Unwanted Arrangement

[Perplexia]

One of the worst things to be other then poor or a whore, was a bastard. She was privileged to be born to the King of Frances mistress Margaret. Rosamond or Rose as she was normally called grew up with quite a few happy memories of her father. He would visit her and her mother often and was quite diligent in being sure they wanted for nothing and had every advantage.

Perhaps that was his first mistake. He ensured that Rose had the finest tutors and learned about the world outside of France. Of course his pure blood children received the same and she was often thrown into the mix of them. Her half brother Prince Henry was her favorite. They got exchanged ideas, and spent a great deal of time together. Being a couple years older then her, he took it upon himself to be her protector, and ensured she knew how to defend herself if ever he couldn't be there.

Princess Ann on the other hand, was a spiteful, spoiled sadistic wench that took great pleasure in insulting and humiliating Rose at every turn. The amount of times she heard "You should strive to be as accomplished as the princess, or why can't you hold your tongue" were so extreme that she had somehow decided to do the opposite of whatever she was asked.

The idea of getting married and being someones property was the furthest from her mind as anything could be. Her eyes had been opened to what a loveless marriage could produce, and what it was for two people that loved each other. Why should she have to settle for less. Though she refused to settle as being a mistress so that she could have it. Never would she wish to inflict that upon any children that would come of it.

In her favor she had her mothers beauty. Her long jet black hair and bright magnetic green eyes, full plump bosom and milky white skin, turned heads no matter where she went. It was a curse and had caused her several behavioral reprimands in the past. Tonight was the ball, and though she loved to dance she hated these stuffy social occasions where people gossiped and snubbed others.

No, she would much rather be with a book under a tree. Before she saw it coming it was too late. Ann and her ladies had her pinned in. "This is a royal function you shouldn't be allowed here" her sister spat for a laugh from her ladies.

Rolling her eyes Rose responded "Still half royal, didn't want to be here but daddy dearest made me. If you have a problem speak to him. Oh wait you can't because he's normally too busy or with my mother." she smiled sweetly then couldn't stop herself from adding:

"Tell me Ann what is it like to know you were produced only because of duty, and not because he actually loved or wanted to touch your mother" This caused Ann to reach out and smack her across the face. Rose didn't think before she responded, instead her instincts took over and she knocked the pretentious bitch on her ass with one punch.

Henry had tried on her behalf to reason with his father but the King's quota for dealing with his daughters unladylike manners and embarrassment had reached it's limit. If she hadn't have placed a harmful hand upon a royal perhaps he may have reconsidered. So doing what he could to ensure at least a somewhat safe life for her he pawned her off.

No ceremony would be done. It was simply done by proxy and signed by witness'. It didn't help that when asked if she would take this man she said no. Because her fathers word overrode hers. She was off to Scotland to be the wife of a Lord who had been widowed some three years and was without an heir.

The sea voyage was a little rough, and she slept a great amount of the time. If one thing was clear, it was that she couldn't run off and be a wench on a pirate ship. The sea was not her friend. Once in port her and her belongings were placed into a carriage. Her eyes took in the beautiful moors and land. This was surely a beautiful place.

Rose could see the tall towers in the distance. It was quite an impressive dwelling. There had been little told to her of her new husband, she had heard his name in passing but had never been introduced.

Coming through the arch with with the gate being shut behind them she got a full welcome of staff and what she would learn were her ladies in waiting. Everyone but her husband was there to greet her. Stepping down he then appeared introducing himself in a cordial less then interested in having her there manner. This may not be so bad after all she thought. He doesn't want me here, I don't want to be here. Shouldn't be any problem to leave. Smiling politely she merely nodded and portrayed the quiet type.

It took all she had not to tell him as far as she was concerned he wasn't her husband nor would she be partaking in any of the rituals that occur with it. But with the impression he gave he honestly didn't seem to care she was here. That was oddly a refreshing change from the men that spent their time googling over her as if she was some sort of consolation prize.

Following the ladies to her tower after the slightly tense greeting. She changed for dinner after a quick bath. She was actually quite hungry the stops along the way didn't offer much in the form of food that she was willing to eat. Placing her jet black locks upon her head her emerald eyes stared back at her in the mirror. She missed home, and she missed her brother.

The dinner gathering was quite small, and for that she was relieved the last thing she needed was another social event in which she had to behave herself for a specific length of time. She had hoped to have a couple words with her 'husband' but he managed to stay at a distance from her for the evening until she excused herself from weariness from her travels.

With a turn of the key in her door. She retracted herself to the window seat to read a book and glance out at the stars.

 

[Niceandbrutal]

Argyle MacDoyle, 30, the 10th Earl of Dunbar, head of clan MacDoyle stared myopically at his valet, Robert. "Beg your pardon My Lord, but you asked me to wake you at dawn, and it's dawn now, Sir." Argyle grunted his thanks and sat up from the lonely bed he slept in.

The Nightmare had visited him again, and it usually set his mood for the day. It had been three years since he'd lost his beloved Catherine and his infant daughter Murran in a very traumatic childbirth gone horribly wrong. Clear as day, Catherine's dying words rang in his head. "Where is our child, Argyle? What did you do? What is happening to me? Argyle..."

His valet discretely looked away as tears filled Argyle's eyes from the recollection of that horrible night when by his own hand, though by horrible accident, he lost everything dear to him.

With a huge mental effort he cleared his head. There was work to be done. He sluggishly rose and stretched his 6' muscular body with an extended tired groan, cursing the cold stone floor in the Master bedroom of Castle Argyle, main seat of Clan MacDoyle.

Staring back at him from the mirror above his wash basin was a round handsome face that could turn kindly or fierce, the mood reflected first and foremost in his striking deep set blight blue eyes. Eyes that had permanent dark shadows beneath them since the death of Catherine. Pitch black hair and beard, both well groomed and trimmed lest he bring shame to his clan and his title. Delicate black eyebrows, and an unobtrusive and unremarkable nose gave him a deceptively soft look, and he had cheekbones several ladies had secretly swooned over. In short, a kind and handsome face.

Today, he was meeting his new wife, a wife that had been forced upon him through debt to none other than Louis, the King of France. His bride was one of the king's illegitimate daughters, a feisty and opinionated woman by all accounts, and apparently not above scrapping with royalty. Good for her.

Argyle dressed in mourning black, but today he dressed in the MacDoyle tartan kilt. He forewent the shoulder sash, but both the sporran and the ornamental dagger with the family crest on hilt and sheathe both, were present and correct. After a quick breakfast, he went to the North tower to oversee the preparations of Rosamond's bedroom. He knew she was as enthusiastic as he was about this marriage. The letters from King Louis had made that abundantly clear.

After the room was prepared to Argyle's satisfaction and the chambermaids had been instructed of their duties, he went to have lunch with his younger cousin, Isabel. The fierce and fiery redheaded 18 year old cousin of his was to be one of Rosamond's ladies in waiting. She listened to his instructions. They boiled down to this: Treat her like the Lady of Castle Argyle. Chastise any staff that treated her with less deference than was her due. She was to have full access to every room and building of the castle, no limitations. Isabel nodded, a serious and determined look on her face.

Satisfied that he had done all he could, Argyle headed back to his bedroom and study to keep and balance the books. It was dreary, but needed to be done unless The Crown came down upon him in full force. And then later, when the books were done, his eyes strayed towards the portrait of Catherine hanging on the wall next to the fireplace. It had been a wedding gift from her parents, and he treasured it even when she was alive because of its uncanny lifelike likeness of her.

He looked at her likeness, became dimly aware of the noise of an arriving carriage, and gave her a last tearful look as he muttered "please forgive me" and left the room.

Making his way to the courtyard, and he saw the castle steward had things well in hand. Rosamond was being introduced to the castle staff. Argyle walked out to greet his new wife with some trepidation. But she stayed silent as he introduced himself and welcomed her to her new home. He also spoke openly and loudly about her being his new wife, but this was more to signal to the staff that he'd expect them to treat her as such and not to lay claim to her in any meaningful way.

After she had excused herself to freshen up, Argyle made his rounds around the castle to check that everything was in order, and lastly, he went outside to spend a few minutes by the graves of his deceased wife and daughter. He stayed by their graves and talked to them, hoping they heard him, as the kaleidoscopic sky turned from afternoon to dusk.

At long last he got up, brushed grass and moss from his kilt, and walked back inside the gates of the old castle. He was just in time for dinner.

Dinner was fresh mutton, and the cook had managed to scrounge up some garlic from God knows where. Argyle had wanted to engage in conversation with Rosamond, but his steward needed a detailed answer to a petition about grazing rights, a point of contention between two old and equally stubborn families on his lands.

When he'd dotted all the i's and crossed all the t's, Rosamond had excused herself and gone to her chambers. He sighed. This was NOT the way to make anyone feel welcome! He had to apologize to her. He summoned his courage and went to her room. He knocked, then entered to find her reading in the candlelight.

"I will get you a lantern that lights up better than a candle," he started abruptly. Her eyes had looked up and found his, and he registered the same distant coolness he'd seen earlier. She was not happy to be here. And who could blame her? From Versailles and Paris to Castle Argyle with Inverness the closest town? He'd be upset too.

"I- I know you don't want to be here, and I can't say I hold it against you, Rosamond. I was coerced into this marriage, same as you, though for different reasons. As it is, I think we both should try to make the best of our situation. I have already instructed Isabel, and she will see to it that you are afforded all the respect due the Lady of Castle Argyle. Which is you. This means you can go everywhere you want inside the castle and the earldom of Dunbar. I will ask of you this: treat everyone with courtesy and grace so you don't bring shame on Clan MacDoyle, of which you are now First Lady, below me only in rank. We will fit you with a tartan soon enough. I ask also that you be by my side in public as my wife. But that is ALL I will ask of you as a wife. I ask of you to stay for a year, and if you still want to leave Castle Argyle, I will grant you a divorce and let you go. I hope this is agreeable to you, Rosamond, and I hope you believe me when I say I didn't want this for either one of us."

This was the longest speech he'd given since Catherine had died, and his mind felt numb and drained.

 

[Perplexia]

Rose didn't even bother to look up at the first knock. But she should have guessed he'd have a key. As the door creaked she scowled and continued to look at her book. "I will get you a lantern that lights up better than a candle," he started with. Sighing she marked the page of her book and slapped it shut then looked up at him blankly then said blankly "thank you".

"I- I know you don't want to be here, and I can't say I hold it against you, Rosamond. I was coerced into this marriage, same as you, though for different reasons. As it is, I think we both should try to make the best of our situation. I have already instructed Isabel, and she will see to it that you are afforded all the respect due the Lady of Castle Argyle. Which is you. This means you can go everywhere you want inside the castle and the earldom of Dunbar. I will ask of you this: treat everyone with courtesy and grace so you don't bring shame on Clan MacDoyle, of which you are now First Lady, below me only in rank. We will fit you with a tartan soon enough. I ask also that you be by my side in public as my wife. But that is ALL I will ask of you as a wife. I ask of you to stay for a year, and if you still want to leave Castle Argyle, I will grant you a divorce and let you go. I hope this is agreeable to you, Rosamond, and I hope you believe me when I say I didn't want this for either one of us."

To say she was shocked would be an understatement. "Seriously?" she asked with trepidation. "I can leave after a year, I only have to portray the grace of a wife in public, and stay within in Dunbar, will I have an escort for protection? and of course treat everyone with courtesy and behave myself as the Lady of the castle.?" she was elated at the prospect until it dawned on her a divorced wife with no income or property would put her on the streets. She was a bastard, there was no land or titles coming her way. If her father did pass, what he left to her would be meager in accordance to the life she's been accustom to especially if she was divorced after he arranged the marriage. She frowned, "Although an attractive offer, I'm afraid that would leave me worse off than I was a half bastard in France. However, a small cottage or manor with a monthly allowance for food and clothes would be better. I'd be just as happy in the country out of sight and out of mind than anywhere, as long as i have my books. I have very little taste for society life, or the expenses it entails. All I've ever wanted was to be left alone. Well other than my brother Henry's company, no doubt he'll be married off soon." she frowned again. "Do you have any siblings My Laird?'

She examined him closely as he responded, his eyes were sad but kind, his stature suggested he was ready to leave as soon as she pushed him out the door. His beard well trimmed, nails cut, he wasn't a barbarian. He also seemed to possess a level of intelligence that could be comparable to her own in the way he spoke. Over all he was quite handsome, not old and groggy like she had imagined. From what she had learned about him prior to arriving, he mostly kept to himself, his tenants considered him fair and just. But like most good men, cross them or offend them there wasn't a corner they could hide.

