A/N: Hello and welcome back! I am sorry for the delay.

I want to thank: whatcatydidnext, lottielovebuzz, Makrciana, Sea Rover, Blue Eye Phantom, Newland Archer, dionne dance, Gary the Snail x3, TinkerbellxO, XantheXV, Leyshla Gisel, ForeverACharmedOne and Jay D. Moore. Thank you all!

Disclaimer: I do not own The Libertine.

Chapter 25

The good he acts, the ill he does endure,

'Tis all for fear, to make himself secure

Merely for safety, after fame we thirst,

For all men would be cowards if they durst.

~John Wilmot, A Satire Against Mankind

Weeks later…

"You called for me, madam?" Alexandra bowed her head as she stepped into the room. The drawing room smelled headily of paint since drawing pictures was the Countess' favorite pastime.

The woman paused and looked up, her face withered from worry and troubles.

"Pack your things. You're leaving in an hour." Lady Anne murmured as she went back to her picture, ignoring Alexandra's confused expression.

"Leaving, madam?" she whispered as cold fear gripped her.

She was to leave? Leave and go where? She had nowhere to go.

"I am sending you back to Woodstock. It's a marvelous thing that the King did not take back what he gave to my son, but we mustn't leave the manor unattended." The Countess looked up, "The house must be ready for my son's return."

Alexandra froze, "Return? You managed to contact him?" Her voice was laced with disbelief and unabashed hope and the Countess' expression soured.

"Of course not, you silly girl!" she snapped and Alexandra startled a little. It was magnificent how her temper matched her son's.

"Forgive me, my Lady. I was merely curious since you're sending me back." Alexandra quickly defended herself.

"You think I don't know what he's doing?" Lady Anne started, painting forgotten as she gazed outside the window, "He's wandering around London and the country, probably under one of his infamous façades…Disguised as a beggar or worse." Her eyes found Alexandra's and she was surprised that the Earl's mother was actually talking to her, a servant girl. That was proof of how lonely and utterly desperate the woman was after she had pleaded for her son's life at the King's feet.

"His company is not in the least adequate for a man of his stature. Whores and servants." She continued as her eyes perused Alexandra's form with blatant disregard and Alex tried not to flinch back because the comment-obviously-was for herself as well. She was not proper company for nobles…Of course.

"The news is everywhere. He must have heard the King's decision. He's just not coming back in order to spite the King and me." Lady Anne pressed her lips into a thin line of displeasure, "Me. The one who protected him."

Alexandra wanted to protest. If she hadn't given the play, there would have been no protection.

"Your Ladyship forgets that it was I who gave you the play-…"

"And you did well, because that play was not yours to keep. I won't express blatant admiration for something that wasn't yours to keep." Suddenly, the Countess stood up, her posture tense.

"You shall go back to Woodstock and prepare the manor. I imagine it must look as well as an abandoned shack at the moment."

Alexandra swallowed back her anger and resisted the urge to remind the Countess that the Earl had given her the play as a gift. Taking a deep breath she looked up, trying to push back the traitorous tears that welled up in her eyes at being treated as an ignorant child.

"Alone, madam?" she asked and the Countess nodded.

"Of course. As difficult as it is to admit it, my son won't come back if he sees I am there…And you," She took a step closer, "You know how to take care of him." Her eyes swept up and down Alexandra's form with something akin to studiousness, "I know that much." The Countess stepped to the right and with a hard look on Alex's face she pulled something from behind the settee.

Alexandra frowned as she watched the older woman. An object of medium size and covered in a sheet had been stored behind the furniture and when Lady Anne quickly uncovered the item Alexandra froze.

Her hand flew to her mouth and her wide eyes locked with the older woman's.

"This was given to me by the King. He doesn't want it anymore…You recognize it, I presume." Lady Anne murmured distantly, almost stonily, and Alexandra swallowed dryly.

"Yes, madam." She whispered as the blindingly red colors of the painting flashed in front of her eyes.

"Good. I do not want it in my house, but I fear the same cannot be said about my son. You shall take it with you because if I look at it one more time I will tear it apart." Lady Anne threw the cloth over the painting, concealing it from view and then rang the bell on her desk.

