Medieval Fair, 10/10, 2PM

[Temperance]

Anyone out in the parkland, either for a stroll or a ride or a picnic or something no good, might notice the scent of raosted chestnuts wafting through the air and the sounds of lutes playing old ballads. Upon following eithe rthe nose or the ears colours banners might come to sight dotted by some tents for various purpose while some people were already milling around the tents, peeking into some every now and then. In the center of the field surrounded by the tents was a deep fireplace, some servants alreayd busy roasting chestnuts on the fire while a cookboy was carefully keeping an eye on the whole pig that had been set up to be roasted on the fire.

[Heather O`Roarke]

It was a pity of the grey skies, Heather though as she made her way through the little park towards the parkland itself. The promise of a medieval had been too much to resist. With a smile she tugged on her green woollen shawl, recalling the enthusiasm of Mirtel about knights and fairy tales. I should have invited her to come along. Alas, her attendance was more of a spur of the moment thing after she had attended her correspondence. Heather could only hope that her friend had found out as well and joined the fun.

Heather was wearing a variation on a theme she wore often enough, this time with more expensive detail, especially for a day time dress. Her waist was almost tiny, the yellow stomacher embroidered with an abundance of wild flowers. Yet the green skirts, the edges lined with more embroidery in the theme of her stomacher, where anything but small, billowing wide. Over the tight top, which under the shawl threatened to spill her bosom despite the far higher neckline that was in fashion these days, the lady wore a jacket in military style, stopping just short of her waist.

With out shame Heather wore a ruby choker, not fearing any trouble on the King's own grounds from thieves and robbers. Who had ever heard of Highwaymen within Windsor Castle's grounds after all? Jerkins, to his own horror, had been kept coped up in the barracks in the Lower Ward and remained there to this day, security less of a worry to his mistress. The choker meanwhile was part of Buckingham's gift after the last time she had visited Windsor. One of these days, she thought cheerfully, she would be wearing York's jewellery and all would know it. Since the prince was somewhat obtuse she wondered if she should be fairly obvious about a hint in that direction tonight. He had urged to see her, sending her some wicked material to use. Heather still wasn't quite sure what to make of it, but it amused her to no end.

What was that scent? Heather followed her nose to the seller of those delicious roasted chestnuts. "Oh please, a portion for me" she begged of the seller, handing him a handful of coins that no doubt was far too much. Cradling her treasure the mischievous redhead turned to watched the spectacle being built.

[Kane Graas]

“Ack. That’s hot,” a familiar voice remarked next to Heather’s ear, the countess able to see one roasted chestnut from amonst her treasure diappearing into Kane’s mouth. Kane dressed in a well-fitted outfit of dark blue today, the cravat, shirt and stockings as always a crispy stark white. Tilting his head back and exhaling through his mouth as he attempted to not burn his tongue with the treat, Kane ate the treat before straightening his head again and grinning at the countess. “Not bad though. Besides eating them hot is part of the good thing about roasted chestnuts, isn’t it?” Kane remarked, carelessly licking his finger clean from the chestnut.

“A fair, hm? Planning on getting your fortune told or encouraging some poor besotted knight to reckless heroics?” he teased Heather lightly as he fell in step with her as they strolled forward to see what the fair had to offer. Besides the feast, starring a wholly-cooker pig by the looks of it, that would come later on.

[Heather O`Roarke]

"Kane," Heather protested with a laugh, losing all decorum as she swirled around and lightly tapped his fingers in punishment "You little thief!"

Looking around Heather shrugged "I don't know yet. I thought just to experience everything, be in the moment." A twinkle then appeared in her green eyes "Though truth be told I'm also looking to enhance my outfit for the Masqued Ball. Do you think we could find something outrageous?"

[Douglas FitzJames]

"Ocht wuid be ootrageous wi' ye wearin' it lassie."* Came the reply from the opposite direction as Douglas appeared from around the other side of the stall with his own cup of chestnuts. There was a warm smile on his unshaven face as he regarded Heather affectionately and considered the truth in the thought that it was the wearer and not the outfit that was truly outrageous.

"An' Master Kane, hou the de'il are ye?"** He asked, stuffing a hot chestnut into his mouth. He was warm in his woolen uniform, and the mild overcast meant little to one born and bred in the north. The Scotsman was enjoying his return to court along with the rest of the Third, and the day had just presented him with two of his favourite people. They knew him for who he was, and he knew he didn't need the mask of courtly behaviour around them. It was a freedom he relished.

Subtitles
* "Anything would be outrageous with you wearing it, lady."
** "And Master Kane, how the devil are you?"