"I am well educated, and have the manners and grace of a Lady My Laird, but as I'm sure my father has told you I have a no nonsense tolerance level. If I have no qualms about punching my sister square in her face, it is safe to say that I will do the same to anyone who lies a hand upon me without consent. My tongue is as sharp as my wit when I'm provoked. I have left men speechless and women in tears. Other than that I am generally a kind generous person. I shall see to the duties of the castle as a lady would, monthly baskets to the tenants in need and such and take much joy in doing so. As for church if you attend I shall accompany you as a wife should. But please don't scold me for rolling my eyes, I find the whole concept of religion a hypocrisy as its what men seem to fight wars over. I am young, but I do know my own mind. I know a lot about many things, please do not mistake that I don't know simply because I'm a woman. I'm quite glad we had this talk to get everything out in the air, thank you for your visit have a pleasant evening My Laird." When he was about to leave she added. "Oh and my friends and intimate acquaintances call me Rose, you may do so as well if you wish. I do hope that we can be friends. It will make this year go by so much easier then awkward silences and trying to avoid each other."

Once he left there was another knock as a lantern was brought to her. "thank you" Rose said to the girl called Isabel. "You're quite welcome My Lady, anything else I can do fer ya? Need help changing and such?" Isabel asked seeming a bit nervous. Which was completely understandable given that Rose was new, and wasn't sure how she might behave toward the young girl. "No, I'm quite set Isabel, Thank you for the lantern have a good night." The girl smiled and curtsied and left the room. It came into her head that there may be murmurs after a time about the Laird and Lady never sharing the same room. If ever challenged about the consummation of the marriage it could put them both in bad light. Rose made the mental note that when given the opportunity to speak with the Laird in private she would suggest they sit and talk or sit in silence which ever he prefer perhaps even pin prick her finger and put it on the sheets in effort to fool the nosey or kings spies.

After reading for a bit she changed for bed and turned down the lantern. When morning arrived she awoke to Isabel pulling open the curtains. "Good Morning Mi Lady, Shall I help ye get ready for breakfast?" "If you must" she moaned slowly sliding out of bed. The girl asked which dress, Rose replied blue, she did her hair rather magnificently "that looks amazing Isabel". It was done up with little loose locks curled aligning her face. She went through the pain of the corset and put on her dress. After Isabel left Rose made her way down to the eating room. When she entered the Laird rose. "Good Morning Mi Laird" she gave a slight curtsy and soft smile. "I thought I should go for a walk today, would you accompany me?"

 

[Niceandbrutal]

"I can leave after a year, I only have to portray the grace of a wife in public, and stay within in Dunbar, will I have an escort for protection? and of course treat everyone with courtesy and behave myself as the Lady of the castle.?"

Argyle nodded. "Aye, you will go with protection until you know these lands and the people know you. Dunbar is a comparatively rich region, so there is little in the way of crime here. And the people of Dunbar are loyal to Clan MacDoyle. You will be safe."

He spoke with certainty. Being this close to her filled him with an unease. It was the way her eyes came to life when she spoke and the way her pitch black hair caught the candlelight as the candle flickered on the polished wooden table. But he had to stand his ground and let her respond. The unease was new and yet very familiar.

"Although an attractive offer, I'm afraid that would leave me worse off than I was a half bastard in France. However, a small cottage or manor with a monthly allowance for food and clothes would be better. I'd be just as happy in the country out of sight and out of mind than anywhere, as long as i have my books. I have very little taste for society life, or the expenses it entails. All I've ever wanted was to be left alone. Well other than my brother Henry's company, no doubt he'll be married off soon. Do you have any siblings My Laird?'

"Clan Argyle has a comfortable hunting lodge about five miles from this castle. It can be converted into a permanent residence easily enough and you will be as comfortably kept as possible. You have my word, Rosamond. And believe you me, I share your sentiment on society life, but noblesse oblige, as you french people say. Between you and me, out in the country and out of sight sounds like bliss, though Castle Argyle fulfills at least the bit about 'out in the country''."

He found it easy to talk to her, and the prospect of hope had softened her features and added some warmth to her eyes. It suited her well. His sense of unease grew. "Siblings, m'lady? Och no, my mother was blessed, such as it is, with me only. I have cousins. Isabel is one of them."

"I am well educated, and have the manners and grace of a Lady My Laird, but as I'm sure my father has told you I have a no nonsense tolerance level. If I have no qualms about punching my sister square in her face, it is safe to say that I will do the same to anyone who lies a hand upon me without consent. My tongue is as sharp as my wit when I'm provoked. I have left men speechless and women in tears. Other than that I am generally a kind generous person. I shall see to the duties of the castle as a lady would, monthly baskets to the tenants in need and such and take much joy in doing so. As for church if you attend I shall accompany you as a wife should. But please don't scold me for rolling my eyes, I find the whole concept of religion a hypocrisy as its what men seem to fight wars over. I am young, but I do know my own mind. I know a lot about many things, please do not mistake that I don't know simply because I'm a woman. I'm quite glad we had this talk to get everything out in the air, thank you for your visit have a pleasant evening My Laird."

He was stunned. It was as if someone had upended a bucket of icy water on top of his head. This, almost word for word, was what Catherine had told him when they had discussed married life during their betrothal. Catherine too had had no patience for the clergy and their hipocrisy. And Catherine had always been outspoken and clever, and she thought nothing of using her fists if someone offended her bodily. They did not look anything alike, but their demeanours were VERY similar.

And so, when she dismissed him, he was only too eager to get away, nodding only when she told him to call her Rose. A fleeting "Good night to you, Rose," and then the door shut behind him. He leaned against the torchlit wall, shaking. And that's how Isabel found him some minutes later. He asked of her to bring a better reading lantern for The Lady MacDoyle, and then he retreated with wobbly steps to his bedroom.

Back in the safety of his chamber, and his head swam. He fell back on the bed, his head trying to sort the confusion he felt. And that's how he fell asleep.

The Nightmare was waiting for him. Catherine was in labour. The midwife's face had grown pale, serious, frightened. She said the words. Catherine had to be helped, and the midwife needed Argyle's help to save wife and child both, as the task required strength. Argyle slipped while doing the task, killing his unborn daughter outright and mortally wounding Catherine. He yelled out in anguish and despair, Catherine growing paler and more frightened as death slowly claimed her, screaming for her child, screaming for Argyle to save her. She didn't want to die. But something was different this time. A small warm hand on his shoulder, turning him around turning him away from the nightmarish tableau. A set of vivid warm green eyes framed by lustrous black hair held him, a warm kindly face looked at him with pity but no indulgence. "Let the dead rest..."

Argyle awoke with a start, tears streaming down his face. His valet Robert was in the room. He'd been in to check on Argyle to see if he needed anything. "You were having nightmares again, My Lord. I never know whether to wake you or let you battle through when you have them." There was a note of concern in Robert's voice.

Argyle shook his head as if to clear it. Robert had been his guardian in Argyle's younger years and had been promoted to his valet as he grew older. He was polite but usually spoke his mind with a familiarity that would have landed him in trouble elsewhere. He spoke now, with his thick scottish brogue.

"If I may be so bold, Sir; we all loved Catherine. She was a bonnie lass and we all miss her. But three years you've mourned her now, My Lord. Her and wee Murran. And no one blames you for it. But you are a married man again, and life goes on. By the looks of it, the new Lady MacDoyle is a fine lass herself. So I implore you, My Lord, for the good of Dunbar, Clan MacDoyle, and yourself, let the dead rest."

Argyle looked at Robert, but did not respond. Robert withdrew and Argyle was alone with his thoughts again. Confused beyond measure, he finally fell asleep again and had a dreamless sleep for the first time since he could remember.

Morning, and he awoke to the sight of sunbeams hitting the portrait of Catherine. It highlighted her kind blue eyes and kindly smile. He looked at her and felt conflicted. He missed her, and thinking about her was like prodding an open wound. Still, the highlighted smile felt oddly comforting this morning, and a tentative and rare smile graced Argyle's lips.

He washed and dressed in his customary black mourning outfit. But today, he opened the door to the small balcony of the Master Bedroom. Facing East, he had a splendid view of the coastline some miles away. The early morning sun broke through clouds in places, sending sunbeams down and turning patches of gray ocean into bright silver or gold. Far off, he could see smoke from Inverness in the Southeast. For the first time in years, he enjoyed the beauty of a fair scottish morning.

At breakfast, Rose was waiting for him. She looked beautiful in her blue dress and with her hairdo, simple yet elegant. At her greeting, he replied "Compliments of the morning to you as well, My Lady." Her smile. Her smile was like a shy sunbeam gently pushing through mist.

"I thought I should go for a walk today, would you accompany me?"

Another rare smile graced his face. It seemed the talk they'd had yesterday at least had removed any hostility she might have felt towards him. He found he liked that, though it deepened his confusion.

"I would first show you the castle grounds, My Lady. I think it better that you know your way around your home before you start exploring the outdoors." But then he added, "But the days are long here this time of the year. I propose we walk the outside pastures after we've made you familiar with the castle."

There was only one room he really wanted to show her. Castle Argyle was the proud holder of the third largest private library in Scotland. There were thousandd of books, and Argyle had spent many hours there studying and reading for pleasure. After breakfast he toured the castle with her, always avoiding the library, saying "that door is for later". He didn't bring her inside the Master Bedroom, just pointed at it and said "...and this is where I sleep."

Finally, the only remaining room was the library. He turned to her and looked her in the eyes. He knew the reputation of the scots abroad as harsh and barbaric. In good, but slightly accented french he told her: "And this is where I've spent many happy hours away from the world." He paused and savoured the look on her face before continuing in Latin: "Knowledge kept secret serves no one. Please come here as much as you want." And he gently opened the door and showed her inside.

 

[Perplexia]

There was something different about his demure this morning. Perhaps it was simply they had put any misconceptions about what kind of marriage this would be behind him. She was actually a bit surprised at how easily he had jumped at the idea of showing her around. He could have easily pawned if off on someone else. That would have faltered her plan regarding the conversation they needed to have about putting on a show that they'd consummated it. Regardless of how trustworthy you may belief your staff to be, idle gossip was just a part of it. The last thing either of them needed was for it to get back to her father they were blatantly disregarding their marital duties by arranging a loophole for themselves.

"I would first show you the castle grounds, My Lady. I think it better that you know your way around your home before you start exploring the outdoors." But then he added, "But the days are long here this time of the year. I propose we walk the outside pastures after we've made you familiar with the castle." "That would be delightful My Laird."

After breakfast, she walked with Argyle and took in the beautiful castles interior. He was very patient with her inquisitive nature and questions regarding the history of furniture, moldings and paintings. Rose wasn't sure what to expect when she was told she was to marry a Laird. Perhaps she thought it would be more mud than wood floors, or barrels to sit upon instead of chairs. They were often told exaggerated tales about other cultures to engrain in them how superior theirs was. But from what she had seen thus far, The Laird of Castle Argyle was not anywhere near the barbarian the Scots had been made out to be.

They went room to room, and floor to floor as he pointed out different areas. Anytime they passed one room he would say "that's for later". Eventually they made their way back to it. He practically glowed with pride when he exclaimed in almost a perfect French accent "And this is where I've spent many happy hours away from the world." swiftly switching to Latin he added "Knowledge kept secret serves no one. Please come here as much as you want." When he opened the door she slowly took a step forward into what appeared to her to be paradise. Every wall covered with shelves filled with books. Starting from one end her fingers lightly grazed over the bindings as she read each one she could reach. There was everything here she could ever hope for from philosophy to novels, to poetry, to physics and of course books in all languages. "stunning, absolutely stunning." The library was her favorite of all the rooms and she knew she's be here often. "If you can spare the time My Laird, I would very much like to learn Gaelic. Though I would like it to be kept a secret. It may come in useful. It broke her heart to leave this room to continue the tour, but she knew she'd back.

"I took the liberty of having a picnic made up for us for lunch as we tour the grounds. I hope that's okay? I knew the outside tour would be extensive if not more so then the indoor." She paused a moment. Rose lightly touched his arm and looked at him in the eyes. "Thank you for showing me, and allowing me access to your beloved library, I shall cherish it and take great care with your collection." Removing her hand she smiled lightly and led the way to foyer where their basket waited.

The castle grounds were much larger than she realized. As she looked down to her muddied shoes and hem of her dress she let out a laugh of amusement. "It would appear my Laird that I must learn how to dress appropriately if we are to have more walks." Rose was curious about everything from plants to trees and probed Argyle for all the info he was willing to share. He was full of quite a bit of knowledge and seemed happy to share. She had been of the opinion if you are to own the land, you should know it, and refreshingly he did. Eventually they came to a clearing and decided to rest and eat before continuing. Laying down the blanket she opened the basket and began to take out its contents.