A servant appeared soon and he took the picture after a terse nod of the Countess' head.

Alexandra pursed her lips in determination and did not speak as Lady Anne approached her.

"I don't know what you think that you will achieve with your dalliance with my son, but I can assure you that your status will not change. Servants remain servants even after falling into bed with their masters."

Alexandra's head snapped up at that and anger started boiling in her veins, clogging her blood and flaming her skin.

"You are excused." Lady Anne muttered before she turned away and Alexandra came face to face with the woman's rigid back.

Without lingering a moment longer, she turned and walked out of the room with her heart pounding against her ribcage.

oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

The manor was soaked with humidity. The walls were moist and the air thick with the smell of rain, wood and brick. Woodstock looked abandoned and the one guard that was still on duty looked bored and tired when Alexandra arrived at the mansion.

The two dogs were nowhere to be seen and when Alexandra finally found one of them lying dead on the back garden bile rose in her throat. She had demanded answers, but the guard was brisk and curt with her, informing her with a scowl that he barely had food for himself let alone for the bloody mutts.

"You've obviously never seen men suffering." He had shouted after her when she had finally given him his long due payment and walked away from him.

She had locked herself into the manor after that, hell bent to bring the house back to its proper state. She placed the painting near the hallway, ignoring it like it was the plague itself, and then proceeded to open all the windows wide. It was a cold day, but it was a little sunny. Alexandra thanked God for her luck because her bones were already aching from the humidity and chill.

The inside of the manor was like she had left it though; tidy and relatively clean aside from the usual dust and insects that had crawled their way inside.

It took her hours to go through the entire house and unlike other times she took her time cleaning the study because it still smelled like him; ink and mint. Either she was right or she was going mad.

When her feet were sore and her arms achy, in the late hours of the evening, only then did she walk back to the hall. She approached the covered picture with small hesitant footsteps and nervously wrung her hands as she stared at it. With a grimace, she leaned down and removed her shoes, letting her swollen feet touch the carpeted floor.

She put the shoes away and brushed her hands over her skirt, procrastinating, before she released an exasperated breath and finally leaned forward.

She removed the white cloth swiftly and when the drawing appeared she paused. She blinked rapidly as she tried to remember that day and her memories did not match the picture. Sure, they were depicted in detail, the features alarmingly realistic, but the Earl's expression…It was odd. It was not like she remembered it while looking up into his face that day. In her eyes he had seemed irked and bored at having to sit there, completely still and pose for the King's pleasure. But in the painting…In the painting he looked devoted in his purpose of looking like the admiring author, the creator who was looking at his muse with the utmost love and affection. It was blinding to see the illusion; the concentration on his face, as if he had nothing more magnificent to look at than her.

Alexandra leaned forward and gently traced the outline of Rochester's face. The canvas was smooth under her fingertips and she smiled a little. The resemblance was frightening, shocking and she was dazzled by it.

Taking a deep breath, she turned her eyes on herself and she was assaulted by the bright crimson color of her dress. It was like you could touch the satin and lace…All you had to do was reach out. Swallowing hard, she realized that while she had loathed doing the painting, it was the only thing that proved that anything between her and John ever existed. It was like a memory on canvas and the realization warmed her in a peculiar way that was half pleasing, half heart wrenching. What if she never saw him again? What if…What if the difficult situations of his runaway life had caught up with him? What if he fell sick and-…

A noise from the door broke her from her thought and she gasped. Quickly, she covered the painting, concealing it from view before she turned to face the wooden door.

Two sharp knocks arrived and her eyes narrowed.

"Who is it?"

"Open up! We have a visitor." The guard's voice was loud and hoarse and Alexandra swiftly opened the door.

The guard hauled someone forward and Alexandra's eyes widened when Alcock's eyes locked with her own.

"My God." She whispered as she looked at his form, "Did you fall into a swamp?" She blurted out and he grinned at her.

