Disclaimer: No copyright infringement is intended on AKT, fic is just for
fun.
Geoffrey carried news of the dance to his knight, and Sir Villeux was more than pleased. He clapped his hands in delight and began pacing the tent, asking Roland to bring his finest suit of clothes and to find a man to shave him.
"Ah, but it will be wonderful!" he cried. "A chance to show all the other knights the glory of the House of Villeux...you will be there I suppose?" he asked Geoffrey, who nodded.
"Yes, my lord. Your entire retinue is invited."
"I only require your presence." Villeux said, cutting out Roland and Wat from the occasion. "You will announce me when I enter." He looked his herald up and down. "Make sure to wear something fitting. I do not want the other knights to think me a pauper."
"Yes my lord" Geoffrey said meekly, but when his master's back was turned, made a rude gesture. This man may be a friend of Will's, but he was opinionated and egotistical. The writer detested him. He was good in the joust however, and as long as Geoffrey could whip up the crowd, he was happy to stay in his service.
~**~
Count Villeux arrived at the ball fashionably late, so that the company would all be able to see him enter. His herald, dressed in his Sunday finest, entered first and called for attention.
"May I present to your esteemed highnesses, Count Villeux of Normandy!"
The Count entered with his head held high, the silver thread running through his shirt glittering in the light shed by several chandeliers hanging from the ceiling. He was clean-shaven, and his golden hair shone. Several women in the audience giggled or gasped at his handsomeness, and the men appraised him like the rivals they were.
Villeux met them all politely and with grace, leaving his herald to make his own way to the drinks table, where he poured himself something strong and began to talk with some squires who had also been brought by their lords then left like surplus baggage.
"Which one's yours then?" A tall squire with a Scottish accent asked.
"Count Villeux, the blonde one with the silver shoes." Geoffrey answered. The Count was indeed wearing silver shoes – he'd had them made specially. "How about you?"
"Mine's got a moustache like something died on his face" the squire muttered, and Geoffrey saw the man with the long moustache wearing the same emblem on his shirt as did his squire. "Dunno why I'm even here, 'cept for the free drink."
"Are you not enjoying the atmosphere? The wonderful play of light on their jewels? The way they measure each other up like butchers, unknowing that every other man in the place is doing the same to them?"
The squire looked at him as if he were mad. "No mate, I'd rather be down the pub."
Just then, the door to the great hall opened again, and a hush fell as people craned to see who it was.
"I present to you, Count Thomas of Bavaria!"
The 'herald' was actually one of the doormen from outside – he'd probably been paid to announce the Count, and Geoffrey wondered where Ismene was. He didn't have to wonder long – Thomas, with Kate on his arm, moved into the room to greet the other knights, and Ismene followed, but instead of going to talk to the Lords and their Ladies she spied the drinks and made her way over.
"Cor blimey!" Geoffrey's new friend breathed. "Look at 'er!"
Ismene had seen Geoffrey and smiled shyly as she arrived at the table. Geoffrey, stunned for a moment, forced himself to take her hand and kiss it. "You look..." he paused. "...amazing."
Amazing? Amazing?! Is that all he could come up with? He mentally kicked himself – he was a renowned author, priding himself on his vocabulary, yet he couldn't even properly compliment the most lovely creature he'd ever seen. Ismene wore pale blue silk, the neck of her dress sweeping low enough to hint at the twin curves of her chest. Small straps exposed her soft shoulders, and the fabric clung to her hips and flowed down her legs, ending almost jaggedly so it was longer in some places than in others. Her legs were long and shapely, her bare arms toned, and her face...Geoffrey lost himself in her eyes, until he was startled by a rough hand pushing him aside.
"I'm Jack Douglas, my lady" the squire took Ismene's hand in his own calloused one and kissed her fingertips.
"Ismene Levoux" she replied, amusedly noticing him cover a grimace on hearing her French name.
"Surely you should be accompanying a knight, not standing here with us squires?" he asked, and Ismene looked at Geoffrey, a hint of amusement in her eyes.
"I'm a squire myself" she informed him.
"Oh..." the man went silent. "Well, perhaps you'd think of allowing me to ask you to..." he was cut off as a loud voice interrupted him.
"Who is this radiant being?" It was Count Villeux. Finding himself superior to the other knights already, he had spotted his herald talking to the most beautiful woman in the room, and mentally congratulated him on securing such a prize for his master.
