The Chaperone
A/N: This is set between chapters 7 and 8 of "Worse Things Happen at Sea", during the time when Isabela has left Kit after he has become Champion.
Kit Hawke frowned at the sight of the young girl sitting cross-legged on the rug in front of the fireplace, cuddling enthusiastically with Toffee, his trusted Mabari. Helena was a very sweet, very innocent girl of barely sixteen. Unfortunately her father, the Comte de Bamoral, was much less innocent and expected her to make a spectacular marriage. Like many before him, he had set his sights on the Champion of Kirkwall. The night before Kit had been invited to the Comte's mansion for a sumptuous dinner. The Comte's Orlesian chef was the envy of Hightown, and the meal had been delicious, but Kit had been bored stiff during most of the evening. Not to mention the fact that sweet innocent girls really weren't his cup of tea.
Today the young lady had come for a return visit, chaperoned by her elder sister Sophia, wife to the Comte de Froissart. Now she was a different kettle of fish altogether. Tall, with silver-blond hair and cool blue eyes, Sophia was a perfect, arrogant Hightown lady. Dressed immaculately in a dark blue silk gown with matching cape, her hair swept up in an artful chignon, she had flounced into the Amell estate with an expression of disdain that had gradually softened at the display of wealth and good taste around her.
Helena squealed like a kitten when Toffee's tongue swiped across her face and Kit sighed deeply, running his fingers through his unruly black hair. Barely out of the nursery, that one. "Tell you what, Helena, why don't you run off to the kitchen and ask Orana for some honey cakes? She told me she'd make some today, and they are really delicious!"
"Honey cakes!" The girl threw him a grateful glance and sped off in the direction of the kitchen, Toffee in tow.
Kit sighed again and turned to Sophia, who was watching her sister fondly.
"Well, Serah Hawke, what do you think of Helena?" Her voice sounded proud and almost warm. "Isn't she the sweetest and prettiest young lady in Hightown? I assure you, you could do worse than to marry her."
Kit was shocked by her bluntness, but kept his handsome face carefully empty of emotion. "Marry her? I'm not really a marrying man, my lady. Besides... your sister is as sweet as she can be but she's still a child." He looked at her firmly. "I like my women grown-up."
Sophia raised an eyebrow at his words. "Your women... so it's true what they say?" The disdain had returned to her voice.
Kit grinned broadly, crossing his arms over his broad chest. Now this is where things get interesting! "That would depend... What exactly is it they say?"
Sophia noticed the small laugh-lines around his eyes, and her heart beat faster. She squirmed a little before answering. "That scores of ladies have succumbed to your... considerable charms."
Kit laughed softly and picked up the poker to stir the fire. "Well, I'm flattered. However, this isn't a topic for idle gossip. All I will confirm is that a lot of the ladies in Hightown are quite... dissatisfied with their marriages."
Sophia blushed. He had turned back to her and was standing so close she breathed in his scent of leather and male musk, feeling his breath on her cheek.
"What about you, my lady?" His voice was husky, and he raised a hand to let his fingers trail gently along her collarbone. "Are you... happily married?"
She shivered at his touch but didn't dare to meet his gaze. Kit leaned in a little closer and let his lips brush over hers while his hands moved downwards to her breasts, his touch still light as a feather. Her body betrayed her, her nipples springing to attention under the thin silk of her dress as soon as he touched them, her breath coming in tiny gasps.
Just then they heard Helena's voice outside, and Kit quickly stepped back.
"I shall await your visit tonight," he muttered. His eyes raked over her shivering body. "It's just as well that as a married woman you don't need a chaperone."
Sophia's head flew up as her pride reasserted itself. "And what makes you so sure I'll be there?"
To her surprise he shook his head, his face calm and serious. "I'm not sure. Not at all. But I'll be here and my back door will be open. The rest is up to you."
When she stepped into his study that night, her face carefully hidden under a hooded cloak, he was waiting for her in a comfortable armchair next to the burning fire. She shrugged off her cloak and felt her throat go dry at the sight of him. He was clad only in tight leather pants, and her gaze was immediately drawn to the white scars criss-crossing his bare chest and stomach, reminders of past battles and vanquished foes. His lean, taut body was leaning back into the cushions, but there was a hint of wariness in his posture, a tension in his firm muscles, a barely contained readiness to uncoil and jump up at the slightest hint of danger. It was a marked contrast to the tame noblemen who surrounded her every day.
Sophia swallowed briefly and took her refuge in haughty sarcasm. "You aren't dressed for a lady's visit, Serah Hawke."
Kit sighed theatrically. "Ah, how would I know what's appropriate for such an occasion, my lady? I'm just a Fereldan dog lord. But call me Hawke, will you? Just Hawke. Everybody does."
He got up in a fluid graceful motion and stepped close to her, growing serious again. "Sophia. You came." She closed her eyes and shivered at the sound of her name from his lips. His hand went up to her chignon. "Let me."
She gave a small cry of surprise when his hand found her hairpins and pulled them out one by one with the dexterity of a lady's maid, letting the long silver-blond strands tumble freely over her back and shoulders.
Kit ran his hands through them, and a gleam appeared in his eyes. "So beautiful!"
Her head sank back, exposing her long graceful neck, and his lips trailed down and nipped at creamy white skin. His fingers traced the neckline of her dress, leaving gooseflesh in their wake.
Sophia moaned, but he stepped back and dropped into the armchair again. "Take your clothes off."