"There is one thing I thought of after you left My Laid, I will not feign to knows the laws of Scotland, but if a woman is suspected of having not been bed by her husband. The legitimacy of the marriage can be called into question as well as their honor or ability to be a fit leader. I am not suggesting that we do this. However perhaps a lengthier visit to my room, to talk or read or what have you. A pin prick to keep the staff satisfied and silent, I think that should do the trick."

 

[Niceandbrutal]

Her wanting to learn Gaelic was, he thought, a gesture as smart as it was sweet. Argyle had had some misconceptions about french women disabused much in the same way her notions about scots had been. He'd been led to understand that french women were frail and dainty little things more interested in clothes, makeup, perfume, and court gossip. He hadn't expected a down to earth well read woman with a feistyness to rival... well, most scottish women.

He was jolted out of his reverie by a gentle touch on his arm.

"Thank you for showing me, and allowing me access to your beloved library, I shall cherish it and take great care with your collection."

She spoke of his library as if it was a nursery and the books his children. "You are welcome, Rose," he told her in Gaelic and then broke down the sentence to her word for word and had her repeat each word before she strung them together. He'd been told that french accents could rival scottish accents in heaviness and incomprehensibility, and she, like him, did have an accent. But like him, she insisted on near perfection until only a hint of the native accent remained, like a fragrant seasoning of a delicious meal.

He watched her repeat the phrase before substituting her name with his. Her smile as she mastered her first step of gaelic was heartwarming to behold. He pointed out books, door, candle to her and taught her those words in gaelic as well, her look of concentration a testament to how seriously she took that task.

Later, when touring the grounds, she called attention to the state of her dress and shoes with a laugh. The shadow of a smile graced his lips before he told her, "Aye, the moors and highlands of Scotland can be unforgiving to fineries. We shall have you fitted for kilts and boots both. You will of course bear the MacDoyle tartan, being the First Lady of Clan MacDoyle."

He was distracted then by the whinny of a horse, and a magnificent gray mare with a white patch on her forehead slowly trotted over to greet them. Thistle. It had been Catherine's horse, a wedding gift from Argyle. She had loved going for rides across the moors and highlands, and Thistle had been a faithful companion.

"Rose, this is Thistle. She... she was my wife's horse. Catherine named her for the scottish national flower, and she raised her from a foal." He remembered Catherine talking about Thistle as if she were a person, and Thistle was a clever horse that seemed to understand moods and motivations eerily well. And so, Argyle spoke to Thistle in soft gaelic now: "Don't be upset, Thistle. She is a good woman and does not deserve your scorn."

Thistle walked over to Rose and smelled her and looked her over. A low nickering sound from her told Argyle that she bore no ill will towards Rose. "She has allowed no one to ride her ever since Catherine... passed away." To his surprise, the horse tentatively rested its head on Rose's shoulder, a gesture he hadn't seen her do on anyone since... Catherine.

Argyle always carried treats for the horses when he walked the grounds, and he handed a piece of carrot to Rose and watched as Thistle happily ate out of her hands. "Away with ye now, lass," he told the horse after she'd been offered several treats, and Thistle trotted off but stopped and looked back at them. "Go on," he implored her softly. She moved further away and took to grazing again.

And so of course, he had to show Rose the thistle, the scottish national flower. Kneeling down beside it he pointed out the spiky leaves and told her, "this flower, like the scottish people, is pretty but dangerous. Handle us gently," and here he gently stroked the stem, "and we shall do you no harm." He then wrapped his hand around one of the spiky leaves until he winced. "Mistreat us," and he opened his palm to show small pinpoints with miniscule droplets of blood, "you best prepare to be bloodied."

He taught her the gaelic word for thistle, and then the words for the immediate visible flora and fauna: different kinds of birds, squirrels, horses, sheep, cows, rabbits, birches, pines, firs, rowans, and on and on, until they found themselves in a wooden clearing where Rose proclaimed it was time for lunch. It was a nice spot for it. At the foot of a wooded hill, they rested on a patch of short grass a comfortable distance from a little brook. The sun was peeking in and out of clouds that drifted lazily by overhead and the wind swept gently through the trees, making them sing.

She broached the subject of the more delicate aspects of marriage and what deception they could employ. He nodded at her suggestion and added dreamily, remembering: "Aye, and we must also make the bed look like it was hit by a strong gale. A few drops of blood on an otherwise pristine sheet fools no one." He remembered when he'd breached Catherine's maidenhood on their wedding night. The mixture of fear, love, anticipation, and arousal on her face as she gave herself to him and the tender and enthusiastic lovemaking that had followed was now a bittersweet memory. They were both virgins, and the lovemaking had been... he snapped out of it.

"Rose, I've been meaning to ask you a favour. Around other people you don't have to refer to me as My Lord. That is for the people below us in rank. And though I am not fond of that notion, appearances must be maintained. I went along and called you My Lady to signal to the staff that this was our little joke. But to you I am and shall forever be Argyle, as you shall be Rose to me."

They ate in amicable silence and sat for a while in the clearing, just enjoying the silence and ambience of nature. This outing reminded him of similar walks he'd had with Catherine. And when he dozed off for a few moments and awoke a little later, his mind deceived him. Feeling the sun on his face and seeing the sun shine through his eyelids he spoke without thinking, "Perhaps we'd better turn back soon, eh Catherine?"

And then he jolted fully awake, reality smacking him in the face. He looked at Rose in shock, and paled at his own words. "I'm so... I didn't... That was..." Tears filled his eyes, but he managed to contain himself. After calming down, he said flatly, "Please forgive my little outburst just now. It's just... we went on walks like this all the time and I was dozing and my mind... please forgive me. I did not mean to imply..."

He got up and started gathering dishes, cups, cutlery, and blanket, throwing them all rather haphazardly into the basket, avoiding her eyes, ashamed that his mind had tricked him.

He started off for the castle, waiting only for her to catch up. His mood had been magnificently ruined by the ghost of Catherine's memory and he had undoubtedly soured Rose's mood as well. He felt guilty about feeling happy without Catherine. He felt guilty about ruining Rose's day. He missed Catherine, but that was not Rose's fault. Only his own. He had slipped up and killed her. And though he could take cold comfort in the fact that it was an accident, she'd still died by his hands.

Back at the castle, and he excused himself, claiming that he had some business to attend to, fooling no one as grief was written plainly across his face. He went to the Master Bedroom, cast a glance at Catherine's ever smiling countenance, and found his bagpipe.

Leaving the bedroom, stopping for no one, he made his way to the graves of Catherine and Murran and started playing an old dirge with such feeling that tears flowed freely down his face. He played his heart out for all to hear, his body gently rocking and swaying as he poured out his grief, his regret, and his love through the only emotional release he would allow himself: the bagpipe.

 

[Perplexia]

Rose had always been fond of horses, of all animals actually. They were always honest and true. As Argyle talked to Thistle, Rose picked up the horse's name in Galic. When the horse came up to her she smiled and cooed the horse as it sniffed her. When it lay its head upon her shoulder she spoke its name in galic and laid her head against the horses stroking her neck and whispering to her in french softly. “I understand mi amor, you have been lonely and miss your mistress, i am not her but i shall love and care for you as she would have wanted.” She fed the horse the carrots Argyle had provided and continued to speak to her in french. “That’s it my sweet girl, enjoy your treats for you deserve them.” When Argyle shooed the horse away Rose asked him “if she allows it, may I ride her?”

When he showed her the thistle, and demonstrated it’s beauty and danger showing her the result with the droplets of blood upon his hand. Rose swiftly lifted her dress, tore off a piece of her petticoat and wrapped it around his minor scratches.

When she broached the subject of the marital bed deception, he was open to the idea and added a few details she had not thought of. Of course he would know about such things. The way he spoke about it though left her feeling almost envious. But she soon snapped out of enjoying the beauty of the sun shining down through the branches, and the sounds of nature around them. It surprised her how odd it was for her to feel so at ease and so..at home.

As they ate lunch and he drifted off briefly coming to and calling her Catherine, it didn’t shock or offend her as he thought it had. As he apologized saying “"Please forgive my little outburst just now. It's just... we went on walks like this all the time and I was dozing and my mind... please forgive me. I did not mean to imply..." she laid her hand lightly on his arm “Argyle, there is no shame in remembering, there is no apology required”. Whether he heard her or not she could not tell as he promptly went about gathering up their dishes and stuffing them haphazardly into the basket.

Heading back there was nothing but silence, he walked swiftly back to the castle pausing a couple of times for her to catch up. The mood had changed to one of somber reflection. Though she wanted to ease the wrenching heartache of her new friend, she didn’t feel that it was quite her place. Entering the castle he went off with only a few words, leaving her at the entrance. Rose was not offended or off put, she understood his grief, it was clear that he still loved his late wife and was torturing himself with memories. To be loved with that kind of passion, and remembered as he did her would be any woman's dream.

Isabel came to her to help her change. “I’d like a hot bath please” Isabel nodded and went off to have a couple servants prepare it for her. “Rose or lavender scent my lady” Isabel asked her. “Lavender please”. Once the water was ready and Rose had dismissed them she stripped down to nothing and climbed into the steaming water. Laying back she closed her eyes and drifted until the mourning sound of bagpipes brought her back.
It was no doubt her husband mourning the loss of his wife, and child she had learned from Isabel when she said earlier “Forgive him my lady, he still has not come to terms with the loss of his late wife and child. But I can say with honesty, since you’ve been here I've never seen him smile as much as he has.”

The water had cooled and she came out of the bath and dried her hair and body off before putting a clean shive on. Having a few hours still before dinner she took a nap. Her dream surprisingly wasn’t of home, but of Thistle. She dreamt of riding her bareback through the moors and Argyle riding beside her. It switched to them dancing in the woods together, the feel of his strong hand on the base of her back. The way she felt in his arms as if she belonged there. She dreamt of them laughing and him brushing a stray hair from her face. As his blue eyes stared into hers she felt the feeling of belonging. Then he kissed her with such a passion, it made her toes curl and body feel strange and tingly waking her up. Rose touched her lips and shook her head. This wouldn’t do, she could not be having these types of dreams of him.

Once dressed Isabel did her hair up in a similar style. “Isabel please relay to his Laird that I have had too much sun, and to please excuse me from dinner. Please have a tray brought to me.” “As you wish my lady, shall we call a doctor? You do look a bit pale.” “no, just excess sun and fatigue that is all.” Isabel nodded and made the order to have her meal brought up.

Rose watched the sun go down on what had over all been a beautiful day. She sat in the window and read till her dinner arrived. She ate a small amount before setting it aside and going back to her book. She wondered if Argyle would come tonight, or if he was still torturing himself over his slip of calling her Catherine.

The castle was so large it was no doubt she’d heard nothing from him since the bagpipes stopped. Still she was sorry for him. The torture he had put himself through for three years was unbearable. He must hate her for being forced to take her in. He had probably swore never to marry again.

 

[Niceandbrutal]

Argyle poured his heart and soul, his grief and his longing, and his bitterness and rage into the bagpipe, sometimes causing discordant notes, but mostly savagely beautiful and ethereal music. At the end he collapsed in a heap, spent. He lay on the ground weeping up until he felt someone nudging him with a foot.

A familiar and stern voice snapped his mind back in focus: "That's enough of that, lad!" He looked up. It was his valet, Robert, and he was angry. "Robert-" he began, but his valet cut him short. "No My Lord, you are going to shut up and you are going to listen to your elders on this, lad!"

Argyle was stunned into silence. Robert, kindly old Robert, his lifeguard as a child during more tumultuous times, his valet, his confidante, was YELLING at him! Argyle was so shocked that he just gawped at the old man with the fierce countenance he'd never seen before.

"On your feet, lad!" Robert snapped, and Argyle dimly remembered Robert's reputation as a merciless trainer of soldiers. Argyle got to his feet sheepishly and brushed himself off, the bagpipe squeaking forlornly when he moved.

Robert leaned into Argyle's face and started tearing into him: "I promised your Ma and Da to look after you when they were gone and by God, lad, you will listen to me! Let the dead rest! Life is for the living! You might as well be The Ghost of Castle Argyle, the way you wrap yourself in your grief! Catherine was a bonnie lass and not a day goes by that I don't miss her. But she is dead, lad! Her and Murran are in the arms of the Almighty! You are married again, and by the looks of it a right fine lass young Rose is, too! Treasure life and the living. Remember the dead with fondness and love, but don't be eager to join them and don't halt your life trying to recapture what you can't. It's a sin, lad!"

Robert's face was red with emotion and his eyes were red and blank. Startled, Argyle understood that Robert was growing desperate because of him, because he loved him like a father would an errant son. Robert had no wife or children of his own. He was even more startled to see a tear running down Robert's face.

