Holy smoke, guys! Thanks for all the reviews, be they good or bad. I'm sorry this wasn't up yesterday, but I've been camping (technically, I'm still camping, but I got to come home today between church and work.)

cokefizz-and-chocolate: No problem. I love reading other people's stories, and you have quite a good one going there. :c)

Charlie Hazel: Thanks! I hope you have fun on your vacation!

Tiger Lily21: Oh, I love that scene. That's kind of what I imagine the Drewery library to be too, except without the big windows, so it's a little darker. Yay for cuteness! They always manage to find a nice moment, even when faced with danger. Yes! You must write more on Jemima, but I noticed you have a new story up. I must go read that (and then work some more on this one ((Gulp!)))

Akwyn: Yeah,they pretty much were a message to Jarrod. Poor them!

trillian225: Yay! Good fluffy plot driving-ness! I always like to do that. Add a little bit of one of my other stories into the story I'm currently working on.

Areida Rivers: Aw, Jarrod's almost too good to be true, although he's driving Fiona crazy (as you'll see in this chapter.) They are friends.

Glaze: Speaking of your story... (hint hint!) OMG, you gave up Harry Potter for this? That's amazing. Although, this is a little bit shorter than HP. I don't really read HP, but my sister does.

panemonium: That's okay. That happens to me all the time as well. I just get so busy, and I feel like I really don't have anything worthwhile to say, so I end up not reviewing. Then I feel bad when they only get like four reviews or something. Actually, as a bit of a spoiler, that talk in the meeting room is actually a bit of a set-up for my next story (yes, I have one started inmy head).

monkeys-and-bananas76: Thanks. :c)

MissyMay: I'm glad my story made you feel better! I love it when things do that. Reviews always make me feel happy.

HomesIsMyHomie: True dat. The sexual tension is so thick, you could cut it with a dagger! (larf larf) I'm glad you embrace change. Your name is a reference to the Homes of the Sherlock type, right?

anonymous: Thanks for reviewing, mysterious stranger. XcD

Kat Laleh: Aw, I don't like to think of it as a competition. I'm super surprised myself at how many reviews I actually get. Thanks! I think there's a time for an instant relationship, but more often then not, they have to get to know each other. I love Fiona too! Ah, me and my dialogue. I love my dialogue. I totally get what you mean. I've tried really hard to start to do that, but I guess I still have some ways to go. Thanks for the cc! Have a blast in London! (I'm so jealous!) I'll totally read your story. I haven't had much time, but I'll will later on! I actually started to read that one that you're getting publish, and thought it was really good. i was both angry and excited when it ended. Angry, cause I want to read the rest, and excited for you, because getting published is so cool! Good luck!

rootbeergirl19: Ah, well, I'm sorry bout that. But when you hit 300, you hit 300. Jarrod knows someone was out to get him, he just wasn't sure whether Fiona was an actual target, or just an opportunity that came up, that was all. He sure as heck knows now.

shaz: Thanks. :cD

wishingIcouldthinkofsomething: thanks. Fiona's not really one to sit around and look pretty when it comes to ruling. And Jarrod loves her too much tomake her, so it'sa great compromise.

CalliopeMused: Fiona probably has a good set of lungs on her too. It shocked the one guy in the marketplace into dropping her, and it seemed to have awoken half the castle. Yay for the sheep! They are kind of stupid, and they have weird eyes, but the cartoon ones always look so cute!

cinnimon: Yay!

Nyeren: I think that in the given circumstances, lemons can be quite sweet. Especially when coated in sugar.

SerayaNeko: Yes, you caught me. I was actually reading 'The Twelfth Night' as I was writing that chapter, and I was trying to think of the name of a book, but didn't want to name it too plageristic. So I combined that with the Merry Wives of Windsor and that's the title that came to mind. Kudos to you for catching it!

cloverluck11: Thanks. You! Sleep!

awaiting impatient person: Yes'm. Jarrod shirtless is nice, and it seems to happen more often than not in this story. That would be so hilarious! I can just imagine it (especially the part about Fiona blushing and punching him) 'When life gives you lemons, SHUT UP AND EAT YOUR DAMN LEMONS!' That one's my personal favourite.