[Kane Graas]

“Little?” Kane repeated with an indignant look at Heather, rolling his eyes with a huff. Really, that was a hit below the belt. “Besides it looked like it’d be a less messy way to get a treat than the Snap Apple game back there,” Kane commented with a tilt of his head towards where he had come from. “Besides I particularly don’t want to get married so I certainly don’t want to be the first get an apple. No need to tempt fate. Not that I wouldn’t mind a dream of my future lover to get a preview of all the fun things we could do. She’d definitely not be a blonde,” Kane lazily shared the two most common beliefs about the game.That the first person to bite into an apple would be the next one to marry and that placing the bobbed apple under your pillow would give you a dream of your future lover.

Kane grinned as his friend – it still seemed rather unfathomable to Kane whenever he thought about it that he had managed to genuinely become friends with a soldier and a high-ranking one at that – appeared. “Busy, busy. So many ladies and so little time,” Kane responded with a feigned sigh and a shake of his head, even as he reached over to lightly smack Douglas’ shoulder before snatching a chestnut from him as well. He was a fair man after all. And it was much more fun to eath other’s chestnuts than get a cup of his own. “You need to find time to come to the fencing hall with me again,” he decided. He still held no great fondness for swords, even if he had been practicing the drills Douglas had showed him with a certain semi-regularity. “Been a while since I’ve had a good bout.”

“I was actually thinking of finding the fortune teller – every fair has to have a fortune teller! – but I’m afraid she’d tell me I’ll meet a tall dark stranger. And I don’t really have a particular interest in running into a blood-thirsty lunatic in some abandoned corner of the castle,” Kane mused.

[Heather O`Roarke]

"I have no complaints in that regard," Heather giggled as Kane huffed about his size, opening up another roasted chestnut and popping it into her mouth. "I am none too fond of snap apple myself," the redhead admitted "No wonder that it is maidens that men seek to marry. I doubt many a widow would be willing to commit herself again and give up the freedoms she enjoys."

Heather swirled around to face Douglas, simple joy in her face before she saucily replied "You never know, I might be wearing next to nothing." While he had not been around to see her ride as Godiva, climbing down the King's balcony in but a sheet was proof of that.

"I have not seen the fortune teller yet. Do you hold truth in such things, or for instance astrology?" she inquired with curiosity. It was not a strange thing for many at court did and it was even forbidden as an act of treason to ask about the fortunes of the King.

[Douglas FitzJames]

"Aye, bein' smacked wi' fans an' runnin' frae calls o' 'scoundrel' mun tak up a lot o' yer time."* Douglas agreed mock-knowingly with Kane's claim that the ladies kept him busy. He pulled his cup of chestnuts away but too slow as Kane's lightning fingers filched one.

They were an odd pair, the Life Guard officer and the scarred merchant, but perhaps they had more in common than was immediately obvious to the casual observer; both had the common touch and a not inconsiderable tendency towards affable roguishness. "Tsk, I hae ainly jus' arrivit, an' already yer makin' demands o' me." The Scotsman chided, and tried to drop a hot chestnut down the back of Kane's collar. "Hou aboot taemorror at twa o' the clock, whin awbody else is primpin' fer the Ball?"** He suggested. He doubted that he and Kane would take that long to get ready.

Which brought him to Heather's saucy suggestion. "Then agin, the Coontess here micht be the fastest tae prepare o' us all, I dinna think that 'next tae nocht' taks lang tae put on." He mused, with a wry smirk twisting his full lips and a twinkle in his blue eye at he looked at Heather. What she wore now was no impediment to memory, or imagination. "Ye wuid certainly turn heeds."*** Which seemed to be what Heather liked doing best. And probably more heads than people, as certain little soldiers took note.

But the thought and his own ideas on the Ball and Heather generally brought another image to mind. "Ye cuid gie as a wuidland sylph, clad in a shift o' green silk an' nocht besides. Some fae sprite er e'en a Faery Quin, cam tae bewitch mortal men awa' tae yer realm."+ He suggested. For a practical man he had quite a familiarity with the old stories and beliefs, and a healthy dose of imagination and superstition.

"Ye hae alrairdy met a tall, dark stranger." Douglas assured Kane jokingly. "Ye went drinkin' wi' me." But the idea of finding a fortune teller - if there was one - held a certain appeal. He remembered the words of the gypsy woman last season, and how accurate they had been. "Dinna doobt the truth o' thaim that hae the Sicht." He said mildly to Heather. "They See ocht the rest o' us canna." Yes, Douglas believed. "I wuidna mind seein' if thair was a gypsy woman er such."++

Subtitles
* "Yes, being smacked with fans and running from calls of 'scoundrel' must take up a lot of your time."
** "Tsk, I have only just arrived, and already you're making demands of me. How about tomorrow at two of the clock, when everybody else is primping for the Ball?"
*** "Then again, the Countess here might be the fastest to prepare of us all, I don't think that 'next to nothing' takes long to put on. You would certainly turn heads."
+ "You could go as a woodland sylph, clad in a shift of green silk and nothing besides. Some fey sprite or even a Fairy Queen, come to bewitch men away to your realm."
++ "You already met a tall, dark stranger. You went drinking with me. Don't doubt the truth of those that have the Sight. They See things the rest of us can't. I wouldn't mind seeing if there was a gyspy woman or such."

