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Chapter 19: Blood is Thicker
Queene's Abbey East Sussex England April 7, 1844
—Bruce
Three days!
For three days Bruce had been battling with Lord Randle and they were still getting nowhere!
Bruce gritted his teeth as the elder man, ignoring the question, launched into yet another tirade over the prestigious history of the Randle family.
"And then, after the King restored to him his rightful inheritance, my ancestor, Charles Randle, the last living Randle male after Cromwell's bloody revolt, had to secure the family's future in marriage."
Good Lord, is he going to recite the entire family history to me?
Bruce fought the urge to roll his eyes at the upstanding, balding man with cross eyebrows who paced like a lecturer before him.
"But for his choice he knew must be prudent, and selective, considering the impact to future generations in his future bride."
Is this sermon going to include a monologue about Adam and Eve as well?
"As he looked around England, he found very few ladies that fit his high criteria, and even they seemed to hold one fatal flaw…"
This is ridiculous.
"They weren't Catholic."
And finally, we arrive at the point!
"Practical as he was Charles Randle was none the less a devoted son of the Church, and a Protestant wife would never do. And so, he looked outside of his own country to the nobles of Europe."
I can't take much more of this.
"His wife would be virginal and pure. He continued his search until it led him to Doña Maria Ana de la Vega y Silva a young Spanish woman of noble birth and noted for her piety. Truly a worthy woman in every regard."
"I do wonder Sir Francis if the lovely Doña would have been considered quite so worthy had she not been one of the wealthiest heiresses in Europe. Also, wasn't she barely 14-year-old, and unaware of her proxy marriage until her husband came to collect her from a convent, like a merchant purchasing a mule?"
Francis's narrow face turned red and he puffed his thin chest.
"It was a different time, your Grace." Francis looked as if he might choke on his words.
Bruce rose from his chair and crossed the library until he stood across from Francis beside the stained-glass window that bore the family coat of arms.
"You still have not answered my question Sir, do I have your permission for your niece's hand in marriage?"
Francis studied the younger man with an earnest severity.
"You think yourself worthy to marry one of my blood?"
Bruce smirked.
"It is true that my title doesn't reach as far back as Edward the Confessor…but it does come closer than yours Sir Randle, if only slightly."
Francis fists clenched and his gaze turned to a glare, full of suspicion.
"You believe all I care about is your family position boy?"
Bruce hesitated.
Frankly yes, he had thought that was the main debate here, and Randle's pride.
Francis looked almost disappointed with Bruce's reaction.
Instantly recovering his previously tottering dignity, Lord Randle walked past the Duke to a bookshelf on the opposing wall.
He stopped by an ornate stand upon which rested a medieval Latin translation of the old testament. Reverently he ran a rough hand over the illuminated pages, murmuring in a hushed tone.
"For I the Lord thy God am a jealous God, visiting the iniquity of the fathers upon the children, even unto the third and fourth generation…"
Francis removed his hand from ancient pages.
"No, I made a vow long ago, and I will not break it now. I have always intended that she shall live a religious life. When she has turned 25 a place will be made for her at an Irish convent. To take her place as a bride of Christ."
Bruce arched an eyebrow and stifled a laugh with a cough at the notion of Selina living a monastic life in Ireland. Francis shot him with a withering look.
"Has she agreed to this?"
Francis stiffened, but his eyes softened.
"Lambs need to be led."
Closing his eyes, Bruce pinched the bridge of his nose.
"She'd burn the place down in a week."
"You are not a Catholic!"
"No, and I don't have any intentions to convert. But I have no objections to any man, or woman, practicing whatever faith they choose. The fact is Sir, your plan for your niece is at complete odds with her nature."
Francis's stance deflated a little as if this knowledge was saddening to him but not surprising.
Adopting a more respectful tone Bruce once more made his request.
"I swear to you, I will never stand in the way of her faith. I will provide her with a comfortable life, I will be faithful, and do everything in my power to secure her happiness. Do I or do I not have your permission, to marry Miss Kyle?"
Francis let out a long, defeated sigh, making his light-brown walrus mustache flutter over his lip.
"It is Lina's decision."
—Selina
Selina hopped away from the door and lounged in the corner.
The ancient oak swung open as Bruce exited the library and started down the hall.
"Going somewhere?"
Bruce looked over his shoulder and smiled.
Turning around he crossed his arms and Selina could see his muscles tense beneath his shirt. She curled her toes in her shoes as he sauntered back towards the corner.
"Are you spying in doorways like a cat?"
"Cats know all the best secrets." Selina purred.
"Is that so?"
His firm jawline always softened when he smiled, she noted.
On a whim, Selina stood on her toes, wrapped her arms around his neck, and kissed him deeply, arching her back to bring his lips closer to hers.
She felt him give in to her for a moment and lean into the kiss, before frantically pulling back.