"Lady Levoux" Geoffrey introduced her, aware that she held no title, but deciding that she deserved one.
"Ah, you are French?" Villeux asked in French.
"Half French" Ismene replied in the same language.
"Well come, you must dance with me!" Villeux took her hand and kissed it, noting that she wore no rings. It was hardly the most polite invitation Ismene had ever received, but she couldn't refuse as he was already pulling her towards the floor. She looked back at Geoffrey with regret – she'd wanted his company, not that of his master. He was looking after her, but she couldn't read his expression.
~**~
"Bloody 'ell!" the squire cursed as Count Villeux led Ismene away. "I were *that* close to getting' a bit of action..."
Geoffrey scowled. He didn't like to here Ismene spoken of like that, nor did he like the fact that his master currently had his arm round her, and was leaning in close to talk to her as the dance began. In French too, he imagined – the way he'd lapsed into the language of nobles showed how he wanted to keep their conversation private from the lower classes present. Geoffrey's heart had nearly leapt out of his chest when she'd walked in, and despite his master's advances, he was suddenly glad he'd had to attend. He watched Ismene in longing – all he wanted was to talk to her, even dance with her, feel her hand in his...
~**~
"So Lady Levoux" Villeux said as the music started. "What part of France are you from?"
"My father was from Gascony" Ismene replied truthfully. "I've only been there once however."
"Ahh,,," Villeux assumed she was the bastard child of some French Lord, although she couldn't hold the title of Lady therefore, it was understandable why she might try. A title with a face like hers could take her many places. "You are here to watch the tournament?"
"Yes, and to give support to a friend who's competing – Count Thomas" she nodded to where he was dancing with Kate.
"Ahh...he lost today, did he not?"
"Yes, but perhaps next time he'll do better."
"I am in the final of the joust myself...will you come and watch me?"
"Certainly" she replied graciously. "I couldn't keep myself away."
Villeux kept asking questions about where she lived, what manner of society she kept, but Ismene was distracted by the pain the dress caused her bruised ribs, and more interested in where Geoffrey had got to. At first he had been watching her, but now he was gone from beside the long table and she couldn't spot his tall figure at that end of the hall. She looked back at her partner who, she noticed, smelt strongly of roses. "Have you been successful in the joust before?"
Villeux's face lit up at the thought that this woman must be an admirer if she took an interest in his event. He didn't recognise her as the girl he'd ignored when meeting Thomas a few days earlier, or as the one he'd saved from Chiswick the Younger. He began to wax lyrical on his past achievements and his hopes for this competition and the future. Ismene automatically nodded and smiled in all the right places, and when the dance was finally over she curtsied to the knight and began to take her leave.
"My lady, I had hoped you would dance again?" he didn't let go of her hand. "You would not disappoint me would you?" Ismene found herself acquiescing, and she spent almost the whole evening at his side. When she did manage to escape to launch a plea to Thomas, she was quickly accosted by another knight who sportingly surrendered her back to Villeux when his dance was over.
~**~
Thomas had watched with amusement as Ismene suffered the attentions of the Frenchman. Chaucer stood at the far end of the hall, conversing no doubt charmingly to those who approached him, but with a face like thunder when he looked to his master.
"I think Chaucer's pissed off" he told Kate, who had asked him what he was looking at over her head. "his master's stolen Ismene."
Kate turned her head to look. "Poor Geoff, he really likes her."
"I think she likes him" Thomas replied. "But it's hard to tell with her."
"She doesn't like Count Villeux anyway!" Kate laughed as the dance ended and
Ismene hurried over, leaving a protesting knight alone.
"Help me!" she whispered. "He won't leave me alone!"
"I would..." Thomas began, "but I'm spoken for!"
"Thanks Thomas, thanks a lot." She looked back at Villeux, who waved. "Look, have you at least got some paper and something I can write with?"
"Erm...I think so, hang on..." Thomas rooted in a pocket and fished out a scrap of paper and a sliver of charcoal.
"That'll turn your pocket black!" Kate exclaimed.
"No-one's going to see inside my pocket, are they?" Thomas argued. Ismene scribbled something down, then handed back the charcoal as she was asked to dance by a dark-haired knight.
~**~
At the end of the evening, Villeux announced that he would escort Lady Levoux home, so she took his arm as they started out of the manor. Outside he hailed a carriage, then noticed his herald leaning against the wall to one side of the door.
"Chaucer! Enjoy the ball? I hope you are ready for tomorrow?"