[Heather O`Roarke]

Heather giggled at the thought. Had a suggestion like that been made yesterday she would have deferred and explained that she was on her very best behaviour at least in public. This afternoon though saw her in more obstinate mood and causing a scene or scandal would certainly lighten her mood. Yet, it was too easy to simply come in shock value clothing. "We shall see. While the thought is appealing, I do not want to repeat myself. God forbid that I become predictable."

Smile and linking arms with the gentlemen so that they could tour the grounds the Countess declared "I am with two, not one dark handsome men, though I can hardly call them strangers. To the fortune teller then, though I hope she will not predict something dire, like promising me another husband. This may be a wedding season but I'm quite done with that."

Though in truth if she found herself pregnant again she might not be able to avoid it. It was best not to think upon such matters. She had barely escaped that fate last spring and had been ever so careful since with her nice collection sheep intestines. Except she hadn't dared to offer them to York yet. I should do so tonight, the redhead reminded herself sternly. Getting a Royal bastard was more trouble than it was worth, as far as she was concerned.

[Kane Graas]

Kane smiled lightly at Heather’s bravado. To wear nothing? He had no problems imagining Heather in such a get up – or lack of thereof – although for some reason he doubted the countess would go for it. Kane himself had never really minded chilly weather, his favourite season early spring when snow hadn’t quite melted yet but the first snowdrops were starting to sprout up, the fondness something he had consciously forced his mind to believe while a child and had grown more accustomed to during the couple of years he had spent in Sweden and Russia. But for some reason Heather had always struck Kane as someone who preferred warmth and would thus find it too chilly to go around the castle in nothing.

“I’ve never been a scoundrel,” Kane countered with a small grin. He had been and was a lot of things, but he wasn’t a scoundrel. He had an easy manner with the opposite sex and enjoyed the company of women both in and outside a bed, but his few memories of his mother and the women she had worked with had instilled a certain respect for women deep inside Kane and given him a light touch with women as well as the wisdom to neve knowingly play with a woman’s feelings.

Kane didn’t shift to move out of the way as Douglas dropped a chestnut under his collar. Hey, if the Scot wanted to give him a chestnut, he might as well accept it. Food was food and can was rather devoted, one could even say addicted, to food. Fishing the chestnut out again and idly twirling it between long fingers while waiting for it cool Kane stuck his tongue out at Douglas. “I’ll try to scribble you into my schedule,” he teased in return, even as he inclined his head while commiting the meeting time to his memory.

“The stars have helped out sailors often enough for me to not believe,” Kane responded to Heather’s question. The part about fortune tellers was tricker. Kane couldn’t say that he didn’t believe. To an extent he did. There were enough unexplainable and weird things not to. But at the same time he had seen enough charlatans and quakes who knew hwo to skilfully deceive you – if only to make a living for themselves – to have acquired a healthy doze of cynicism for the trade as well. “All I know is I don’t have the sight or I’d be governing my own paradise island where wine would flow and pretty women would dance by now,” was the response he actually said out loud though.

As Heather suggested going to the fortune teller Kane tilted his head and smiled lightly. “Hmmm. I shall go and see if I can find one of those beauties to inhabit my paradise island instead. Who knows, it might turn out that I have actually underestimated my own talents,” Kane teased with a waggle of eyebrows as he gently extracted his arm from Heather’s grip. For just a moment his eyes lingered on his own hands, on the outwardly blemishless fingers, before he idly tossed the roasted chestnut in his mouth and tugged on a pair of black leather gloves, the wrists adorned by luxurious silver fox fur. Whether cynicism or belief he held, some fortune tellers could see and piece things together entirely too well. And there were things Kane didn’t care to have seen.

“You are hereby allowed to sorely miss my dazzling company,” he permitted with a haughty little wave and a smirk even as he bowed lightly before heading back into the crowd milling around the different tents.

[Douglas FitzJames]

"God ferbid." Douglas agreed, chuckling at Heather's comment. He was quiet content as Heather linked arms with both him and Kane, in the company of two of his favourite people. He would be interested to see what the fortune-teller had in store, and whether they were any good. The gypsy woman who had read his fortune last season had been disturbingly accurate. "Aye, we hae enou' weddin's fer the season wi' the King's."* Douglas quite agreed. Unlike Heather he'd never been married, but the idea didn't really appeal to him. He had neither the means to support a wife nor anything to leave to any legitimate offspring, and with a few willing women around he had the third base covered.