Aura Rayne: Thanks. I really like your sign name.

cathrine face: I'm a romantic too. Sometimes, I have to beat up a couple people to stop them from teasing me about it.

love's lover: I'm wondering if you're a romantic too, by your name.

Glitterpoison: No guesses? I'm sure there are many guesses. (The butler did it!) Not all of them may be right, though.

little miss tiny shoes: Thanks! I love them together too! Are you asking me to preread your story? Kind of like a beta? ((chokes up)) I'd love to! I don't know if my e-mail is on my profile, but please, e-mail it to me!

Okay, people, the moment you've all been waiting for.

Yay's: 9

Nay's: 2

Meh's: 5

I believe the yay's have it. But, in honour of my other non-yay readers, I hereby to solemnly swear to write it at the end of a chapter (so you don't even have to skim through it to see where it ends), to not include any important plot points (or reiterate them in a non-lemon scene), and to post FRIGGIN HUGE BOLD UNDERLINED ITALICISE WARNINGS at both the beginning of the chapter and before the actualevent is about to take place so no one would be offended. And about the rating, if you don't have to be 18 to buy a romance novel, I really don't think you have to be 18 to read that one scene. If you feel that you must flame me about this, then I guess I won't stop you, but, honestly, it's just one chapter. Just boycott my stories from now on if it makes you feel better.

Are you with me, yay or nay?

((silence))

Which one means yes?

((sigh)) yay.

YAY!

Ten points and a virtual cookie to whoever can name that movie.

-Lulai

Chapter Twenty-Six: Peacemaker

Jarrod woke up in a pleasant mood. It probably had something to do with the warm female asleep in his arms. He looked down at Fiona's face. Her eyes were closed, her mouth curved in a dreamy half-smile. He couldn't help himself; he had to touch her. He traced her velvety eyebrows with a finger, then feathered her silky eyelashes. She didn't wake up under his ministrations, but he stopped anyway. His body was tight with need. All the touching and not having was wreaking havoc on his senses, and he needed a walk to cool down.

He rolled out of bed, making sure to pull the covers back up around Fiona's shoulders, and shrugged a shirt on. He pulled on a pair of boots and tried to straighten his hair so it didn't look nearly so tousled.

"Don't let anyone in, and don't let Fiona leave," Jarrod instructed the two guards standing in the hallway outside his room.

They nodded. He began to leave, but then paused and turned back. "One of you should stand in front of my wife's room as well." The man nodded and paced down several feet until he stood in front of Fiona's door.

Jarrod returned several minutes later, baring a tray of food, to find his wife pacing his room angrily. She had obviously been to her own room as she was dressed in one of the dresses Jarrod made her buy, a smart sky blue morning dress with short ruffled sleeves and small white buttons down the front.

"Do you know that your guards wouldn't let me leave?" she exclaimed furiously as soon as she saw him. "And under your order too."

"Of course I asked them not to let you leave. How can I serve my wife breakfast in bed if she's not around when I return?"

She stopped her pacing and looked at him, her expression softening. "Oh," she said.

He brought the food around to her and she sat down on the bed to eat it. He sat down next to her and stole a couple of pieces of fruit.

"I have to be honest with you," she said halfway through her scrambled eggs.

"Please," he replied, as he took a sip of her orange juice. She gave him a look.

"If you're so hungry, why didn't you get yourself breakfast?" she asked, ripping her muffin in half and handing one end to him.

"I wasn't hungry when I got it," he replied, accepting the muffin with a slightly sheepish grin. "Besides, I could only carry one tray."

"Okay. But that wasn't what I was going to say." She took a bite of sausage, her brow wrinkled in concentration as she formulated how to ask the question in the least offensive way. "I'm wondering… what prompted you to decorate your room like this?"

"I didn't," Jarrod said, standing up abruptly. "This was originally my brother's room."

"Your older brother?" Fiona asked, setting the tray aside. While she was slightly relieved that he hadn't ordered the massacre of the room, she wondered why he hadn't switched it. He had a great sense of fashion, at least from what she could see.

