...

The next morning, Sansa went early to Highgarden, and only Willas was in. Jon seemed suspicious when they were led into the empty parlour, and stood before Sansa.

'Promise me you won't let him dishonour you, Sansa,' said Jon.

He was the brother she had disliked as a child, but Sansa now realised that Jon was a good man, and she hated to lie to him.

'I promise,' she said.

The promise was forgotten the moment Willas came through the door. His eyes lit up when he saw Sansa, and he heaved himself over on his cane to her immediately,

'Miss Stark, always a pleasure,' Willas said, coming over to her and kissing her hand. His eyes met hers as he did, melting her knees with his beautiful honey eyes. His hair was loose and curly, and he was dressed in a fine day suit, light enough that Sansa could see and imagine the lean muscles underneath. Jon coughed, and Willas turned back to him as if noticing him for the first time, although he had walked past the elder Stark when he entered the room. They shook hands. 'Good morning, Mr Stark.'

'Good morning, Mr Tyrell,' answered Jon, and there was a stiff silence before he spoke again. 'Sansa is engaged to Joffrey Baratheon, Mr Tyrell, don't forget that.'

Willas nodded curtly, his expression tense. 'Thank you, Mr Stark, but I assure you that I have only your sister's best interests at heart,' he paused, looking at Sansa, 'Unlike Mr Baratheon.'

Jon relaxed. 'Would that her betrothed was you instead,' he muttered, and then left.

The moment the door shut, Sansa wrapped her arms around Willas' neck and kissed him fiercely. He almost fell as he lost his balance, but she pulled him back and then guided him to the floor. Willas lay over her on the Persian rug, her red hair twisting into its intricate pattern, her face flushed and breathless. He raised himself up on his hands, ignoring her as she kept rising up to kiss him.

'San, I just promised to your brother that I wouldn't ruin you!' he exclaimed, and she flopped back down before him, 'Why do you keep looking so wonderfully ruinable, damn you?'

Sansa laughed, opening her mouth to accept his tongue when he kissed her.

'Everyone's out?' she asked when he lay down on his side next to her, admiring her cheekbones and stroking her hair.

'Yes, just us and the servants,' Willas answered, smiling devilishly.

'So we can...?' she trailed off temptingly, and Willas felt a shock of electricity in his groin.

'Well, we might scare the maid,' he answered, but continued the moment her face fell, cupping her face in his hand, 'Let's go up to my room.'

Sansa gasped, her eyes dreamy, as he kissed her once more. He scooped an arm under her legs and another under her spine and tried to lift her, but his knee wouldn't budge. He set her back down, clutching the pain in his knee whilst she sat beside him, her hand caressing his shoulder soothingly.

'Damn my knee!' he cursed, and then looked at Sansa, shame in his eyes, 'I'm sorry, Miss Stark, it seems that I'm not the romantic hero you want me to be.'

'No...' she murmured, coaxing him to face her, 'Darling Willas, I don't want another man. You... you're the wisest, gentlest man I know, and I wouldn't swap you for any other.'

Willas half-smiled, meeting her eyes as he moved in to kiss her.

'I love you, Mr Tyrell,' she said against his lips.

He tore away from her and, with her help, heaved himself to his feet. Her arm linked through his and Willas was sure she didn't have to press her breasts against him that much, but he liked it.

He quickly checked out the door that there was no-one around, and then they fled as fast as Willas' leg would allow him to his bedroom.

Inside, he set his cane against the wall, locked the door, and watched Sansa before him. She took her boots off, and was stripping off her gown, standing there in her petticoat and corset. She turned to look at him over her shoulder, shaking her red hair out down her back.

She sucked her lip a moment with bedroom eyes before saying, 'Unlace me?'

Willas hadn't moved so fast since before his fall. His fingers worked rapidly at the laces of her corset, slowing slightly as he realised that she was sighing at each gasp of air she could now reach. She stood before him in her white chemise, still looking back over her shoulder, and then he couldn't wait any longer. His lips met hers passionately, their flesh hot and sticky, and he was vaguely aware of her thin fingers working away at his clothes, until they were both in their undergarments. She pulled away from him just to heave her chemise over her head, and then she was naked before him, her skin pale alabaster, smooth and warm to the touch, more beautiful than any woman had a right to be. He stared her up and down for a long moment.

'I want to paint you nude,' he growled, making her laugh, before he pushed her back onto his bed, taking a moment to settle himself on top of her, making sure his leg was in a comfortable place.

'I want to Isee/i you nude!' she retorted, pulling his final piece of clothing off. His naked body was a light tan colour, and just as lean and beautiful as she had imagined. She sucked in a deep breath, suddenly nervous because he was older than her, and a Pre-Raphaelite Brother, and so very, very beautiful. 'I... Willas, I haven't ever done this before.'

He softened, stroking her face lightly. 'Me neither, Little Wolf. You are the first woman I have ever loved.'

Sansa smiled, a proud little smile that told him his words had reassured her. He kissed her again, warm and explorative, cupping her small breasts in his hands and delighting in the feeling of her nipples hardening under his touch. Her hand wrapped around his wrist and guided one of his hands down to the wetness between her legs.

His fingers curled inside her while she whimpered against his lips, and then finally she stopped him.

'I'm ready,' she breathed, her eyes celestial blue before his.

He couldn't hold himself back any longer, and he moved his stiff manhood to her heat, pushing in as gently as he could. She moaned, but it sounded more like pleasure than pain.

After, she lay in the crook of his arm, with her head on his bare chest. The duvet was only laid up to their waists, and Willas was finding himself very distracted by the mermaid-like effect of her flowing red curls draped over her naked breasts. He had another urge to paint her in the nude, flowers draped across her body and that lovely, wry smile on her face.

'You know I can't go back to him now,' she whispered, the smile breaking.

'Who?' Willas asked, unable to remember any man who laid a claim to Sansa whilst she was here in his arms, so sweet and so entirely his.

'Joffrey,' she spat, hiding her face in his chest.

Willas took a deep breath to calm himself. It was true. There was no way she could go back to that little bastard now that she knew what she was missing, no way he could let her marry him and have to spend the rest of his life imagining her lying below him, thinking of England with tears rolling down her face- or worse, enjoying Joffrey's love, making those beautiful noises for someone else.

'We must run away,' said Willas.

'I thought you weren't a romantic hero,' she said, her voice cracking.

'I want you to be mine, Sansa,' he said, sitting up and pulling her with him so that her face was curled up to his. 'I want you to be my wife, and my muse, and my lover- always and forever.'

She stayed silent, looking up at him with softness in her eyes that made him want to kiss her, but he didn't because she looked uncertain.

'Speak, sweet Sansa,' he urged quietly, 'Tell me what you are thinking.'

'I want that very much, Willas,' she answered, 'But I was wondering how I can ever leave my family.'

A/N: Hope you enjoyed! I can't get enough of this pair and their naughty bedroom antics.