such things in private than make fools of themselves when it mattered. "I shall just go check on dinner. I do hope you like roasted goose, Miss Mara."

"I ..." Mara hesitated, looking to Duncan for a moment. He knew what she ate, after all, but she wasn't sure she was supposed to admit to it in company, even if that company was just the housekeeper he adored. The manners that had been so painstakingly drilled into her came to her rescue. "I'm sure it will be superb, Miss Beryl."

"We have peach cobbler for dessert," Beryl teased further, unable to let it slip that she knew the girl had no idea what that was and had taken it upon herself to make sure she found out, even if peaches weren't exactly in season here in Dreven. She offered the pair a polite nod of her head and hurried off to make sure dinner was progressing properly, overseeing nearly every detail of life at the manor and making sure it all ran smoothly.

Duncan exhaled a sigh of relief as the woman departed. "Gods, this is harder than I thought," he remarked, idly. Not as hard as when Leandra was there, however. He could barely stomach her visits and usually bowed out of them early, claiming illness.

At the mention of peach cobbler, Mara started, green eyes snapping wide and vaguely indignant as she looked accusingly at Duncan, though her lips were twitching in amusement. As the door closed behind Beryl, however, the girl couldn't keep that amusement under wraps any longer, and burst out with spluttering laughter, sagging against Duncan's side as she guffawed at how awkward and embarrassing everything seemed to be. "Well, if dinner isn't for a while yet, there's always something we can do about anything that's hard," she offered through her giggles, squeezing his arm between her small hands.

"Don't say that," he said, frowning sadly, worried that she'd jinx them or something with such a wish. "No matter what happens, my heart will always belong to you." He moved to his feet to prove what he said with that of a kiss, his arms sliding around her waist to pull her close, out of sight of the servants or any other onlookers. The kiss her gave her was warm and soft and spoke volumes of his love, lips lingering against hers, chaste but heartfelt with deeply felt emotion.

She was soft in his arms, pliable as her arms curled about his neck, heedless of any prying eyes that might spy them sharing a moment more loving than a courtesan should be able to enjoy. Warm and gentle, she drew back with a tender smile, letting her hands fall to his chest, only now distracted by the unexpected sparkle of amethyst on her finger. "Oh ....oh, my goodness," she whispered, leaning into him as she lifted her hand to take a good look at the ring. "Duncan, this is lovely. It's too good for me."

"Nothing is too good for you, Mara. Nothing," he told her, as he took hold of her hand and drew it to his lips to brush a soft kiss against her knuckles. "It once belonged to my mother. I'm sure she gave it to me in hopes that one day I'd give it to the woman I love. That woman is you."

"Your mother's ring?" Leaning close in his arms, Mara felt suddenly quite moved by the gesture he'd made. He'd given her something his mother had given him, something that was very close to his heart and the heart of the family he came from. Somewhere in the back of her mind was the thought that she had better not wear it anywhere his father might see it, but she was mostly speechless, her green eyes watery with tender astonishment.

"Not her engagement ring," he explained. "An heirloom ring. One that's been in her family for generations. I'm not sure my father even knows about it. She gave it to me a few years ago. She said she would have given it to..." He faltered, as he always did whenever his sister's name was on his lips. "She would have given it to Dee, but..." He trailed off momentarily again, not filling in that unspeakable blank. "She wanted someone to have it. She said I'd know who to give it to when the time was right." He rubbed a thumb against her hand as he lifted his gaze from the ring to meet her eyes, his own eyes misty with tears of mingled sorrow and joy. "Please, Mara. I want you to have it."

Humility and false modesty were not flaws in Mara's character, though she had plenty of others to make up for the lack of them. If Duncan wanted to give her something, even something as precious as this, then she wasn't going to insult him by pretending she didn't believe she should have it. She smiled through the threat of unshed tears, kissing his hand, rising up on her toes to kiss his lips tenderly. "I'm not saying no, love."