"Hello to you too, Alex-…Oi! You can let go of me now! I ain't no thief." He protested and the guard let him go with a sneer of distaste before he proceeded to wipe his hand clean on his breeches.

When he was gone, Alcock turned to her, one of his hands scratching at his stubbled jaw.

"Well, come in." Alexandra breathed as she stepped aside, "But remove your shoes." She stopped him with a hand on his filthy shirt and he rolled his eyes.

"Fine, fine…" He wrestled with his shoes until he took them off and Alexandra stared at him as if he was a ghost.

"Why…why are you here?" She asked him as her heart started doing dangerous somersaults in her chest.

Alcock looked up and sighed, "You mean to ask why I am here alone? Well, I'll tell you." He threw his shoes away and closed the door, "As soon as I am in front of a fire." He muttered as he rubbed his hands and headed for the parlor.

Thankfully, he didn't notice the painting.

She followed him before she paused and decided to get him a towel to clean himself up.

When she returned with the basin, towel and soap he was by the fire, warming his hands and feet.

"Here. Clean up." Her voice got caught because Alcock's presence reminded her of his master.

He looked up and nodded his head, "Thank you…"

As he removed his cloak and shirt Alexandra started getting restless.

"So, what happened to you?" She asked him as he started washing his face and neck.

He paused, his eyes narrowed, "Our lord happened." He muttered and she swallowed thickly.

"What do you mean?" she murmured.

"It means that I have had enough of this wandering about! I haven't slept in a proper bed for three months! Filth is everywhere in this bloody country! Nothing but mud and rain. My bones are soaked." He muttered as he grabbed the towel and started drying his face, neck and chest.

Alexandra blinked at him, "You haven't stayed much in London then-…"

"Nah, we have. We've been hiding in Cheapside."

His words shocked her.

"Cheapside! Under the King's nose!" she exclaimed and he nodded.

"Aye, but after Downs died we moved to the country…Is there any food-…"

"Billy Downs?" She whispered, cutting him off and Alcock paused.

"Aye…Did you not hear?" He asked and she shook her head in the negative.

"No one told me anything…" She whispered.

'Oh, aye. It was an accident, but we couldn't stay…So we left. We actually were very close to Adderbury…" His eyes zeroed on her face, "He was gone a lot while we were there…"

Alexandra remained silent, not really wanting to divulge the knowledge of having actually seen him there.

"How…how is he?" She asked and he snorted.

"His usual self. The only thing that is different is the difficulty to find himself a drink…He found ways though." He snickered and Alexandra's stomach churned at the implication as he continued, "Him and Jane are quite the pair!"

Noticing Alex's look, he stopped snickering though and cleared his throat, "Sorry, Alex."

She shook her head, "Don't worry about it…It's not your fault." She murmured and he put the towel on his lap as he looked at her.

"Why are you here?"

"The Countess sent me to take care of the house."

"The old hag." Alcock muttered, "But I suppose I should thank her, ay? I am here because of her." He snorted.

"Why did you return on your own?" She asked him and he paused, his hand reaching up to scratch the back of his head in a nervous manner.

"'Cause I've had enough of this travelling about…" he looked up, "And because I hoped you'd be here after the King's decision to spare the Earl…And I was right."

Alexandra stiffened at that, "How did you know about the King's decision?"

He scoffed, "Please, Alex. Londoners have nothing better to do than gossip in taverns and brothels these days…"

She nodded distantly, not thinking too much of the second implication he had just blurted out.

"And he just let you go?" She murmured with disbelief.

Alcock looked up at her passively, "I doubt that he noticed. He was too pissed at the time." He muttered and Alexandra's insides clenched at that.

"Why did you let him drink so much? You know how sick he gets-…"

"Like I could stop him! Christ, Alex! As if you don't know him." He cut her off sharply and she closed her mouth quickly.

She eyed him with guilt, "I'm sorry…Are you hungry?" She asked and he broke into a smile.

"Now you're talking right." He said and she couldn't help the smile that blossomed as she turned and made her way to the kitchen. The sense of familiarity was not back yet, but it was a start.

oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

A few days later…

The rain was heavy and the wind wild, but Alexandra was relentless. She untied her apron from around her waist and covered her head with it as she grabbed the tray of food and opened the front door.

