Fifth place. Laurel supposed it could have been worse. At least she'd hit the target each time. Despite her… distraction. And she was the top woman competitor. That had to count for something, right? The day was a success regardless. She'd conquered a fear. And the day wasn't really about winning for her at any rate.

She admitted to herself that there was yet another entity she wished to conquer before the day's end. Oliver Carnwell. He'd made an impression upon her on their first meeting. She had never found herself so drawn to a man. She hadn't made it quite far enough in the competition to face him at the targets, much to her disappointment. She'd watched him face his opponents after her elimination, and wondered if she was as big of a distraction for him and he was for her. He'd finished the competition placing third, high enough to earn a small prize and receive a notable mention.

It was just before noon when the competition was done and the area began to clear out. Laurel knew she needed to return to her family's camp soon to avoid suspicion, but she had not yet caught Oliver. She wondered if he was really as intent on their meeting as he had seemed. She couldn't leave without at least catching his eyes, just to make sure he saw her and had a chance to find her if he desired.

Her eyes searched the crowd for the curled chocolate hair. She had just seen him near the winner's circle talking with the other winners, but he had already gone. Perhaps their encounter had just been a passing flirtation. A shame really, I rather liked him, she thought to herself. As she turned to exit the field she looked back just to be sure she hadn't missed him. It was then that her feet betrayed her and led her straight into a sturdy mass causing her to fall hard to the muddied ground.

"Shit!" she swore as she attempted to push herself out of the mud. She was covered from head to toe.

The mass in her path had a hand. It reached to help her out of the muck. "Looking for someone m'lady?"

She looked up. It was Oliver. Of course it's him. "Well, it looks as though the only thing I've found myself is a mud bath and a bit of shame and embarrassment."

"Here I thought you only needed practice at the bow, but it looks as though you could benefit from walking lessons as well," he couldn't help but laugh as he pulled her from the mud. She was quite a sight. "I do apologize for knocking you off your feet," he said with a wink. He offered a handkerchief that she willingly took.

She laughed at herself as she wiped the mud from her face. "You asked me to find you after the competition and find you I did. I just had my own way of going about it." Her face turned to concern as she assessed the situation. "I'll never be able to sneak back to camp like this, I'll leave a trail of evidence."

"Not to worry Lady Laurel, my camp is close," Oliver motioned towards the North camps. "You can use one of our tents to clean up. One of my associates might even have a coat or a dress that will fit you."

It was in the opposite direction of her family's camp. She gave him a teasing smile. "I suppose you seem trustworthy enough, at least for a lecher. No funny business, or you might get that arrow in the arse I promised you."

"No funny business, on my honor," He laughed and began to lead the way.

"You said your associates?" she questioned. "You're not here with your family then?"

He was a bit taken aback. "No, I'm not. My parents are probably the only people in the Marches that don't attend the Tourney. And I think if they did attend I'd still prefer the company of others. I have a brother." A frown formed on his brow and his tone became bitter. "He's too busy kissing my father's arse and waiting for his seat of lordship to concern himself with such things as a Grande Tourney." He was looking at his feet, ashamed of his outburst. "If you couldn't tell, we…well… we don't get along. I travel with… friends."

"I see… friends are nice." She'd made it awkward, a special talent of hers. "I didn't mean to pry, I merely wondered whose tent I'd be imposing my muddied self upon."

He looked up, dismissing his anger and smiling once again. "I wouldn't dream of luring you into any tent other than my own dear lady."

She found herself laughing once again. "Don't forget, I said no funny business!"

His grin didn't seem very convincing.

Maker's Breath! What have I done? It was already early evening. Laurel was sure her parents had sent out a search party by now. Probably alerted the authorities. My face is on a wanted poster by now on some Chanter's board! She had to go and she had to do it quickly.

"I don't normally do this, I swear!" she exclaimed as she sat up from the bed, looking around for her under things.

Her handsome bed mate was turned on his side, his face was smug as he watched her in her frantic state."Not that you'd believe me if I told you, but neither do I," Oliver said.

He had to be lying. He probably did this all the time. "My parents have probably been looking for me for hours. I'm sure they think I've been kidnapped." She hurriedly slipped on her trousers dried with mud and searched for the ties in the back to tighten her top. "I don't know how I let you seduce me so easily Lord Carnwell," she said with a laugh.

"Oh!" he acted surprised. "I thought you'd seduced me Lady Trevelyan. You did ask for my help with the mud."

"Fine! We seduced each other. Although I'm not convinced you didn't have this whole thing planned out when you pushed me into that puddle," she said smartly.

Oliver rose from the bed with a laugh and stepped into his trousers. He fetched the borrowed coat he'd brought her to wear, holding it out for her to slip on. Laurel smiled up at him as she turned to put her arms through. He took the opportunity to tug her closer and turned her to face him. He had to kiss her again.

"I do hope you enjoyed the mutual seduction as much as I did. And I hope it hasn't put you off. I would like to see you again. We can take it more... slowly next time," he hoped to persuade her.

They'd only known each other for a day. She had never bedded a man so quickly. Her first time was with a boy she had known her whole life. The next man was one of her failed courtships, she had at least known him for a few months. The next was Oliver. And this time felt unimaginably different than the others.

"Oliver, I have to go." She had no idea what her parents would have to say when she finally returned. She tried to think of what excuse she would use. She felt like a harlot and if they found her they'd probably think the same.

"Let me write to you. Or perhaps I could pay a visit to Ostwick." He said as if the idea had just popped into his head. She gave him a questioning look. "I'm serious, what we just had, we can't let something like this slip away. I'm sure we both depart in the morning, I don't want to let this go."

She laughed."Write to me? After that you want to write to me?" Regret was starting to set in, she couldn't look him in the eyes. "We barely know each other and I jump into bed with you. You don't think me a...well...a tart?"

He grabbed her by the chin, tilting her head up towards his face so that their eyes met. "Never m'lady," he said softly as he kissed her once again. "I know this was," he searched for the words, "...special. And we can change the 'barely know each other' part. I'm a great pen pal," he said raising his eyebrows as he smirked.

"I really have to go Oliver." She turned away to gather the rest of her things save the still mud soaked coat she'd worn to the competition. She considered his request for a moment, looking back just before exiting the tent. "I can at least say that I promise not to turn away any messengers. Whether I read their messages will be a matter up for debate."

He chuckled. "Of course you'll read them."