Their rose-between-two-thorns progress didn't last long however, as Kane suddenly declared that he was going to go in search of beauties for his paradise. "I think that ye shuid tak' offence at tha', Heather."** The Scotsman observed, implying that Kane didn't think there were beauties here. What was the man doing piking? The fortune teller had been his idea. Had he suddenly got cold feet?

"Cam noo, ye arena afeared o' whit the cards micht hauld fer ye, are ye?" He asked, not realising that his idle comment hit awfully close to home. "Ach weel, whin we're telt whaur Blackbeard's buried treasure is, dinna 'spect us tae share." He replied, when it became plain that Kane was going to abandon them to the fates. "I wilna miss ye taemorrer."*** He promised. And tomorrow he would have a sword in his hand.

Douglas watched his friend go, blowing an exhasperated breath out through his lips like a horse. But Kane could be like that, and something that he was learning - particularly from Heather - was that those close to you had to be allowed their freedoms.

Perhaps Kane had done him a favour in leaving him Heather's company all to himself. "Shall we?" He asked, suggesting they set off again. "An' ahaps ye kin tell me whit I doobt the fortune teller micht." He suggested, side-stepping to avoid a child in a yellow tunic chasing a hoop. "T'haes been all summer sin I last saw ye, an' I haena haed a chance tae thank ye." For he owed his commission to Heather and her generosity. He paused to lean and put his mouth close to Heather's ear. "Tell me whit a man micht do tae mak his gratitude kent, an' a lairdy happier."+ He asked quietly. He knew what he'd like to do, but Heather might have some other need of him. Alas but he too lacked the Sight, he needed her to tell him what would make her happy.

Subtitles
* "God forbid. Yes we have enough weddings for the season with the King's."
** " I think you should take offence at that, Heather."
*** "Come now, you aren't afraid of what the cards might hold for you, are you? Ah well, when we're told where Blackbeard's buried treasure is, don't expect us to share. I won't miss you tomorrow."
+ "Shall we? And perhaps you can tell me what I doubt the fortune teller might. It has been all summer since I last saw you, and I haven't had a chance to thank you. Tell me what a man might do to make his gratitude known, and a lady happier."

[Heather O`Roarke]

“Oh pooh,” Heather pouted, at Kane “So soon?” She laughed when Douglas suggested she ought to be insulted “I have more confidence than that.” It occurred to her she still hadn't told Kane about her little impersonation of him last spring. There never was time. Always someone with them. Honestly though, she had thought he would guess. Who else would call themselves Lord Cherub?

Alone at least with her one remaining dark handsome stranger, Heather continued to stroll, having no idea where a lfortuneteller was to be found.

Douglas' whispered question made Heather stop in her track, even as a thrill ran through her body for his proximity. She turned to him and an honest answer escaped her ere she could stop it “Don't you know the truth of it? As long as you do not forsake me and return to me when you are able, you can't possibly make me happier.” Did the redhead secretly dream of other romantic things? Public recognition of their affair, marriage even as in the everlasting kind. Sometimes, but only when sleeping. Each time she woke Heather shrugged off the notion as ridiculous. Neither she nor Douglas could bear to be bound and she would rather die than trap him.

A little blush crept in her neck and quickly she started walking again as she realized “I am sorry, that was too much. I.. “She took a deep breath and started again “sometimes it frightens me how happy you make me, like you did last spring.. ” Her voice travelled away. The redhead did not want to dwell on her fears after Elmdon. The realization of her pregnancy had been the worst of it, or rather the sure knowledge that she could not promise him it was his and how she would have to carry that burden all by herself for she could not in all honesty have laid it at his door. Better that none realized it. None had, her timely if dangerous intervention one she hid from everybody, though it had made her feel so lonely. Oh, how she would have cared for it if was his, yet she had known deep down that it was more likely the Kings or some other man. Her life was too full of them and the fates cruel. The thought of Douglas looking upon some bastard of her body that was not his own had been more than she could tolerate.

Heather swallowed. She squeezed his arm, unable to find words for her feeling, a rare occasion for a writer. The light. She needed it, grasped for it for the melancholy threatened to swallow her whole. Live in the now and care not for tomorrow.

“Why don't you take me out for a picnic,” Heather suggested a little too bright, retaking herself and realizing he needed a better answer than the romantic melancholy that she just spouted. Men usually didn't care for it. “The weather is still fair enough and there are many places in the forest that make a magical spot where you can show your appreciation for me. I shall consider the matter done, though you must allow me to spoil you when the mood is upon me. I like sharing my wealth and none is more deserving of it. You make me happy, never fear that.” Yes, that was better. Experienced libertines who enjoyed life, not a couple of moonstruck lovers.