For a second she felt rebellious. How dare he? But the intensity of his amber gaze had captured her and words of protest died on her lips. With shaking fingers she unlaced her corset and then her dress, letting it slide down to her feet. When she hesitated before taking off her smallclothes, his eyes urged her on, burning on her skin, like a hot caress. Heat pooled in her crotch, but as soon as she was completely naked under his gaze, she lost her nerve. Instinctively she tried to cover herself with her hands.
"Don't," he breathed, leaning forward in his armchair. "You shouldn't hide such beauty, you know. It is made to be appreciated."
Sophia laughed, a brief, bitter laugh. "My husband doesn't think so. He finds his pleasures elsewhere. He says I'm too cold, too remote."
Kit frowned. He remembered Froissart all too well. A pale, thin-lipped man with bulging eyes whose main interests in life seemed to be gambling and malicious gossip. He didn't even want to imagine those clammy hands on the beautiful body in front of him.
He got back to his feet and got rid of his pants and smallclothes. Her eyes widened when she took in his naked form. He moved in that quick, graceful way of his and was suddenly right behind her, his lean body against her back, his hands cupping her small, high breasts.
"Your husband is an idiot," he murmured against her ear. "You are a... very desirable woman. Just feel what you do to me." He pulled her close so that his hard length was pressed against the small of her back. Sophia whimpered helplessly at the sound of his deep, rough voice. His hand wandered down to part her legs.
"And judging by this," he said, his fingers dipping deep inside her wet heat. "you're anything but cold." He raised his hand to her lips to let her taste her own arousal, and she couldn't help herself. With a small desperate sigh, she captured his fingers between her lips and sucked greedily. Kit hissed with pleasure.
"So tell me, a passionate woman like you... If he leaves you to your own devices, what do you do?" He took her hand and guided it gently down. "Do you touch yourself at night? Do you dream of what could be?"
His whispered words and the touch of their entwined hands made her moan out loud. Her legs buckled under her so that only his firm grip kept her standing. Kit smiled to himself and let her slide down onto the thick rug. Sophia froze, expecting him to invade her right then, but instead he lay down next to her on his side and began a thorough exploration of her body that left her entirely breathless. Hot lips caressed her breasts. His beard tickled her a little, but the sensation paled when he began to swirl his tongue around first one nipple, then the other. His hands were moving down to her stomach, stroking the soft skin, moving ever so slowly closer to the centre of her pleasure.
She responded beautifully and Kit mentally shook his head at the stupidity of her husband. No wonder the moron had found her cold, when it was painfully obvious from her reactions that he had never even tried to arouse her. Kit had come across that sad state of affairs more than once in the past months. In, out, repeat if necessary. Pathetic, clueless Hightown fops.
Originally Kit had meant to break her pride, to make her beg for release, but he quickly changed his mind. It was just too easy. Instead he would make sure this night was a pleasurable experience for her. Maker knows she needs it. He took his time caressing her, watching her relax in his arms, then tauten with a different kind of tension. Her lips were half-opened in a long sigh, her face slightly flushed and her eyes closed in bliss when he finally slid between her legs and gently pushed against her entrance.
Her eyes flew open then and she trembled in anticipation. He captured her mouth in a deep, passionate kiss and slid inside her in a single slow thrust. Her cry was stifled by his lips on hers, but her whole body arched up to meet him. He waited a moment for her to settle, then he began to move and was rewarded with incoherent sobs of pleasure from her lips.
Kit kept up his steady, almost sedate rhythm, reaching with one hand between her long legs to touch her carefully. He was glad he had been so gentle when she immediately bucked under his hand, completely overwhelmed by the flood of lust washing through her slim body. She actually bit down on his shoulder, hard enough to draw blood and the pain cut through him. For a moment he faltered, but then he went on as if nothing had happened. Sophia gave a small cry of surprise. On and on he thrust, occasionally changing the angle and watching her reaction to find the perfect spot, create the perfect amount of friction. It was only when he pulled one of her legs up almost to his shoulder, though, that her moans turned to small helpless cries. When he was absolutely sure that she was only moments away from her second climax, he let go. Finally he let his need take over and pounded into her in a series of almost violent strokes. She matched his every move by then, and when he came, groaning with pleasure, she was there with him, right there, crying out her completion.
They lay still for a few minutes before he pulled back with a sigh of regret. Sophia sat up, a little shakily, and reached out for her dress and hair pins. "I'm a mess," she muttered, biting her lip. "How am I going to-"
Kit cut her off with a reassuring gesture. "Don't worry. I can help you with that. But do you really want to leave already?"
The tone of his voice made her shiver. "No, but... they will wonder where I am. I told my husband I was going out for a late dinner at a friend's house."
Kit considered briefly. "A trustworthy friend?" When she nodded, he went on. "Just send a message to your husband then. Say you've had too much wine and don't feel well, and you're staying the night. Send a message to your friend too. I'll take you over to her place at first light, and no one will ever find out." He walked over to a little desk in the corner, naked and completely unselfconscious. "Come on. Write those messages, and then let's move up to my bed."
Sophia held her breath at the daring of this plan. Yet she was quite sure it would work, precisely because no one would ever expect this from her. And the thought of spending the night with him, of making love to him in the privacy of his bedroom... All her pride and arrogance were forgotten, and all she remembered was the pleasure she had felt in his arms. Sophia nodded and took the quill and paper he handed her.
A few hours later Kit fell asleep, curled around her naked body, his last thought one of utter relief. Another night where he would sleep, deep and dreamless. And if the body in his arms wasn't the one he really craved, that was something he could ignore for this one night. It was the only way he knew to keep the pain at bay.
As usual, I'm hugely grateful to zevgirl for her beta skills!