"Yes," he said shortly, not looking at her. He was standing facing the window in his soldier's stance, legs spread and his hands clasped behind his back.

She stood as well, determined to get to the bottom of this. "But you like it," she said curiously.

He was silent so long that she was sure that he wasn't going to answer the question. But finally, he replied in a low voice, "No."

She knew she should drop it, the tone in his voice was warning her, but she was writhing with curiosity. And Fiona never dealt well with curiosity.

"Why haven't you changed it?"

His brown eyes were gazing off into the distance, haunted, but at her question, they snapped to her face.

"Because it's not my place to do that," he said, irritation in his voice.

His irritation irritated her. Why was he getting annoyed? He had no reason; she hadn't even asked any really personal questions.

"You are king here now," she said, an edge creeping into her own voice.

"But I wasn't supposed to be," he said condescendingly.

"That's right," she said, her voice cutting, her hands on her hips. "You were supposed to be married to Belinda Fer Tolaro and have twenty children."

"Belinda?" Jarrod was surprised. He had forgotten that she knew who Belinda was. But even Belinda was an easier topic to discuss than Marcus was.

"You can't forget the love of your life, the woman who you had chosen to be your wife."

Meaning that he hadn't chosen Fiona herself. Was it possible that she was a little jealous? She had absolutely no reason to be. Comparing Fiona and Belinda was like comparing the sun to a candle.

"I heard that she was very beautiful."

She was jealous.

"She was," he answered her. "And had a head as empty as a drum."

Her eyebrows lifted in surprise and her arms dropped to her sides. "But you wanted to marry her," she protested.

"I suppose I did," he said with a humourless smile. "But that was before I found her in the stables with her thighs wrapped around one of the stable hands."

Fiona looked shocked, but whether at what happened or at his crude language, he didn't know.

"Oh my god," she said. Her poor husband. He didn't only lose most of his family, his fiancée, the woman he was going to marry, betrayed him. No wonder he had withdrawn into himself.

"Yes," he said, giving an ironic self-mocking laugh and turning to the window. Grey clouds were covering every inch of blue in the sky. It would probably rain before the day was out. "And to make matters worse, he was not the first. Everyone knew, and everyone tried to tell me, but I didn't understand what they were saying."

He shook his head. "I guess I wasn't enough for her, if she couldn't give up her men for me."

"The idiot."

Jarrod turned to look at his wife. She stood with her arms crossed on her chest, her face drawn in a frown.

"Did she have anything to do with why you married me?" she asked softly, vulnerability shining in her eyes.

"What?" Jarrod asked, utterly confused.

Her gaze dropped to the floor. "It occurred to me that if your last woman had problems with monogamy, then perhaps someone who didn't have much contact with men, someone who wasn't stunning would be safer to you."

Jarrod didn't know what to be angrier about, that she had even asked the question, or the fact that she didn't think herself stunning.

"I married you because I wanted to help you and your family. Not because I was trying to wipe Belinda from my memory." It was mostly true. In a way, he did marry her because she wasn't Belinda, but it wasn't because of that that he proposed. He liked the features that just happened to make her different. He didn't know how to explain it to her, though. He barely understood it himself.

Fiona nodded. "I just had to know."

Jarrod didn't say anything. He was still reeling from her questions and his answers to them.

"How can I help you?"

His attention snapped back to her. How could she help him? Didn't she know how much she had already helped him? How she was saving him from the darkness in his soul?

Of course she didn't. He could never find the words to tell her. He just didn't know how to tell her without revealing what she was saving him from. He couldn't do that.

She was looking at him with an intensity that made him nervous. "What do you mean?" he asked.

Her gaze flickered to the ground before meeting his again. "You can take it out on me, if you want. Let me take away your pain." She began to undo the buttons that marched down the front of her dress.

Jarrod could only stare at her. Was she serious? She was going to let him pour three years worth of pain and self-hatred into her virginal body.

She wasn't looking at him, rather staring resolutely at the buttons on her dress.

He suddenly knew why she was offering herself to him. She needed to do this, to save him, just as she perceived that he had saved her. She liked being in control of her life, and if she made love to him now, she would regain that little bit of balance. Two weeks ago, he would have taken her up on her offer. Hell, two days ago he would have. But not now.