"Yes my lord" Geoffrey said, not looking at Ismene. He was angry with her, and at himself. She'd spent the whole night with that...rich upstart, and he was almost as shamed as he was upset at her betrayal.
"Good. I'm taking Lady Ismene home, so I will see you early tomorrow morning."
"Of course sir." Geoffrey made to leave, but a soft voice restrained him.
"Goodnight Master Chaucer." Ismene had held out her hand and was waiting for him to take it. He fumed inside – was she really rubbing salt into his wounds? – but took her hand without meeting her eyes and raised it to his lips. As he kissed her soft fingertips he felt her press something into his hand. Startled, he closed his fingers round it and raised his eyes, but she was already turning away. She and Villeux got into the carriage and with a crack of the whip, the driver took them off into the night.
Geoffrey opened his hand – a scrap of parchment was folded there, and on straightening it out he discerned a messy script, which read; "Meet me at the Old town square, Midnight"
A cursive 'I' followed, leaving him in no doubt as to its author. It was ten minutes to the hour at that moment, leaving Geoffrey a few minutes to spare as the square was not far. Nonetheless, he hailed a coach and directed it into town.
~**~
The square was deserted at this time of night. Unlike the New Town Square which held the weekly market, this one was small and almost forgotten – its only redeeming features were some elaborate stone benches round a melodic fountain. He'd met Ismene there once before so it was clear why she had chosen the place. Small thatched houses surrounded the paving – only a few lights shone in their windows, and the stars were clearly visible above. The night was a little chill, and Geoffrey pulled his coat around himself as he heard a clock strike midnight. He sat on a bench to wait, and somewhere, a lute began to play. A minute passed, then another, and just when Geoffrey started to wonder if this was all a trick, light footsteps sounded on the flagstones. He stood, and now Ismene appeared from the shadows. She stopped before him, searching his eyes with her own.
"I'm sorry for tonight – I wish I could've spoken with you." She was nervous, unsure of how he would react. He smiled though – she evidently cared for his feelings...thought he *had* feelings, which was a rare occurrence...
"Count Villeux thought you were the most beautiful woman in the room" he said by way of explanation for his lord's behaviour. "and who could blame him?" Ismene might have blushed – it was too dark to tell for sure.
"He showed me no attention when I wasn't in a dress" she said. Was there a note of bitterness in her voice? Geoffrey took her hand and kissed it softly.
"You don't need ornaments to enhance your beauty – you're perfect in or out of fine clothes." Ismene looked at him a moment before laughing, and Geoffrey realised what he'd just said could be taken the wrong way. It had broken the ice though – when he began to apologise Ismene squeezed his hand.
"It's ok, I...thank you..." she looked into his eyes, listening to the music which came as if from nowhere. "...May I have this dance?"
Geoffrey smiled, nodded, slipped his arm round her slender waist and pulled her close. He felt her hand snake up his arm to his shoulder, where it rested lightly. Her other hand felt small and cold in his, and a wave of protectiveness rushed over him as he leant down to smell her hair – it was like lavender, and he sighed in contentment as she entwined her fingers with his.
~**~
Ismene couldn't remember a moment which had felt so right – all night she'd wanted to be close to him – she felt exposed in the dress and knew he would never make her feel uncomfortable. At least, that's why she thought she needed him at first. It was only when she'd started dancing with Villeux that she realised she wanted to be looked at, wanted a man's arms round her and wanted to lean against him and share his warmth – but that man was not Villeux. Now, as she slid her hand further round his shoulders and gently, tentatively nuzzled his neck, her heart tripped as she caught Geoffrey's masculine scent. His arms were strong – his large hands held her safe and she wanted to stay that way forever. She barely noticed when the music stopped, until Geoffrey gently pulled back to look at her.
Ismene's eyes met his, and they were full of such wonderment and contentment that Geoffrey wanted to hold her and reassure her that everything would stay this way. They'd discovered such trust in each other since they'd met that he couldn't imagine how things could be more perfect – he knew he was falling in love; knew in his heart of hearts that she felt the same. He let go of her hand and raised his own to her face, gently pushing back a stray strand of hair. She smiled as she turned her head to kiss his fingers, and Geoffrey's breath caught in his throat at the touch of her lips. Their eyes met again, and now he leant down, his mouth softly covering hers, the kiss tender and slow. He pulled Ismene close, felt her breath quicken as her body pressed against his and her hand stroked his neck, and lost himself in their embrace.
