A/N : I have never been so unsure about a story before. I hope you guys will read this. It's all mythical beasts, supernatural, vampires and such like. Maybe a centaur or two. And oh. It's a little different; being set in a different historical era. Cue archaic phrases, ladies in velvet gowns and knights looking hot on horses, wielding swords.

Arrghhhh I am SO not sure anyone will like this. There would be no Acapella or much music. Jesse is quite OOC in the beginning - he is moody as feck but it is all because he needs a good shag. I actually built the story around the smut. Damn you and your plot bunnies, BittyAB818 and xAnoMollyx!

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PROLOGUE

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"It is worse than we feared. They are going to make a move very soon."

"Should we inform Lord Mitchell?"

"Yes, without delay. She has to be safe before her eighteenth."

The lady was furiously writing on a piece of parchment and once she was finished, she rolled it up quickly without waiting for the ink to dry. She rose from her chair and tucked the roll into the man's belt.

"Lord Mitchell will know what to do. Now go. Godspeed, dear one."

The man nodded and left the room. A few long minutes later, she heard the hard gallop of a horse. The lady went to the window, her eyes trained on the rider fast disappearing from view. She turned her face towards the sun streaming into the room, sighing softly at the warmth of the sun rays on her face. Her eyes were closed as she murmured softly, "Rebecca, I wish I am there to protect you."

CHAPTER ONE

It was not every day that you received news that would alter your life. News that would lay a few paths before you and the rest of your life would be defined by the path you took.

Today was such a day for her.

She stood in that room, the furnishings and the smell so familiar to her. The tapestry covering one wall, the huge fireplace crackling with a small fire to ward off the slight chill in the air, the massive table in the middle. All familiar to her. But at the moment, she might as well stood in at the edge of a cliff as she listened carefully to what her father was saying.

Her hands were folded demurely on her front, like a lady that she was. She tried hard not to fidget in this too tight, too long gown. She wanted to rip that annoying clips that kept her locks out of her face. She was uncomfortable and annoyed. Her father had now stopped speaking now and she knew he was expecting some sort of response from her. Lady Rebecaa Mitchell took a deep breath and stilled herself.

"This is news to me, father."

Lord Mitchell inwardly sighed, feeling a headache threatening to pound through. He knew his daughter far too well. He knew she would not take the news easily. He was at least expecting a shouting match. That she had not thrown anything at him already came as a great surprise and an unexpected bonus. That was why that calm tone she was using was almost eerie. He turned slowly to face his daughter. She looked so much like her late mother, standing erect and haughty, the fire in her eyes belying the calm tone she was using,

Yes, Lord Mitchell was expecting a fight.

"This is for your own good, Rebecca. And for your safety," he replied.

She shook her head, her heavy cascading brown curls bouncing and gave Lord Mitchell a tiny, smile. "Of course it is for my own good, father," she replied, eyes narrowing. "It has nothing to do with any political alliance you might profit from it."

"Hush your tongue and speak respectfully to your father!"

Lady Rebecca Mitchell turned her cold stare at the blonde older lady who had so rudely interrupted her. She was about to speak again, that foolish woman, but she spluttered to a halt at the icy stare from the tiny brunette.

"I speak to my father as I wish... Lady Shelagh." She added the formal title a little too late, a little too grudgingly. The fact that she did not address her as Mother was not lost on them. Beca loathed to call her stepmother; let alone mother. "I ask you to give me the courtesy NOT to interrupt at something as important as my nuptials."

Lord Mitchell looked at the exchange between the two women. Her daughter was headstrong and impudent; he admitted that. She should be more respectful of her elders; especially to her stepmother. Most other fathers would have beaten out that defiance from their daughters but she was his only child and that was not how he wanted to raise his daughter. Frankly he liked that fire in her and felt it was a shame to try and tame that. It was also true that perhaps he gave her far more liberties than most parents would. It was partly stemming from his guilt that she had to grow up alone while he was away waging wars.