Laughing she released him and watched his flustered expression as he looked around to be sure no one saw. She loved that look of surprise on his face. He was so cool and collected, she liked being the one to shake him up.
"Selina, what are you doing, what if someone saw!"
She bit her lip to keep from laughing, he didn't like being laughed at. Reaching up she ruffled the front of his perfectly sculpted hair and ducked beneath his arm to the freedom of the hallway.
"You think too much." She said and began walking backwards down the hall, luring him to follow.
Bruce shook his head and followed her smiling form, chuckling quietly at her fearless disregard of conventions.
—Bruce
Once in the garden, they began to walk the familiar path through the hedge maze. This was the only place they were not stalked by chaperones and servants, a constant presence during the last three months.
Bruce shortened his long strides to meet her nimble little footsteps.
Enjoying the comfortable silence, he took a minute to study her.
Her face was an array of contradictions that in any other order, or with any other personality, would seem odd and unattractive, but she was the lucky winner of that gamble that had resulted in a unique beauty that was all her own.
A square-shaped face, dominated by a sharp jawbone, which was soft when she smiled and harsh when she frowned, smoothed by a delicate chin and subtly hollowed cheeks.
Her lips were thin and sat at a slight angle, giving a permanent appearance of flirtation and a lovely smile.
The nose was long with a slight bump mid-bridge before it turned up and rounded at the tip.
Thick s-shaped eyebrows help disguise a large forehead that dissipated at a subtle widow's peak.
Dense lashes framed a pair of brilliant, sphynx-like, slanting, emerald green eyes, with flakes of gold speckled around the pupils and a faint ring of dark blue-black circling the iris that magnified the richness of the green, darkening it until the hue was hypnotic.
Those emerald orbs glittered with mischievousness and a self-pride, constantly fascinating and confusing him.
Her neck was long, almost too much so, and was made more noticeable by her protruding collarbone.
Dark ink colored hair tried to escape a low chignon and wisps of it fluttered around her face. Contrasting sharply against luminously pale skin.
She was a short, slight little thing, that walked with her head held high and was positively stunning to his eyes.
"You still haven't asked me." Selina quipped, breaking the spell of his observation.
"I told you I was going to ask your uncle for your hand."
"But you haven't asked me, not properly."
Unhooking her arm from his she walked ahead a few paces.
"Should I propose to your back, or are you going to turn around?"
She spun gracefully on her heels like a top and clapped her hands behind her back expectantly.
Getting down on one knee he turned his light blue eyes up to her.
"Selina Kyle, would you do me the honor of becoming my wife?"
She gave a low chortle and motioned for him to stand. It always struck him to hear such a deep husky voice come from such a small woman.
"With pleasure, Mr. Wayne."
She gave him a chaste peck on the cheek, he clasped one of her hands and brought it to his lips for a kiss of his own.
Folding her hand in the crook of his arm he led her, once again, through the maze.
"Would you prefer a long engagement or short?" He asked.
"Short. As short as possible."
He laughed and pushed a piece of black hair out of his eyes.
"Fine with me, Duchess."
Selina leaned her head against his shoulder, and they finished their walk once more in comfortable silence.
Sultan's Palace Kingdom of Dagra April 1844
—Garsiv
"We will need all the allies we can get before this war begins." Abdullah stated, moving the pieces on the map to add more soldiers to the western border.
"And how are we supposed to do that when he won't cooperate?" Zansar questioned from where he lounged on the floor.
"He will, every man has his price, even Darkside. We just need to find what it is." Abdullah replied.
"Did you offer him all of the gold from selling our mother's daughter?" asked Kareem.
"He wouldn't accept it as enough; we just need to find what will sweeten the offer," Abdullah answered.
"Well I wish you would discover it sooner rather than later because in case you haven't noticed, dear brother, the war has already begun!" spat Azam, knocking down the row of wooden soldiers the Crown Prince had moved.
"Not officially! There has been no formal declaration." Abdullah countered, standing the figures upright again.
"The league's forces have been raiding our caravans and massacring herders for months. Cutting off supplies and weakening our defenses. He doesn't need a formal declaration to start a war he only needs to strike, and he has!" Dastan yelled.
"He has nearly done conquering the Bedouins to the south and will be coming for us next." Added Hazzim while Khurso and Dara nodded in agreement.
"Which is why we need allies!" Shouted Abdullah.
"Exactly! So, stop wasting time and find us some allies who will actually cooperate!" Murad yelled back.
"SILENCE!" The Sultan boomed, ending his sons' arguing.
Garsiv stroked his chin as he studied the map and the princes waited for his decision.
"The other tribes will never join us if means opposing Darkside, and if he is not aligned with our interests then we risk him joining the league. Abdullah find his price and do it quickly. Azam is right, the war is already here, and the demon's head won't wait in the desert forever."