She could barely make out the guard's little cabin near the gates, but she couldn't let him starve. The Countess had been adamant about the manor's protection and taking care of the guard was included in her duties.

Leaving the door ajar so she could skip back in quickly, she headed swiftly for the small refuge. She knocked on the door and the guard opened, unceremoniously grabbing the wet tray and looking at her with a scowl.

"Took you long enough." He grumbled and Alexandra would have screamed at him, but she was getting too wet.

"What do you mean? And shouldn't you be out, minding the grounds?" She asked him sharply and he snorted.

"In this rain? I ain't paid for that. You might want to write to your mistress that I want all my money by the end of this month or else I'll leave, King's orders or not." He hissed before he slammed the door on Alexandra's face.

She stood there, letting her hair and clothes turn completely drenched before she shut her gaping mouth and stepped back.

"Bastard." She muttered as a particularly loud thunder shook the ground and made her jump.

Glaring at the cabin's door for one last time, she turned and headed back to the house, cursing at herself for not waking up Alcock to do the job. She huffed as she neared the door. He'd probably turn to be as rude as the guard if she woke him up in the middle of the night and during a bloody storm.

She stepped in front of the door, but something was off. It was hanging wide open and not ajar like she had left it.

Thinking it was probably just the wind, she shrugged and walked inside, closing it softly behind her.

She turned around and her eyes went straight to the floor. Water and mud stains tainted the previously clean floor and she frowned, her heart beating wildly when she realized that someone was in the house.

Cursing at her own foolishness, she swallowed hard and followed the footmarks in silence.

Good God, why did she have to be so careless? She reached up and lowered the apron from her head, letting her wet hair fall in front of her face, and stick to her neck and shoulders.

The marks led to the parlor and when she came in front of the door she froze. She quickly recovered and promptly pressed her body against the nearest wall by the door.

Water droplets were sliding down her neck as she pressed herself hard against the cold bricks with her fists tightly curled around the soaked skirt of her dress. She could feel her cold sweat mixing with the water on her skin and she shivered when locks of her hair clung to her neck and tickled it to the point of exasperation. She strained her ears and listened to the sounds coming from the parlor. The cackling of the fire was overpowered by the constant clanking of glass and her eyes widened when she realized who the intruder was. Of course. She didn't have to peer inside, she didn't have to look. It wasn't a thief or a beggar. No.

She tiptoed closer to the door and when she heard a cough and a curse, she closed her eyes. Of course he had to return like a thief. Of course he sent no word, nothing to ease his mother's worry. The woman had done everything to acquire an appeal for him and how did he return her concern? With ignorance and derision.

Actually, his behavior was exactly like his mother's when she had to do with Alexandra. Arrogance and reproach. He wasn't even aware how much alike his mother and he were. It was frightening.

Taking a deep breath, she turned around and faced the door. She placed her hand on the heavy wood and pushed against it. It did not creak and she was a little relieved. The chair was facing away from the door and so he did not notice her. Her eyes fell upon his discarded cloak and her nose wrinkled when she smelled the soil, dirt and smoke it exuded. She could see his hand as it fell over the arm of the chair and she could see his boot-clad feet, slightly outstretched from the chair.

The room was dark, illuminated only by the fire and the sporadic lightning of the raging storm.

The floorboard under her right foot creaked as she approached and she saw the difference in him as soon as he heard it. His body tensed and she heard his hungry gulp as he lowered the bottle from his lips. His hand fell to the side and she swallowed hard when she saw him shift in his chair.

"Never took you for a coward, sweet." His voice was slurred, hoarse, but his own. It made her shiver.

"By all means, come." He spoke louder and his voice held an odd mixture of animosity and lust in it. The sound of it made her weak in the knees.

Not wanting to postpone the torture any longer, she moved forward and rounded the chair to see him.

As soon as she did so, she gasped, her hand flying to cover her mouth at the sight of him.