Lady Rebecca Mitchell was raised up by doting maidservants and educated by the finest tutors money can buy. She had tutors for every conceivable subject there was, from music to dancing to weaponry. From embroidery (which she appreciated but did not have any patience for) to philosophy and history.

But it was from her father that Lady Rebecca learned military strategy; from the early years when she was small enough to climb onto his lap to when she was older where she would sit quietly in the corner of this war room whilst her father and advisors debated on what they should do next . She soaked in all the small details of his world. All the various power struggles. All the delicate balance of power between the warring factions . All the various permutations that could affect the destinies of those who depended on them for their daily bread and care.

Lord Mitchell actually enjoyed having her company and listening to her opinions. And truth be told he was sometimes surprised how devious a woman's mind could be. But now her daughter was of a marriageable age and it was time for her to put aside all these manly pursuits and became a proper lady. He had thought him marrying a second time would provide a maternal influence to this end but as always, when it came to his daughter, Lord Mitchell always got it wrong.

"Beca..." Lord Mitchell said, rubbing his temples. Why was it he could easily face a horde of slavering soldiers but quaked in his boots in front of his daughter? "You know your responsibilities."

Beca moved forward studying the large map laid on huge table, noting the battle lines and the troop deployment; all displayed in miniature. She studied all the minute movement and strategy being weaved like an intricate embroidery in front of her.

"I am to marry Lord de Lessops?"

"Yes."

"He is a puny man. And very old, father."

"With a large army and an ability to keep you safe."

"I'm safe here with you."

"Not when the O'Cullenains are showing such an interest in you."

Beca coloured a little at the mention of that name. The chance meeting two seasons ago came to her mind and she fought that memory down, not wanting to betray more of her emotions.

"Is it really that bad if we ally with the O'Cullenains?" she asked casually, as she picked up a small counter from the table, examining it closely. Each counter on the battle map was marked with the faction's battle colours and marks. She was holding on to the O'Cullenains' counter which was black with a red slash across the neck.

"Beca, you know full well why not. It would make them far too powerful," Lord Mitchell's voice was sharp. He hesitated before adding slowly, "And there is something about them that is not quite right."

"I thought we should ally with the strongest, father."

"No. Our duty is to keep the balance. We cannot afford another ten twenty years of this fighting, Beca. It is about time we have some peace."

Lord Mitchell did not mention the other thing that would make the alliance with the O'Cullenains unholy, the reason why they were so interested in her. She was unaware of it and he loathed to tell her. It was best she kept her innocence slightly longer. He was not ready be the one to tell her what she really was, what she could become.

He looked a little shrewdly at his daughter who was now a little too interested in the battle lines drawn by the O'Cullenains. If what he heard was true, all the more reason he should send her away to the de Lessops as soon as possible. It was the only way to keep her safe.

"My word is final, Beca," Lord Mitchell said. "We are to travel to de Lessops in a week. I suggest you make your preparations and say your final goodbyes. It is unlikely you will see your friends again in the near future."

Beca carefully placed the black counter back and she straightened up, meeting her father's eyes. Her gaze was as steady as her voice, "As you wish, father. Thy will be done." And with that, she swept out of the room, without waiting for permission.

"That went well." Lady Shelagh said in relief, fanning herself.

"Yes, too well," mused Lord Mitchell. He rang for his manservant and when he arrived, Lord Mitchell said, "Get me Commander Allen immediately. I want a word with him."

Today was not a good day. It had nothing to do with the weather. Yes, it was grey and wet with clouds racing along the horizon, chilly winds that stab you straight through your bones and fat, wet raindrops that soaked your head and slithered down your neck.

It was just not a good day. His head was wet with raindrops clinging to his brown locks. And he felt cold and a little hungry. He needed to feed soon.

A weak sort of sun tried to peep through all the greyness but it gave up halfway and all he could see was greyness upon greyness. He could not remember the last time he had lie down in the warm sun looking up at blue skies. Jesse shook his head to clear away that thought. It would only depress him further.