No, she had not said no, but she'd said the ring was too good for her, implying that he, too, was too good for her, and nothing could be farther from the truth. He thought the opposite was true, in fact, that she was too good for him, but he didn't say that. He loved her too much to say that, to risk an argument with her or anything that might ruin this day, which was quickly becoming nearly the happiest day of his life, second only to the day they'd given themselves to each other entirely, only a few short cycles ago. "It won't be long now, Mara. I'll be sixteen soon, and we can be married." He face beamed with happiness, even through the tears. To hell with Stefan and Leandra and the Triad and his father. He would choose his own path, no matter what any of them wanted.

"I wish it were tomorrow," she admitted with a sweet smile, throwing her arms around his neck in a warm embrace that threatened to lift her entirely off her feet as her face pressed to his neck. His sixteenth couldn't come soon enough for her, eager to be gone from Dreven and his, somewhere no one would be able to find them, not his father, nor Stefan, nor Leandra, not even the Triad themselves.

It couldn't come soon enough for him either. The closer he got to his sixteenth, the harder it seemed to remain patient. "Soon, Mara. We'll be together forever. I promise." He slipped his arms back around her to hold her close in his embrace, longing to protect her and take care of her and belong to her for as long as he lived. He'd make sure the tragedy that had befallen his parents wouldn't befall them. He'd love her forever, no matter what happened. They'd have their freedom and their well-deserved happy ending.

How could they know that their happy ending was already in such danger" There were other forces at play in the world around them, forces that were circling, hungry for victory, revenge, to see and taste the pain that would fracture the trust the two young lovers had in one another. But for now, in this moment, it all seemed so far away, the promise of happiness theirs to enjoy as that precious date crept ever closer.

A short time later, the pair of young lovers were summoned to dinner, and Mara found herself escorted into the formal dining room and a feast as sumptuous as that meant for a king. Duncan and the staff had spared no expense. No details had been forgotten. This room, too, was done in lush shades of red and gold. A deep cherry table and chairs stood in the center of the room, adorned with candles. Yet another chandelier hung from the ceiling.

A finely woven carpet covered the wooden floor beneath the table, and a warm fire crackled in the hearth, above which hung a portrait which seemed to be the focal point of the room - a portrait of the Mallory family in happier days. It was easy to see where Duncan got his good looks - both his father and mother had been striking people, and though he bore a striking resemblance to his father, his eyes were definitely his mother's. There was a young girl in the painting who looked almost a female version of her brother, only prettier, with dark curls and deep blue eyes. When one looked at the portrait, it was hard to believe that such happiness had died or had ever existed.

The portrait dominated the room, the first thing that caught Mara's attention despite the rich luxury all around her. She gazed up at it, seeing the child her Duncan had been with a soft smile, and a softer smile yet for the delicate little beauty that had been his younger sister. She had never seen a likeness of Deirdre before, and though she knew the tragedy that had taken the little life long before her time and the darkness that had fallen as a result intimately, she couldn't help smiling at the pretty little face. It was easy to imagine that she might have been that girl's friend, and yet ....if Deirdre had not died, Mara would never have met Duncan at all.

For his own part, Duncan was so accustomed to the portrait that he hardly seemed to notice it, even as is dominated the room. Even his own father, as bitter as he'd become, had been unable to part with it, and unbeknownst to Duncan, sometimes roamed the house at night and stared up at the portrait, almost willing his once beloved wife and daughter to speak to him. Duncan pulled out a chair for his lady and waited until she was seated before taking his own seat across from her, as close as he could be while still maintaining some modicum of propriety. It was not Beryl who served them dinner, but a male servant who made sure that everything was to their satisfaction before he allowed them some privacy again.

It felt very strange to be waited on in so formal a fashion. When Duncan wasn't with her, Mara usually ate in the kitchen with Elise and the cook, and he knew how simple her fare was on a daily basis, even when she had made an effort to make the meal an occasion. Slightly embarrassed by the sheer amount of solicitation given over to being sure she was absolutely satisfied, she murmured her thanks over and over again before they were left alone once more. Her eyes lifted to meet Duncan's with a smile. "Is it always like this?"

"No, not always." He frowned a little, as he considered how dinner usually took place in the Mallory household. "I usually eat alone or with the servants." Unless he was specifically summoned to dinner by his father or if he was having some gathering at which Duncan's presence was require. "This is a special occasion." His frown turned to a momentary smile. "I think they're enjoying it more than we are. I haven't seen them this excited in years." He was obviously talking about the serving staff, which Duncan often considered the only real family he had left.

