Charlemagne finally raised his head, but seemed in no particular hurry to release her.
Meaghan glanced around. "They're gone," she observed.
"They left a while ago," he informed her.
"Then why didn't you..," Her voice trailed away, and the delicate hands resting on his shoulders suddenly shoved, hard, forcing him back a step.
Charlemagne smiled. So, it wasn't going to be quite that easy, but that just made it all the more interesting. "I saw no real reason to stop when we were both enjoying ourselves."
"I don't think it's entirely appropriate, your grace...," Meaghan began.
"Charlemagne," he interrupted.
"I beg your pardon?" She was totally bewildered.
"I think we've passed the time for formalities." He grinned wickedly at her. "At least not since we've had our tongues in each other's mouths."
Meaghan bolted.
Charlemagne watched her retreating form, but made no move to follow. Why waste energy chasing her down when he knew where she'd wind up eventually?
Meaghan's feet carried her blindly down this corridor and that almost of their own volition, until she found herself at the hydroponics bay. Normally she found it peaceful and soothing to be among the green, growing things, but now nothing seemed to calm her agitation.
She did try to sort things out, but her mind just went round and round in circles. She found it to be something of a revelation that her attraction to him was mutual, which made her dilemma all the more difficult to solve. At last she simply gave up the battle and decided to turn in, though she doubted she'd sleep.
She went into her office, in which the lighting was down to the bare minimum, just enough for her to see her way to the door to her rooms. She had nearly reached the door when a voice came from one of the dark corners.
"I wondered how long you were going to be." Charlemagne stepped into the light.
Meaghan whirled with a gasp, this was something she simply hadn't anticipated. "What are you doing here, your grace?"
"Charlemagne," he corrected. "You left somewhat abruptly, yet I was under the distinct impression that we had quite a bit more to discuss."
"Your grace," she started, then, seeing the disapproval on his face, began again. "Charlemagne, I think perhaps it might be best if we avoided each other as much as possible."
"Oh, you do," he murmured, stepping closer to her, and watching with amusement when she backed away. "I'm afraid that my opinion on the matter is quite different."
She kept backing away, but he kept coming closer, until she found that she was back up against a wall with no place to go. "This isn't right," she said, but her voice lacked conviction.
"Right and wrong are emotionally laden human terms," Charlemagne told her, placing his hands on the wall on either side of her, effectively trapping her. "Nietzscheans are much more practical."
"Infidelity is practical?" she asked.
"Wives, lovers, Nietzschean men often have several of each," he informed her, moving even closer till there was barely a hairsbreadth of space between them. "When you have good genes, you spread them around."
"But I'm not Nietzschean." She almost whispered it. "Why are you pursuing me?"
"You fascinate me," he admitted. "You've gotten under my skin, Meaghan, and I want to find out why. Perhaps you're the cure as well as the cause."
"You should go now, please." Her voice quavered.
Charlemagne was starting to think that perhaps she really meant it. He couldn't recall not having gotten any woman he was interested in before, and the thought that this might be the first time did not sit too well with him, but his instincts said that she wanted him as much as he wanted her. "Meg, look me in the eye, and say 'Charlemagne, I want you to leave,' and I will. I promise."
Meaghan took a deep breath. "Charlemagne..,"
He reached a forefinger under her chin and tipped her head up. "Look me in the eye when you say it, Meg."
She tried again, but was finding it a bit distracting when gazing into those intensely blue eyes. "Charlemagne, I want you..," the last two words seemed to stick in her throat. At last, she finally gave up the battle. She put her hands on his shoulders and repeated, "Charlemagne, I want you."
Charlemagne bent his head down and kissed her, then swept her up in his arms and carried her into the other room.
&&&&&&&
Sometime later, they lay spooned together under the rumpled sheets. Charlemagne was idly running the tips of his fingers across her bared shoulder, occasionally stopping to plant a light kiss on the exposed skin. "Any regrets?"
She sighed softly, and snuggled back against him. "I suppose I should have, but somehow I don't seem to. And you?"
"None at all," he murmured, trailing a line of kisses up her neck. "But I haven't been cured of you, I want you just as much as ever."
She turned to face him. She reached up and traced her fingers over the planes of his face. "When I said that I'd be your friend for life, I didn't quite imagine this."
He wrapped his arms around her and rolled onto his back, pulling her up on top of him. "Love me, Meg," he murmured in a voice husky with passion. "Love me."