Her fingers shook a little, but Jarrod closed the distance between them and stopped her hands from going any further. They stood in silence as Jarrod redid up her buttons. After the last one, he rested his hands on her shoulders and forced her to meet his gaze.

"There are many things I'd like to 'take out on you,' Fiona," he said, "desire and passion being the two that come to mind, but pain and anger are not on that list."

He dragged a finger along her jaw, tenderly. "When we make love, I want it to be because you want me, not because you feel as though you have to drape yourself over an alter."

Two angry splotches rose in Fiona's cheeks. "Is that what you think I'm doing? Martyring my maidenhead to make you feel better?"

"Darling, I know that's what you're doing," he said, oddly touched. Fiona only made those sacrifices for people she cared about, and that he was included in that list warmed him right to the core. Fiona looked like a chastened child- albeit one that is more remorseful about being caught then of the actual offending action.

"Go check on your archery range," Jarrod said. "Come back to me when you want me for yourself. When we share a bed, I don't want anyone else in it."

Fiona strode to the door, but paused when she touched the knob.

"If you want us to be alone in bed," she said quietly, "then why don't you let go of some of your demons?"

She left, but her words rang in Jarrod's head for a long while.

…

Thunk! Idiot.

Thunk! Moron.

Thunk! Imbecile.

Fiona stood in her new range, shooting at targets that she made the young boys paint. Every arrow she released was accentuated in her mind with an epithet, but whether they were to Jarrod or herself, even she wasn't clear on. After a while, she ran out of names, so she began repeating herself.

Thunk! Bloody idiot.

She can't believe that she had actually suggested that he take out his pain on her. She felt like the biggest fool ever. A fool for how she pouted when he didn't make love to her, a fool for how she behaved. A double fool because almost everything he had said was true. She had been using him to try and even the scales. How many times had he saved her? Three times? Four?

Of course, she should have known that Jarrod wouldn't have accepted her under those circumstances. She normally would have admired it, but at the moment, her pride was too bruised to think about anything but licking her wounds.

But she wouldn't turn her back on him like Belinda Fer Tolaro. Honestly, what was that woman thinking? She obviously couldn't see Jarrod for what he was worth. Silly twit.

Thunk! Stupid moron.

"Can I interrupt?" Tyrell stood in the doorway, leaning against the frame. Fiona shrugged, although his resemblance to Jarrod made her heart ache. She turned back to her target.

Thunk! Goddamn idiot.

"I assume that you and Jarrod had a fight," Tyrell commented dryly, picking up another bow from off a peg on the wall. He ran the string through his fingers, testing its flexibility.

"Is that your professional opinion?" Fiona asked sarcastically.

"Call it an educated guess," Tyrell responded with a faint grin. "You're here in a black temperament, and Jarrod's locked himself in his study in a similar mood."

"What makes you think my mood is black?" Fiona asked. Thunk! Stupid bugger.

"Just that you've been shooting arrows for the past twenty minutes without anyone else, and you're about as cheery as these rain clouds," Tyrell said, motioning to the grey blanket that covered the sun. "Want to talk about it?"

"No. Yes. He's so bloody stubborn!" Fiona burst out. "He won't talk about anything. Least of all, your brother."

"Marcus?" Tyrell was calmly aiming an arrow. He fired. He was good, but no where near Fiona's level. "That's a touchy subject with him."

Fiona snorted. "You can tell me." She was quickly running out of ammo, and curses, and she was no where near feeling better.

Tyrell lowered his bow and looked at Fiona. "You have to understand. Marcus was Jarrod's hero. His idol." He rested his hands on top of his bow, his expression distant. "Marcus was everything Jarrod wasn't and wanted to be. Handsome, charming, funny, with a thousand friends, and a million women."

"Jarrod's all that too, except maybe for the last part," Fiona interjected, feeling the need to defend her husband, no matter how irritated she was at him.

"Yes, I know that," Tyrell said, looking mildly amused, "but Jarrod can be rather… introspective, while Marcus was one of those outgoing personalities that drew people to him."

