NOTE:In this chapter, find out how 'Jimme & Humberta' manage in Pitt Street, and where the completion of their task carries them. :)) Enjoy!

Chapter Ten

The sun barely made its way through the dirtied window, to place its rays upon the face of a sleeping Elizabeth Vaisey, leaning over the back of an equally unconscious Guy of Gisborne. Of course, in all the dirt they had been forced to cover themselves in, it was hardly visible they were the ones; especially considering the shabby, one-room cottage in Pitt Street they were located in. Which had been the point of their disguise.

Elizabeth was the first to wake, opening her dark eyes, taking in her surroundings, and upon recalling the events that took place last night, she smiled to herself with squealing delight. Not that she actually squealed.

She was acting like a stupid little girl, not a grown, married woman, but it made her feel happier than ever. A memory of herself being delighted at the kiss she had dealt Sir Guy more than a year ago, after their first night in Nottingham, now seemed so distant and small, compared to this. Now; she actually had him, in a much better way; Ines' husband. Even though he 'had chose her', as she'd put it herself that day. Hah! Blinking a few times, to reassure herself this was real-stupid little girl, indeed, why wouldn't it be?-she moved, feeling Guy stirring below her. Recalling their disguises, she chuckled, pushing herself over him so she'd be next to his ear.

"Hello…Jimmie."

Guy turned his head at the coy voice, looking up at the grinning Elizabeth. Groggily, he snorted, the sound not empty of amusement, "Humberta."

Now, it was his turn to remember. It took less than seconds, and he closed his eyes again, realizing just what they had done.

No way in hell would he have expected for this to occur. He had expected for them to spend three days fighting, bickering and figuring out what to eat. He had expected them to return to the Sheriff with the news that the Nightwatchman had gone away, again; and to face some of the reprecussions Vaisey had promised them.

Then, Elizabeth pointed out what was rather obvious, now that he considered it; they had gotten in there because he had tried to rescue her. She had said she had tried to rescue him, too, but he had done it for more times, and he had made more important rescues. The bottom line was, though, that they supposedly hated each other.

It was at that moment that something had caught hold of him. There she was, standing before him, casting a jest, her hands on her hips, her hair in disarray and all the dirt of Pitt Street on her face. And he became very much aware of the truth that lied in what she was telling him.

Rescue. It reminded him of Marian. Marian, and all the times he had helped her avoid terrible fates Vaisey would have prepared for her. Marian, and her grateful, large, green eyes that would look at him with suspicion, surprise and something else, something he had hoped was genuine care. He still hoped it had been that, and tried to think of it as little as possible, not to endanger that belief.

Elizabeth, when he rescued her, looked at him with gratefulness, to some point, but not a trace of what Marian had had in her eyes. She would look at him with more fire and amusement and tons of emotions, and soon they would be back to the way things were-one thing in common with Marian.

Yet he had persisted in helping both of them, when he could. No matter how different they were.

Very different.

'We'll need a peasant to arrest as the Nightwatchman.' Guy had thought, returning to the matter at hand; or attempting to return to it.

Marian would never have considered such a thing. Marian would have sooner died herself than risked the life of someone who had not done anything, especially a poor peasant. Marian would have blamed him for thinking such thoughts.

"We'll have to find someone to arrest for being the Nightwatchman, then. And pray the real one does not appear."

Elizabeth, on the other hand, had spoken those thoughts aloud.

That had confounded him beyond belief.

Next to him, stood a woman who was more than ready and willing to dispose of someone else so she-and he, in this case-would be safe. A woman who was capable of making the choice of herself when it was between her and someone else. A woman who did not stick blindly to morality, justice, right, wrong, nobility, honor, ethics-who did not judge his thoughts and choices.

She thought his thoughts.

Some of this, he had seen before-the fact she was selfish, the fact she was not honorable or a woman of great morale. Because that was her pretense, what she wanted the world to see, the pretense he despised so much. Of being strong, ruthless, etcetera.