With an effort, Robert composed himself. "Three years, My Lord. It's been three years. Enough. This is not what Catherine would have wanted, nor wee Murran, if she was anything like her Ma."

Argyle fixed Robert's eyes with his own. Long silence followed as both men took the measure of each other. Argyle cracked first. With a grin and a laugh he pulled Robert into a bear hug. "Och, you old bastard. If you were half your age you'd be almost young enough for me to teach you a lesson!" Robert grabbed Argyles hair hard and shook his head "And if you had more wits about you, lad, some might consider you almost half as clever as me, you cheeky fucker!"

They separated. A long awkward silence followed as dusk fell and a light summer drizzle cooled their heads. "Robert?" Robert looked at Argyle. "Aye, My Lord?" Argyle inhaled sharply, then: " The picture of Catherine..." Robert watched intently as Argyle continued, "I think I've been a bit posessive about it. Maybe hang it somewhere else?" Robert cracked a smile. "I'll see what I can do about it, My Lord."

The matter settled, the two men returned to the castle. Argyle busied himself with the bookkeeping while Robert oversaw the removal of the picture of Catherine. It tore at his soul to see it go, and he almost called out to tell them he'd changed his mind. But a sharp glance from Robert stilled Argyle's tongue.

Later, and in a calmer and lighter mood, he went to dinner, eager to turn a new leaf with all the people in the castle. The first person he ran into was Isabel who had furrowed brows and a concerned look. She relayed Rose's message, and Argyle felt guilty as hell. How many people had he hurt and inadvertently pushed away because of his grief?

He ate his dinner with Isabel, and it was a sombre affair. Argyle did not much feel like talking right now, yet Isabel looked at him with hope, as the dullness of his eyes from grief was diminished. She hid a smile and hope fluttered within her, for grief had rested heavily over Castle Argyle since Catherine's demise.

After dinner was over, Argyle rose and excused himself. He went straight to Rose's room and knocked before entering. She was, like last night, reading. Unlike last night, her demeanour was soft and pleasant, but she looked a bit apprehensive.

He pointed to the chair opposite her and asked "may I?" before sitting down. He clasped his hands together on the table and leaned forward, looking at her intently.

How unlike she was in appearance compared to Catherine, and yet, how similar they were in demeanour. Where Catherine had had a round freckled face and a shock of unruly red hair, Rose's hair was black and her face pale and a thin oval, though today's excursion had put some colour in her cheeks. Their eyes though different in colour were equally expressive.

"First of all," he began, "you asked me if you can ride Thistle. I did not answer you then because I... was lost in thought. If she is willing to bear you, then yes. She seems to like you. But I will be there on your first attempt, you hear me Rose? She has thrown several riders whose profession it is to master horses. But she trusts me. If this is agreeable to you, then yes, you may ride her."

OK, that was the easy part. He paused, looked away, looked back, looked away again, and finally looked back with tears in his eyes. "I acted like a damn fool this afternoon. I brushed you off when you were only trying to tell me it was OK. I- och, you need to understand something. Catherine and Murran... they died by my hand." His voice wavered, but his shoulders slumped in relief. It was like he'd lanced a boil and pus came pouring out, so great was the relief he felt talking about it.

"It was an accident. Catherine was in labour, something was wrong, the midwife needed my help. I'll spare you the details, but thanks to my hand slipping, my wee bairn was killed outright and my wife followed soon after. I held her as she died, asking about our baby and afraid of dying."

He sniffled and gathered himself before he went on. "At the inquest I was cleared of any blame, even commended for trying to save them. They might very well have died anyway, but still... Och, I've been going in circles about this ever since."

He paused and drew a deep breath. "Now you don't look anything like Catherine, not at all. But in spirit you might have been sisters, twins even. And as you can imagine, that's a wee bit confusing."

New breath. Now came the hardest part. "But none of that is your fault. And though you assured me it's allright, I still feel like I need to apologize for my behaviour. I feel like I ruined your first day here. Catherine would have been ashamed of me. Please forgive me."

They sat together for a while after that. He taught her some handy gaelic phrases and tried, to the best of his abilities, to give her some insight into the grammar of the language. He had an ear for languages, but to explain the rules of the languages was not his forte.

An hour passed amicably enough after his serious talk, but as the evening wore on, they both started stifling yawns. Argyle pulled out his dagger and quipped: "We'd best keep up appearances, don't you think, Rose?"

He went to the bed and made a huge mess of the bedclothes before nicking himself with his dagger and dropping a small amount of blood on the sheet. He rubbed his fingers back and forth to create the illusion of friction where the blood was. He tried explaining it to her, but found himself oddly bashful all of a sudden.

"It's... because of the... movement," he offered by way of explanation, blushing like a schoolboy. He waited until the small nick had stopped bleeding before wishing her a good night and apologizing for the messed up bedclothes.

Back in his bedroom, and the absence of Catherine's picture was palpable. He caught himself seeking her out several times, and started realizing how much that picture, much as he loved Catherine, had kept him down. He went to bed with a much lighter heart than he could remember for a long time.

The Dream came again. Only this time, Catherine looked at him with a weary smile as she lay dying in his arms. 'Let us rest now, Argyle. You did what you could. It was just bad luck, and we were not meant to be for long'. She nodded to a point behind him, then closed her eyes with the same weary smile. Argyle turned. Rose was wearing the MacDoyle kilt and riding bareback on Thistle. She smiled and beckoned him closer as she got off the horse. She wrapped her arms around him and drew him into a long smoldering kiss. Suddenly she was on top of him and her hands snuck under his kilt and...

He woke up with a start. He did not feel like he usually did after the nightmare, because this hadn't been a nightmare. On the contrary, he felt oddly... vital again. And then a feeling half forgotten made itself known. He looked down at the tenting sheet. His manhood was rock hard.

The morning after, he actually smiled on the way down to breakfast, and though he tended towards sombre colours anyway, he did not dress in mourning black. He hoped to find Rose there as he wanted to go riding with her today.

 

[Perplexia]

Staring at the book Rose was in deep thought about the days occurrences and her dream. The dream was so real she could still feel his hands possessing her in a lover's embrace. She could still feel his lips upon her, his tongue entering and dancing with hers in such a passion she ached for it to be real. ‘My god i’m losing my mind’ she told herself. ‘He hates me for forcing him to be married again, I can't blame him. It’s not his fault he’s stuck with me, it's that bitch sister of mine. Why do I feel the need to wrap my arms around him and hug him tight, tell him I understand and will stay out of sight so he can forget I'm here.’

Tears came to her eyes and she growled in frustration. A knock came to her door and she wiped them quickly staring back at her book. “Come in” she mumbled trying to recompose herself. Rose was surprised that it was Argyle. She had thought he’d have enough of her. “May I” he asked pointing to the chair, she nodded and he sat.

"First of all," he began, "you asked me if you can ride Thistle. I did not answer you then because I... was lost in thought. If she is willing to bear you, then yes. She seems to like you. But I will be there on your first attempt, you hear me Rose?” she nodded as he continued.” She has thrown several riders whose profession it is to master horses. But she trusts me. If this is agreeable to you, then yes, you may ride her."

“thank you” she replied softly. Was he really willing to spend more time in her presence? ‘He's Probably just doing this because he felt bad for his abrupt behavior.’ Rose told herself.

"I acted like a damn fool this afternoon. I brushed you off when you were only trying to tell me it was OK. I- och, you need to understand something. Catherine and Murran... they died by my hand." Rose closed the book softly, not bothering to mark her page to listen to his confession.

"It was an accident. Catherine was in labour, something was wrong, the midwife needed my help. I'll spare you the details, but thanks to my hand slipping, my wee bairn was killed outright and my wife followed soon after. I held her as she died, asking about our baby and afraid of dying."
It took all she had not to get up to comfort him. She just wanted to wrap her arms around him and tell him it was okay. But it seemed like this was something he needed to do for himself, on his own.

"At the inquest I was cleared of any blame, even commended for trying to save them. They might very well have died anyway, but still... Och, I've been going in circles about this ever since."

"Now you don't look anything like Catherine, not at all. But in spirit you might have been sisters, twins even. And as you can imagine, that's a wee bit confusing."

New breath. Now came the hardest part. "But none of that is your fault. And though you assured me it's alright, I still feel like I need to apologize for my behaviour. I feel like I ruined your first day here. Catherine would have been ashamed of me. Please forgive me."

“First of all,” she started giving a soft smile. “I cannot say that I know what you’re going through, very few probably could. But I do understand grief. I understand what it feels like to lose someone who meant so much to you. The thought of never seeing them again wrenches your gut in such a way that you think or wish you could die just to see them again in the heavens, if they do exist. So Argyle thank you for your comparison of my and Catherine's demure. It is a great honor to be compared to her in any light.”

The talk turned to lighter stuff, he taught her some more galic. She thought she picked it up rather well, but it was quite different from the latin based languages she was used to. Still she was determined to do her best to learn it.

She watched as he messed up the sheets and sliced his hand, messing it about them and her night dress. He explained to her the reason and she nodded. As he bid her goodnight she wished him a good sleep.

Sighing she stripped from her dress and put on the bloody night dress, wiping a bit on her legs. She let her hair down and tousled it about making a mess of it. Sucking on her bottom lip she made it swell then she rang for Isabel. “I need a bath please, and the linen changed.”
Isabel looked around the room, looked at Rose and blushed. “Yes my lady right away”.
Mary had no doubt that by morning the whole castle would be a buzz about the consummation of their marriage.

Rose looked out the window while the staff was busy in her room. Her thoughts again went to that dream. After they left she stripped and went into the tub. The hot water wiping away the little smudges she made visible. As she thought about Argyle the way he smiled, the way he held her in her dream her hands wandered between her thighs absentmindedly. She rubbed her aching clit for the first time, never had anyone stirred the urge in her until him. It came as a shock when she cummed, her body writhing in the water in euphoric ecstasy as she reached climax. It was the most incredible feeling she’d ever had.

“Fuck” she exclaimed try to catch her breath as her after shock orgasms still writhed through her body. ‘What would mother Mary say about this?’ she asked, breaking out in laughter.

When she slept she dreamt again of Argyle, them riding together. Dancing in the pasture, the feel of his strong arms wrapped around her, falling to the ground in laughter. The laughter stops as they look into each other's eyes. He slowly comes closer rolling on top of her. His lips touch hers softly then deepens the kiss. His hand sliding up her dress, reaching that spot she found in the bath. He rubs it, getting her close to that pinnacle point and climbs on top of her. ‘I love you’ he says as he pushes himself into her. Rose wakes with an aching clit. Her breasts as well eager for his touch, and his mouth.

Isabel is opening the curtains, the sun shining into the room like the devil's fiery pit of hell. Rose grumbles. “Are ye sore miLady” she asks in her broken accent. “Oui” she answers in french. “I mean yes” she said. But she wasn’t sore from what Isabel perceived.

Isabel asked her which dress, she told her green. The corset was torture on her hard nipples. The pain caused them to retract and any reminisce of the passionate dreams effect diminished. Her hair was done a little differently, it seemed Isabel had a knack for winding up her long black hair into a fashionable style.

She made her way down to breakfast and smiled when she saw Argyle, a blush creeping to her cheeks. “Good Morning Husband,” she said sweetly. Taking her seat she dished out a hearty meal. The first thing she noticed was that he wasn’t wearing black, the dark circles under his eyes had diminished, and he was smiling.

“Shall we continue our walk today Argyle?” his name said so sweetly as if they were lovers.

 

[Niceandbrutal]

“Good Morning Husband,”

Her voice was sweet and melodious, and she even managed to blush convincingly. He had to hand it to her: she was a consummate actress. He felt a pang of regret that this was only them putting up an act. He looked her over unabashedly, like any loving husband would. She was undeniably beautiful, and Isabel apparently did wonders with her hair.

Isabel sat at the table with them, uncharacteristically preoccupied with her food. A smile played across her lips, at the same time shy, happy, and knowledgeable. Ah. Of course. The sheets. Well done, Rose. It suddenly dawned on him why everyone had greeted him with such sunny demeanours today.

“Shall we continue our walk today Argyle?”

He smiled. "It's not that I mean to contradict you every day, Rose. But I thought maybe we could see if Thistle'd be willing to carry you today." At that there were a few gasps from Isabel and Robert, who'd entered the dining room to relay a message to Argyle.

"Do you think that wise, My Lord," Isabel piped up, with Robert nodding fervently in support. Argyle just smiled at them. "You didn't see them together in the pasture yesterday. Thistle took to Rose right away. She walked right up to her and rested her head on her shoulders. Now who does that make you think of?"