He hefted his crossbow across his shoulder and tucked his sword to one side, wrapping his cloak tighter around him. True, he was a full fledged knight of some years and had not trip over his sword for some time, but he would not put that past the sheer bad luck that was today. He should also get out of the rain. The last thing he need was for his weapons to rust. It would just add to the misery the day had brought.

The stables were warm and comforting; the smell of hay and horses familiar. It was also dry. He shrugged off the wet heavy cloak, hanging it on the nail and letting it dripped onto the straw. Jesse carefully placed his crossbow to one side before going into the stall. A familiar whinny greeted him and in the next moment, a wet, soft nose nuzzled the side of his head. He could not help but smile as his hands went up to stroke the stallion's head.

"Hail fellow, well met," he murmured, closing his eyes as the horse continued to nuzzle into him. He hugged the horse's neck and he could feel the knot at his back unravelling. "I got you a treat." Jesse rifled through the little pouch he carried on his waist, extracted an apple and offered it to the black stallion. It whinnied a little excitedly and immediately chomped on that apple, nearly missing a few of his fingers. Jesse just laughed, patting its neck. Once that apple was gone, it gave Jesse a side eye, asking for more. When none was forthcoming, the black stallion promptly nudged him aside and turned away as if he was sulking.

"You are such a baby," Jesse laughed, now reaching up to stroke its nose. The stallion neighed lowly. "Yes, I know. The weather's bad. I'll bring you out tomorrow. Now who wants a brush?"

The next half hour was spent just brushing his coat. Jesse loved his horse - he was a beauty, standing at 16 hands, muscles rippling under that coat, black as midnight and a shock of white along his nose. The black stallion was temperamental, moody and the evil incarnate on the battlefield but under his hands, Shadow was putty and affectionate. Jesse was calmer now. Losing himself into that uncomplicated, repetitive chore put his mind off what had happened in the morning but his ease was short lived.

"Sir James."

Normally Jesse would made a face at his formal name. He was not a formal sort of man but this manservant did not know that. Jesse had heard him entering the stables. It was hard not to - he bumbled in magnificently. To his sharp hearing, Jesse could hear the door frame creaked as he entered, the crunch of the straw under his feet and the sound of his leather leggings rubbing softly as he walked. And that earnest, honest smell of him - of linen, polish and good intentions.

"Sir James, Commander Allen wants to see you. He said I was to find you and bring you to him."

"Call me Jesse, please." he sighed but the look on the manservant was close to horror and he opened and closed his mouth a few times in discomfort. Jesse just shook his head and smiled. "Please. Lead the way."

Jesse did not know it but his day was about to get worse.

Lady Beca Mitchell was a well brought up lady. Anyone looking at her would not think anything was wrong. She walked slowly to her room, seemingly unaffected by the life-changing news. Her face was calm, her steps measured. It was not until she was behind the closed stout door of her bedroom that she flung the nearest thing she could get her hands on. In this case, it was a pretty little hand mirror, wrought in silver.

"Oh my, someone is in a bad mood."

Beca turned to the side and smiled. The sight of Amy, lounging on the seat, feeding one grape after another into her mouth cheered her up somehow. Just a little.

"What's got up your corset?" Amy casually asked as she got up, went over to the little mess of broken glass and silver and swept it up. Blonde, buxom and jolly, Amy (Eh. Lady Fat Amy to you) was a complete contrast to the little brunette. There were no formality between them, she was coarse, rude and loud most times and no one could be quite sure what Amy was really thinking. She seemed to inhabit a slightly different world and she was also Beca's best friend.

Amy had appeared at the castle the month Beca's mother passed when she was six and Lord Mitchell had said to Beca she was to be her companion and playmate. They grew up together, inseparable and were usually up to scrapes and no good, running rings around their nannies and servants. Amy was there when she fell from a frisky horse, when she had her first period, when she hurt herself tripping over her first proper lady gown.

Amy was always there to make her feel better. Like she was doing now. Beca loved her to bits.