But never before had it hit him that she thought his thoughts. Or it had, but he had tried denying it.

Her pretense was what marked her as what she was, despite all the things that may have lied beneath. The fact that she had chosen the pretense over the other; it said a lot about her. For one, that she was nothing like Marian. In this case, Marian would have used all she had to persuade him not to go and make someone blameless be executed. And disappointment would have filled her eyes at his proposal. Elizabeth had been the first to make the proposal.

Elizabeth, as Marian had brought out the best in him, brought out the worst in him. For Marian, he had lied, deceived and all that, but he had done it for the cause of what she had called 'good'-not that it had been his intention. For Elizabeth, he had done it for her, too, he supposed, and she was (to some extent) grateful for that, and just that, not caring about good or bad that had gotten in the way. With Marian, he had controlled his temper, with Elizabeth, it was more infuriating than ever. Just as her own-a part of her he doubted she had to pretend about.

In my line of work, I need the worst more than the best.

Elizabeth knew how to welcome what he did for her, welcome his intentions, not care about who else got hurt in the way. She did not put whatever he did for her apart and inspect every aspect of it-no matter what she said, she did value the simple fact it had been done for her. As a matter of fact, he was certain that if he killed for her, she would truly take it as the grandest compliment. She argued with him because it was tradition more than because they were so different. She made it easier to aid her than Marian ever had.

"God, this would have been so much easier if I'd just slept with John!"

One sentence that had reminded him of the night in London; and of his wedding day with Marian. Back then, on the wedding day, he had wondered what it would have been like to be truly understood. In London, he had seen that Elizabeth understood. Or at least, had the capacity to understand. Understand, instead of trying to change him and make it all the harder for him. Because sometimes, it was demanding as it was.

That sentence made him walk over to her, and, before knowing what he was doing himself, kissing her on the neck.

Now, she was doing the same to him, and he opened his eyes again, looking at the cottage they were to live in for the following three days. The following moment, he wished he hadn't, because it pulled his train of thoughts in the direction of their mission. And Sheriff Vaisey.

Turning around and extending his hand to push Elizabeth away, Guy sat up in the bed, letting out a long sigh.

Elizabeth was sitting as well, not bothering to cover herself, looking at him with confusion and a dose of apprehension, "What is it?" She asked suspiciously.

She must be thinking I am about to dispose of her, "Nothing." He hurried to say, giving himself a mental slap-he was too eager to lie to her for her sake for it to be healthy, obviously. Meeting her gaze, which was still doubtful, he shook his head, "Vaisey. He said…that he would have my head if he ever caught us playing…married couple…again."

Her brow went higher than he would have thought it humanely possible, and he nearly simpered at the sight.

"Again? I thought this was our first time." There were pimples on her cheeks, "Was it?"

"Hmph." Now, Guy did smirk, "Just like you, not able to recall. Further to the point-we can't be discovered."

For a few moments, she was silent, and looked at him sideways.

"Woud he…really kill you?" She finally said, somewhat haltingly.

Guy leaned his head against the wall behind them, his eyes on the roof. Not a pleasant topic. He wished he could say no. But deep down, he knew that the Sheriff would do it. Not just deep down; he knew it quite clearly. He would kill him over a woman he did not even like. Because she was his possession. And, in a manner, so was Guy-but a possession, easily replaced.

The quiescence becoming too long, he was about to address her and reply, when he felt her hand-which did not have the gentleness Marians' had- land on him-just below his chest. Damn it.

"Guy…oh, I mean Jimmie…" She was frowning, her voice serious, "How did you get this?"

He could have said a lot of things; a fight, an accident, it happened ages ago. Instead, not knowing with what motive, upon meeting her questioning eyes, he merely swallowed, speaking in what he had not intended to be a whisper, but it came out as such.

"He would-kill me."

Elizabeth did not raise her hand from the burn. She could not tell whether or not it was fresh, but she was very distinctly returned to the event of some days ago, when Vaisey had called them to his office. A scream she had heard; and prayed it had been Vaisey screaming.