Argyle shrugged. "Maybe Thistle just recognised a kindred spirit. After all, they are both named for beautiful flowers with thorns. And if I may say so, they both, in their own way, live up to their names," he finished with a smile directed at Rose. Argyle found this acting thing surprisingly easy. It didn't feel like acting at all, frankly.

Robert came forward and whispered something in Argyle's ear. Argyle nodded and thanked him, a pensive look on his face. After breakfast, Argyle approached Rose with an oddly formal air about him. "Rose, if you'll indulge me, there's something I'd like to show you, if you'll follow me."

He led her to the library and stopped before the door. "I'd like you to meet my late wife, Rose. Please follow me." He led her inside, and the picture of Catherine was hanging prominently in the library. A beautiful woman with a kind round face and a slender body greeted them. Her eyes were clear blue, and her freckled face was drawn into a bright smile. The woman was dressed in the MacDoyle clan colours. Sash and cape and skirt, and her wild red hair being adorned with a black beret adorned with an eagle pinion. Her jacket was deep green and her gloves bright white. Her hands were placed on her hips, and her body was fully facing the spectator.

"This is- was Catherine. My late wife. This is how I remember her in spirit anyway. The picture actually tells a lot about who she was and how she was." A wistful smile and a sigh. "You two are so much alike you'd either be the best of friends or mortal enemies. She wouldn't have wanted me to mourn for as long as I did. But I offer no excuse for loving someone. Still, life goes on and it's time to move on."

They stood in front of the picture for a while. It did not hold the same power over him any more. He still missed her to be sure, but it was a wistful longing now, not an acute pain.

Argyle snapped out of his reverie and looked at Rose again. It really was a pity their charade was not genuine, but forcing anything on anyone, like their so-called marriage, never made for good relationships.

"I think it's high time we made Thistle happy again. But I do think your dresses are a bit too elaborate for anything outdoors, if you don't mind me saying so. You are not at Versailles anymore. If I may be so bold, I suggest you forego anything too constricting like a corset and big dress." He paused.

"Now, you are a wee bit taller than her, but otherwise you and Catherine seem to be, um, of similar- similar build. If you want to, I am sure Isabel would help you find a less constricting outfit or so you can move more freely. This is Scotland. We value practicality and comfort more than elaborate outfits. But the choice is yours and I shan't hold it against you if you adhere to what you know. But as long as you conform to a standard of decency, you are more free to choose your dress than you might be elsewhere."

Later, in the pasture, and Thistle approached them before they even called her. Grazing nearby too was Claymore, Argyle's steed, a magnificent black stallion with a white flash on his forehead. Thistle greeted Rose with affection, and Argyle watched in wonder as she allowed them to put on her saddle and her bit and reins. He held Thistle as Rose mounted her and was astounded to see her accepting Rose without so much as a protest.

"Life is for the living," Argyle muttered to himself as he watched Rose and Thistle become one as rider and horse. They made a few rounds to familiarize themselves, and Argyle was happy to see how happy Thistle was, carrying Rose. Rose seemed to have the same way with the horse as Catherine did, and there was nothing for it.

Argyle strode out to the pair and stroked Thistle's flank. "She has chosen you, Rose. You now own a horse. I expect you to take care of her and look after her, for a horse is only as good as its rider. Owning her means loving her and taking care of her. Isn't that right, Claymore?"

The black stallion was nudging Argyle affectionately and impatiently, clearly feeling neglected. Robert and one of the stable boys came up with Claymore's saddle, bits, and reins, and a knapsack containing lunch. They saddled Claymore that seemed to understand he was going for a ride. Claymore tripped impatiently while they saddled him, and Argyle knew he had to indulge the horse.

Mounting Claymore, and Argyle said, " Claymore here just needs to get something out of his system." And with that, Argyle let out a fierce "Go Claymore! Show me what you got!" With that, Claymore exploded into action, getting release from some pent up energy.

A black streak thundered across the moor, rider and horse moving as one, both yelling with raw unbridled joy for life, for the sweet fresh air whipping them, for the sun warming them, for the clear blue sky above them, and for the beauty of the rugged country they both loved so much.

They cleared a few fences in impressive jumps and came back to the others. Argyle was flustered and laughing a hearty carefree laugh, bringing tears to Robert's eyes. With an apologetic smile, Argyle just said "Claymore always likes showing himself off to the ladies. Don't you, Claymore?"

He patted him affectionately and reached for the knapsack. "If you would indulge me Rose, I would like to show you that hunting lodge I was talking about. The weather is fine, the horses are raring to go, we have lunch with us, and a grand day ahead of us. What do you say, Dear Wife?"

He was only putting on a show for appearances' sake, but something stirred in him when he called her "Dear wife". Something not at all unpleasant. Confused but happy, he set off with Rose on horseback towards the hunting lodge

It was a perfect day for a ride. The sun was kissing the land and no clouds were to be seen. A gentle breeze cooled horses and riders as they trotted along roads and paths.

It was five miles each way, and the lodge was at the end of a scenic route through pastures and forests and up the hills near the mountains. The lodge, overlooking a big lake filled with trout, was big enough to house a sizable hunting party, and one single person could live very comfortably there.

Robert watched the pair of them go with a sly, knowing smile. They had fooled everyone else, but not him. He knew they hadn't consummated anything just like he knew the sun would rise and set. He knew his Lord too well, sometimes even better than Argyle knew himself. The joke was on them, Robert thought. Neither had wanted this marriage and they apparently had agreed to putting up a facade for a time. But in doing so, they had started developing real feelings for each other. It was all there if you knew what to look for: the smiles, the glances, the uncertain pauses.

Robert couldn't help himself. He laughed, a clear merry laughter over the folly of youth and the power of love. He walked back to the castle, laughing, his merriment affecting everyone that crossed his path. Castle Argyle mourned no more.

 

[Perplexia]

"It's not that I mean to contradict you every day, Rose. But I thought maybe we could see if Thistle'd be willing to carry you today."

“Not at all a contradiction, I was hoping you’d want to do that.”

Rose’s eyes looked to those that gasped as Argyle promptly explained her instant connection with the horse. She even smiled back at him when he mentioned her and Thistle being kindred spirits wondering if he meant it, or if it were just to legitimize what they thought went on behind her bedroom door last evening.

Following his request she finished her last bite and rose to follow her husband’s request to follow him. Her emotions were mixed when he showed her to the library to show him the picture of Catherine. She was truly a beautiful woman and Rose could tell her spirit was strong. It was also apparent that as Argyle stood staring at her the agony that had washed over him yesterday had lightened, or perhaps disappeared.

But what was this other emotion? Could it be jealousy? Jealous of a woman that held so much power over the man that still mourned her, or at least still loved her? It’s not like she had to compete with her, Argyle had quickly agreed they would put up a marriage façade. It’s not like she wanted it to be real, or did she? As they stood in silence Rose was internally arguing with herself. Asking what did the dream mean, why was she so happy to be in his company? Why did she continue to ask him for walks? Of course yesterday was to broach the topic about the marital bed. But she had truly enjoyed it, and what was today about?

He interrupted her thoughts by saying "I think it's high time we made Thistle happy again. But I do think your dresses are a bit too elaborate for anything outdoors, if you don't mind me saying so. You are not at Versailles anymore. If I may be so bold, I suggest you forgo anything too constricting like a corset and big dress."
He paused for a moment then added "Now, you are a wee bit taller than her, but otherwise you and Catherine seem to be, um, of similar- similar build. If you want to, I am sure Isabel would help you find a less constricting outfit or so you can move more freely. This is Scotland. We value practicality and comfort more than elaborate outfits. But the choice is yours and I shan't hold it against you if you adhere to what you know. But as long as you conform to a standard of decency, you are more free to choose your dress than you might be elsewhere."

Rose had to carefully choose her words first; he had her painting hung in what she had hoped would be her sanctuary, and now he wanted her to wear her clothes. “Thank you my Laird for the generous offer, but I do have riding attire. I shall go and change and be right back down to go for our ride.” She gave a light curtsy and walked quickly to her room. Rose talked herself out of her anger, he certainly was only being kind. She was sure he meant no offense, just wanted her to be comfortable. Why was she being so overdramatic today?
When she came back down she greeted him with a smile. She was wearing skin tight britches, a white ruffled shirt under a navy blue coat with a split tail in the back. “I used to wear this for hunting with my brother, probably not appropriate for women to wear britches here either, I suppose. But I do find it allows greater control of the horse, and less things to worry about getting tangled or ripped. With your permission I’ll have some more appropriate attire commissioned.”

“Don’t worry Argyle, I shall take excellent care of her. I think a morning ride is required everyday, don't you Thistle”, she asked the horse who responded and moved her head up and down as if to agree. Rose laughed and smiled “See”.

She watched as he rode Claymore with the speed of light, half tempted to have Thistle do the same. But she needed a moment or two to talk with her new horse and become accustomed to her stride and preferences. Rose had never been afraid of riding, or horses, and had always taught them with the love and respect they needed.

Rose laughed when he commented on Claymore liking to show off for the ladies. "If you would indulge me Rose, I would like to show you that hunting lodge I was talking about. The weather is fine, the horses are raring to go, we have lunch with us, and a grand day ahead of us. What do you say, Dear Wife?"

“I say lead the way dear husband, I shall follow you anywhere” The statement surprised her probably as much as it did him. Especially since she hadn't looked to see if anyone was around or watching. She was simply staring into his eyes. She blushed and smiled and urged Thistle forward and they began the trek to the Hunting lodge.

The lodge was gorgeous, could easily be mistaken as a small manor for the size of it. When they reached it she waited for Argyle to help her down. His strong hands gripping her and bringing her down so close she could feel the warmth of his body. Yet she stayed there for a moment before taking a step back. It had been the closest she’d been to him.

Smiling, she tied up Thistle and unsaddled the horse herself without hesitating a moment. There ya go girl, she said affectionately wiping her down with her gloved hand. With a kiss on the horse's nose she began walking down to the lake. “It’s gorgeous” she exclaimed, assuming Argyle was near. “It is perfect for swimming, and fishing”. Rose wondered if Argyle would find it odd that she preferred the beauty of the lake over the curiosity of what the lodge may look like on the inside.

Being too overcome by the natural beauty of this place she didn’t watch her step and slipped landing on her butt. She let out a laugh and giggled over the silliness of it. That was until she tried to stand. The laughter and smile disappeared as the pain from her ankle registered across her features. “Probably just a sprain, nothing to fret about” she said out loud, not sure who she was trying to convince, herself or him. “And here you were worried of me being thrown from Thistle, apparently your worries should have been over me trying to walk.” she let out another laugh trying to spread that reassurance to herself or him.

 

[Niceandbrutal]

Arriving at the lodge after a pleasant ride through picturesque scenery with a woman whose beauty easily matched the landscape they passed was the best time Argyle had had since... well, before he was a widower.

His train of thought stopped for a second when he realized that his mind had not automatically conjured up Catherine's name or face like it used to. Still, he felt that he could do more to exorcise the ghost of his late wife. He was sure her parents would love to have her picture, and her clothes could be distributed to the needy. His mind felt lighter just thinking about it and so it was decided.

He had no illusions about sharing his life with Rose however, much as that thought was intruding on him more and more. She had made her wish perfectly clear and she had eagerly accepted his offer of a one year pro forma marriage for her freedom.

They got along well enough, though, and he did not think anything else would come of this until he helped her off Thistle. She was light as a feather to him, and he was trying not to ogle her in her riding britches. But as he let her go she remained close to him, and she gave him a brief unguarded look, or so it seemed to him. And in that look was a glint of something elusive that had him question his judgment.

It was a brief moment that passed quickly as she stepped away to care for Thistle, but for a moment he'd had the feeling she wouldn't have objected if he'd leaned in and kissed her.

He chastised himself for indulging in wishful thinking as he unsaddled Claymore. He'd usually let the horses go to pasture, but the ground hid several rabbit burrows and a person had to watch their step here, so a horse wouldn't stand a chance.

As soon as the thought struck him, he looked around. Rose was past the lodge, exclaiming about the beauty of the landscape. He hurried to catch up and was about to yell a warning when she fell. He winced as he from a distance saw the way her right leg bent inward as she fell.

Her laughter washed over him and he heaved a sigh of relief. It wasn't that bad. Still, he was again too late to warn her from standing up. Her leg buckled, but she remained standing and making self effacing jokes, though her face was a grimace of pain.

"I was going to warn you, Rose, but I was too late. The meadow between the lodge and the loch are criss-crossed with rabbit burrows. You need to step carefully. Och well, no sense in crying over spilt milk. I need to get you inside the house. We have bandages there. Put your arms around my neck, Rose."