Geoffrey carried news of the dance to his knight, and Sir Villeux was more than pleased. He clapped his hands in delight and began pacing the tent, asking Roland to bring his finest suit of clothes and to find a man to shave him.
"Ah, but it will be wonderful!" he cried. "A chance to show all the other knights the glory of the House of Villeux...you will be there I suppose?" he asked Geoffrey, who nodded.
"Yes, my lord. Your entire retinue is invited."
"I only require your presence." Villeux said, cutting out Roland and Wat from the occasion. "You will announce me when I enter." He looked his herald up and down. "Make sure to wear something fitting. I do not want the other knights to think me a pauper."
"Yes my lord" Geoffrey said meekly, but when his master's back was turned, made a rude gesture. This man may be a friend of Will's, but he was opinionated and egotistical. The writer detested him. He was good in the joust however, and as long as Geoffrey could whip up the crowd, he was happy to stay in his service.
~**~
Count Villeux arrived at the ball fashionably late, so that the company would all be able to see him enter. His herald, dressed in his Sunday finest, entered first and called for attention.
"May I present to your esteemed highnesses, Count Villeux of Normandy!"
The Count entered with his head held high, the silver thread running through his shirt glittering in the light shed by several chandeliers hanging from the ceiling. He was clean-shaven, and his golden hair shone. Several women in the audience giggled or gasped at his handsomeness, and the men appraised him like the rivals they were.
Villeux met them all politely and with grace, leaving his herald to make his own way to the drinks table, where he poured himself something strong and began to talk with some squires who had also been brought by their lords then left like surplus baggage.
"Which one's yours then?" A tall squire with a Scottish accent asked.
"Count Villeux, the blonde one with the silver shoes." Geoffrey answered. The Count was indeed wearing silver shoes – he'd had them made specially. "How about you?"
"Mine's got a moustache like something died on his face" the squire muttered, and Geoffrey saw the man with the long moustache wearing the same emblem on his shirt as did his squire. "Dunno why I'm even here, 'cept for the free drink."
"Are you not enjoying the atmosphere? The wonderful play of light on their jewels? The way they measure each other up like butchers, unknowing that every other man in the place is doing the same to them?"
The squire looked at him as if he were mad. "No mate, I'd rather be down the pub."
Just then, the door to the great hall opened again, and a hush fell as people craned to see who it was.
"I present to you, Count Thomas of Bavaria!"
The 'herald' was actually one of the doormen from outside – he'd probably been paid to announce the Count, and Geoffrey wondered where Ismene was. He didn't have to wonder long – Thomas, with Kate on his arm, moved into the room to greet the other knights, and Ismene followed, but instead of going to talk to the Lords and their Ladies she spied the drinks and made her way over.
"Cor blimey!" Geoffrey's new friend breathed. "Look at 'er!"
Ismene had seen Geoffrey and smiled shyly as she arrived at the table. Geoffrey, stunned for a moment, forced himself to take her hand and kiss it. "You look..." he paused. "...amazing."
Amazing? Amazing?! Is that all he could come up with? He mentally kicked himself – he was a renowned author, priding himself on his vocabulary, yet he couldn't even properly compliment the most lovely creature he'd ever seen. Ismene wore pale blue silk, the neck of her dress sweeping low enough to hint at the twin curves of her chest. Small straps exposed her soft shoulders, and the fabric clung to her hips and flowed down her legs, ending almost jaggedly so it was longer in some places than in others. Her legs were long and shapely, her bare arms toned, and her face...Geoffrey lost himself in her eyes, until he was startled by a rough hand pushing him aside.
"I'm Jack Douglas, my lady" the squire took Ismene's hand in his own calloused one and kissed her fingertips.
"Ismene Levoux" she replied, amusedly noticing him cover a grimace on hearing her French name.
"Surely you should be accompanying a knight, not standing here with us squires?" he asked, and Ismene looked at Geoffrey, a hint of amusement in her eyes.
"I'm a squire myself" she informed him.
"Oh..." the man went silent. "Well, perhaps you'd think of allowing me to ask you to..." he was cut off as a loud voice interrupted him.
"Who is this radiant being?" It was Count Villeux. Finding himself superior to the other knights already, he had spotted his herald talking to the most beautiful woman in the room, and mentally congratulated him on securing such a prize for his master.
"Lady Levoux" Geoffrey introduced her, aware that she held no title, but deciding that she deserved one.