[Douglas FitzJames]

Douglas didn't even know if there was a fortune teller, though the Fair seemed the kind of place for it and Kane had seemed convinced. He was content to wander between the stalls and tents with Heather on his arm, enjoying her company as he had not been able to for months.

His whispered question had hardly been an idle one - indeed he'd often mused of an evening when his work was done what a man like him might do for a lady like Heather, to show her how much he appreciated what she had so generously done for him. What could you give the woman who had everything, or could buy it at a whim? Not something that money could buy, obviously. The only sensible answer he'd been able to come up with was himself, in whatever way she wanted him. But she had already laid a claim to him more strongly than he'd ever thought possible, even as she had affirmed she desired no permanent ties. Douglas, being a simple man at heart, took her statement at face value.

So the simplest idea had been to ask her, what way he might show his appreciation. He hadn't quite expected the earnest nature of her reply, and yet in truth it was the conclusion that he himself had come to. Just him. It was the simplest answer, yet the dearest. Did she had any idea of the effect that her words had on him? The way she looked at him with those enchanting green eyes?

Yet before he could reply she blushed and set off again, apologising and explaining, suddenly discomfitted, admitting to a fear that he didn't quite understand. Or perhaps he did. She had spoken in Chelsea of her fear of loosing him, that she had thought he might have been dead in Scotland, and would rather not know, that she could hold onto the illusion that he was alive. There were moments when he wondered whether perhaps they were not good for each other, held too tight a hold on each other's souls for their libertine natures. He had no insight into Heather's very personnal dilemma over summer and it's impact on her, and so assumed that the fear she spoke of was that which she had voiced before. Yet wasn't that the crux of their lifestyle, to be able to have one's cake and eat it too?

"Heather." He said her name, and put pressure on her arm to make her stop walking and look at him. "I willna forsake ye." He said seriously. "I promised ye afore - an' again noo - that I weel allus kim back tae ye." Blue eyes met green. "It micht tak a day, er a month, er a year; but whilk thairs breath in my body I weel kim back tae ye." They both had their own lives, and their own travels that took them places, but like planets around the sun they were drawn back to court, and to each other.

Most men might not care for melancholy, but the Celts had taken it and made an artform of it in all it's flavours. Doulgas had enough of that blood in him to have an appreciation of that humour, to embrace it in his songs and stories; and in his life. So when Heather seemed at a loss for a moment following her words, eyes too bright, her fingers squeezing his arm as though seeking for something, he reacted instinctively. He freed his arm from her grip and wrapped it around her shoulders, leaning in to kiss her temple as he had when they were last reunited at her party so many months ago; a simple gesture of comfort and affection.

With another woman he might have been mindful of their reputation, though he'd had others cry on his shoulder before now. But Heather was more than capable of dealing with her own reputation, and their dalliances were one of the worst kept secrets of court anyway. Right now he was more concerned that she seemed on the verge of tears, and that was something that he couldn't bear in a woman he adored. And he did adore her. Did he love her? Possibly. Would he marry her? Hell no. He had seen what the King's attempt to cage her freedoms had done to her; he would never subject her to the same. Heather was at her most beautiful when she was free.

Like him she had appetites that were unlikely to be sated by just one person. And he didn't doubt that, like himself, she could feel a deep attraction to more than one person. There were few women that he didn't find attractive, each in their own individual way; perhaps that was why he'd proven to have such a soft spot for so many, a care beyond lust that the big Life Guard would never openly admit to. Yet he assumed a similar sentiment in Heather. Something kept her coming back to him, when Kings and Princes graced her bed.

Perhaps his gesture had the desired effect, for her mood suddenly lightened as she suggested they have a picnic. "Aye, if t'wuid please m'Lairdy." He replied with a smile of his own, letting her go and executing a mock-bow. Alas but that his schedule was likely full tomorrow, though he entertained for a moment the idea of standing Kane up. But it would be better to save their outing for a day when they could take their time. "Hou aboot Friday, middae? Thairs a Faerie Ring in the Great Park, that mun be a magical spot if ony."** He suggested.

Then he snorted in amusement as Heather said that she would consider the matter settled, and he must let her spoil him if she wanted to. "Lassie, ye kin do white'er ye want wi' me." He told her, serious behind his smile. "Sae lang as I mak ye happy, that's all I want."*** And it was true. Seeing her smile warmed his heart.

But such things were dreadfully serious, and even as he could hold a melancholy mood he could also feel when such things were best left behind. A sugary scent caught his nose, and drew his gaze towards a nearby stall. "Hou aboot a toffee apple?"+ He suggested.