Beca just swore softly under her breath before throwing herself onto her four poster bed and kicking her high heeled shoes off. She hated them but had worn them for the formal audience with her father, like Lady Shelagh insisted. That she-devil.

"Hmm.. does this have to do with your pending nuptials?" Amy said, sitting down and popping more grapes into her mouth. Beca raised herself up on her elbows and looked at her in surprise.

"How did you know?"

"News travel fast," Amy shrugged, flicking a grape at her. "Especially when you walk so slow, Beca. Like a lady."

"Shut up. I am to be married in a week!" Beca said, standing up and pacing. "In a week! I will travel to him and be wife to that grey, shrunken Lord de Lessops."

She stopped and shuddered.

"Mmm.. he does have a fine head of white hair and all his teeth. What more can you ask for?" Amy mused. Beca just looked at her like she was down with the plague. Amy began to grin as she continued "Surely not a week? The de Lessops' hold is not that close."

"A week to prepare. Lady She-devil will want to send me off with a huge trousseau. Then the trek there - four weeks? I am sure Father would want to make it a big show," Beca mused, thinking out loud. "Then goodbye freedom."

Beca was snorting in disgust but as the full impact of what was going to happen dawned on her, she collapsed onto the nearest chair. brooding.

"There you go. Plenty of time to make a run for it," Amy remarked. She pelted Beca with more grapes before adding cheekily "So... what will your paramour think of all this?"

"What are you saying? I don't have one!" Beca said, colouring again. Her mind had went straight to the image of the beautiful blonde man she met and she immediately put that thought away from her mind.

"Of course you don't. That blonde god is just someone your loins are aching for."

"Amy!"

"You want to ride him like a horse."

"Amyyyyyy!"

"Or have him ride you like one."

"Aaammmmyyyy!"

"He's not my type. But whatever you like, Beca. I won't judge you."

"You are impossible," Beca muttered, laughing a little.

She was too restless to stay still. Beca got up and went to the large wooden wardrobe and began to pull out a nondescript pair of pants, tunic and jerkin. She looked at Amy. "Come and help me get out of this stupid gown. I'm going out for a ride."

The walk to the Command room was a long way from the stables. It gave Jesse time to calm himself down and put on the most suitable expression. Commander Allen can be mercurial at the best of times and it was best to be ready. There was news that they will all to be despatched to the de Lessops in a week; a hard four week trek across the country. All to accompany Lord Mitchell and his daughter.

The word was his daughter was to be wed. Jesse did not particularly care about that. He had never set eyes on the lady - all he heard she was a brat; a spoiled princess kind of lady who probably hate to get mud on her jewelled shoes. He did not like that kind of women. What he knew the trek across the country would be fraught with danger and they were likely to run into trouble often. Especially if the other houses heard of the plan and wanted to foil it . There would be combat. There would be fighting. And there would be a chance for him to redeem himself from his earlier mistake.

They were at a narrow passageway with a pageboy coming towards them. Jesse barrelled on - he was of a higher rank and should have right of way but the pageboy seemed to think the passageway belonged to him and walked on forward, without standing aside like he should. Jesse stopped in his tracks, a little annoyed at the pageboy's insolence. The young lad seemed to caught himself at the last minute, stopped and mumbled his apology, keeping his eyes on the floor. Jesse walked past and the pageboy brushed past him, hurrying down the passageway, with his hat tipped forward covering his face.

Jesse was startled at that slight touch. Something seemed to shake through him and he stopped, turning round. He sniffed the air a little, trying to make something out. That was a little confusing. He could not place that pageboy - he was not one, he thought and that confused him more. He looked out for him but that slight figure had already disappeared from sight.

"Sir James." Jesse was brought back to the present by the worried voice of the manservant. "Commander Allen does not like to be kept waiting."

He was still staring at the empty passageway, trying to capture his thoughts. He was usually so astute but that was a mystery.

"Coming." Jesse turned back to the manservant and followed him, forgetting that chance encounter for the moment.

