A/N: Hope you enjoy this!

Chapter Two

The carriage made its way down the street, the uneven gravel causing her to bounce a bit from side to side in her seat. She glanced over at the man beside her at the reigns, and thought to herself how different this day had turned out. When she woke up that morning, she had expected a rather dull day. There would be the dance, and then another round of dull conversation with her betrothed. Instead, she ended up in a stolen carriage with a man she barely knew. There was another bout of rough gravel and she jerked forward with a yelp.

"You know, you don't have to be up here with me," William said, glancing over at her. "The covered area is more suitable for a lady."

"I am quite content here," she returned. "Besides, I like to see where we're going."

"Keeping an eye on me?" he asked, lips turning up into a smirk. Not missing a beat, she returned, "Precisely."

"It seems a rather useless trial for you, pet, considering that I am fairly sure you haven't the slightest notion where we are."

She feigned outrage at his suggestion, although it was largely true. She knew she was in a carriage on a road, and that was about it. Still, she didn't enjoy the tone of his voice.

"That is not true," she said.

"Then where are we?"

"That is beside the point," she held stoutly. "The point is that I want to stay right here to make sure you continue on toward that train station. Because that's the deal, remember? I don't speak a word of you or your stealing the carriage, and you get me to the train station."

"Yes, pet, I remember the deal," he said slowly. "What has you running, anyway?"

"Who says I'm running?"

"You are willingly alone in a carriage with a man you just met," he spelled out, casting her a look. "You are running from something."

She shifted in her seat and admitted, "Fine, I'm running from a man."

"A man? Isn't that what you lot are usually running toward?"

She gave him a look. "He is a very dull and boring man. And we are set to be married, which would be a worse fate than death."

He snorted. "Is that so? I must tell you, pet, you continue to surprise me. But tell me, what exactly do you expect to do once you get to the train station?"

"Go far away," she said.

"Do you have any money?"

She hesitated, eyeing him warily. She admittedly may not have the best sense in the world, but she knew better than to openly discuss her financial situation with a man who stole a carriage.

"Don't give me that look," he said calmly. "I'm only asking because getting on a train requires money. So does everything that follows."

"I have enough," she said. There were a few banknotes in the purse. Granted, it wouldn't get her much farther than the train itself, but she would figure the rest out later.

They approached a small inn and William pulled the carriage over to the side. There was a stable over to the side and William climbed out, offering a few dollars to the stable boy to watch their carriage before turning and offering his hand to Buffy.

"What are we doing here?" she asked.

"I'm hungry," he said. "As I imagine you are, too. Besides, we need a place to stop at for the night."

She looked at his hand warily and he said, "Come on, pet, I promise not to bite."

She was more worried that inns required food and a bed, and their money talk from earlier had her marginally concerned. She hadn't thought of all the stops before the train station, itself. Three meals a day and then lodging in between. She'd be lucky if she had a penny to her name by the time she got to the station. There was little she could do about that now, though. Telling herself silently that she would figure out the money situation later, she took his hand and stepped down from the carriage.

They walked inside and the musty smell of ale hit her nose. William breathed in deeply beside her, rubbing his belly. A server sat them down in one of the back corners, and as they walked to the table several men eyed her lasciviously. Self-consciously, she pulled the bodice of her dress up higher.

"It's no use," William said, stretching his legs out under the table.

"What is?"

"Tugging your dress up like that. They're still going to look."

She made a face and said, "It's repulsive."

"No, it's human nature," he returned easily. "They are men and you are a woman. Going to those meat markets called dances, I can't believe you're surprised."

"Those men would never look at me that way," she held. "They are gentleman."

William chuckled, shaking his head. "They may look like a gentleman, but all men are the same, pet. They all looked at you like that at some time, too. It was just when your back was turned. It's society. Forces them all to pretend they are these neutered gentlemen with mild manners. But they're all the same. The lust and desire. The difference is the men here don't try to hide it."

She sniffed, shifting in her seat. "Well, they should try."

The server came and took their orders. Buffy ordered as light as she could, which William read into easily and said, "Get a full meal, this one's on me."

"You don't have to-"

"I know I don't," he interrupted. Turning his attention back to the server he said, "She'll have the pot roast. With extra potatoes."

The server nodded, walking away. Buffy looked at him strangely and asked, "Extra potatoes?"

"Yes," he said. "Those are for me."

She hadn't realized how hungry she had been until the food was set in front of her. Her stomach purred as she shoveled forkful after forkful into her mouth. She nearly finished the extra potatoes and William murmured, "I guess those were in fact for you."

"Oh, I'm sorry," she said through a full mouth, pushing the plate toward him.

"No, pet, it's fine. You finish it."

"Thank you."

"Don't thank me. You're picking up the next meal."

She gave him a look and said, "Just when I think you're not terrible."

"I stole your carriage, love," he reminded her. "My default is terrible."

He had a point.

"So, what are you to do next?" she asked him, dabbing at the side of her mouth with a napkin. "I'd imagine one typically steals a carriage with some plan in mind."

"I don't have a plan," he answered. "I never do. I'm morally opposed to plans."

"Is that so?"

He nodded, reaching forward and plucking a potato off her plate. He popped it in his mouth.

"Plans are rigid and controlling," he said. "And they never go as they're supposed to, which means you are essentially setting yourself up for failure."

"Aren't you cheerful," she muttered.

"Plans are for fools. So, as someone who is not a fool, I refuse to make them."

"So, what do you do?"

