Mischief's Lover

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

Warnings: Some sensuality, but no overtly explicit material.

Prompt #2 Dream

Gwen firmly refused to think about her guest, as she allowed her ladies' maid, Martha, to ready her for bed. Gratefully shedding the restrictive corset, she inhaled deeply, before unpinning her hair from its somewhat dishevelled style. In all the commotion, she'd had neither the will nor the time to redo it.

As she slipped on the light linen nightdress, she smiled at her maid. "Thank you, Martha. You may go," she murmured kindly. The little maid bobbed a curtsey and bid her goodnight.

In her room, the shadows hugged the corners, the only sources of light flickering candles on her dressing table, and the candelabra in one corner. She brushed out her long hair, concentrating on the smooth rhythm to distract her from her thoughts, even as they rose, far too nebulous to be dissipated.

Her dark stranger…Loki, if that was his real name.

She shivered, reaching back to snare a shawl that waited on the box seat at the end of her bed.

Was it not just typical that she had to rescue a man who believed himself to be the Norse God of Mischief, Lies, and some said Evil?

Although she had never thought so. Amorality, and anarchy, were not evil per se, in themselves, but merely uncontrollable and dangerous. And looking in his eyes, she had seen both…

She almost wanted to scream, as she put down her brush firmly, and swept towards her bed. Never in her entire life had she given more than ten minutes thought to any man apart from her father, and now one just dropped into her lap, and she could not get him out of her mind!

And his words…

"You will find out soon enough…"

God help her.

He was surely mad, but he was not the helpless, childish sort of madman she had heard of in the asylums. He was in full possession of himself, and that made him dangerous. No doubt there would come news tomorrow that a lunatic had escaped onto the moors.

Yet in those eyes…Gwen shuddered once more. She needed sleep; in hope her head would be clearer tomorrow.

Throwing her shawl over the end of the bed, she tucked herself into the thick eiderdown, and snuffed out the candles. She had been trying to persuade Papa to install some electric lighting, as was all the rage in London, but he remained wary of 'newfangled trifles' as electricity.

Once darkness settled its cool shadows over her room, she slid down further into the bed, pulling the covers up and under her chin. With a determined huff, she turned onto her side, closed her eyes and forced herself to sleep.

A figure stepped from the shadows, smiling at the sight of the young mortal, so innocent and vulnerable before him. Emerald eyes gleamed and shone with a wicked light as he stepped close to the bed.

Gwen lay, twisted in her bed, the covers twined around her legs and waist. She had been tossing for an hour, and her dark hair was ruffled on the pillow.

With a gentility that belied his desires, Loki reached out a hand, caressing the silken curl nearest to him. His magic was still weak, but he still had strength for this.

He reached out a hand to her cheek, surprised by how strong her skin felt to his hand. He had noticed that her hands bore no calluses or scars that would denote knowledge of weaponcraft, but there was still something of the warrior, the Valkyrie, about her. Had she born on Asgard, she would no doubt have rivalled the Lady Sif in her fierceness and prowess on the battlefield.

Yes, a truly worthy conquest. He looked forward to taming that fire in her, not so it was extinguished, but so that only he would possess the power to feed it.

His smile deepening, Loki closed his eyes and reached out with his magic.

"Wake up, my Lady…"

Gwen was warm and comfortable. She had no desire to wake up, and definitely would not if she didn't wish to!

"You are a stubborn one, my Lady," a cold, silken voice murmured in her ear, the breath wafting against her neck the exact opposite. "But it is time to awaken. I have something to discuss with you…"

That voice…Loki!

Gwen's eyes snapped open, and she sat up in alarm and fear as it raged through her, meeting heated emerald eyes that she had seen only hours before.

He was on the bed beside her, clad in his loose black shirt and breeches, leaning over her even as she scrambled back against the headboard.

He saw her scramble for the covers, and caught her wrist. "Ah, ah, ah," he murmured laughingly. "Too late for that, sweetling."

"You devil!" she hissed, trying to free herself but his grip was too strong. She didn't even think it was taking much effort, which only annoyed her more. "Do you have no sense of decency or propriety? How did you know which was my room?"

Loki just smiled.

Then something niggled in her mind, as she glanced around at her room, and then back at Loki.

A dream. This was a dream.

Her captor's smile only grew, even as he leaned closer to her, trapping her between him and the head board. "You are perceptive, mortal," he murmured, deeply, and a shiver slipped down her spine.

"You're not real, this is a dream," she pronounced firmly. His gaze clearly said: if you say so.

"Of course, my lady," he replied. "But while it is your dream, it is of my creation."