And with that, he swept her off her feet and held her in his arms and carried her to the lodge. Carrying her like this necessitated a physical closeness hitherto unknown between them. He was acutely aware of how close her face was to his and how warm and soft her body felt against his.

Inside the lodge now, and he gently, reluctantly put her down on a couch. It may have been a trick of his mind, but her arms seemed to linger just a little bit before she let go of his neck. He went to the storeroom to get bandages and returned quickly by her side.

"I'm not going to sugarcoat it, Rose. This is going to hurt. But you're a strong lass. You can take it." He gently grasped her riding boot and started prying it off her injured foot. It was slow arduous going, but eventually he managed to remove it.

Her right ankle was swollen to such an extent that putting the boot back on was a losing proposition. Argyle gently manipulated her foot, watching her face for clues about where it hurt the most. He also put his ear to her skin to listen for grinding bone fragments.

Satisfied that it was nothing more than a sprain, he started bandaging her foot, trying and failing to ignore the warmth, smoothness, and softness of her skin, and how dainty and delicate her foot seemed to him.

Finished, he insisted on them having lunch before heading back. He arranged for her foot to be elevated, using pillows, being acutely aware of the beauty of her body in the more revealing riding clothes. Argyle had a favourable bodily reaction to her appearance he hoped his own riding britches would hide.

He dragged the couch with her in it to the large window overlooking the lake, and while they ate he told her about how he had broken, not sprained his ankle one fine summer morning as a young lad, and how Robert had carried him to the house, cursing up a storm about reckless young lords.

"So you have been well and truly initiated into the exclusive club of Loch Anklebane," he said with a cheeky wink before laughingly admitting that it was in fact named Loch MacDoyle.

After their meal and a quick rest, where Argyle taught her the words for "sprained ankle" and "broken ankle" in gaelic, he started considering their return to Castle Argyle. He came to a decision and would not be contradicted on it: they would share Claymore so he could ensure she came to no further harm.

He went outside and saddled both horses and tied Thistle's reins off on Claymore's saddle. He led both horses to the entrance of the lodge, and carried Rose in his arms outside. He helped her into the saddle on Claymore, and Thistle seemed to understand what had happened and assisted in nudging Rose into a safe and steady position.

Argyle then jumped up on Claymores bare back and helped Rose hook her right leg around the pommel on the saddle while her left leg remained in the stirrup. Argyle scooted as close to the saddle as he could and hooked his right foot into the free stirrup. He hooked his left arm around her waist and told her to hold on tight while he commanded Claymore to gently start walking.

Claymore, being no less clever than Thistle, obeyed, and the return to Castle Argyle went at a slow but steady pace. Thistle trotted along, poking and nudging Rose whenever it seemed her seating was less than ideal, fretting over her like she was an injured foal.

Argyle did his best to keep her spirits up and her mind away from the pain by regaling her with historical and personal anecdotes about the landscapes they traversed, and he even burst into a few songs along the way, galic and english both. All the while he was watching her and, along with Thistle, making sure her position was the best. Truth be known, though, he was more than a little distracted not to say aroused by their closeness and by how their bodies were mashed together.

Time and distance went by at a fair pace given the circumstances, and soon the towers of Castle Argyle could be seen. "We are there now, my lady. In a short while we'll have you safe and snug in bed, then we'll call the doctor to ensure it's just a sprain." He did not stop to reflect on his usage of "my lady" as a possessive term instead of a recognition of rank. It just came natural for him to call her that.

In the courtyard of the castle, he called for help. Isabel and Robert came running, and they got her off the saddle and straight into his arms. Isabel leading the way, he carried her up to her room while Robert sent for the doctor. In her room, she was gently lowered down on the bed. Argyle, though strong, still marveled at how light she was. He felt sure he could have carried her around all day if need be.

He waited in her room with her, only interrupted by Isabel shooing him out while helping Rose out of her riding clothes. Only after the doctor had examined her did he excuse himself to see to the books and to have a talk with Robert about sending the picture of Rose back to her parents and for her clothes to be distributed among the less fortunate.

Robert smiled and with a saintly face informed Argyle that preparations for that had been started the moment they left for the lodge. Argyle looked at Robert, incredulous. "I know you're not a damn fool My Lord, just not always the most quick witted among us," the old fox said, still with that innocent smile on his face.

Robert continued, "Aye, My Lord, sharp as a thistle you're not. If you were, you'd see what was right in front of you as plain as day." Argyle asked, demanded, begged go know what in the name of Heaven Robert was talking about, but the old man smiled enigmatically and said, "Some mysteries we need to solve on our own, long though it may take us." And after that, Argyle couldn't get another word out of his valet on the matter.

With an annoyed shrug, Argyle attended to the books, but in the end he had to call in the steward, MacGregor, to finish them for him, as his mind kept wandering to the North tower and its inhabitant.

Argyle went to the kitchen and arranged for two meals to be prepared and sent up to the North tower. Then he accompanied the kitchen aides carrying them up to Rose's room and knocked before entering. He set her tray on the nightstand and helped her get comfortable to eat while the kitchen aides on his orders moved the reading table and a chair close to her bed so he could sit and dine with her.

After the aides had excused themselves, peace and quiet settled in the room. And all he could think of to ask was, "How are you feeling, Rose," mesmerized as he was by her beauty and the memory of her body against his.

 

[Perplexia]

"I was going to warn you, Rose, but I was too late. The meadow between the lodge and the loch are criss-crossed with rabbit burrows. You need to step carefully. Och well, no sense in crying over spilt milk. I need to get you inside the house. We have bandages there. Put your arms around my neck, Rose."

Rose laughed lightly, “Gotta be quick on your feet” she teased him, obeying his request and wrapping her arms around his neck. God his arms felt like she had dreamt. Even though they had been riding his aroma was intoxicating.

When he set her down in the lodge it took her a moment to disengage from him. She simply didn’t want to let go. She didn’t want the feeling of being in his arms to disappear.

While she waited for him to return from getting bandages, she looked around the interior of the lodge. If he really wanted her to leave at her year's end, this would be a suitable alternative. Rose had thought that was what she wanted, especially after he so quickly gave her the option, and their first meeting.
But he had seemingly changed, became more.. Well more. Everything was more with him now. ‘Stupid Dreams’ she told herself. Rose snapped out of her thoughts when he spoke.

"I'm not going to sugarcoat it, Rose. This is going to hurt. But you're a strong lass. You can take it." He gently grasped her riding boot and started prying it off her injured foot. It was slow arduous going, but eventually he managed to remove it.

Rose gritted her teeth as he removed the boot, and let out a deep breath when it was finally off. Though when he touched her swollen blob of an ankle she about came off of the couch. Still she managed not to curse or yell at him. Though it did take a great deal of restraint on her part. His wrapping of it however, was gentle and careful.

She did manage to laugh at his corny joke about being initiated. On the few occasions he caught her looking at him she smiled blushed and went back to eating the lunch he brought with them. They chatted and she learned more galic. When he decided to have her ride with him, she thought that was best. She wasn’t sure the horse would let anyone near them with Rose injured on her back. Protective nature of a kindred spirit and all.

As he placed her on Claymore, Thistle would nudge her pushing her in a better position. It was adorable that the horse took to her so quickly. With the ride home started she leaned back against him as he talked, the sound of his voice was soothing for her. It was hard to believe she’d only been here three days, yet she was becoming so attached to him, this place, and of course Thistle.

When they reached home he carried her upstairs with no effort, again she didn’t want to let him go. But Isabel pushed him from the room so she could put her in her night dress. As soon as she was dressed he was back at her side till the doctor left confirming it was just a sprain. She was ordered off of it, keep it elevated, ice and cold compress’. Once the doctor left, Argyle did as well. She wanted to call after him,
‘no don’t go’. But she knew he had things to see too.

When he came back later with the kitchen aides bringing up their dinner he asked "How are you feeling, Rose,". She smiled at him, shaking her head slightly. After the aides left she spoke. “I’m fine dear husband, it’s only a sprain I've endured far worse. But I will tell you I learned my lesson, I’ll now look for those rabbit holes” she let out a laugh.

“How’s Thistle? Were you able to get your work done? If there’s ever anything you want help with I’m quite good with numbers, and writing letters. I know it’s probably not a woman's place, but I thought I'd offer. Other than reading there’s nothing else I can do for a few days”

Her hand brushed his hand after he got her sitting up for dinner. It was almost like a magnetic pull just drawn her to him. “I appreciate your kindness to me, your patience in teaching me gallic, taking time out of your day to show me around. I know you don’t want me here. I honestly didn't think I'd want to be here. But this whole place is simply breathtaking, I can’t imagine any place that is so tailored to my tastes and preferences..” ’or anyone’ Rose wanted to add.

She wanted to apologize for dredging up memories that haunted him so deeply, truly she thought they’d simply ignore each other for all but formal events. But she wanted to be in his company, and wanted to feel his arms wrapped around her.

 

[Niceandbrutal]

“I appreciate your kindness to me, your patience in teaching me gallic, taking time out of your day to show me around. I know you don’t want me here. I honestly didn't think I'd want to be here. But this whole place is simply breathtaking, I can’t imagine any place that is so tailored to my tastes and preferences..”

He frowned. "I never said I didn't want you here. I DID think keeping up appearances with you would be hard because of... och, you ken what I am talking about. Catherine."

He had to pause. It was only the third day she was here, and in that short time he'd been wrenched out of his grief which he'd clung to almost out of habit and... comfort, he realized.

He took a deep breath before he continued: "But I don't know who has shown the most kindness to whom. I've been torn away from a very unhealthy frame of mind by your mere presence and some less than gentle prodding by Robert, my valet. But it was needed."

"Coming from Versailles, the centre of modernity and culture, I'd suspect you'd turn tail and run out of here given half a chance. I have to tell you, Rose, I am absolutely delighted you have taken to Scotland like you have. It's a rugged and unforgiving land, to be sure. But beautiful beyond measure. And don't worry about Thistle. She knows you're going to be OK."

"As for you helping keeping the books-" He cut himself off. He was babbling. He was avoiding something.

"I was never good at this," he said, deflating. "The heart of the matter is this, Rose: I find your company extremely pleasant. You're not afraid to speak your mind and you are at the same time kind and, I suspect, generous. I find our pretending in front of the others to be almost frighteningly easy, almost as if we were actually..."

The words were out and could not be rescinded. "I think I shall miss you when the year is over...." he muttered, preparing himself for a fit of rage he was sure would follow.

 

[Perplexia]

"Honestly Argyle, I'd planned on running. Had my escape plan set up in my head, but then you came in proposed the façade for a year. But soon i discovered getting out of Versailles was the best thing that could happen to me." she sighed. "The only person other than my mother, half brother and occasionally my father, but normally cause he was cross, that has every treated me with kindness, and respect without trying to see what he could get is you. The only way out of there was to get married. Can you even begin to imagine being dragged to every royal affair where your sister would promptly point out how you didn't belong? Or how the queen would shoot daggers' your way because the king preferred the company of your mother? Let us not forget those that wanted to marry me with the dollar signs in their eyes from a dowry the King could provide, or simply thought they could tame me to be a proper wife. I was so so exhausted from the constant parade of suitors, and reprimands. It was such the norm, i didn't even realize how much pleasure I'd have without it." she sighed for a moment and looked into his eyes.

"You were not who I was expecting, you were not what I was expecting, the way i.. feel when I'm around you, it confuses me. I do remember that you said if I want to go when the year is up I could. But with the way I feel at this moment. The way I feel when we spend time together...I don't want to go." A tear slid down her cheek. "I am so sorry you were forced to marry me against your will. But i am not sorry that i was forced to marry you."

Taking his hand she held it for a moment and looked into his eyes. "I am not saying I am ready for the marital duties, but I most certainly would not object to you courting me. To us truly getting to know each other, learning about each others idiosyncrasies If that would be something you thought you might be interested in."

 

[Niceandbrutal]

Her admission that she had an escape plan ready amused Argyle more than anything but it didn't really surprise him, but his brow creased as she told about her approximation of life at Versailles. Noble life and royal life could be a very cut-throat business indeed.

His heart swelled with pride and humility when she confessed she liked Scotland and her current circumstances as much as she did. He did not interject or interrupt while she spoke, because he felt like she was leading up to something important.

And he was not wrong. He was startled to see a tear running down her cheek as she started pouring out her heart to him, and her delicate hand was warm and strong when she seized his hand and revealed her tentative feelings for him.

On one level, Argyle had suspected the feelings were there, but he hadn't on a conscious level dared hope that there might be any interest there. On top of this, her feelings were tempered by caution, something he understood only too well.