Then Guy's eyes met hers, as turbulent as ever, and she realized it had not been Vaisey.

His whisper sounded…wounded. And she, peculiarly, was immediately reminiscent of their conversation during breakfast, yesterday-though it seemed such a long time ago. She'd been certain Guy would never take any physical mistreatment from the Sheriff. This was plainly evidence for the other side of that statement. So that was what he had meant; and it couldn't have been the sole time.

Firstly, she just stared with disbelief. Then, acrimony burst into her.

Vaisey was a bastard. Guy did all his work for him. He never disobeyed him. He was loyal to him, and he obviously had no intention of abandoning him no matter what the Sheriff did. Had anyone else gotten this kind of treatment, Elizabeth would not have cared, but—

But I do care about Guy.

I think. I shouldn't.

Though it felt good.

Straightening her back, she folded her arms, "Forgive me, but the Sheriff is a pig." So what if she cared about him. He was not disgusted by her, so she was not pining after him in vain, and that was fine. Besides, he never had to know that she---IF she began caring more.

Guy did not say anything; he remained silent, and looking at him, she caught herself wanting very much to throw herself into his arms and tell him everything that was on her mind-like she had in London. But she stopped herself. That would not have been like her, acting like a ninny again. She had sworn something like that outburst would never appear in her life again. I should not think of that with so much affection; I should not want it. I should be ashamed of it.

Instead of throwing herself, she dragged herself closer to him, leaning against his shoulder.

Maybe he needed comfort more than her. Elizabeth did not remember seeing anyone of his family other than Isabella, his sister, who did not seem to be too loving a sibling. Vaisey was the closest thing he could have to a father, in that case-and he carried all the promises of power and wealth along. Power and wealth Guy wanted just as she did. If not more. Vaisey had been the true reason to the death of Marian, the woman Guy had loved. Had loved, thankfully. A part of Elizabeth suddenly felt glad she was dead. In spite of all, promises of position and money, and other things, tied Guy to Vaisey.

And now I tie him to Vaisey, too.

Of all those things she could have said, she chose none. She did not wish to think she was one of the things that tied him to Vaisey, because she was selfish-she did not want to bring it out in the open and have the risk of him going away from her. Why would I mention it like a fool? Of course I don't tie him to Vaisey. And why would I go telling him, practically, to leave me, when neither would want that? Or at least, she realized, she hoped he would not want it.

She did not want to tell him to abandon Vaisey because it was very clear to her why he remained by his side, and that lessons on that would only bother him. They were both where they were, these were they lives, and all they could do was make the best out of them.

"If we want to save our heads, we'd better start looking for our Nightwatchman, Jimmie."

The knock on the door interrupted Elizabeth in her attempts at cutting carrots and potatoes. She had no idea what to do with them, save for throwing them into the water and waiting until it boiled. Of course, for that, she needed Guy to have the stove working for her, and he had been gone in pursuit of their object for two hours now. She had half a mind to go out and look for him, but then she remembered that she would probably get lost in Pitt Street. Besides, there was no way Guy could have been recognized; if he had, the peasants would not have dared to harm him, and she had added new layers of dirt onto his face. She'd also tried rearranging his hair, which had resulted in salves of laughter(from her) and angry growling(from him). She'd paid for her fun when he had rubbed coal into her face and hair.

With an eyebrow up, wondering why would Guy be knocking and deducing it most likely wasn't Guy, at all, she headed for the door and opened it.

At the doorstep was a short man, nearly as dirty as she fancied herself to be, skinny and-her nostrils flared slightly-stinky. We at least stink like coal and dirt, not like…whatever this is. He was wearing clothes that, as Guy's shirt, had once, long ago, been white-or brown? Behind him, stood a woman who was taller than him for a good head, and was halding a small, naked, sullied child. They all(save for the child) seemed to be trying to smile, but it looked more like they were crying. Uncertain of what kind of an expression she produced, Elizabeth looked at them.

"Good morning. How can I help you?"