He looked different, dirty and rugged, but it was him. His hair…Alexandra gulped. He had cut it off. Gone were his brown locks and in their place, his short hair looked ruffled and spiky.

As soon as he saw her, his lips twisted into a smirk and his hooded eyes perused her form with hunger.

"Well, won't you welcome me back?" He murmured as he slapped his hand hard against his thigh and cocked his head to the side. His face was the epitome of sin and she could already see what was going through his mind.

Her hands released their hold on her skirt and she dislodged her tongue from the roof of her mouth long enough to take a deep breath.

He leaned forward abruptly and his brown eyes glimmered in the fire. His hand curled around her soaked skirt and he tugged her closer roughly. He released his hold on the bottle and he let it tumble to the floor with a sickening thud. She flinched as it broke into pieces and her eyes darted to his hand which was currently creeping up his lap, sliding closer and closer to his groin.

Her eyes narrowed at the crudeness of his behavior and in a moment of fierce disappointment her hand shot out and collided with his stubbled cheek in a loud smack.

His head turned to the side and his entire body froze. His hand fell away from his breeches and landed on his knee before he did the unexpected; he started laughing.

Alexandra quickly dropped her hand and cradled it to her chest in shock. She couldn't believe she had actually hit him. But seeing him like that…after so long. It was disgraceful of him to act in such a manner.

His laughter rose higher until his voice turned hoarse. Alexandra took a step back and he suddenly stopped laughing.

His eyes fell upon her and she could see the red mark her hand had left on his pale cheek blossoming into a dark crimson.

She gasped when she realized how much force she had put into that slap. She took a step back and her foot stepped onto some of the glass. She hissed and shook her leg as he stared at her with wild eyes, his lips still stretched into his half smirk.

"Did I insult you?" he murmured and she could sense a little bit of mockery in his tone, "Did I?" He asked again and she had no words.

He was too drunk, his mind too fogged and it was of no use to reason with him.

"If your Lordship allows it, I can draw a bath-…"

"I said, did I insult you?" He barked at her with such force that spittle flew out of his mouth.

"My Lord." She hissed and he curled his lip at her.

"I mustn't have." He shook his head as he regarded her with intensity, "I know I mustn't have."

She swallowed hard and tried to understand what on earth he wanted to prove with his words.

"My Lord, you're-…"

"Because you love me enough not to be insulted, don't you?" he cut her off angrily and then he smirked, "Don't you?" He murmured more quietly and she stared at him stock still, her eyes wide.

"I…" She was at a loss for words. Of course she did, but it didn't mean she would stop caring of how he spoke and how he behaved.

"I…" Her throat was dry and the smirk disappeared. His eyes flashed and he was on his feet a moment later.

"I said, don't you?" His words were a hiss and then his hand was around her throat, his fingers curling around the tender skin with force.

Alexandra gasped as she was painfully thrust against the wall and she clutched at his arm, her nails digging into his dirty shirt sleeve.

"Of course you do." He muttered as his hot breath fell on her lips, "You love me so much that you've created this illusion in your stupid little head." His chest was heaving with the rugged breaths he took and Alexandra gasped for breath as he tightened his hold on her.

"Illusion?" she choked out and he snarled.

"The illusion that you can save me. How did it feel that after all you were the one to save my sorry arse, hmm? Did you get paid handsomely for it? Did my mother approve?" He tilted his head to the side, "Did you hope that I'd come back and fall onto my knees in front of you, my prick ready to give you the grateful fuck you so certainly deserve?" He lowered his voice and despite the wrath in them she could sense that his own imaginary was alluring to him.

She pursed her lips into an arch of determination and remained silent. Her unresponsiveness made him even angrier.

"Talk back, damn you!" He threw her away from him and she collided with the closest item which turned out to be the still covered painting.

"I don't know what to say." She whispered and he glared at her, his mouth open as he breathed harshly.

"You gave my fucking work to my mother-…"

"To save your bloody head!" she exploded and his eyes darkened.

"Save my head? Who ever told you that I wanted you to save me?"

"You wouldn't run if you didn't want to be saved-…"

"Shut up!"