Beca was hurrying to the stables, using a shortcut she knew via the servant quarters. That was a little close. She forgot she was not dressed as Lady Beca and had stalked through the hallways as per usual. She nearly got caught back there. Beca hated to think what would happened if she got caught. The servants would make so much fuss and Lady She-devil would have hysterics that she was dressed like a boy.

The face on that knight was funny though. She suppressed a smile as she entered the stables. He looked like he was slapped by a cold fish. Hah, his precious knight ego dented by an insolent pageboy, daring to take his right of way. She grinned a little. Knights could be so ridiculous and proper, expecting anyone lower in rank to sink to their knees in respect. Beca ate stupid knights like that for breakfast and spat them out into the gutter.

She walked straight into the large compartment, housing Blaze, her beautiful chestnut mare. The horse nickered excitedly, stomping a little and Beca came over with a laugh to calm her down.

"Good morrow, Blaze. How are you today?" Beca whispered. She listened while the horse whinnied and nickered a while, nodding her head. "I know. I know. I can't take you out now. They'll know it's me and I won't get past the gateposts. Don't worry. We'll have a long trip soon. Be a good girl."

With a final kiss on its nose, Beca patted the mare and walked towards another part of the stables, looking for another horse. Hmm… this one is new. She had never seen this handsome black stallion before. She stood a while in front of the tall horse, gazing at its magnificence. How could she missed him? He was perfect.

He gave her a baleful glare and bared his teeth. It was supposed to be frightening but Beca thought it was highly comical. She laughed out loud and the horse was now looking quizzically at her. He was not expecting that reaction. The tiny human approached him and looked him squarely in the eye before placing a warm hand on his neck. What manner of human is this?

"You are beautiful," she whispered. "Who do you belong to?"

Beca placed both her hands on his neck and in the next moment, Shadow had this urge to nuzzle the tiny human. He did so almost tipping her hat back. Beca closed her eyes and hummed a little, enjoying the warmth of this magnificent beast. Her eyes flew open and she suddenly giggled. Oh, she knew who the horse belonged to now. And she definitely have to ride him!

"I might have misunderstood this, Commander Allan," Jesse said slowly.

He rearranged his thoughts a little, trying to stay calm in front of his commander. He was not a very tall man the commander and years of being away from the hard fighting in the frontlines had made him a little on the bulky side. But there was no mistaking that no nonsense look on his face. Commander Allan wore his confidence bordering on cockiness as naturally as he wore his cloak. He was also a brilliant battle strategist and the fact that he and his troops were still alive was testament to that.

"There's nothing to misunderstood, Jesse," he said, his voice a little sharp. "You are not to come on this expedition."

Jesse's mouth was pressed into a thin, hard line. The anger was like a knot on his chest.

"Am I being punished?" he said tightly, gritting his teeth.

That must be it. That must be the only reason he was being left out, being left behind like an errant schoolboy while the knights in his order were out marching with the rest of the troops. He could almost imagined the amount of flak and derision he was going to face back in the chapterhouse. For goodness sake, he admitted to his earlier transgression and had made the proper penance but it seemed that memories were long here.

"Far from it," the commander said simply.

"Why am I being left behind?"

"You have another task."

"What is it?"

Commander Allen stared at him a little before replying. Jesse was not going to like the news at all. "You are to escort Lady Rebecca by another route. The main trek is too dangerous and Lord Mitchell wants haste. It would be faster and safer for you to travel with her and her companion separately."

Jesse gripped the pommel of his sword hard.

No. This is terrible. He was definitely being punished. He was to be a babysitter? To a spoiled brat princess with a murderous temper? The type who would probably complained if she had to sleep rough and forgo daily perfumed baths? No. This will not do.

"And if I refused?" Jesse said testily.

"There is no option for refusal, James. Remember why I had to take you in. Remember your oath," Commander Allan barked. He saw that pained look across Jesse's face and the hard way his hand was gripping that pommel.

He sighed and said in a softer tone of voice,"Jesse, listen to me. I did not take this decision lightly. There are dark times afoot. We need to guarantee her passage to the de Lessops. I need you and..your special talent..."