Subtitles
* "Heather. I won't forsake you. I promised you that before - and again now - that I will always come back to you. It might take a day, or a month, or a year; but while there's breath in my body I will come back to you."
** "Yes, if it would please my Lady. How about Friday, midday? There's a Fairy Ring in the Great Park, that must be a magical spot if any."
*** "Lady, you can do whatever you want with me. So long as I make you happy, that's all I want.
+ "How about a toffee apple?"

OOC: Apologies, I seem to have written an essay... <-- Douglas

[Heather O`Roarke]

Heather looked up at Douglas, her radiant face framed by golden red curls that had escaped her hairdo. There were only two at the moment, the rest of the fair forgotten. He warmed a piece of her soul that only he had access to. He had kept his promise. Each time she had stared up at the stars she had known he would return to her, and he had. Trust was something earned. "I know," she whispered and nearly said too much, telling him about the state of her heart, just smiling becomingly instead. What more was there to be said? She pressed against him in his embrace and turned her head to press her lips upon his after he kissed her cheek. "You make me so happy," she breathed, before restoring a more respectful distance.

As they resumed their walk she shook her head regretfully "Tomorrow afternoon I'm off to the baths with some ladies. And the next day I have arranged with a few ladies to discuss poetry, and after the incident this morning I can't fail Lady Joanna by cancelling it. Poor girl is already so insecure after the way a certain grumpy bride treated her. How about Saturday?"

Heather squeezed his arm "And thank you for the lovely roses. They filled my room with their scent." Leaning in she whispered to him in teasing tone "I might send that one rose back sooner than Saturday."

"Oh, Toffee!" she cried happily and practically ran towards the vendor. Heather had an incredible sweet tooth.

OOC: Never apologize for essays like that <--- Heather.

[Douglas FitzJames]

What had been meant as a gesture of affection became rather more as Heather pressed into his embrace and turned her head to meet his lips with her own. It was a sweet moment, and in that space of time he didn't care who might be about. Why should they? Theirs was a story out of some fable, the Countess and the Soldier. Her whispered words brought a soft look to his eyes as she stepped back, and he captured her hand and pressed it wordlessly to his lips. Sometimes there was no need for words.

"Saturdae 'tis then." He affirmed as they walked on, arm in arm once more. Her comment made him snort in amusement. "She haes a sharp tongue." He agreed, knowing full well whom they were speaking of. "Which kin be a guid thin', but she needs tae hae a care wha she uses it on."* He observed. Else Karoline would find herself with few friends, and might be surprised to discover how little power a Queen could have, when court was set against her.

Grinning at Heather's cry of delight, Douglas bought two small, tart apples covered in sticky toffee, one for each of them. The sourness of the fruit was a delicious contrast to the sweetness of the coating. Big, off-white teeth did a lot of damage to his apple on the first bite. "Yer welcome."** He replied, through a mouthful of apple, then swallowed. It was strange yet special how that particular colour of rose had become their little in-joke, after he'd carried the first one up her wall in his teeth. As she threatened in a whisper to send the thirteenth rose back, he gave her a wink. He'd already told her she could do as she pleased with him, she need only let him know what pleased her, and when.

As he crunched meditively on his apple he considered the changes that had occured or were occuring about court. "I dinna ken Lairdy Joanna." He admitted, remembering the name that Heather had mentioned as having been upset by a cranky Karoline. "Thair seem tae be a fair few new faces kimmin oota the wuidwark fer the weddin'."*** He observed. And some old faces, he added, thinking of Nigel.

A lot of changes too. There had been weddings by all accounts; Rebecca and Hale of course, Alexandra and that French guy no one had heard of, Sybilla and the apparently dashing Maxwell Parker, that Dr Winchester fellow and the wilting wallflower, it was all the rage. Then were the babies; Cat's of course, Alexandra was heavily pregnant with the King's, Lady Oakham had looked decidedly in the family way, and by all accounts there was a new Blount in the world. It was all a bit scary really.

There had been other changes of course. "D'ye ken that York git intae the habit o' stickin' a red wig on a tavern wench at ony we stopped at, an' haein' a richt bit o' fun wi' em? T'was all throu'oot Scotland. I wuid ne'er hae picked it in York." He admitted. He'd always thought York rather boring and straight-laced. "I think ye hae a hauld on him."+ He observed, suspected that piece of information might please Heather no end, and certainly boost her ego.

At first York's behaviour had really irritated Douglas, but then he'd become more sanguine about it. It said something about his red-haired lassie that she attracted Kings and Princes, and some of the Scottish wenches were really quite choice. He'd had a very good summer really, so it was hard to begrudge others the same.