"You wanted me to talk! So, I am talking. I only did what I had to and I won't defend myself, especially not to you!"

He froze, "Especially not to me…Do I mean so little that I don't deserve an answer to my fucking question?"

It was her turn to be still, "I didn't mean that! Why are you always twisting my words around?"

"You mean exactly the way you do?" He mocked her with a derisive little smirk and she gulped.

"I really do hate you sometimes." She whispered and a strange emotion passed over his features like a shadow.

"I hate myself sometimes too.' He muttered soberly as he eyed her up and down.

He turned away from her and stumbled over to the cabinet. He thrust it open and she flinched as he slammed it shut a moment later. He turned to her with a leftover bottle of gin and uncorked it while he watched her.

"You're going to be sick." She whispered and he threw the cork away and smirked at her.

"I am already sick, my little saint." He took a large sip from the liquid and he hissed as it burned his throat.

"I only gave it away to help you. My intention was simple and held no ill will-…"

"Of course not!" he cut her off with a hoarse chuckle, "All you want to do is help me, save me and yet you gave away something that was meant to be private!"

"I don't care if it was never meant to be seen-…"

"But I do! Do you fucking hear me? Are you really that dense? You think I feel proud now? Who am I?" He outstretched his arms wide, "Hmm? Who am I? The Earl of Rochester who doesn't have a pound to his name, but he does have some worthy work and a mistress who'd do anything to keep his head on his shoulders! That is who I am." He let his arms drop to his sides as he regarded her with reproach, "Pathetic." He hissed as he brought the bottle to his lips.

Alexandra hugged her arms, "If that is how you feel…then I am sorry." She whispered, "My Lord." She added and his eyes snapped up to hers at that.

"Are you mocking me?" He murmured and she swallowed dryly against the bile that was already bubbling in her throat.

"No." She took a step back and when her hip collided with the picture his eyes went to it.

"What's that?" He asked hoarsely.

Alexandra tensed up, "Nothing."

She had never thought that his return would have been so…ugly. But reality was always harsher than dreams.

"Show me." He started walking towards her and she stepped in front of the painting.

"My Lord-…" She gasped as he gripped her arm and pushed her aside. Holding her to his side with one hand, he pulled the cover away from the picture and then everything went very quiet.

"You kept this?" He whispered as he turned accusing eyes on her.

She steeled herself against his gaze, 'It wasn't mine to give away." She said at last and he nodded.

"Is that so? It wasn't yours…I see." He took one last sip from the gin and then thrust it in her hands.

She caught it as he strode forward and grasped the painting. She watched with wide eyes as he leaned down and slid a small pocket knife out of his boot.

Watching her, he drew the blade through the painting again and again, and then dropped the knife. Without a word he turned and threw the pieces of the drawing into the fire with a snarl.

Alexandra's heart clenched as she watched him destroying something that meant something to her, but she didn't speak. A tear slid down her cheek just as he turned around.

"Why are you crying, Alexandra?" he murmured, "That meant nothing."

"Of course it meant nothing." She whispered, "Everything means nothing to you." She took a step back and then placed the bottle on the ground.

She straightened and then gave a low bow of surrender.

"I shall prepare you a bath and you will accept it because you need it. Then you can curse at me some more because I suppose that would be another sign of care from me and another sign of weakness from you. And then you'll once again ponder on the question why your always faithful mistress is not ready to please you and then, at the realization of your thoughts, you're going to get angrier until you find me lacking once again." She looked up at him and saw him watching her with anger, "I guess that is how it is…How it's always been between us. You've always rued my softness, but always indulged in it. What does that make you?" she murmured as she walked a little closer to him, "I wonder…" she started and his eyes roamed her face as she spoke, "If the situation was reversed, would you even bother to help me? Or would you stand back and watch me drown in my own sea of mistakes?"

A long silence stretched between them and the smoke rose higher from the fireplace as the canvas got caught up in flames. The smell of burned paper and paint was heavy in the air and Alexandra started feeling dizzy from the scent and his stare.

She stumbled back and away and he caught her arm before she could make it far.