The fire crackled loudly in that silent room. Jesse just nodded darkly at his commander.

"I trust the lady knows of this arrangement?"

The last thing Jesse wanted was a stroppy unwilling female plus her companion on what would be an already difficult trip.

"Ah. That's the other thing."

"You are beautiful!" Beca shouted into the wind. The horse was galloping across the moors; she could feel his muscles bunching and stretching underneath her. That and the wind whipping her hair back. It was entirely exhilarating. There was a gully in front of them, churning with the waters from the recent rains and they were approaching it fast.

"Come on!" Beca shouted, crouching close and tightening her legs against the beast's body. The horse neighed and went faster. A second later, he sailed through the air and landed gracefully on the other side. Beca laughed out loud and kissed the horse on his mane.

He stomped down the hallways, angry now. Jesse could not believed he was given this stupid, babysitting task. Despite all of the commander's assurances, he was not entirely convinced that he was not being sidelined. There was not a chance for him to redeem himself now. This was turning into a very bad day.

He needed to ride out now. He was angry and restless and felt cooped up in this stone monstrosity of a castle. He needed to get out. He needed to work out this anger threatening to erupt from him. It had stopped raining now and Shadow would appreciate being out of those stables.

Except he was not there.

Jesse swore loudly. How could a big, black stallion like that disappeared? The stablehands all looked suitably confused as well. He wanted to rage out at them; he was that angry. But it was unseemly of someone from his station to rip through them in anger and he had to be wary of the effect that anger might have on him. Jesse buttoned that anger down, pacing in front of the stables now.

Ha! Whomever was foolish enough to try and ride Shadow would get a surprise or two. That brute was evil. Jesse would not be surprised if Shadow came back dragging that idiotic horse stealer behind him, minus a few fingers and sizeable chunks of his flesh. Jesse grinned a little evilly. He just needed to wait here for the sorry perpetrator and gloat accordingly.

Jesse's ears picked up his horse's sounds before Shadow appeared. He could hear the clattering of his hooves, churning the wet earth, the nickers of happiness and laughter? Who was that laughing? Anyone in extreme pain should't be laughing like that.

He stared as the monstrous form of his black horse came into sight. He was galloping hard towards him. Whomever was riding him was not slowing down. Jesse kept his stand, adamant not to move and for a few moments, he knew the fear his enemies must have felt seeing that huge beast bearing down on them. Good god, it was frightening.

Shadow did not slowed down and Jesse seriously thought his horse was going to stomp him to death. Except at the last minute, he clattered to a halt, mere inches in front of him. Jesse looked up in wonder and Shadow seemed to snicker an evil little laugh at him, like he was pleased that he scared Jesse so much. That dolt. Jesse frowned and slapped him playfully on his nose. That horse was diabolical. He loved him.

The next moment the reins were being thrown at him. Jesse caught them neatly, his face now thunderous. Why, that brazen, rude, shameless thief! Not only he stole his horse, now he was throwing the reins at Jesse like he was a common stableboy? Jesse had killed men who had insulted him much less. He was so close to letting loose that barrage of anger when he finally saw who had been riding his horse.

It was that insolent pageboy.

And for a moment, Jesse was speechless.

The slight pageboy just jumped nimbly off his tall horse and landed lightly on his feet. He did not even deign to look at Jesse, who was standing stupefied, reins in his hands. He walked past him and Jesse's hand shot out andgrabbed the boy's upper arm.

"What is the meaning of this?" Jesse spat out through gritted teeth. "Who the hell gave you permission to ride my horse?"

The pageboy was silent, looking down at the hand holding his upper arm.

"Who is your master, boy?" Jesse further shook the boy angrily. "I will have word with him!"

His anger was clouding his mind. He could feel the haze in his mind and the hot heat of anger now travelling down his body. The pageboy was still silent but he then looked up at him.

And his blue eyes met Jesse's.