Subtitles
* "Saturday it is then. Which can be a good thing, but she needs to have a care who she uses it on."
** "You're welcome."
*** "I don't know Lady Joanna. There seem to be a fair few new faces coming out of the woodwork for the wedding."
+ "Do you know that York got into the habit of sticking a red wig on a tavern wench at any we stopped at, and having a right bit of fun with them? It was all throughout Scotland. I would never have picked it in York. I think you have a hold on him."

[Heather O`Roarke]

Heather giggled and nearly suffocated in a piece of apple. "Oh my, he did?" The image of York replacing her with every tavern wench in Scotland was strangely flattering, at least to her. It was a joy to be so appreciated, a balm on old hurts of being rejected for what she was. She intended to enjoy every minute of it.

"His Grace can be quite enthusiastically adventurous and naughty, not being constrained by considerations of state," the redhead observed, licking at the toffee, then thought to add for Douglas' sake "He knows my fidelity is of a different kind. He almost encourages me, I think." Though Heather hadn't put it to the test. York seemed very excited about the idea of sharing, as if he lived vicariously through others. What would he do though when confronted with it in a too obvious manner. Male ego was a fragile thing, Heather had learned. If his masculinity was questioned in front of other men, it wouldn't seem so fun any more. In fact, it wasn't just a male thing. Though she was aware it was unfair she didn't want to think of all the Scottish wenches that York had left for Douglas.

Abruptly Heather decided to change the subject "So what else did you do this summer except following the Duke into taverns? Are you settled in your position as Captain? I might wriggle a favour from York in appointing Edmund to your troop. I promise he won't give you too much trouble."

[Douglas FitzJames]

Douglas raised an eyebrow and then snorted in amusement when Heather explained that York was less constrained than his brother. "An' less un'er coort's ee." Douglas surmised. 'Scrutiny' was probably the word he was looking for. Everyone watched the King's doings and speculated; people didn't care as much about what York got up to. Heather's next words lifted a weight from his heart, more than he would care to admit. He'd been concerned that commanding York's Troop whilst shagging his mistress might become unecessarily complicated. "That's guid tae ken."* He said quietly. Almost encourages her? Well he enjoyed Heather's free spirit, though he didn't really want to know about her exploits, but some members of the nobility had very strange tastes. Douglas put it down to too much time on their hands.

Heather's next question made the big Scotsman suck his teeth thoughtfully as he tried to sum up several months worth of activities. "T'suits me weel." He said at last, and squeezed her fingers. "Cat sayed I allus was bossy." He recalled with a smirk. "I spentit a lot o' time drillin' the men, tryin' tae git them workin' as so'jers shuid." He recalled. Not all the time mind you, he was starting to get a handle on the necessary balance, he hoped. "The thorny issues aroond most o' 'em bein' Catholics doesna help, but at least they dinna seem tae drink an' hoor as much."** It was a gross generalisation of course, but it seemed to be the case, and was a small mercy. And up in Scotland, where Presbyterians and even Covenanters were found, religion had seemed to be less of an issue.

Edmund was one of Heather's brothers, as Douglas recalled. A more varied bunch one couldn't ask for, given there was a pirate and a priest amongst them, if he recalled correctly. "Och aye, I canna see York sayin' ye nae, 'specially if yer brother kens which end o' a rifle is which, er kin learn in a hurry." And given Heather's favour with him he probably wouldn't even ask a commission. "If he is trouble I ken wha tae speak tae."*** He said with a grin. Not that Douglas didn't plan on dealing with his own trouble. That was what commanding officers were for.

The talk of siblings reminded him of something. "I need tae speir Cat whit's happenin' wi' MacGregor's sisters." He realised, expression suddenly serious. He'd asked after their sisters, but forgotten Adam's, who were now without a supporting brother. Things were greatly complicated by his untimely death. "I'm glad ye cammed yesterdae."+ He mentioned.

Subtitles
* "And less under court's eye. That's good to know."
** "It suits me well. Cat said I always was bossy. I spent a lot of time drilling the men, trying to get them working as soldiers should. The thorny issues around most of the being Catholics doesn't help, but at least they don't seem to drink and whore as much."
*** "Oh yes, I can't see York saying you no, especially if your brother knows which end of a rifle is which, or can learn in a hurry. If he is trouble I know who to speak to."
+ "I need to ask Cat what's happening with MacGregor's sisters. I'm glad you came yesterday."

[Heather O`Roarke]

" Oh, aye, he knows, for more than five years now running mostly for the French. Edmund can be a bit of a wild one," Heather warned Douglas seriously, not realizing that in her words she only painted the man to take after his sister "Though not as bad as the Duke of Clarence, I suppose. Father was right sending him into the army at a young age. I missed him when he was gone, since Henry had already gotten of to Oxford too." Douglas estimation that Edmund now would have no trouble gaining the commission pleased the Countess and she gave a pretty smile "Good. He's not a Catholic, but not a Whig either. He will behave, somewhat."