"Ah, you are French?" Villeux asked in French.
"Half French" Ismene replied in the same language.
"Well come, you must dance with me!" Villeux took her hand and kissed it, noting that she wore no rings. It was hardly the most polite invitation Ismene had ever received, but she couldn't refuse as he was already pulling her towards the floor. She looked back at Geoffrey with regret – she'd wanted his company, not that of his master. He was looking after her, but she couldn't read his expression.
~**~
"Bloody 'ell!" the squire cursed as Count Villeux led Ismene away. "I were *that* close to getting' a bit of action..."
Geoffrey scowled. He didn't like to here Ismene spoken of like that, nor did he like the fact that his master currently had his arm round her, and was leaning in close to talk to her as the dance began. In French too, he imagined – the way he'd lapsed into the language of nobles showed how he wanted to keep their conversation private from the lower classes present. Geoffrey's heart had nearly leapt out of his chest when she'd walked in, and despite his master's advances, he was suddenly glad he'd had to attend. He watched Ismene in longing – all he wanted was to talk to her, even dance with her, feel her hand in his...
~**~
"So Lady Levoux" Villeux said as the music started. "What part of France are you from?"
"My father was from Gascony" Ismene replied truthfully. "I've only been there once however."
"Ahh,,," Villeux assumed she was the bastard child of some French Lord, although she couldn't hold the title of Lady therefore, it was understandable why she might try. A title with a face like hers could take her many places. "You are here to watch the tournament?"
"Yes, and to give support to a friend who's competing – Count Thomas" she nodded to where he was dancing with Kate.
"Ahh...he lost today, did he not?"
"Yes, but perhaps next time he'll do better."
"I am in the final of the joust myself...will you come and watch me?"
"Certainly" she replied graciously. "I couldn't keep myself away."
Villeux kept asking questions about where she lived, what manner of society she kept, but Ismene was distracted by the pain the dress caused her bruised ribs, and more interested in where Geoffrey had got to. At first he had been watching her, but now he was gone from beside the long table and she couldn't spot his tall figure at that end of the hall. She looked back at her partner who, she noticed, smelt strongly of roses. "Have you been successful in the joust before?"
Villeux's face lit up at the thought that this woman must be an admirer if she took an interest in his event. He didn't recognise her as the girl he'd ignored when meeting Thomas a few days earlier, or as the one he'd saved from Chiswick the Younger. He began to wax lyrical on his past achievements and his hopes for this competition and the future. Ismene automatically nodded and smiled in all the right places, and when the dance was finally over she curtsied to the knight and began to take her leave.
"My lady, I had hoped you would dance again?" he didn't let go of her hand. "You would not disappoint me would you?" Ismene found herself acquiescing, and she spent almost the whole evening at his side. When she did manage to escape to launch a plea to Thomas, she was quickly accosted by another knight who sportingly surrendered her back to Villeux when his dance was over.
~**~
Thomas had watched with amusement as Ismene suffered the attentions of the Frenchman. Chaucer stood at the far end of the hall, conversing no doubt charmingly to those who approached him, but with a face like thunder when he looked to his master.
"I think Chaucer's pissed off" he told Kate, who had asked him what he was looking at over her head. "his master's stolen Ismene."
Kate turned her head to look. "Poor Geoff, he really likes her."
"I think she likes him" Thomas replied. "But it's hard to tell with her."
"She doesn't like Count Villeux anyway!" Kate laughed as the dance ended and
Ismene hurried over, leaving a protesting knight alone.
"Help me!" she whispered. "He won't leave me alone!"
"I would..." Thomas began, "but I'm spoken for!"
"Thanks Thomas, thanks a lot." She looked back at Villeux, who waved. "Look, have you at least got some paper and something I can write with?"
"Erm...I think so, hang on..." Thomas rooted in a pocket and fished out a scrap of paper and a sliver of charcoal.
"That'll turn your pocket black!" Kate exclaimed.
"No-one's going to see inside my pocket, are they?" Thomas argued. Ismene scribbled something down, then handed back the charcoal as she was asked to dance by a dark-haired knight.
~**~
At the end of the evening, Villeux announced that he would escort Lady Levoux home, so she took his arm as they started out of the manor. Outside he hailed a carriage, then noticed his herald leaning against the wall to one side of the door.
"Chaucer! Enjoy the ball? I hope you are ready for tomorrow?"