Jesse felt that jolt. There was no way to describe it. All he could think was how blue those eyes were. That was all that he could see. That was all in his vision. Through the haze of anger clouding his senses, those blue eyes pierced through. Jesse let go of the arm, like he was burned. He could not speak.

"I have no master."

He could not believe his ears. Those words growled at him. That was not the voice of a young pageboy. That was the sound of a choir of angels. That was the sound of a tree full of nightingales singing in the moonlight. Jesse fell back a step. He had never been so confused in his life.

"Lady Rebecca."

The rough voice of the stablemaster rang through the yard and Jesse snapped back from his muddled thoughts. The pageboy's head whipped towards the voice and his hat slipped. He wrenched it away from his head and a tumble of brown, luscious locks cascaded down his back. No, her back. He was a definitely a she.

"Mi'lady, Lord Mitchell asked for your company at evening sup."

She nodded and stalked off without a backward glance at Jesse. He was still frozen on the spot, staring at her back. The stable master came over and took the reins from Jesse's numb fingers. Shadow neighed loudly, stamped his hooves and tried to bite the stablemaster.

"Hush, Shadow," Jesse said absentmindedly patting his neck to quiet him down. He was still staring at the spot the lady was a moment ago. How could he missed that?

"I beg your pardon, Sir Knight. Lady Rebecca does like to go out riding without notice," the man apologised profusely. "She is an accomplished rider and it looked like she rode your horse hard. Ermm...If you tell your horse to behave, I'll have him cleaned and bathed."

Jesse wrenched his eyes away from staring at that empty spot and properly looked at Shadow. He was muddy and sweaty and looked well exercised. Jesse nodded mutely and pulled Shadow's ears down so he was looking at him. "Behave."

The stablemaster pulled on the horse warily and he meekly followed. Jesse walked away from the stables. His mind was still clouded and he definitely need to clear his head. He continued walking away from the castle, past the guard house where he nodded to the guards, past the drawbridge, through the main thoroughfare of the market town until he was clear out through the gateposts to the wilderness beyond.

He was in the forest now, the scent of the trees filling his nostrils. He stopped for a minute, shedding his cloak and taking off his boots. It did not matter if he wore them but he preferred not to run in them. He felt the damp earth beneath his bare feet and breathed in the clean, cool air deeply. He felt much calmer now.

He closed his eyes, tipping his head up and turning his face towards the sky. Those blue eyes intruded in his mind yet again and he angrily waved that image away. He needed to concentrate. Jesse felt the will run through him and the following transformation. He also did not need a horse to run wildly through the woods.

"Interesting turn of events here, Lord O'Cuillenain."

Lord O'Cuillenain looked up from the parchment he was reading at the face of his adviser. A few thoughts passed in between them in the brooding silence. He turned to look at the messenger bearing the news and dismissed him with a nod. The messenger slunk gratefully away and closed the door quietly after him.

"What do you make of it?" Lord O'Cullenain asked, his eyes now trained on the map in the middle of the room.

"It's a sign of a desperate man, methinks," the other man replied, his voice high and cold. "Only a desperate man would marry of his only daughter to secure an alliance. To the de Lessops, no less."

"No, Lord Mitchell is more devious than that. He knew what we want that wench for."

There was a further silence as Lord O'Cullenain looked out from the high window across the windswept moors beyond. He rolled up the parchment and tapped it against his palm.

He turned around and looked into the dark corner. "Well, Lucius… it seems you have to woo our Lady Beca a bit quicker."

From the deep shadows, a tall blonde man rose languidly from his seat and stepped into the light. The moonlight coming in from the window highlighted the cold angles and the perfect jawline of his pale face. His blonde hair shone in the moonlight and he nodded briefly.

A bell chimed and Lord O'Cuillenain smiled at his advisor in eager greediness. "Ah, dinner is served. I was told we have special treat today. Care to feast?"

He walked past and stopped beside the blonde man. "You have one week," he said quietly. "Do not fail me, Luke."

A/N Please be honest. I am happy to take this story down if no one likes it. It's too much and too different! Arrrghhhhhhhhh.