Heather repressed a sigh when the topic, unavoidably, went towards Catriona. There was still no love lost there, but at least for the time being they seemed to have managed an armistice of sorts for Douglas' sake, something no King had ever managed. "I owed Adam, and you," she simply declared "besides, she invited me. Not responding would have been rude." The redhead let a silence fall. She didn't want to talk of the bad blood that persisted. Perhaps it would fade in time, but right now it recalled bitter memories and a want not entirely forgotten, but buried for Douglas' sake, for the man, not the King. She had promised not to take the King back and she hadn't, but yet at times she was struck by that melancholy of what could have been. Her complete enjoyment of the more down to earth ruddy pleasure with the Duke of York did not compensate the young girls infatuation she had felt upon arriving in London.

Heather took a deep breath, her arm warmly cuddled around Douglas'. "I am glad you seem to be in such a position of prominence, but I've been thinking it is not right that you are doing such great service without royal gratitude. I was thinking that perhaps, next St. George's Day, we could persuade some of your patrons to work towards gaining you a peerage in Scotland," the redhead airily declared as if it was but a trinket she talked about. "Surely that is only right for a high officer in the Kings Life Guard. It will increase His Grace's prominence and if rewarded to you for service to the Crown, well, who could gainsay you?" It would require a lot of money to exchange hands but she had stopped caring about that.

[Douglas FitzJames]

Douglas had never delved deeply into the bad blood that lay between Heather and Cat, wise enough to know that sometimes there were things it was better not to get involved in. He knew that it revolved around their mutual attraction to the King, and had got the impression that there had been jealousies or backstabbing involved, but beyond that he really didn't want to know. He got around the issue by largely ignoring it, save where he had felt it necessary to exact a promise from each to leave the other in peace. He could see no sense in their desiring that kind of association with the King, but had not sought to bar Cat from him, not Heather in truth. What he objected to was not her sleeping with the King, but the King's demand of exclusivity. Ever a fool, Douglas just couldn't let her go. But even that need required certain understandings, certain compromises. He recognised the finality in Heather's voice on the subject of Adam's wake, and knew when to let sleeping bitches lie.

Her next words caused Douglas to pause in their gentle amble in wary surprise and look at her carefully, blue eyes searching her face for some hint that she was teasing him. Though he had long held a desire for land and a title he had considered it his own personal unrealistic fantasy. To hear the same now from Heather's lips - she who had more experience at court than he did - somehow made it seem possible.

He sucked a breath in through his teeth and after a moment started walking again, wanting to seem more nonchalent. "I canna help but remember the last lot o' 'royal gratitude' I saw." He admitted. Yet the King seemed to have let the issue of their indiscretion go at last, so surely he should do the same? "But that wuid be a verra fine thin' indeed."* He admitted. So fine that he barely dared admit it as a real possibility. Yet Heather seemed to think so.

Patrons however were something that he did not have in abundance, though he was not entirely lacking. There was his darling Heather, his sister Catriona, and if he impressed York sufficiently perhaps His Highness would speak for him as well? Beyond that however he felt he would need more voices, and more money. But time and experience had proven that such things were not beyond his reach. And then to have a little piece of Scotland all of his own, to not be dependant on his Life Guard's salary and the kindness of his sister and lovers. To have something that he might one day leave to a son, when he had one.

"Yer a richt bonnie lassie, tae hae such faith in me." He said then, squeezing her hand as it rested on his arm. "Let us see whit shall be dane, hmm?"** He said, and grinned. It was certainly something worth working for. He pitied the poor men who hadn't understood what they had in this woman; with Heather's support he felt like he could achieve anything.

Subtitles
* "I can't help but remember the last lot of 'royal gratitude' I saw. But that would be a very find thing indeed."
** "You're a very good lady, to have such faith in me. Let us see what shall be done, hmm?"

OOC

[Heather O`Roarke]

What misunderstandings of motive could there be between lovers. It had always been thus since time began. Would Heather have taken the King back in her affections under such new conditions, or had she simply moved on and never looked back. Perhaps Douglas was her perfect excuse to be able to do so, making this a saner world. Whatever it was, the redhead no longer found herself particularly out of favour with His Majesty, barring any new incidents of course.

"You deserve it," Heather firmly declared "You have shown your loyalty more than once. I am sure we can arrange proper acknowledgement by next spring. Opportunity will offer itself." Her green eyes were luminous as she looked up trusting. For all that he played at being dark, she saw him as the white knight that he could be. She had a fine nose for these things. As he grinned at her she couldn't help but rely with a grin of her own and thus they went on, spending a carefree adorable afternoon at the fair.

OOC