Now I've got you all worried that Luke and Mara will be growing old together stuck on Zembuhl! Thanks, Mara look-a-like, Elessar-Lover, Calli1, and Celtic Cross (yes, now I recognize you).

Warning: This chapter contains another one of those romantic scenes we all know and love. ;)


A Journey of Discovery ― Book Two: Pledge

Chapter Nine

Han Solo stood outside the door to Luke and Leia's apartment, waiting with as much patience as he could muster for the door to slide open. His anticipation of this evening's romantic rendezvous with Leia had been greatly curtailed, however, by a conversation that Chewbacca had entangled him in that afternoon, squashing Han's plans to take his relationship with the beautiful princess to an all-important next level. Han frowned as he lingered in the hallway, and recalled the Wookiee's unintentional meddling...

-------

"Hey, Chewie, what's up?" Han greeted his co-pilot cheerfully upon entering the Falcon's hanger bay.

Chewbacca backed his way carefully out of the tight confines of a service duct where he'd been laboring over the myriad of rerouted circuits that the ship was famous for.

/'Where have you been? I've been cramped in this duct for hours, trying to undo the last mess you made.'/

Though Han knew the Wookiee's growl was worse than his bite, he recognized that tone in his friend's voice, and hurriedly rolled up his sleeves to pitch in.

"I, ol' buddy, have been shopping," the Corellian boasted as he pulled out and reattached the tangled web of colored wires. "And wait till you see what I bought!"

/'A new ship?'/ Chewie teased.

"New ship? You know there's not a finer piece of machinery to be had than what we have here." Han jerked back as a circuit sparked suddenly, smoke rising from its blackened spot. "No," he went on, determined to not let contrary circuitry dampen his spirits today. "I've been jewelry shopping, my friend."

/'You've decided to finally get a ring in your ear, like other pirates?'/

Ignoring Chewbacca's taunts, Han wiped his hands on an oily rag and reached into his pocket. Almost reverently, he opened a velvateen box and held it out for the Wookiee to inspect. "A betrothal ring, Chewie," Han pronounced. "I'm going to do it. Tonight. I'm going to ask Leia to marry me."

Chewie gave him an incredulous stare, momentarily at a loss for words.

"Speechless, huh?" Han prattled on. "I can't wait to see the look on her face."

/'Are you sure... she'll accept?'/ was the first comment out of the Wookiee's mouth.

Han's eyes narrowed defensively. "Of course she'll accept. She loves me. I love her. We were made for each other."

Chewie glanced up and down at Han's dirty, rumpled attire. /She's a princess, my friend./

Han brushed at a smudge on his shirt, suddenly feeling self-conscious. From out of nowhere, the teasing that he had subjected Luke to on the first day they'd met Leia echoed in his mind. 'What do ya think, a princess and a guy like me...?' 'No!'But that was over four years ago. Luke's jealousy had luckily disappeared long ago, even before his relationship to Leia was discovered. Han was now a respected general. Who still dressed like a smuggler. Leia kept telling everyone she was no longer a princess. But she still had the classy, polished bearing and diplomatic deportment of royalty.

Chewie studied the worried expression on his companion's face. He had committed himself to protecting the lanky Corellian. Surely that included doing his best to protect him from heartache. /And your love for each other will overcome any differences. I will dance at your wedding, my friend./

Han's taut mouth transformed into his familiar, lop-sided grin. "I'm counting on it, pal. And don't you worry, you and I will still be partners. When Leia marries me, she gets the whole package," he went on, sweeping one arm out to include both the Wookiee and his beloved ship.

/I will continue to watch over her as I have you all these years/ the Wookiee vowed. /And also any cubs she will bear you./

"Cubs? Children?" Han paled slightly. "Don't rush things, furball." He picked up a hydrospanner and turned back to continue his repairs.

/Luke was happy, I'm sure, at your news/ Chewie muttered behind Han.

"I'm sure he will be," Han's voice echoed from the service duct, "when I tell him."

/'Did you not ask his approval before he left?'/

"What? What does this have to do with him?" Han jerked back, bumping his head in the process.

/In many cultures, the prospective groom must first ask permission of the female's eldest male relative./

Han gave his friend a hard glare. "Corellia ain't one of them cultures, pal."

/But was Alderaan? You know how Leia feels about following her homeworld's customs./

"How should I know what Alderaan did?" He frowned at Chewbacca's unconvinced look. "If you think I'm consulting Threepio first, you're crazy."

/You could ask Lady Winter./

"I want this to be a surprise."

/Winter is very discreet. She would not reveal your inquiry to anyone./

"Yeah, yeah, I know. I just wanted Leia to be the first to find out about this, not everyone else on Coruscant."

/'So why did you tell me?'/

"Good question, pal. Good question."