"Whatever I like to," he answered. "Whatever desire or impulse I have, I go with it."

She stared at him, trying to grasp this unfamiliar lifestyle he described. She couldn't' imagine a world with plans and order. Growing up, her parents had set a rigid schedule with tutors and lessons. Each day was planned out from the moment she awoke to when she went to bed. The thought of the freedom he described was bothersome – although she couldn't deny somewhat exhilarating, as well.

"It sounds like madness."

He grinned wide. "Exactly, pet."

She considered this for a moment and then said, "But you do have a slight plan this time, don't you? You're taking me to the train station."

"Yes, that is a rather unfortunate turn," he agreed. "But, you could say that it came entirely from my lack of a plan. Because if I had some sort of grand scheme behind my stealing your carriage, you in the back certainly would not have been a part of it."

She made a face and said, "If you are insinuating that I am not good company, then I must tell you that you are sorely mistaken. I am wonderful company. Which is precisely why it would be a crime to buckle me down with that dullard Angelus for the rest of my life."
William smirked, "You really dislike the lad, don't you?"

"If you had met him, you'd know what I mean."

"Oh, but I have," William answered easily, reaching in his pocket and drawing out a cigar. With wide eyes, she stared at him while he took the knife from the table and cut off the end.

"You know him?"

"Yes," he said, lighting the cigar. He took a few short puffs and then a long drag, smoke billowing from his mouth when he pulled away. "I've played cards with him here and there."

"You've played cards with him?"
"He's an abominable player. Absolutely no poker face."

"And as dull as a board," Buffy added. She glanced down at the plate and sighed, pushing it toward him. "You finish the rest."

"You're finally full? I thought the time would never come."

"Very funny," she said drily.

William pulled a few dollars from his pocket and put them down on the table.

"Come on, it's time to call it a night."

"Is it really proper?" she asked, standing up and following him toward the barmaid, who apparently would be getting them their room. "Us sharing a room?"

"If you want your own you're paying for it," William told her.

She shook her head quickly, swallowing her pride. It may not be proper, but she wasn't willing to shell out money when she didn't have to.

"I suppose one room would be fine."

He studied her face while he took another puff of his cigar. His gaze was maddening, and she was about to demand to know what was on his mind when he said, "I will tell her that we are man and wife. Will that assuage your guilty mind, pet?"

She balked at the idea initially, but on second thought it suited her just fine.

"Yes, it would."

He laughed, shaking his head. "Who would have thought the girl running away in the back of a stolen carriage would worry about impropriety." He turned toward the barmaid and said, "My wife and I would like a room for the night."

The barmaid looked at him levelly and named the price, adding, "You pay now or you don't get a room."

"That will be no trouble," he said, pulling more bills out of his pocket and handing them over. The woman leafed through them for what Buffy assumed was to check for any fakes. Content with the stack of bills, the woman stuffed them into the pocket of her dress and said, "Follow me. I'll bring you to your room."

The three of them went to the back of the room and then up a rather rickety staircase. After what felt like an eternity on the about-to-collapse staircase, they reached the landing and the woman led them to a small room outfitted with nothing more than a decently sized bed and nightstand.

"Here it is," the woman said. "Enjoy your night."

Buffy walked in, glancing around as she tried to figure out where William would sleep. She would surely get the bed, but there didn't seem to be much room on the ground. There was hardly enough space for her to walk. William stepped around her and sat down on the bed, tugging at his necktie.

"Do you think we should ask her for extra blankets?" she asked.

"What for?"

"Well, I imagine the floor isn't too comfortable on its own."

William continued to undress, movements slow and unaffected as he asked,

"Who's sleeping on the floor?"

"You."

He laughed, shaking his head as he unbuttoned the cuffs of his shirt. "Pet, there is not a single chance in this world that I am sleeping on that floor. I am a bed man. Or an exceedingly comfortable couch."

"But, where will I sleep?"

William stood, unhooking the suspenders from his britches. "The bed would probably be just fine."

"I couldn't!" she stammered, eyes wide. Her cheeks flushed at the very thought of sharing a bed with a man who was not her husband.

"You don't have to worry about me making advances," he said dismissively. "You're not the type of woman I prefer, anyway."

She didn't know why she was offended, but she couldn't deny the flare of indignation in her chest. "Excuse me?"

"You're much too blonde. I prefer dark-haired women."

"Oh, well…" she trailed off, leaning against the wall. "…then I guess I have nothing to worry about?"

He grinned. "No, pet. You have nothing to worry about. Besides, taking advantage of unassuming women has never been my specialty. I prefer my women ready and willing."

She swallowed hard. "Alright then. So, I guess I'll just prepare for bed…"

He turned away in surprising respect of her modesty, and she slipped her dress off, only left in her chemise. She walked quickly to the bed and slipped in, tucking the covers around her tightly to serve as a barricade between the two of them.

"Are you decent?" he asked.

"Hardly," she answered instinctively. He chuckled and she said, "But decent enough, I suppose. I would like to tell you now, that if you do decide to try anything tonight I have been taught how to protect myself."

"Have you?"

"A man tried to take advantage of me out on a balcony at a dance once and I kicked him so hard that he couldn't dance for weeks."

"I do not intend to take advantage of you," he said slowly. "But, regardless, thank you for the warning."

"You're welcome."

"Goodnight, Buffy."

She brought the covers up and tucked them under her chin. "Goodnight, William."

A/N: A bit of a transitional chapter to get us on our way. I have lots of fun ideas for this - so let me know your thoughts!