All of them(even the baby) exchanged glances, without a hint of subtlety. Then, they returned their attention to her, who was now positively bemused. Or amused? A mixture.

"Yeah. We're the Tenners-live next door." The man motioned at a shack in a worse state than their own, his speech completely different than hers-distorted and unpleasant to the ear. Elizabeth's eyes trailed in the direction of his. Your house doesn't have a door.

"Ah. I see. We're neighbours, right?" She smiled at them, "How can I help you?" Again.

She almost expected them to exchange glances like the last time and, ironically, they did. Even the baby. Where is Guy now? I'm doing all the work here, keeping up our disguise.

"Yeah. Let's enter. Talk." Obviously an illiterate person, he made a step forward. Elizabeth let him in, ceasing to breathe as he and his wife, a yellow haired, plump woman, passed by. She closed the door and was about to offer them to sit down, when she saw they had already helped themselves.

The woman and the baby were even sitting on their bed.

"Excuse me." Elizabeth headed towards them, "I have to fix the bed, if you could go sit over there, on the chair…?" She inclined towards the chair and grasped the covers, getting a distinct feeling the woman did not understand her words. The moving of the surface she sat on did the trick, then, for Mrs. Tenner got up and, slowly, sat next to her husband.

"There!" Elizabeth sat on the bed herself, making certain it was not touched by them again-it was grimy enough, "So, you wanted to talk about something?"

Tenner was looking around, as if evaluating their house. Elizabeth frowned on the inside; they did not intend to try robbing them, did they? Both she and Guy had taken their daggers along. If the Tenners dared to try anything, they'd pay there and then, and afterwards, upon their return to the castle.

The baby was, at least, sweet, despite the fact it needed a bath. Maybe they weren't malicious, at all; maybe they were just a family, trying to be friendly with new neighbours.

"How'd you end up 'ere?" Tenner replied to her smile.

"Me and my husband?" Ah, this was fun! The tale they had prepared; well, she had done most of the preparing. Removing her smile, though now she really wanted to smile, she nodded her head, "We've just arrived. Well, not really. We arrived about a week ago…I think, you see. We were hopin' to find jobs…or just live on the streets, because our old house was burnt down…" Along the way, she decided that trying to take on an accent now would have been stupid, "…Near Clun. An accident, I was tryin' to cook and it happened…" Yawning, but keeping her mouth closed, she brought tears to her eyes, "Oh. Well, we came here, and we were arrested before we even entered the city…a guard accused us of stealin' from him, but we said we didn't know the purse of coins that had fallen of was his, honestly. So, we were taken to the dungeons…and kept in there for a week, until the guard found his coinpurse somewhere else, and that had not been his in the end…I guess he took pity on us. With the coins…Jimmie and I had the money to pay for taxes, unlike the poor souls who used to live here before us…" She bent her head as much as she could, "So we were allowed to move in."

"You have food."

Elizabeth was taken aback. After her brilliant performance, all that the Mrs. Tenner could say was 'You Have Food'? No pity, no sadness, no compassion? No wonder Vaisey did not like the peasants. Though they probably have troubles of their own.

"Yes…, we do. We found it. Here." She had her voice sounding shaken still.

Tenner shook his head.

"We're friends with the old own'rs. We took all there was when they're kicked out."

"Didn't the Sheriff's men take all there was?" Elizabeth bit her tongue. Never mind it; it was a valid question, after all. She wished Guy would come already. These people were annoying.

"No. Strange. We took it." Oh, yes, they were annoying, both the man and the woman. So what if they had food in the house? They could work, the Tenners, and then they'd have food, too. There was always work, people only had to make an effort to find it.

"Well, all right." Elizabeth stopped with her pleasant mask, "I do not see why our food matters. What did you want?"

The Tenners did not even draw back at her change of demeanour. Their faces still with the same countenance as when they first appeared, they focused on her. Mrs. Tenner spoke.

"Food. We're hungry."