"Please don't tell me just my being here is a special occasion." She laughed a little at that, not quite able to understand why any body of staff would be excited about serving a high class meal to a whore, though naturally she wasn't going to ask. She looked down at the dish in front of her, and the wide selection of cutlery. "Um ....is it pick and mix, or should I know what all these are for?"

He was frowning again, not only at the mention of her mother and her station in life, which he was very well aware of, but of her obvious regard and concern for him, more so even than for herself. "Don't you understand, Mara?" he asked as he reached across the table for her hand, despite the plates and dishes that littered the table between them. "None of that matters. None of it will matter once we're married. The servants don't care. Do you think they'd rather I marry Leandra" You are more lady than she will ever be. It's not knowing which fork to use that makes you noble, Mara. You are already noble in heart and spirit. You are more noble than anyone I know, and if others can't see that, if they choose to judge you for the circumstances of your birth, then they are blind and foolish and ignorant, and I don't care what they think of me. I don't care if they judge me. Nothing is going to change how I feel about you, do you hear me" Nothing!" He pounded a fist against the table to drive his point home, rattling the china, but thankfully, not breaking anything.

Oh, how she would cling to those impassioned words in the years to come, all the while believing that she had done the one thing to make them a lie. But for now, his passion was enough to make her smile, shaking her head against the outburst that had made her jump and flinch back against her chairback. "We're never going to agree on this, you know," she pointed out quietly, but she was still smiling as she spoke. "Nothing will ever change the way I feel about you, Duncan. Even if, for some horrible reason, I completely turn my back on you - which will never happen - it won't be because I don't love you. I'll always love you, until my dying day."

And how those words would come back to haunt him in the years to come, wondering if she'd really meant them or if she'd only toyed with his feelings and played him for a fool. It would take years before he'd trust another woman again, before he'd let anyone else into his heart, but that was in the future. For now, their love was pure and simple and honest. "Why would you..." he started, furrowing his brows, a little bit confused, but not really wanting to know the answer. Instead, he chose to change the subject, not wanting to argue. The frown on his face slowly faded, replaced with a faint smile. "Eat your dinner before it gets cold or cook will have my hide."

"Can I watch her chase you with a skewer, or would you rather spend the afternoon doing something more productive?" Mara teased, but obediently turned her attention to the meal in front of her, negotiating past a thick layer of fat to the meat of the goose on her plate. Productive was one way of putting it, certainly.

"The tour of the second floor doesn't begin until after dinner," he teased back with a twinkle in his eyes as he took up his fork and picked at his food. If they were going to have a productive afternoon, then they were both going to need to eat something first, though if they ate too much, they risked spending the afternoon sleeping the heavy meal off.

Her brow rose, but whatever she might have said in return was abruptly swept from her mind as she tasted the food on her fork. Duncan had not been exaggerating when he had extolled the talents of his cook. Mara was in heaven in a single bite, releasing a soft, throaty moan as she chewed that could easily have been misconstrued for something else entirely. "Dear gods, this is divine!"

He smiled, visibly relaxing, pleased that she was enjoying her visit as much as he was enjoying having her there. "Are you talking about the food or my company?" He smirked, shades of the rogue the older Duncan would one day become, without Mara to keep him in line.

"Shh, I'm communing with a goose." It really was just as well Beryl had such a firm grip on her staff; if any of them had heard Duncan's teasing ego being put down like that, there would have been definite snickering. As it was, Mara simply blew him a kiss before taking another mouthful, green eyes dancing with impish enjoyment.

"And here I thought you'd rather goose me," he smirked, taking up a forkful of roast himself, enjoying the taste of it, but not nearly as vocal about it as she was. He watched her as she ate, anxious to take her away from Dreven, to make her happy, to see her smile every day.

