It must be mentioned that Eglantine House is the House by which she is employed.
It had been a long time in the coming, or so it seemed, but
finally she had made her marque and was able to do aught that she wanted.
Velvette no Eglantine’s first endeavour was to visit her beloved.
Taking leave of Eglantine House and Mont Nuit, she rode astride, hell for leather, revelling in the freedom it afforded her. Her long mahogany locks flew behind her like a train. She made the journey to Azzalle last but two days where it would ordinarily take three or longer. Well and so, she was 19 and needed less sleep than her superiors.
When she arrived, guards heralded her arrival, recognising
her. D’Azille was out of the manor in a second and she launched herself off her
borrowed steed in a mad, desperate panic. The reins somehow found their way into
a stable boy’s hand. Velvette ran; she hoisted her skirts up so all could fair
see her knees and ran towards her beloved, flinging herself into his arms and
her arms around his neck. In a rare show of affection, Carrock caught her; he
couldn’t help himself, and swung her in a circle while she kissed his face.
Thus was their long awaited reunion.
That night they went to bed. Neither was sure what would
happen now that she was free to take him as a lover, but that she did and they
lay together for hours revelling in Naamah’s Arts and enjoying each other’s
pleasure. Then they needs must talk.
“What are your plans?”
His question did not surprise her, but she found she was
unready to answer it. She did not know what she wanted, nor what he wanted of
her. “I don’t know.”
“Leave Eglantine,” he replied. He was not normally one to
speak so bluntly, but in his desperation he opened his mouth and the words
leapt out of their own accord. “Leave Eglantine and come to Mapperley. I would that you would take me as your consort, allow me to love you. Only me.”
It was at that moment that Velvette realised she did not
want to leave Naamah’s Service, nor Eglantine House. She tried to imagine it,
imagine herself happy at Mapperley, D’Azille’s major holding in Azzalle, but
she could not see herself walking the halls and playing lady of the manor
without the actual title. Nor, she thought, with the title. “Would you not take
me as your wife?” In truth, she did not want to play house with him.
Carrock’s face twisted in pain as she watched and he but
shook his head. She had known that would be his answer. There was a long
silence.
There, naked in his bed, Velvette gazed at Carrock’s
beautiful face and porcelain skin, stroking her elegant fingers over his pale
flesh. But the gesture, where before it may have made him shudder with desire,
fell flat and ineffective and she felt the lack of reaction like a stone in the
pit of her belly.
“That’s it, then, isn’t it?” she said. It wasn’t really a
question, not one that required an answer.
Carrock nodded. He realised she didn’t want to leave Eglantine, and perhaps he had always known she wouldn’t. Perhaps if he had suggested lovers, while she remained in Naamah’s Service, she would have accepted. He hadn’t, and that was that.
Carrock reached for her and pulled her soft white body
against him. “At least let’s enjoy each other’s company while you’re here,” he
whispered into her hair, before he buried his fingers in it and brought his
mouth down to hers. Then he pulled her legs up and around him, entering her,
and ensconced their hurt in the arts of Naamah where the love they made would
provide the best balm they could muster.