---------

Han blew out a breath, and punched Leia's door announcer again. Much to his dismay, Winter had confirmed that it had been an ancient custom on Alderaan for a suitor to first receive permission from the patriarch of a family before approaching a young woman with an offer of marriage. Though the custom was rarely practiced in the last years of Alderaan's existence, the stately white-haired woman assured Han that someone of Leia's status would definitely be expected to adhere to the time-honored guideline. And, Winter added, Her Highness would be most impressed that Han had thought to investigate her world's rules of formal conduct.

The smuggler-turned-general patted his empty vest pocket disappointedly. No, there would be no marriage proposal until the errant Jedi got his rear end back home, and there'd better not dare be any question of turning Han down. In fact, it was probably fortuitous, in this regard, that Luke was Leia's only relative. Trying to imagine Bail Organa giving his blessing to a match between his daughter and a smuggler was nearly impossible. And if Vader had survived ― that scenario was just plain incomprehensible.

Suddenly the door in front of him swished open, causing Han to look down into the face of Leia Organa, a face that was decidedly haggard-looking.

"Hi, sweetheart," he greeted her, bending low to kiss her warmly on the lips.

"Hi, Han," Leia returned, stifling a low yawn.

"Did I wake you?" Han asked. It wasn't like Leia to be taking a nap this early in the evening, especially when she was expecting him for dinner.

"I'm sorry," she apologized, leading him into the common room. "I didn't sleep well last night, and I guess I fell asleep in my conform lounger."

"Something wrong?" Han wrapped one arm around her, drawing her close as they settled onto the nerf-hide couch.

Leia let a tired sigh escape her lips. "Not really. At least, I hope not."

"Let me guess," Han drawled. "You're worried about Luke. Haven't heard from him yet, huh?"

Leia's embarrassed grimace confirmed Han's astute observation.

"No." She shook her head, her silky hair undulating in waves past her shoulders. "I know he's a grown man, and you think he can take care of himself, but..."

"But you don't think he can, and you can't help feeling the kid's gotten himself in a jam again." Han rolled his eyes with practiced ease.

"He's not a kid," Leia protested in defense of her brother. "He's the same age as me."

"I've never thought of you as a kid." Han grinned, trying to lighten her mood. "I'll always think of Luke as one."

"All the more reason to imagine him in some kind of trouble," she pointed out, twisting Han's logic back against him.

"Are we going out to dinner?" Han asked, doing his best to change the subject. He should have known Leia would still be anxious about Luke. Even if Han had proposed, she would probably want to wait for her brother's safe return before giving an answer.

"Oh," Leia replied with a moan. "I forgot all about dinner. I suppose I could have the kitchen droid whip up something. I really don't feel like going out." She let another yawn escape. "Then maybe after dinner..." Leia smiled at Han, trying to look suggestive, but the bags under her weary eyes made her tension and fatigue evident.

Han shook his head. "After dinner you're going straight to bed. Alone."

"Oh, Han, I'm sorry," Leia apologized. "We don't get that many nights together, and I'd love for you to stay..."

"But you're dead-tired, and you need your rest," Han said gallantly, kissing her softly on the forehead. He and Leia had been intimate on more and more occasions lately, and he treasured every moment they shared. But staying the night when she was already exhausted, and knowing that all her thoughts were revolving about Luke, was not something he found inviting.

Leia reached up and stroked his rugged cheek. "Thank you, Han," she whispered. "Thank you for understanding. I promise, as soon as I know Luke is safe..."

"Shhhh," he returned. "You just get some sleep. I'll take a raincheck on dinner." He rose and pulled her up with him, then guided her toward her bedchamber. "Let me tuck you in, Your Highnessness, and I'll see you tomorrow."

After changing into a modest nightgown, she slipped into the welcoming bed and allowed him to pull the covers around her. "I love you, Han," Leia said sleepily.

"I love you, too, sweetheart," Han responded, giving her one last kiss. Leia was already asleep as he straightened, brushing her glossy hair back from her beautiful face.

Han exhaled deeply as he let himself out. Blast that Luke! How could one kid spoil an evening in so many ways, without even being there? Han jokingly swore a Corellian curse that Luke Skywalker, wherever he was, would have no more romantic success than Han himself was encountering.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Merta paced anxiously from her kitchen to the bottom of the stairs and back again.

Where was the lass?

The dining table had been cleared, the dishes had been washed, the rest of the guests had dispersed for the day's activities.

Where was she?

The matronly innkeeper paused briefly at the bottom of the stairway, one age-spotted hand resting on the rounded baluster. She didn't make it a practice to intrude on guests' privacy. But how long must she wait?

Pace. Pace. Pace.