"Later." This was rather indistinct - her basic manners were suffering under a natural desire to eat as much as she could as quickly as she could. She didn't eat simply by choice; Elise kept her diet strictly simple and light, in expectation of the day they would both be cast back into obscurity and out of favor of their currently rich patron. For a long time, there was nothing but the sound of silverware passing from plate to mouth and back again, until finally Mara slowed to a halt. She giggled a little, taking a sip from her glass to wash down the amount she'd eaten which, though more than she was used to, was still less than the amount he'd put on her plate. "I haven't eaten so much in years," she laughed softly, blushing a little at her enthusiasm for something so simple as food.

Duncan smiled, genuinely pleased that she was enjoying herself. It frankly worried him how little she and Elise lived on, and no excuse of trying to maintain her girlish figure would appease him. "Would you like more?" he asked, grinning at her over the table.

She eyed him in amusement, knowing that he was only asking because he knew how little she ate usually. "No, thank you, I wouldn't want to make myself too full for cobbling peaches, or whatever they are called," she told him with polite impishness, a hand rising to tuck a wayward curl back behind her ear. "Your Miss Beryl would probably be disappointed in me if I didn't taste everything."

"Peach cobbler," he corrected, chuckling as he reached to refill their wine glasses. He had no intention of getting inebriated tonight, but a second glass wouldn't hurt either of them. "I'm sure I would never hear the end of it," he agreed with her assessment. He glanced at all of the leftovers, a feast fit for a king. "No one in this house will be going to bed hungry tonight." Not Duncan or Mara, and certainly not even the servants.

"Oh, so she knows it would be your fault if I don't taste everything, does she?" Mara laughed softly, sitting a little more upright as she set her plate to one side. She hated to leave food uneaten, but was at least comforted in the knowledge that whatever wasn't finished up by the staff would be handed out in parcels to the beggars that tried their luck with every noble house's kitchen. "I'm surprised she didn't stay to watch every last morsel disappear."

"I think she wants to make me fat!" he exclaimed with a laugh. "She keeps telling me I'm too thin and trying to feed me." He picked up his glass and took a sip, clearly relaxed now that all the awkwardness seemed to have passed. Alone together, without anyone watching, they had become as comfortable with each other as ever. "Would you like to take a walk in the gardens while we wait for dessert to be served?" he asked, as politely and cordially as possible.

"Oh good gods, if she thinks you're thin, what must she think of me?" his golden-haired companion giggled as she sipped her own wine, setting the glass down as she looked across at him. She wasn't used to the true gentleman Duncan, knowing better the boy who was turning into a man and who struggled on occasion to know just what to do or say. The cordial display of manners was unfamiliar, and deeply endearing. "I think that sounds a lovely idea, my lord," she answered, only just teasing him with the title she had pegged on the end of her acceptance.

He beamed back at her, flushing a little at her reference to a title he didn't really hold. Though they were fairly high on the social scale, his father was neither noble or a lord. He went along with the ruse, however, moving to his feet and offering her a hand. "My lady," he said, with a smile and an attempt at cordiality.

Blushing a little at a title she neither had nor wanted, she slid her hand into his, enjoying the warmth of skin against skin as she rose to her own feet, setting her napkin to one side of her plate. "At least Beryl didn't lock us in," she murmured. "Maybe Elise should be taking lessons from her."

Mara's insult may not have been quite as subtle as was polite, but Leandra's was blatant. But if the dark-haired Del Sol expected to get an angry rise out of Duncan's mistress, she had another thing coming. Mara actually smirked, cold and confident that she had the upper hand. "Of course not, Leandra darling," she answered in kind. "The difference being, of course, that what I have learned will bring him back to me time and time again. I am not a sow being put out to breed." She didn't dare look at Duncan this time, knowing he wasn't going to approve of the way she was talking to his betrothed, however loathsome the girl was.

"And what will you tell dear Master Mallory?" she added, knowing for certain that no one outside the manor knew that she had only met the fearsome master of the house twice in her lifetime. "That you entered unannounced while his son's mistress was at work?" It was a low blow, certainly, but one Leandra wouldn't be able to wheedle her way out of. She couldn't admit to any of the adults involved that she was actively interfering with the only condition that had her betrothed in the first place.