Fiona understood. His admiration of Marcus sounded quite a deal like her envy of Nia. Two less than perfect siblings with an absolutely stunning one overshadowing them. A corner of her mouth tucked up wryly. It was an ironic twist indeed that the underdogs came out on top. She shot another arrow, but this time didn't really feel the need to compound it with a curse.

Tyrell continued on. "Jarrod tried his hardest to be exactly like Marcus, but the only thing he could even equal Marcus was in combat. In fact," Tyrell's lips stretched into a grin, "Marcus was quite useless while Jarrod was extremely proficient, especially at blades."

Fiona nodded, her mind going back to the fight with the Wild Men back outside Castle Fer Havara. He had proven himself a master at daggers, and she could imagine how prowess with a sword. It also answered why he was so fit.

"But what does this have to do with anything?" she asked. It helped explain some things, like how he was known as such a rake before his brother died, then turned around completely. But none of this could really hurt him that deep down, could it?

Tyrell shrugged. "I think that Jarrod feels guilty that Marcus died and he inherited the throne. That's why he doesn't change the room."

"That explains what he said to me this morning," Fiona said, mostly to herself.

"I think that you're helping him, though," Tyrell said, deceptively casual.

"Oh?" Fiona tried to keep her visage just as cool, but a hopeful note still crept into her voice. She knocked her last arrow, trying for a casual pose.

Tyrell nodded. "I've seen him smile more times this week than the last two years put together."

Fiona couldn't help the silly grin that crossed her face. She was helping him!

"Are you going to tell him?"

"Tell him what?" Fiona asked, drawing back and aiming.

"That you love him."

Fiona balked and the arrow fired wildly, missing the target entirely and hitting the sheet she had put way far back. She turned to glare at Jarrod's brother, her hands on her hips, making sure her guards were out of earshot. She could at least keep this within family.

"What makes you think that I love him?" she hissed.

Tyrell gave her a disbelieving glance. "Fiona, you are completely transparent. I'm surprised that Jarrod can't see it himself. I can see it every time you two look at each other. It would be revolting if it wasn't so sweet."

Fiona groaned. As she remembered, Genevieve had no problem seeing it either.

"So, are you?"

"What, in love with him, or going to tell him?" Fiona hung up her bow on the peg and Tyrell followed suit.

"Both."

"Yes, and no."

"Why not?"

Fiona's lips twisted in a wry grin. "Because I'm a big coward. I don't want to give away my heart without some assurance that I might be gaining his as well."

"What makes you think you aren't?" Tyrell stepped down from the platform and assisted her in gathering her arrows.

Fiona shrugged. "He hasn't said as much, and he has no reasons to hide his feelings from me."

Tyrell gave her a look, handing her his handful of arrows as they made their way to the sheet to get Fiona's wild one. "He has every reason you have. Almost more so as he wasn't the one who entered this marriage for the sake of her family." He reached above his head and gave the arrow a vicious tug. It came out fairly easily.

"Still," Fiona protested, picking up her bow and the arrows and locking them both up in the new shed, "I have my pride."

A strange noise came from behind her. She turned to see Tyrell's back towards her, his head down and his shoulders shaking. Her eyes narrowed as she realised he was trying to hold back laughter.

"What?" she snapped.

That seemed to be his breaking point. His laughter echoed across the range, and Fiona felt her cheeks go a little red despite herself.

"Oh," he said, turning to her, chuckling and holding his stomach as if it hurt him, "you're as stubborn as he is. You really are perfect for him."

Fiona frowned, not really sure whether she was just complimented or not.

He came forward to rest his hands on her shoulders. "You should talk to him. Push, but push gently."

Fiona didn't really know what he meant, but she nodded anyway. He gave her a satisfied nod, then dropped his hands.

"I must be getting back to the castle," he said, as Fiona walked him to the door at the back of the archery range.

"Tyrell wait!" she called to his retreating back. He turned and raised his eyebrows in question. "If Marcus was the lover, and Jarrod the fighter," she asked, "what were you?"

A grin split Tyrell's face. "Didn't you guess? I was the peacemaker."