Merta glanced for the tenth time at the spring-wound timepiece on the mantle in the dining chamber, then stalked back to the stairs and started up. Confound that girl! Privacy or no privacy, she and Miss Mara needed to be on their way now!

―――――

Luke's eyes blinked open and his head jerked off the soft, faded pillow. Knocking... Someone... was knocking...

"What in blazes is that racket!"

Luke twitched at the grumpy muffled voice next to him, then sleepily eased out of bed. "Hold on, I'll check," he answered, yawning. He squinted in the fierce sunlight streaming through the window. How late had they slept?

Merta raised her hand for another rap when the door swung open without warning.

"Uhh,... Merta,... good morning." Luke did his best not to frown. Just because they missed breakfast, their host was coming to get them?

"It be closer to noon than mornin', lad." Merta peered over Luke's shoulder at the still occupied bed, then brought her gaze back to the young man clad in rumpled sleepclothes. "Were ye two gonna stay in bed all day?"

"Uhh... uhh..." Now Luke was really confused. "Was there someplace we were supposed to be?" he finally asked, after frantically racking his brain.

"Not ye." Merta took a step into the room without waiting for an invitation, prompting Luke to reflexively retreat backwards. She rested her hands on her hips and tapped one foot impatiently. "Yer lass."

Mara had clambered out of bed by now, straightening out her twisted nightgown with one hand as she hastily grabbed up a skirt and blouse with the other. "Oh, stars, Merta, I forgot," the redhead called over her shoulder in apology. "We stayed up half the night, and were just so tired... I'll be ready in a flash."

Merta and Luke both watched as Mara rushed into the bathing chamber, the door slamming behind her. The young Jedi turned to the older woman, the bewildered expression having never left his face. "What did she forget?"

"Dress fittin'."

"Oh." He glanced a moment at the closed side door, then looked back apologetically. "We really were up late," he practically whispered. "Talking," he added in afterthought. "We stayed up talking."

A wry grin appeared on Merta's countenance, replacing the stern demeanor she had been displaying. "Whatever ye say, lad. 'Tis none of me business." She turned back toward the entryway. "Tell Mara I'll be waitin' fer her in the kitchen." She gave Luke another once-over. "And if ye be of a mind to get dressed, too, I've got a list o' chores I'd 'preciate yer help with."

The request for assistance jolted the sluggish Jedi into action. He was already pulling a clean set of borrowed clothes from the old-fashioned dresser when he heard the bedroom door creak shut.

How could she stay annoyed at those two young people, Merta thought with a smile as she shuffled down the steep steps. They could raise the spirits of the most hardhearted ogre. A softy like herself didn't stand a chance.

―――――

Luke and Mara clattered side-by-side down the well-worn stairs only moments after their landlady, their hips jostling each other with an amiable familiarity. The pair's laughter brought Merta to the doorway of the kitchen just as they pulled up short inside the dining chamber. She smiled as she watched the young woman brush Luke's unruly hair out of his eyes.

"Did you even comb this mop when you got up?" Mara scolded, her own red-gold curls swinging in a hastily fashioned ponytail.

Luke grinned at her fussing. "Haven't we slept together enough times for you to know that my hair is not a priority for me in the morning?"

She leaned up and kissed him on the cheek. "Sweetheart, it's never a priority for you."

Luke's arm snaked around Mara's waist as he returned a chaste kiss. "I figure one of us in the family with beautiful hair is enough."

Merta cleared her throat, endeavoring to make her presence known to the young couple. "Ah, here ye be." She glanced at Luke, pretending not to notice as he swiftly ran his fingers through his hair. "Ye sure ye don't mind doin' a few repairs while we're gone?"

"No, not at all," Luke assured her, though his attention shifted to the delectable aroma wafting through the doorway, reminding him they'd missed breakfast. "I want to help."

"Farmboy's not happy if he's not lending a hand some way or another," Mara put in.

"Well, in that case..." Merta laughed and ushered them into the kitchen. "I imagine ye'll work better on a full stomach." She passed a pan of freshly baked muffins to her ravenous-looking boarders. As they each gratefully took one, Merta pointed to the primitive pump, water trickling down its side.

"It's been leakin' o' late, and the pump in room six has also been actin' up, and there be a couple o' broken hinges on the shutters out front..." She continued to rattle off her dictation of tasks as Luke listened attentively. "Do ye think ye'd be able to fix all that, lad?"

"Oh, don't worry," Mara exclaimed before Luke could reply, patting his arm patronizingly. "Luke can fix anything!"

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

It was late afternoon when Luke and Mara finally saw each other again. Luke had managed to complete all of Merta's repair jobs, despite the primitive tools she'd given him, and he was more than ready to spend some quality time with his fiancée.