"Of course for you, it would be work, while for me, it will be pleasure. I'm so sorry to inform you, but once we are married, he will no longer be in need of your services, as he will have me. I will be the one tending to his every desire, while you will be forced to....entertain lesser men." Oh, Leandra was up for a fight tonight, her insults as subtle as a kick in the crotch.

Duncan paled, more worried what would happen if his father really did find out, and yet, he held the upper hand. He was the master of the manor, in his father's absence, and there was a legally-binding written agreement that declared Mara his mistress. Still, he didn't want to take any chances, and he knew if these two were in each other's company much longer, one of them just might go bald. "Leandra, please. I must insist. I will come visit in a few days. You have my word."

"And if he doesn't want you?" It was all Mara said, but the words were sharp as ice picks, the tone as cool and confident of Duncan's preference as could be conceivably heard in so few words. She did, however, defer to Duncan's increasingly forceful attempts to separate the two girls, lowering herself into a deep formal curtsey before him. Her smile for her lord was intimate and tender, cooling to something more likely to be seen on a crocodile before it ate as her eyes turned to Leandra. "My lord, if you will excuse me, I will retire to your chamber," she took her leave cordially. "Miss Del Sol, might I suggest you take up riding as a hobby' You may find your hours less spent on hopeless causes if you have the comfort of your mount's affections." Inclining her head, she turned to walk back toward the house, fighting not to smirk.

Leandra's eyes narrowed, the contempt she held for her rival plain to see as she flushed with anger. "Duncan!" she exclaimed, as she turned to her betrothed. "Are you going to let your whore talk to me that way?"

Now it was Duncan's turn to narrow his eyes, flashing a warning at Leandra that showed her clearly where his loyalties were and who held his heart, no matter any signed piece of paper said or what agreement had been made. "You will never refer to my mistress in such a way again, is that clear?" He took hold of Leandra's arm, a bit more gruffly than planned, and started with her toward the manor intending to send her on her way.

Thankfully, Mara knew when not to push her luck. She quickened her step as she heard Leandra explode with ill-conceived outrage, still managing to walk with more dignity than the girl who was now being frog-marched along the path behind her. The golden-haired girl slipped inside, shrugging Duncan's coat off her shoulders and utterly failed not to match the grin of the one servant who had not managed to get out of sight in time. Quietly, she asked for directions to Duncan's chamber, not particularly wanting to witness Leandra being thrown out. She was a powerful enough enemy as it was, without adding her humiliation to the list of injustices.

Whatever else was said between Duncan and Leandra was not said within hearing of Mara, and the servants were careful to duck out of the way while their master's son escorted the fuming girl through the manor to the drawing room, where she was instructed to wait for a carriage to arrive to take her home, where he would see her in a few days' time.

"This will not be the end of this, Master Duncan," Leandra warned once she thought they were out of earshot of both Mara and the servants. "I will not be insulted and humiliated by a whore, and I will not be brushed off so easily." After a moment, she seemed to soften, as if remembering herself, and she buried her fingers in Duncan's vest, tugging him closer, her scowl turning once more to a pout. "Let's not argue, my love. I only meant to surprise you. Soon, we will be wed, and you won't need her services any longer."

If Mara had been a jealous sort, less aware of her place in Duncan's heart, the sight of him escorting Leandra into the drawing room might have presented him with a scene he would never forget. But she trusted him, and she knew that Leandra couldn't hide the ugliness of her mind and soul from eyes as keen as Duncan Mallory's. Instead, she was swift to mount the stairs, following the servant she had accosted for directions straight to Duncan's private rooms.

As much as Duncan hated her, and as much as he had to play the game of an interested suitor, the twice-offered insult to Mara was more than he could bear. He pried Leandra's fingers from his vest and pulled himself away from her grasp. "You will not refer to Miss Devine in such a way, and I will not tell you again," he warned, stormy gray eyes flashing a warning of their own. "I will come by to see you in a few days. Until then, be patient and do not come here uninvited or you may not be pleased with the consequences." He beckoned to a servant who was hovering near the door, awaiting the arrival of the carriage. "Please make sure Miss Del Sol finds her way safely to her carriage."