 

[Niceandbrutal]

Her admission that she had an escape plan ready amused Argyle more than anything but it didn't really surprise him, but his brow creased as she told about her approximation of life at Versailles. Noble life and royal life could be a very cut-throat business indeed.

His heart swelled with pride and humility when she confessed she liked Scotland and her current circumstances as much as she did. He did not interject or interrupt while she spoke, because he felt like she was leading up to something important.

And he was not wrong. He was startled to see a tear running down her cheek as she started pouring out her heart to him, and her delicate hand was warm and strong when she seized his hand and revealed her tentative feelings for him.

On one level, Argyle had suspected the feelings were there, but he hadn't on a conscious level dared hope that there might be any interest there. On top of this, her feelings were tempered by caution, something he understood only too well.

"First of all, Rose, I want to thank you for being frank with me. From what you've told me, and reading between the lines, I understand that it's not easy for you to be this forthright, and I don't blame you. Secrets of the heart, once out, can not be revoked."

He paused. This next bit was not going to be easy, but she deserved nothing but the truth, and fortunately he could back it up with her father's letters. "Now, your dear father wrote me a couple of months ago. He told me he'd have to foreclose a loan, with compounded interest. He told me he KNEW Dunbar was of limited means and he'd HATE for us to beg the english for help, especially since we'd gone behind their backs and approached their old enemy for a loan. HOWEVER, he was willing to forgive the loan IF I could take an embarassment off his hands. Those were his words."

Tears were not far from his eyes as he continued: "He told me of you and the altercation with your darling sister, Ann, and how you'd spurned every suitor he'd chosen for you, and again, in his own words, how much of an embarassment you'd turned out to be. And would I take you off his hands, all debts forgiven? I am ashamed to say I leapt at the chance to be rid of the debt owed, both for the people of Dunbar and myself."

He paused. "I can show you the letters he wrote so you know I'm not lying to you. Anyway, I thought it would be a marriage in name only, and I wanted to keep up appearances for a year before we went our separate ways for both our sakes. I did it for the people of Dunbar. It seems one good turn deserves another," he added with a bemused smile as he shyly looked at her.

Pause again as she digested this. The truth could hurt. But truth must out. "Now like you, I didn't think of this marriage as anything but a sham. But then the most unexpected thing happened. You cracked my armour. I had draped myself in grief for years, and your forthrightness and your spirit made me start to question my choices since Catherine's death. You remind me of her in some ways like I've told you, and more importantly, looking at how you derived pleasure from such simple things as flowers, trees, wee little bunnies and squirrels, and the landscape made me realize I was throwing my good years away, mourning something that couldn't be undone. You managed in two days what family and friends hadn't in three years."

New pause while he collected his thoughts, then: "I have tender feelings for you, Rose. There's no denying it. When I helped you off Thistle today I had an urge and an impulse to kiss you. There was a look in your eyes I now think I understand better. The fear I felt when I saw you fall, the relief I felt when you laughed and stood up again... there's no denying it. I am falling for you, Rose. And I would be proud to court you and to get to know you properly."

A wry smile. "I am not going to deny that seeing you in your riding gear made me think of certain 'marital duties', as you call them. But I agree, we wait until we're both sure that we want one another like that, and until we're both ready."

He lifted her hand and gently kissed it. "There's many more things we need to discuss, Rose. But for now I am content to just be in your presence and talk with you."

 

[Perplexia]

Like Argyle, Rose sat and listened to what he had to say without interruption. When he was finished she smiled softly not releasing his hand.

"There is nothing for you to be ashamed of Argyle, the letters aren't necessary I believe you, My father took advantage of your misfortune and you had to do what needed to be done to save Dunbar, and the people. It is your responsibility as their leader to ensure the best for them, and do what needs to be done. In the same position I would do the same. It is my father that should be ashamed for hoping that out of sight, out of mind would somehow make me regret my actions. Or if given the same circumstances in the future would think twice about doing them again. Apparently, he doesn't know me that well. Because if I ever see her again, she'll be lucky if all I do is punch her." Rose beamed and laughed lightly, not at all ashamed of the black eye and broken nose her sister received.

"If we are in admissions, "I thought you hated me after yesterdays walk because I brought you such agony. But your visit last night showed a change from the first time I met you." she paused for a moment. "I have never longed to be in the company of anyone other than my brother. Yet the longing was different, my desire to talk and learn from you different, I would have even taken sitting in silence and reading a book." Rose considered what else he said and she blushed " I must admit had you kissed me, I would have welcomed it, when you carried me, i didn't want to leave your arms." she blushed deeper red.

"This whole concept is new to me. I have been rejecting suitors like they carried the plague. They all had ulterior motives, none could deal with a woman whose mind equaled, or in most cases was greater than their own. Then of course the macho ones that thought beating me into submission would work. I never thought I'd get married, or find someone that I wanted to be my best friend. The society in Versailles wanted women to remain the weaker sex. A woman should be meek, and be able to be placed in a box, with no opinions of her own, and only taken out to breed and show off what a good little pet they'd obtained. I guess my point is, until I met you, I never met anyone with the same passions and appreciation for the beauty around them. Majority simply take it for advantage and think its their god given right to possess and destroy it."

"I sincerely look forward to seeing what happens in five minutes, the next hour, the next day, week and so on. I am open to giving us a chance."

 

[Niceandbrutal]

"I never hated you, Rose. I thought you might hate me the first time I saw you, and if you did I wouldn't blame you. For all you knew I was a lecherous old lord more interested in the contents of your breetches and your dowry than in you as a person. And I thought all french women of noble birth were," and here he added a mocking voice, amplified by his scottish accent, "frail wee blossoms that fainted if they heard coarse language or walked for longer than five minutes."

He beamed at her. "But you proved me wrong, Rose. With your spirit you might as well have been born in the Highlands. And that is high praise from a scotsman! You proved me wrong on another more profound thing: I was convinced I'd never be happy or in love again... that is... och, you ken what I'm saying. Is it very wrong of me to say I'm glad you rejected all your suitors? Because I am. You're a grand lass, Rose, and your suitors were fools not to see it, not to see you for who you are. And I can't wait to get to know you better."

They settled into a brief comfortable silence, still jolding hands. There were so many things he wanted to tell her, and so many things he wanted to ask her. He'd forgotten this part of the courtship, where feelings were new and tender like blossoming seeds in spring. But like the seeds, he knew they could be nurtured and grow strong.

"Tell me something about yourself and I shall tell you something about me. I could tell you how my betrothal with Catherine was against both our wills and that we started out hating each other like the plague, if you tell me a story from Versailles."

He added with a smile: "And don't think I've forgotten what you said about wanting to answer that kiss I almost gave you!"

 

[Perplexia]

Rose couldn't help but laugh at his mock Scotsman impression of a French woman. "yes well you were supposed to be a barbaric caveman" she giggled and added "I'm so glad you weren't, and I am looking forward to getting to know you better also." She had never felt like this before. It was as wonderful as seeing the grounds for the first time. She was elated, happy, and scared at the possibilities that awaited them.

The silence between them was comfortable, just as she said reading a book in silence with him would be. She was out of her element, never had gotten to a point of what was or wasn't able to expect. "you already know so much about me." she said with a bashful smile. "My brother Henry, you'd like him, you're very similar.. He is probably the only thing I miss from that place. He's probably the one to blame for teaching me to ride, how to fence, shoot, and how to have an independent way about me. I think he wanted a brother, and my sister, well she was a princess and would be the first to remind you of that." she let out a laugh.

"I on the other hand, I was the one she was jealous of, perhaps because I wouldn't have to be a princess, or held to the same expectations. Or perhaps it was simply because the only value she had was her title, and yet I had the suitors." She rolled her eyes. "I wonder if perhaps my father thought i would either come crawling back a reformed woman, or that he could pawn me off to the next person that he could take advantage of their misfortunes. I think he knew that if you offered me the year, I was less likely to take off."

She smiled, "I haven't forgotten my laird", she said with the tone of claiming him as hers rather than a title. "But I do have two favors to ask of you. I need a bath, I smell of horse and dirt, and I don't think Isabell is strong enough to get me in and out without injuring me further or dropping me all together. I know we aren't familiar in that way yet, but your the only person I trust. Second, I would very much like to share a bed with you tonight. Just laying, and talking until we pass out. I think that part of me is afraid if I wake up it will have been a dream. I feel like we've came so far this evening, I'm just not ready to part ways yet." Rose blushed at the favors she asked of him. But she had never been one to pull punches, and she wasn't going to start now. Besides, she very much missed the feeling of his arms around her.

 

[Niceandbrutal]

Her willingness to open up to him like she'd done, to admit her feelings so freely further endeared her to him. Even though he was familiar with the ways of married couples, it didn't mean he wasn't bashful around Rose. But her requests were not unreasonable, and furthermore they came from the heart and from wanting to grow more familiar with him.

"Rose, your trust in me at such an early stage of our courtship is humbling because it speaks volumes of your trust in me. I accept and will obey your requests but with one caveat: I will most likely grow aroused sharing the bed with you. Now, I am not a slavering beast and a mindless slave to my passions, but in sleep I may inadvertently grow very... enthusiastic about lying next to you. If you feel any attempt at... intrusion, wake me up, for two reasons: I do not want to violate you against your will, and if you decide after all that you want to... lay with me like husband and wife, I want to be awake when it happens!" He said the last bit blushing, but with a sincere, self-effacing smile.

They called for Isabel and explained what was going to happen, and she busied herself with filling Rose's bathtub. Argyle turned his back while Isabel helped Rose undress and when Isabel softly said Rose was ready, Argyle MacDoyle, head of the Clan MacDoyle, 10th Earl of Dunbar, terror of Clan MacAngus turned around and blushed as a little schoolboy at the thought of seeing this woman naked.

He walked to the bed and slipped his hands under the covers, under her knees, and under her back. When he had a secure hold of her and she had her arms wrapped around his neck, and felt her so close and vulnerable to him, he whispered almost reverently, "I'm... you can... I'm ready to help you into the tub, Rose. You best remove the blanket lest we create more chores for Isabel and the maids."

And he lifted her clear off the bed like she was nothing more than a feather. His eyes inadvertently glanced down her body, but he quickly locked his eyes with hers, so enticingly close to him. The short glimpse he stole of her body was enough to confirm what he believed. She was as beautiful in body as she was in mind and spirit.

With Isabel's help, he maneuvered her into the bathtub, careful not to bump her right leg. When she was safely installed and her right leg propped up and elevated, he impulsively planted a kiss on top of her head before he excused himself and went to fetch his nightshirt and clean clothes.

Robert, upon hearing that Argyle was going to spend the night with Rose, just chuckled and said, "Well that didn't take as long as I thought it would!" Argyle muttered goodnaturedly about know-it-all old codgers, and Robert just beamed.

Upon his return to her room, he was greeted by the delectable sight of Rose nude in the tub. He averted his eyes out of respect and didn't approach until he was told to do so. She needed a hand to stand up so Isabel could towel her off, and Argyle again looked deeply into her eyes, not wanting to embarass Rose by ogling her body in such a vulnerable state. When she was dried off and wrapped in a big towel, Argyle lifted her again like it was nothing. While Isabel helped Rose into her nightgown, Argyle busied himself by moving the table back and placing a wash basin on top of it. He waited until Isabel had left the room after leaving extra pillows and an extra blanket, and then, his back to Rose, he started undressing.

He felt a bit self conscious, but pressed on. He stripped down until he was completely naked, revraling a muscular body, scarred from the clan wars some years ago. He took extra care in washing himself thoroughly, acutely aware that her eyes were on him. Finally he put on a long nightshirt and turned around, facing her again. He walked around the bed and got in.

It was at the same time wholly alien and deeply familiar sharing a bed with a woman again, and there was some initial awkwardness as they agreed on what bits went where. They finally found a position they were both happy with after many giggles and exclamations, and they settled down and just looked at each other before they both burst out into giddy giggles again.

After the mirth had passed he just looked at her deeply and smiled. "You're quite the woman, Rose MacDoyle. I think getting to know you will be a treat beyond measure." And he leaned in and kissed her ever so gently on the lips.

 

[Perplexia]

Although the whole bath experience was a bit awkward, over all it was a success. Her only wish is that it had just been the two of them. She had never been comfortable with servants seeing her bits, even women. She was perfectly capable of dressing and undressing herself, and never saw the reason to make someone else do it. Well other than help with that bloody corset. Which to her relief Argyle had told her earlier wasn't needed. Watching him undress to watch had her mesmerized, his muscular body reminded her of statues she'd seen artist renderings of from Italy. Certainly what she had imagined her husband would like. Of course when he dressed she averted her eyes so he wouldn't know she'd been staring so blatantly.