"Alexandra…" His voice held a warning, "Be careful of how you speak to me." He murmured and his dark eyes widened in warning, his voice slightly slurred.

"I could say the same, but I suppose I am not your equal, yes?" She whispered as she blinked rapidly, praying for the bloody sting to leave her eyes alone.

"Alexandra." His voice was sharp, cutting in its severity, but she had to be honest.

"But I am not, right? I am not like you and I won't ever be. That's the truth." She shook her head and his fingers dug in her skin threateningly.

"Alexandra."

"I am just a servant." She let out a tiny, bitter laugh, "A servant who got lucky, but like your mother said, I won't get very far just because I opened my legs for you."

"Shut up, Alexandra!" He hissed as he shook her, but she nodded her head, the words leaving her mouth like an unstoppable stream now.

"I guess it's not much of an improvement, is it? I went from servant to mistress, but I can go no higher. Because I am just an object." She waved her hand around the room, "You could even sell me if you so wished it! That would earn you a few pounds since you have none, right? How much do you think I'd be worth? Ten, twelve pounds, or maybe even more! I suppose you can always flaunt my willingness to sleep with any indulging master in order to get a higher price-..Ah!" Her head was whipped to the side by his open palm.

She raised her hand to her cheek to sooth the sting of the slap and before she could look at him, his fingers, his dirty fingers, were firmly grasping her chin in a fierce hold. He turned her face around and then his lips were on hers, rough and demanding. She could feel how chapped and dry they were as they devoured her own and she dropped her hand from her cheek as his hand slid to the back of her neck to pull her closer. He smelled of smoke and rain and as he wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her closer she could tell that his clothes were also wet.

His tongue slid into her gasping mouth and as a tear rolled down her cheek and fell onto her lip he pulled back and sucked it in his mouth, his tongue laving at the salty skin with hunger.

Thunder lighted up the room as he thrust them against the wall by the fireplace and his hand moved down her body to grasp her thigh. He pulled it up, using it to trap himself in the apex of her thighs as he pressed his groin hard against hers, causing her to gasp into his mouth.

Her hands grasped his shoulders as he kissed her more deeply, his hips moving against hers in the same tempo of his harsh kiss. When her hands slid up his neck and touched the skin there, he groaned and she intensified her efforts, her fingers finally finding his short hair and playing with it as he grunted and moaned into the kiss.

With a sharp bite that had her head reeling, he pulled back and slapped his free hand against the wall by her head, his face finding shelter in the crook of her neck as he pushed his pelvis again and again against her soft body, drawing his pleasure from her with greed.

Her lips parted in a gasp as her body responded to his assault and her hips bucked against him. Her mouth found the skin of his rough cheek and she kissed it, her fingers curling around his shirt at the feeling of his hot skin against her lips.

He released a low sound, but it was followed by a moan that was not elicited out of desire.

He stopped his movements, his hips stilling as he slipped a hand to clutch at his stomach.

Alexandra's hands grasped his arms as he hauled himself away from her and she let go of him as he turned away.

"My Lord." She whispered as he coughed, but when the coughing turned into dry heaving she leaped forward. Her hands had barely caught his head as he doubled over and vomited all over the floor and her skirts.

His hands found the hard ground as he heaved, his mouth parted and his eyes wide, but he pressed his head against her cool palms and his gaze flickered towards her.

"John?" She whispered his name and he mumbled something incoherent before his eyes rolled to the back of his head. He dropped onto her feet in a heap of limbs.

Alexandra tried to catch him, but as his weight fell on her she went onto the floor with him. Hysterically, she pulled his head on her lap and she touched his forehead. When she found it burning she screamed in unadulterated fright.

End of chapter 25

Author's note: Thank you for reading! I hope it was worth the wait. Please let me know with a comment? My only payment is your feedback so, give me some, people!

As you might have already gathered, I took some stuff from the film for this, as well as the historical truth of his constant illness…Yep, the alcohol bothered him and made him ill, but he drank it nonetheless…

Anyway, comments?

Until next time!

Xxx Lina ;o)