Day 3: Medieval
One look at the colored glass panes and James quickly averts his gaze, adjusting the collar of his attire to breathe a little easier. The stares of those immortalized figures were bearing down on him, seeing through the finest clothes and years of etiquette training his family's wealth could afford.
The prim taps of leather soles mingle with the murmurs filling up the marbled structure. Layered dresses allow the women to seemingly glide their way around the hall, powdered faces hidden behind lavish feathered fans. Their eyes latch on to him every now and again, not-so-secret smiles hoping to catch his attention.
James makes an effort to appear engaged in the event, more for his mother's approval than anything else. She's the one who made this whole charade of showing off her eligible son. His avoidance of the matter for the past months have been a great strain on their relationship (or lack of it) and the realization he'd come upon a mere few weeks back pushed the Dame to her limits. No protest could sway the woman's decision and James knows in his hearts of hearts that his mother is only doing the rightmost act to ensure the maintenance of their prestigious title.
But another thing he knows is that the emotions stirred within him by the neighboring Earl's son is reciprocated. Very thoroughly, he should add. James' feet stop moving as the memory of laughs and smiles and kisses – the sweetest and best he's ever known – clear up his troubled mind. Almost immediately, the empty feeling beside him is magnified a thousand-fold and the blush coloring his cheeks retreat into pallor.
He's expected to choose a wife.
Gulping, James looks around. His mother is entertaining the older guests – lords and knights and viscounts, the sort of dignitaries James is expected to compare with in a few years' time. With the luncheon ended just a few minutes back, all the guests were milling about the grand ballroom; the young women in particular were hoping for James' approach. Music played from the ensemble on their stage, it was a song that James had played on his recorder for Logan once and if he dared to be so bold, James would've claimed it as their song.
A hair-raising feeling prickles the back of James' neck and he turns to find one of the ladies looking right at him. He pauses, meeting the daring look that started to tinge with nervousness the longer they maintained eye contact.
Her brown hair curls past her shoulders, resting on the red fabric of her dress. She smiles and takes a few stammering steps closer, eyebrows slanting in distress at her lack of finesse but James finds her pout rather charming, especially with those dimples showing... wait.
James rushes to assist the "lady", offering an arm for her to take while his eyes refuse to leave the familiar face. He can't believe this, mostly because he can't believe how he actually thought it was a woman in those first few seconds.
"What are you doing?" James asks lowly, noticing how their heights are a little closer now, which only means –
"Winning you over," is the smirking response.
They stare at each other for a second until James gives a begrudging laugh. Noticing the eyes of everyone else in the room on him and his apparently chosen companion, James leads the way to a more private space to converse. "When I told you about this I expected you to ride in with a white horse and whisk me away," James says, grinning wide. "Where did you even get these?" He trails his fingers down the other's arm, feeling the velvety fabric.
"It's Lady Knight's."
James' eyes bug out. "She knows–?"
"Nah. Kendall so nicely borrowed them for me." Logan flashes another dimpled smile.
"So this is another Kendall plan." The wry amusement in James' tone goes out to their friend. He makes a mental note to thank the guy later but for now he settles for holding Logan close. Logan smells different, sickeningly sweet when James breathes him in but the arms that wrap around his waist in response does wonders in assuring him of the reality of their situation.
Gently, James tilts up Logan's face and presses their lips. Pigmented cheeks color brighter and Logan melts into the calm thunders of their heartbeats pressed so close. Hands slide seamlessly up James' back, fingers sifting through expensive cloth to feel the masculine form beneath.
The waxy taste of Logan's painted lips is new but the sensations they trigger bring a most cherished comfort to him. Parting for the moment, James' hand caresses its way up Logan's cheek, pinky finger poking at his dimple. Quiet laughter is breathed between them, hooded eyes sharing meaningful looks as James traces the curve of Logan's jaw, moving down to his neck. Fingers finally clasped at the young lord's nape and Logan takes the cue to initiate another kiss.
"Ahem."
They split apart at the sound, horrified at being discovered until they found a blond teen lurking behind a nearby column. "You know they're going to be suspicious when the young Duke returns with lips colored like our dear lady over here, right?"
"So what?" James huffs, pulling out a kerchief to wipe at his mouth; he was annoyed at the interruption but their friend did have a point. And this was technically Kendall's doing in the first place so he kind of owed the guy something.
Kendall smirks, nodding at Logan who smiled back. "Try not to ruin that dress, okay? It has sentimental value."
"I'm not doing anything," Logan replies, smoothing out the skirt to ease his conscience.
"Right." Kendall looks between the two of them. "Because I have never seen how James would tackle you to the ground and – last time I counted – it was 3 seconds before your tickle fights take a turn for, well, I don't have to say it, do I?"
"Why are you really here?" James asks pointedly.
"Oh yeah." Kendall snaps his fingers and smiles that annoying smile. "Dame Brooke is asking around about Lady in Red here, and pretty soon she'll find out she's not actually a viable candidate."
"Hey, I am totally good son-in-law material," Logan argues.
A quick drop of his eyes at the dress and Kendall doesn't even have to say a word.
Logan hmphs and crosses his arms. "Well–"
"Look, I'll just tell dear old mother the truth," James announces. "That way we all live happily ever after."
"Except that she's kind of looking for your bride, not groom."
"So what am I supposed to do?" James groans.
"You" a sharp voice comes from behind them "are going to pick a wife."
The Lady of the estate is walking up to their corner and she doesn't look pleased. "Good day, Kendall..." She regards him austerely before turning those sharp eyes on "Logan."
"Best of afternoons, Dame Brooke," Kendall and Logan chorused, though the latter's voice comes out in nothing more than a squeak.
Brooke strides over in quick regal steps until she's right beside James. "Dear boy, don't try to make this simple matter complicated."
"But," James forces out the next line, barely controlling himself from cowering before her as he's wont to do. "I don't want any of those women! I'm in–"
"In this society, it's never about what any single individual wants," Brooke admonishes. "It's all about carrying on the family legacy, ensuring that our honor will be defended for generations to come."
Logan winces as James' hand grabs onto his, clutching tightly, but it's the tremors running through each digit that has him worrying. He squeezes back, giving what comfort he could afford.
"Why can't you just let me be with the one I love?" James grits out, eyes misting over at his mother's unforgiving stare.
"Because love is always second to duty," Brooke states, looking at each of the boys in turn. "Political alliances are what keeps this county running. I'm not asking you for much, dear, but you really are the only one who can maintain our prestigious line." When James looks away and refuses to meet her eyes, Broke lets out a sigh. "Just one male heir, dear. Take a wife and produce a strong male heir... I could care less who would actually share your bed at night."
Kendall's eyes snap to Logan whose whole face has turned red at the implication. James is straightening his posture, staring at Logan who's now holding his hand equally tight.
"You will have to keep up appearances," Brooke warns them before they get ahead of themselves. "Even though everybody knows it's a marriage of necessity, the less people gossip about it, the better. Do you understand?"
James nods, fingers lacing through Logan's in clear view of his mother's eyes but the Lady chooses to make no comment other than a second's pause of observation.
"Come along, then." And Brooke exits, heading back to the grand ball room.