She had listened to his comment about how his body may react next to hers in bed and potential hunger that may arise from it. Rose wasn't sure she was ready for that, but knew where she wanted it to happen. Her thoughts were interrupted as he crawled into bed and they adjusted themselves awkwardly both laughing and finding the whole situation a new adventure. His smile and eyes had her captivated when he said "You're quite the woman, Rose MacDoyle. I think getting to know you will be a treat beyond measure." It was then his lips reached hers and kissed her ever so gently and chastely.

"mm, and you are quite the man Argyle MacDoyle, I look forward to our adventure and journey together." with that her head lifted and returned his kiss with a little more passion. Smiling and blushing Rose laid her head back down. "I was thinking husband, when we do decide to complete our martial duties, I would like it to be at the cabin. For two reasons... One.. I want it to be as intimate as possible. No servants, just us spending a, or a few nights alone together. Secondly, we'll need to burn the sheets, since we have supposedly had that experience already."

Her hand moved up ever so gently and brushed a lock of hair from his eyes. "I'm not use to having servants tend and fuss over me, I should be, but I've always thought it was condescending to have someone undress me or dress me, when I am more than able to do it on my own. Now granted corsets are easier with help, but with the new wardrobe their won't be a need for them except for social occasions. Isabel does have a gift for hair, I will grant her that. If you're in agreeance, I'd like it to be just us for the next bath."

She blushed and smiled again before continuing "I don't have a reason for the feeling I have with you, the trust that comes naturally between us. Maybe its because we're married already that I feel less restricted in the modern courtship rules. I mean it took three whole days and falling in a rabbit hole to get you to kiss me" Roses laughter filled the room as she teased him lightening the mood and easing the comfort between them even more. "I feel very lucky to have been forced upon you Argyle MacDoyle, I hope to never cause you a reason to regret it."

The warmth of his body was irresistible as she found herself snuggling against him her fingers playing absentmindedly with the ties on his nightshirt. "I could get use to this" she said softly nuzzling against him.

 

[Niceandbrutal]

The returning kiss had his heart racing and his head singing with joy, and he answered in kind. Since they were at the beginning of their very secret REAL courtship, he'd been careful not to push her boundaries too hard. That's why, when he heard her talking about their marital 'duties' (which he in time hoped she would refer to as pleasures instead), and he did not hear an "if" but a "when", it sent his heart and his mind fluttering. He nodded with a shy and happy smile when she told him where and why she wanted their first act of intimacy to take place.

"Aye, I agree. I think it for the best that we be completely alone when we finally... when we make love for the first time. Just so you know, my valet, Robert, has known me since I was a wee lad. He knows me too well for us to pull blinds over his eyes. But he is loyal to me and our secret is safe with him." He smiled again and lightly shook his head. "Not only did he see right through our charade, he also saw that our tender emotions underneath would make sure that the charade one day would not be necessary."

Her talk about not needing servants surprised him and delighted him in equal measure. "I find you more admirable, by the second, Rose. You are about as far away from what I thought a french noble woman would be, and I love you for it." This statement came out matter-of-factly, with a smile. "The reason we keep as much staff at Castle Argyle as we do is simple, and it must not leave this room: many of the servants and other staff would be living in poverty if it weren't for their employment with us, or they might find themselves in more... unsavoury lines of work," he added. He shrugged. "We can afford it, and it sends a clear signal that Dunbar is thriving and that the earl takes care of his people. Our servants are well kept, to the point that they sacrificed their wages for food and lodgings only when the crops failed. Also, the less menial tasks you and I need to attend to, the more we can focus on running the clan and the earldom."

"As for taking baths together, it crossed my mind, but," another shy smile, "though I am actually experienced in the ways of marriage, I still get shy around you. Some things are different with you compared to my previous marriage. And I didn't know how comfortable you'd be with us sharing a moment like that so soon. Hearing that you want to makes me very happy, Rose!" His face took on a more playful cast as he continued, "But do not be surprised or offended if you find my eyes caressing your body, Rose. I am a man, after all, and I find your body beautiful and a delight to rest my eyes on."

She professed wonderment at the easy trust that had grown so rapidly between them, and it had caused some thought on his end as well. He almost didn't dare say it out loud, but there was to be no secrets between them on this. "I think it's easy and difficult at the same time to explain, Rose. We saw kindred spirits in one another and fell in love, though I tried to deny it at first out of some foolhardy notion of loyalty. But it's like my Ma taught me. If you truly love someone, give them the freedom to leave you. If they stay, you'll know."

"I feel very lucky to have been forced upon you Argyle MacDoyle, I hope to never cause you a reason to regret it."

The words warmed his heart, and he blushed happily and beamed at her. "And I say likewise, Rosemond MacDoyle. Though your father all but forced you upon me I am happy that he did, because I know you would have pierced my armour and made me fall in love with you no matter the circumstances of our meeting. As it is, it feels to me that fate took a shortcut for us to meet and be happy as quickly as possible."

As she settled against him and let her fingers gently tease the bindings on his shirt, he moved a hand to her head and gently stroked her hair, sometimes letting his fingers massage her head ever so gently. "Aye, I could get used to this... too," he said, tactfully omitting the word "again". He did not want to constantly remind her that he'd already been married. But sooner or later their marriage might be a point of contention with Clan MacAngus. She needed to be prepared for that. But not now. Not tonight.

Tonight was for them alone, and not for clan squabblings and pressures of ruling. Tonight they were just Argyle and Rose. And so he told her about his upbringing at Castle Argyle. How his father, a very old fashioned clan leader, had insisted that Argyle learned how to ride, shoot, wield a sword, fight with his fists, swim, and about a hundred more practical skills because a good leader lead by example. How his mother had insisted how he learn to read and write, and how to master french and latin besides his native gaelic and english. She hired monks and scholars to tutor him in history, mathematics, essentially all academic and softer practical skills she could impart on him. Not all the lessons stuck, but in the end he emerged a well rounded young man with a clear sense of duty to his earldom. His father had imparted a sentence that Argyle adhered to religiously: "Remember lad, Earl you will be one day, but never forget that you serve the people of Dunbar just as sure as they serve you!"

And he further told her about how he was, growing up. How he'd wept when they had butchered and eaten his favourite bunny and how he at age five was inconsolable when he found out. How he had helped an old servant perform her duty because he was afraid she'd be thrown out with no way to fend for herself, until his mother gently took him aside and told him all staff too old to work for was cared for and wanted for nothing. He was eight at the time. How he'd loved roaming on the heaths, moors, and highlands from an early age. How he'd beaten up some boys for making fun of "the wee lord", and how his father had made him go around and apologize to the immediate family of the boys, and how his father had forced him to work alongside the boys for a month as a lesson. Argyle and the boys, men now, were firm friends and allies to this day. And more stories to draw as complete a picture of him as possible. In short, Argyle wanted to give her the full measure of him, good and bad.

He omitted any mention of the clan wars for now, as that subject was fraught with conflicting emotions and darkness.

"What about you, Rose? Were you always this free spirited, or were you an obedient wee lass as a bairn?"

 

[Perplexia]

It made her happy that he agreed to the cabin, though she swore he blushed a little. He told her that Robert saw through their charade. She couldn't help blushing a little, but she wasn't bothered by it. The declaration of love should have pushed her back. It was too soon wasn't it? To feel love for each other? But perhaps that's what this was, the word she was looking for to describe how she felt. Still she wasn't quite ready to say it, even if he already knew it. "And your ability to appreciate and accept me for who I am endears you to me more than I could ever express. As for our bath, we are already married, you know i would let you know if I was uncomfortable, there or here."

In response to his words of hoping she never grew to regret it she said softly "I shall vow to always be honest with you, I can hold my tongue in public. But to you I will always tell the truth even if you don't want to hear it." She smiled "I only ask that you never lie to me, if you decide you want a mistress then you tell me, I don't want to find out through staff or other wives. I'm not saying I approve of it, or that I'd like it, but i won't be made a fool of. I saw first hand the queens humiliation over my mother, and having me thrust upon her family as a constant reminder." A somber look crossed her face for a moment, changing it to give him a view of her as a girl as she enjoyed his fingers stroking her head.

"I was probably obedient right up until I was thrust upon Henry and Ann. My father had the dresses she outworn sent to me. My mother was beside herself dressing me up like a princess. The dress she had chosen was Ann's favorite, she had thrown a tantrum I found out later, when it was collected. My father took me into the school room holding my hand. He told Henry and Ann I was their sister and they would treat me with the same manners and respect as they would any royal. When he left, Ann got in my face, Henry was behind her mocking her attitude silently causing me to laugh. She shoved me he signaled for me to shove her back. She slapped me, and that was the day Henry showed me how to make and throw my first punch. On her royal ass she fell." Rose let out a laugh. "From that moment I was Henrys shadow. My mother gave up on the good dresses daily, because the would come in torn and muddy." She smiled at the memory. "He taught me how to fight like a guy, and if he was in a scrape I was right along side with him. As all had been taught, Guys weren't allowed to hit girls. I was fondly known as the twin of Henry, it got so if we were together they wouldn't bother to harass him."

"When I blossomed into woman hood and the boys were full of hormones, more than one ended up with a black eye, I had no interest in boys or marriage even then. Even though i knew the proper way to act, I questioned and challenged everything. If I could find a way to offend a suitor i did it. I came down in my brothers trousers and suspenders smoking a cigar, I'd pick up a book and read the entire time they were there. At the balls if their hands traveled when we danced I'd whisper in their ear if they did it again how I'd take the knife in my garter and slice something they valued off." she laughed lightly "Their faces would go pale white and they'd get all 'you're not a lady' and I'd respond, and you are no gentleman." Her fingers played in Argyles hair as they talked.

 

[Niceandbrutal]

Mistresses! The very idea was as hateful to Argyle now as it had been when he was with Catherine, and a brief surge of anger rose in him and flashed in his eyes at the very implication of such a thing. He drew two breaths to calm down, for he sadly understood why she would mention this: in the bigger courts and palaces in Europe being unfaithful was considered normal, and sex almost a sport. And so he calmed himself before replying: "I understand why you say this, Rose. I know what goes on in the larger courts. But if you need proof of my fidelity, all I can do is to spend the rest of my life to prove it to you. I can promise you with words until Hell freezes over, but in matters like these, words are cheap. Let the fact that I am not following my base instincts right now be a token of assurance to you of my self control in matters of the flesh. Because on a base level, my body is hungering to be with you carnally. But I was taught to rise above it and to only indulge when I had a willing and ready partner."

He paused to rein in his anger and his hurt feelings. His outburst surprised even him. "I apologize for my outburst, Rose. Like I said, I understand why you mention this. By the same token, please be frank with me if you in the future should fall for someone else. And like you, I will be truthful to you whether you want me to or not. I will be discrete, and I will temper my honesty with kindness as much as I can."

A little later, he lay smiling, listening to her tales of herself, Ann, and Henry, roaring with laughter when she told of how she put the french nobles with their dubious gaul charms and sticky hands in their place. "Good on you, lass! Never let anyone try to take advantage of you!"

He did detect a note of sadness whenever she talked about Henry. He seemed to be the reason she was so spirited and tough and self-reliant. He liked Henry from the way she described him. "Your brother Henry sounds like a right grand fellow. Do you think, if we invited him, he'd come and stay for a while?" He thought about it for a moment, because he was very eager to see her brother. "I'd like to meet him because, from the way you describe him, I think he and I could become firm friends. And I don't have many real friends, as most nobles I know are convinced that flowers and gold fly out of their arse, and most "commoners"," he spat the word out as he instinctively hated the notion of men being treated differently because of their parentage, "treat me with a deference I don't feel I deserve. There are the fellows I beat up when I was a young lad, but that's about it. And even they..." There was Robert too, of course, but he was more of a father figure.

He gently grasped her hand and looked her in the eyes. "Wouldn't it be wonderful if he came here and liked it so much that he decided to stay?" Argyle's mind was awash with ideas on the subject. If Henry met Isabel and fell for her, for instance. He suddenly caught himself, and couldn't help but laugh. He shook his head, then explained to Rose why he'd started laughing again out of the blue.

"You see Rose, I am so intent on making you happy that I start scheming like your father!" And he told her about his thoughts on Henry and Isabel, chuckling all the while. In his mind's eye he could still see the three of them riding around in the majestic scottish landscape though, hunting and fishing and just having a glorious time together.

As they lay there talking and getting to know each other, Argyle slowly but surely grew happily drowsy and giddy, bordering on childish. He felt he could let down his guard completely with Rose, a rare feeling indeed, and a luxury for a man in his position. He wrapped his arm around her below her breasts and gently squeezed her, sighing contentedly before he again started lovingly stroking her hair as he slowly drifted off to sleep.