The servant nodded and offered a short bow in reply, "Yes, Master Mallory," he replied, bestowing on him the title of Master of the House, rather than simply the master's son.

Duncan offered Leandra a curt nod and bow and turned on a heel to find where Mara had gone to, leaving Leandra to sulk alone in silence.

As she had said she would be, Mara was in Duncan's rooms, standing by the window, looking out over the beautiful gardens so recently vacated. She felt agitated; a little guilty for the way she had behaved, but mostly angry with Leandra and her blinkered self-absorbed view of the world and how it should revolve around her. She turned as Duncan entered, her green eyes contrite as she found his gaze. "I'm sorry about that," she apologized, getting it in quick before he could start to scold her. "I shouldn't have spoken to her in that way, I've only made things worse for you."

"She's a spoiled brat. Everyone knows it. She's never come here alone before. She must have found out you're here somehow." That thought was disturbing and had him wondering who blabbed. He knew who hadn't, but not necessarily who had. "You have nothing to apologize for. She came here purposely to cause trouble." He closed the door behind him and turned the key in the lock. No one was going to disturb them anymore today, no matter who they were.

"But I didn't help," Mara pointed out, more worried for Duncan than she was for herself. She knew she enjoyed a certain level of protection, both from the Mallorys and the Del Sols, and if it were true, the Triad, too. Anything happened to her, and their precious marriage had no chance of going through at all. "I should have kept my mouth shut."

"It's not your fault she's such a bitch, Mara," he said with obvious distaste for the girl in question. "I'm sorry if she upset you," he added, his anger at Leandra's little stunt turning to concern for Mara. He knew as well as she did that Leandra would most likely go home and cry on her brother's shoulder, but he wasn't afraid of Stefan anymore than he was of Leandra, and in a few short cycles, they'd be free of them both.

"It wasn't your fault," she told him pointedly, moving away from the window to wrap her arms around him in a long, warm embrace. "We won't have to deal with her for much longer," she murmured, low enough that even had anyone been listening, he was the only one who could hear. Then a thought occurred to her, and she looked up at Duncan with slightly alarmed eyes. "Beryl's going to be so disappointed we didn't finish eating."

He wrapped his arms around her, as well, wanting to hold onto her for as long as he possibly could. Someday it would be forever, but for now, he'd have to take it one night at a time. "No, she won't. She'll just make us eat a big breakfast." And with that said, he made it clear that he was inviting her to stay the night and that he didn't really care who knew about it. One way or another, she belonged to him.

She couldn't help it - Mara giggled at the not so subtle invitation, the tension that had held her slender frame since Leandra's voice had first pierced their moment in the garden bleeding out with the merry sound. "And I still don't know how to cobble a peach," she added merrily, deliberately getting the phrase wrong this time, hoping to tease a smile from Duncan once again.

She succeeded, a small smile starting to form at the corners of his mouth. He just couldn't stay angry long when he was in her company. "You'll just have to come for dinner again some time then. Or maybe I'll have you for dessert." And yes, he knew that remark had a double meaning, but before she could realize what it was he was tossing her back onto the bed and climbing on top of her to smother her in kisses.

The bed creaked in protest at the rough landing, but Mara was laughing once again, heedless of any ears to hear her as the sound faded into a tender moan beneath Duncan's lips. She gathered him into her arms, kissing away the stress of his unexpected visitor, uncaring that the same visitor was only just about to leave the house. All she wanted was Duncan; she didn't care about the finery or the wealth, or the luxuriant food. She had everything she wanted and needed right there in her arms, and no amount of maneuvering by the Triad or anyone else could change that. She belonged to him, with him, her soul screamed it every time they parted. She didn't think she would ever be able to live without her beloved Duncan.

There would come a time when their love would be tested, when forces would come together to try and part the young lovers, and though they might succeed, they would eventually fail in the end because as everyone knows, one way or another, good always triumphs over evil, and love always conquers all. But for now, none of that mattered. For now, all that mattered was that they were together, now and for always.

((We're fast approaching the vital moment in time that sets the scene for The Gilded Cage, and Then There Was One. Stay tuned, folks, there will be more! Guess who I'm thanking" It's not Bugs Bunny!))