Elizabeth lifted her eyebrows, staring at them in blank shock. Food? They wanted food? What were they thinking, coming into the house of someone who was supposed to be as poor as they were, asking for their food?

"We need our food." She stated, with a light huff, crossing her arms over her chest.

These people were incapable of moving their face features. Cry-smiles still plastered on them, the man and the woman, simultaneously, chanted.

"We need it more."

This was it. They could be poor, they could have a small child which was sweet, but they had no right to come in and demand someone else's food. She got up from the bed, relocating her hands to her hips. All they knew, she was also a peasant! They could not know that she-her husband-owned Nottingham. Either way, no one was making a fool out of her.

"You cannot possibly claim that. You are not getting any food from us. We need it. It is ours."

"We need it more."

"Then you aren't getting it!" Now, she was beginning to seriously lose her calm, hoping the house of the Tenners collapsed on their heads. Excepting the baby, "Now, if there is nothing else, I am very busy."

Unexpectedly, the Tenners rose to their feet, too. Instantly, she thought they would attack her, and readied herself, but they just stood where they were.

"You help us clean the street—"

The door opened and Guy walked in. Finally. Elizabeth felt relief, and she briefly forgot about what exactly Mr. Tenner had said. Beaming at Guy, meeting his inquisitive gaze, she turned back to them.

"This is my husband, Jimmie. Jimmie Greaston."

"Humberta." Guy had never quite agreed on the last name, so there was a threatening edge to his tone, "Who are these people?" He had, at least, been succesful in making his voice sound different; as if his throat was sore.

"They evidently expect us to help them-clean the streets?" Now, they had her fullest attention then, and the outrage of what they had asked reached to her, "I believe we have business of our own to tend to."

Mrs. Tenner shook her head slowly, and for a long time-Elizabeth nearly laughed into her face. She looked like a madwoman.

"Everyone cleans the streets. A rule, it's."

It was Elizabeth and Guy's turn to exchanged glances as the Tenners had before, both, she gathered, feeling the same at the moment-these people deserved higher taxes.

"We won't be cleaning the streets. We've just arrived, and we have work to do." Guy tried to sound as pleasant as he came-which was rather cold, and she was glad for it.

Mr. Tenner was unsatisfied.

"You must."

Elizabeth felt her heart skip an angry beat. You MUST?

"Of course we don't have to. There is no such law, and we only pay taxes for this house, so the rest is not our concern!" Marching over to the door, she opened it and stepped aside, "Now, if you would please-we require privacy."

The Tenners, like two clowns, horrible, ugly, terrible clowns, just stood there, dim-wittedly, and stared ahead of them.

"Mr. and Mrs. Tenner." Elizabeth raised her voice, but Guy was more effective. Walking towards them, he grabbed them both by the collar and began pushing them by the door. After a few steps, they began to walk themselves, and, without a sound or a stray look, they were out of the house. Elizabeth shut the door closed-only to feel it being pushed back at her. She leaned over, to see the Tenners, with the baby disappeared, pushing in order to open it again.

"GET OUT!" Guy roared, closing the door onto the fingers of Mrs. Tenner. Elizabeth sought around for a key, and found it on a piece of wood that could have been called a trunk. Quickly, she grabbed it, and turned it in the keyhole.

"Blasted peasants!" She shouted after the Tenners. After a few seconds, during which she and Guy stood by the door, breathless, footsteps were heard. The Tenners, good riddance, had left. At last.

"Phew." Elizabeth shook her head, her hands on her waist, "How dared they--! These people, I swear, deserve all that Vaisey gives them."

Guy ran a hand through his hair, letting out a long breath.

"They have to be put in line." He said, not nearly as whole-heartedly as herself. Most probably because he had not been around them ever since their arrival.

"Eh. I certainly hope I don't see them again." She moved over to where she'd been cutting the vegetables; the same kitchen table where the Tenners had sat, "Ew!" She had to wave a hand in front of her noce, "They left behind the stench, Guy—Jimmie."

She could have felt him smirk, "And they blame me when I am cruel to them."