"Yes my lord" Geoffrey said, not looking at Ismene. He was angry with her, and at himself. She'd spent the whole night with that...rich upstart, and he was almost as shamed as he was upset at her betrayal.
"Good. I'm taking Lady Ismene home, so I will see you early tomorrow morning."
"Of course sir." Geoffrey made to leave, but a soft voice restrained him.
"Goodnight Master Chaucer." Ismene had held out her hand and was waiting for him to take it. He fumed inside – was she really rubbing salt into his wounds? – but took her hand without meeting her eyes and raised it to his lips. As he kissed her soft fingertips he felt her press something into his hand. Startled, he closed his fingers round it and raised his eyes, but she was already turning away. She and Villeux got into the carriage and with a crack of the whip, the driver took them off into the night.
Geoffrey opened his hand – a scrap of parchment was folded there, and on straightening it out he discerned a messy script, which read; "Meet me at the Old town square, Midnight"
A cursive 'I' followed, leaving him in no doubt as to its author. It was ten minutes to the hour at that moment, leaving Geoffrey a few minutes to spare as the square was not far. Nonetheless, he hailed a coach and directed it into town.
~**~
The square was deserted at this time of night. Unlike the New Town Square which held the weekly market, this one was small and almost forgotten – its only redeeming features were some elaborate stone benches round a melodic fountain. He'd met Ismene there once before so it was clear why she had chosen the place. Small thatched houses surrounded the paving – only a few lights shone in their windows, and the stars were clearly visible above. The night was a little chill, and Geoffrey pulled his coat around himself as he heard a clock strike midnight. He sat on a bench to wait, and somewhere, a lute began to play. A minute passed, then another, and just when Geoffrey started to wonder if this was all a trick, light footsteps sounded on the flagstones. He stood, and now Ismene appeared from the shadows. She stopped before him, searching his eyes with her own.
"I'm sorry for tonight – I wish I could've spoken with you." She was nervous, unsure of how he would react. He smiled though – she evidently cared for his feelings...thought he *had* feelings, which was a rare occurrence...
"Count Villeux thought you were the most beautiful woman in the room" he said by way of explanation for his lord's behaviour. "and who could blame him?" Ismene might have blushed – it was too dark to tell for sure.
"He showed me no attention when I wasn't in a dress" she said. Was there a note of bitterness in her voice? Geoffrey took her hand and kissed it softly.
"You don't need ornaments to enhance your beauty – you're perfect in or out of fine clothes." Ismene looked at him a moment before laughing, and Geoffrey realised what he'd just said could be taken the wrong way. It had broken the ice though – when he began to apologise Ismene squeezed his hand.
"It's ok, I...thank you..." she looked into his eyes, listening to the music which came as if from nowhere. "...May I have this dance?"
Geoffrey smiled, nodded, slipped his arm round her slender waist and pulled her close. He felt her hand snake up his arm to his shoulder, where it rested lightly. Her other hand felt small and cold in his, and a wave of protectiveness rushed over him as he leant down to smell her hair – it was like lavender, and he sighed in contentment as she entwined her fingers with his.
~**~
Ismene couldn't remember a moment which had felt so right – all night she'd wanted to be close to him – she felt exposed in the dress and knew he would never make her feel uncomfortable. At least, that's why she thought she needed him at first. It was only when she'd started dancing with Villeux that she realised she wanted to be looked at, wanted a man's arms round her and wanted to lean against him and share his warmth – but that man was not Villeux. Now, as she slid her hand further round his shoulders and gently, tentatively nuzzled his neck, her heart tripped as she caught Geoffrey's masculine scent. His arms were strong – his large hands held her safe and she wanted to stay that way forever. She barely noticed when the music stopped, until Geoffrey gently pulled back to look at her.
Ismene's eyes met his, and they were full of such wonderment and contentment that Geoffrey wanted to hold her and reassure her that everything would stay this way. They'd discovered such trust in each other since they'd met that he couldn't imagine how things could be more perfect – he knew he was falling in love; knew in his heart of hearts that she felt the same. He let go of her hand and raised his own to her face, gently pushing back a stray strand of hair. She smiled as she turned her head to kiss his fingers, and Geoffrey's breath caught in his throat at the touch of her lips. Their eyes met again, and now he leant down, his mouth softly covering hers, the kiss tender and slow. He pulled Ismene close, felt her breath quicken as her body pressed against his and her hand stroked his neck, and lost himself in their embrace.