"What do you mean?" she asked, frowningly.

"You still doubt my power?" he leant in further, and Gwen inwardly wondered why she wasn't struggling or moving away, even if this was a dream. "Foolish girl…"

His lips trailed across her forehead, making her shudder and her eyes flutter.

"You will acknowledge the truth soon enough," he chuckled, his laugh like chocolate, dark and forbidden, sliding over Gwen's nerves, slowing her thoughts. "I come not to prove myself to you. I come to offer you a gift in gratitude for your aid…"

He straightened slightly, removing his intoxicating presence slightly, and Gwen breathed again. His hands fell to her shoulders, burning through the thin muslin, and she shivered once more.

"You are beautiful, my lady Gwyneth," he murmured. "And fiery. I see a passion in you that needs but an ember to enflame it, and you. Allow me to be that ember, allow me to tutor you in passion."

"You think that sufficient recompense for such aid?" she asked, aghast. "Apart from the complete impropriety of such an offer, I am no whore!"

"To be the lover of a God is to be above such puerile notions as propriety, my lady," Loki replied smoothly. "None will know, and none shall ever touch you again bar me, if you accept my offer."

Gwen's mind whirled. Every part of her was torn, and then there was the knowledge that this was a dream…

Her morality, and the scruples she had been raised with, demanded she refuse and expel him from her home immediately. Her instincts…God help her, but they suddenly yearned to know the passion of a G-…of someone like him. She had spent so many years, alone, in the wilds of Dartmoor with her father that she had buried thoughts of marriage and love. True, she was only twenty years old but…it would not be long before she was relegated to spinsterhood by society.

Some deeply buried part of her yearned to feel the touch of man, if only once before she accepted her lot. And here was this dark, compelling stranger offering it to her…

She was insane, but as he leaned closer, a knowing glint in those darkling eyes, her heart raced and her mouth dried with anticipation.

His hand slid into her hair, gentle yet Gwen felt the strength in those slender fingers, remembered the way they had felt on her chin earlier, felt their capability to turn from tender to bruising, and shuddered.

The other settled on her cheek, large palm resting against her cheekbone, his thumb caressing her lower lip. She met his eyes, defiantly, determined not to give in and let him see how affected she was. She would not…

Loki's smile only grew more knowing, and she longed both to slap it away and turn that smile into…what? She didn't know, but she ached to find out.

"You cannot hide what you feel from me, Gwen," he sighed against her lips. "I know well how to spot a lie."

"Then what do I feel? If I am so easily read?" she spat fiercely. He shook his head, before lowering his head, and Gwen almost melted at the feeling of his lips brushing hers.

"Desire," the word a hot whisper against her mouth, and her breath trembled from her even as she cursed herself for her weakness. "Intoxicating, is it not? We have only just begun. I have much to teach you, Gwen."

"I haven't said yes," she replied, her voice choked. He chuckled and shook his head, releasing her slightly.

"No, but you will," he returned certainly. Gwen wanted to rebuff him, for his arrogance and presumption, but he held up a warning finger. "Ah, ah, ah. Remember what I said about lying."

"This is a dream, and you are not real," she looked away, refusing to meet his eyes. "In the morning, I shall forget about all of this."

"Don't bet on it," he muttered, and was that a slight edge of annoyance slipping into his tone? Well, good.

"Well, now I shall take my leave of you," Loki said, and Gwen turned at the sudden change in his demeanour. From seductive to irritated to gallant? The man was an enigma.

He took her hand, and pressed a kiss to the knuckles. She shuddered as a slight pressure against her skin, hot and wet, before he pulled away. "Now you play at the gentleman?" she asked sarcastically. He smirked wryly.

"Oh, always, sweetling," he murmured, leaning in once more. "As it is, you shall need all the rest you can get, for when your lessons start; you will need all the strength you possess."

His lips came down, and Gwen steeled herself to feel her mouth taken without her consent, but instead they once again drifted across her forehead in an aching caress. She fought down the illogical feelings of disappointment, closing her eyes-

Gwen opened her eyes and gasped. Sunlight, bright and golden, broke through her window drapes, painting a strip of gold on her white eiderdown. Her heart still pounded, even as the maid smiled at her place by the fire she was stoking.

"Good morning, milady," she bobbed a curtsey, before hurrying from the room with her buckets and rags. Gwen schooled her expression into a calm, collected aspect but she was inwardly full of confusion.

And longing.

Her skin burned with fever, and her lips felt swollen. She touched them wonderingly, and then cursed herself for her foolishness. She stared at the windows, then rose determinedly, ringing for her lady's maid.

She had a bone to pick with her dark stranger.