Elizabeth spun around, cheerful stupefication on her face.

"Was that a joke?" She requested, "I rarely hear you joke; save for those times when you say I'm stupid and that you hate me."

Guy looked at her with amusement and seriousness at the same time, "I do not joke then."

Lowering her head and bestowing upon him, with flashing eyes, a breakneck glower, she forgot all about the food and approached him, wrapping her hands around his neck and kissing him. It was so refreshing, having someone to kiss whenever she wanted. It should have happened sooner.

"The Tenners made me lose my appetite, anyway." She said as she pulled away. She was about to kiss him again, but he stopped her by placing a hand on her chest. Her brow furrowed, but he spoke before giving her enough time to suspect.

"I haven't found anyone."

Their task.

Elizabeth bit on her lower lip, "No one at all?"

Guy shook his head, pacing over to the stove; "One man could have had access to the food-a tavern owner-but he is old and barely capable of moving. The rest of them are all either too bad fighters or unable to get their hands on the supplies. I'll check if the tavern owner has any sons…" He massaged his temples with his fingers, "Later today."

Elizabeth sighed, placing one hand on her shoulder while biting the nails; as dirty as they were, on the other, "It makes you wonder how the real Nightwatchman got to the food, doesn't it?"

"If we had known that, we would have caught him years ago."

She shrugged, "Maybe we will actually catch the real one; by accident. Perhaps he's gone into retirement."

Guy looked at her skeptically; "Certainly."

"A joke. Jimmie." She rolled her eyes, taking a look around, "Well, we might as well eat something. Set the stove for me?"

Reluctantly, he did so. An hour later, they were eating what tasted like-crap. Elizabeth could not even tell the carrots from the potatoes, and she missed the castle and the luxuries like hell. But she felt she could have endured some more time here; with Guy.

And without, of course, the Tenners.

"That? The Nightwatchman? Are you sure he can even use a fork and a knife properly?"

"I believe him being an excellent fighter is not as necessary-after all, he has been retired for almost a year."

Elizabeth frowned, squinting to be able to see through the tavern window. They were located in an alley in Pitt Street, which happened to offer the view into the mentioned building. The subject of her scrutiny was a thin, lean man, or rather boy, whom they had just seen run into the tavern at the speed of light. Or, at least, Guy had seen him. Considering that they had been wandering around the slums to no avail for two days, and they only had one to make an arrest or be arrested-most likely-seeing someone who had both good legs and the ability to run remotely fast was welcoming.

"You have a point." Their spirits had rised when the boy had hugged the tavern owner with affection. A son, obviously. Elizabeth felt something gnawing at her heart as she watched them embrace again. No. It's you or him. To amend for the breif spout of conscience, she added, "We could, perhaps, have him lose a few fingers, making that reason to his retirement…"

Guy craned an eyebrow, "Useless. I think it shall be safe to say he just chickened out. Due to our constant attempts at catching him."

"Hah!" Elizabeth flicked her hair playfully, content again, "Really? All right. Now, we need a story. How did we catch him?" She raised a ponderous finger to her chin. Guy's eyes travelled from the 'Nightwatchman' to her, and she knew he considered her very humorous, currently. Hmph., "You could be of some use, too, you know-I have to think of all."

"You?" Now she had his full attention, "Who was the one to find the boy in the first place?"

Elizabeth waved her hand, but beginnings of a smile were curving her lips. Let him win this one. After all, he had been useful; she was just saying what she was for the sake of argument. Once we're back, I won't be able to let him win, anyway; Vaisey will find it suspicious. Not that it was going to be a difficult play.

"All right, all right. How about him dropping off the food for us; me stalling him by going to thank him, and you knocking him unconscious from behind?" Comprehension passed over her features as she remembered, and caught his arm, "Guy, what about the costume?"

He frowned, "The costume, what--?" His expression darkened, "Curses."

Bewildered, Elizabeth clasped her hands, spinning towards the wall; "Great. Just great. We think of all, find our victim-culprit-and we forget the bloody costume! You--"

Guy looked at her hotly; "Don't-try to pin this on me." He grabbed her, by the waist and by the back, pulling her close. Elizabeth forced her mind to return to the ire of their problem, and failed miserably.

"We both forgot."

They were not supposed to be kissing in the middle of the street, they were supposed to be worrying over their heads; which they were about to find severed, unless they found a way to fetch a costume first, but all Elizabeth wanted was for him to pull her even closer-and he did. She wanted to feel his lips agianst hers-and he was coming closer, closer, closer, and they were touch—

"Good luck you 'ave me, then!"

Both of them bolted, and turned towards the entrance to the alley.

There stood Allan A' Dale, dressed like an inhabitant of the slums, with a costume in his hands and a wide grin on his looks. A grin which, though he had just most likely saved them, had nothing to do with that fact.

Both of them were without words.

Allan had promised, under all the possible threats(delivered once the costume was snatched away from him) to remain silent about what he had seen-or suffer. 'Who d'you think I'm gonna tell, the Sheriff? Not bein' funny, but he'd kill you, and then I'd have to work for him, and I prefer even you, Giz." Elizabeth had chuckled, Guy had managed to withhold from murdering him on the spot. 'Besides…I think you two're good for each other. Honest!' He'd winced, "Ey; or bad. For me, at least. But you look nice together, that's the point!'

It was nearing midnight, and the Nightwatchman was already in the Sheriff's dungeons, most likely signing the confession. As for Elizabeth and Guy, they were to leave Pitt Street tomorrow, early in the morning. While both of them were sick and tired of this place, it was for two different reasons. Sick; the food they had to eat(and the Tenners, who had tried entering their house once more). Tired; the fact they had more interesting things to do than sleep for a certain part of the night.

Elizabeth was looking more than forward to the food and the comforts of the castle. She also knew she would be returning with a new sparkle of life-sparkled by the fact she and Guy would go on meeting. Secretly, of course. Very secretly. They would never again have this sort of freedom. Not that she felt regret because of it. Naturally, she would not risk all she had just to be able to sleep with him whenever she wanted or to kiss him at her desire. Damn; she was risking everything. She would not 'throw everything away' was a more apt expression. She'd sooner risk her life. We'll have to be careful enough. Guy's life will be at risk, too. It cannot be avoided, the risk.

Guy gathered Allan, now that he knew, would be of some use in helping them remain unnoticed. Staying here did not even cross his mind. He'd have Elizabeth in the castle just as well, only not as much. He would never have her as much; she had a husband, and he a pitiful excuse of a wife whom he considered a blessing to see as little as possible. Her husband was more than ready and eager to kill, and he happened to be his superior. They would have to be careful. Keep up the hatred; that would not be hard on either of them. Hide, make certain they were never seen.

Or he could merely stop seeing her and end all his troubles thusly. His and hers.

"Guy?"

"Yes?"

"I am most likely to regret saying this. Do you truly wish to keep on with our meetings once we return to the castle?"

"You will regret it. Because I do."

"I was hoping for that."

The simplicity of the solution of ceasing all contact-well, there was no simplicity, thought it sounded as the easiest action in the world. They came here pretending they were lovers, now they would depart as actual lovers.

Elizabeth had wanted to say it might be unwise. She had thought of pretending she did not want this anymore, so that that she would not stand between the position and the power she knew Guy craved most. So that he would not ever lose all. So that she would never lose all. But she found that she wanted him. And selfishness won. We will never actually stand between each other and our desires. Just because we sleep together-it doesn't mean that.

Guy had wanted to tell her he did not intend on keeping on with their meetings, because he had come this far and had no intention of doing anything to endanger his advancement. Or his life. Her life would be at stake, too; or at least something close to it. And her status, and power, which he knew she valued more than anything. But he said 'I do' instead, not comprehending his own reasons, himself. We will mind our step-we will not be caught. We will lose nothing.

Moreover, we shall enjoy our power this way.