"So," Luke called over his shoulder to the woman leaning against the refresher's door jamb, "what would you like to do your last evening as a free woman?" Not receiving an immediate response, he paused from his attempt to wash the grime from under his fingernails, and turned to face her. "Mara?"

She gave him a cool stare. "I will always be a free woman, Jedi," she bit out, the strain of keeping her voice calm more than evident. "Being married to you won't mean you own me. Never again..." Her voice faltered as she dropped to a whisper. "Never again will I allow anyone to control me."

Startled by her unexpected reaction to his obviously poor choice of words, Luke quickly wiped his hands on a towel and crossed the space between them in two long strides. "That's not what I meant." His rueful expression begged for forgiveness. "I would never try to control you."

Mara resisted looking into his azure eyes, knowing she would see only hurt and distress in their unfathomable depths. She felt ashamed of the accusation she had knowingly insinuated, but the words had tumbled out nonetheless. "I know, Luke, I know." She tentatively gripped his outstretched hands, but still wouldn't meet his gaze. "It's just... I was a slave to Palpatine for so long, and I was finally beginning to know what it felt like to be my own person... and now..."

"You will always be your own person, Mara," Luke interjected quietly. She didn't balk as he pulled her into a gentle embrace. "If you... ever... feel like I'm stifling your life, and you think we should... be apart... for a while, I'd... I'd understand."

No, you wouldn't, Mara thought as she laid her head on his shoulder. I wouldn't want you to understand.

Luke bent down and kissed her gently, then backed her against the wall, their joined hands pressed to the smooth painted surface on either side of her shoulders. (I love you,) he sent, as he lowered his forehead to meet hers. By unspoken mutual consent, they both opened themselves fully to the Force, allowing its inexhaustible strength and delicate caress to weave a tapestry of serenity and euphoria through their bodies.

It flickered across both their minds simultaneously that, though they had professed their love and become engaged in recent days, they had not exercised this wondrous aspect of their Force bond since the morning of their near-crash landing on this planet. Realization, and relief, spread through them that their love was not dependant on, or even a result of, their connection in the Force. The mystical power refreshed and comforted them, guided and aided them, but would never control them.

Mara snapped her eyes open, holding onto Luke's steady gaze. Just as Luke would never control her; nor she, him.

(I love you,) Mara returned Luke's affirmation. He nodded silently with a smiling acknowledgment, and shifted closer still to the woman he cherished. Clammy palms separated, and eager hands moved of their own accord across the two compressed bodies.

"I'm sorry, Luke," Mara finally found the breath to murmur between their fervent kisses.

"Shhhh." He brushed her lips with his fingertips. "I know." He gave her a slightly embarrassed grin. "Don't think I haven't had misgivings myself."

He laughed lightly as she pulled back with an incredulous "You?"

"That's what happens when you leave me here alone all day, working with my hands. Gives me too much time to think."

"Shifted into Skywalker daydreaming mode?" His twinkling smile assured her of his unwavering resolve to marry her, but didn't dissolve her curiosity. "And just what type of doubts did that wandering mind of yours conjure up?"

Luke slipped his hands down to her waist, and a melancholy shadow darkened his normally bright features. "No uncertainties about you, believe me. But... even before I asked you to marry me... I would wonder..." He let go of her and stepped back.

"Go on," Mara prompted.

He bit his lower lip, then plunged ahead. "I've wondered if marriage, now, is the right path for me."

"You wondered if you should have a wife distracting you from your life's work."

"Not distracting me," Luke contradicted, remembering when he'd told her in Coruscant's underground that he couldn't let himself be distracted. "I beg you to forget I ever used that word." He gave her a loving squeeze. "I guess it was our talking last night about pilots having families that started me thinking about this again. Neither Yoda nor Ben ever mentioned anything about Jedi being married. I assume at least some of them were; of course, there were lots of Jedi during the days of the Old Republic. Now..."

"Now there's only you, charged with rebuilding the order all by yourself ― a task which requires your complete devotion. You can't afford to be preoccupied with a wife, especially one who flies off the handle at the drop of a hat, or be sidetracked by children who'll demand your attention."

"Mara." He brought her chin up with a feather touch of his fingers and gave her a warm smile. "I thrive on being sidetracked and preoccupied." He ignored her teasing snicker. "I've recognized the fact that now I'll have you to encourage me and propel me and advise me. And if I make any major blunders, I can just say..."

"It's all my wife's fault!" Mara finished for him, and they burst into a fit of giggling. The pair stumbled across the bedroom, both nearly bent over double with laughter, and perched themselves on the edge of the bed.

"That demented Jedi sense of humor must be rubbing off on me," Mara wailed playfully, wiping at the tears trickling down her cheeks. She flopped on her back heavily, the mattress bouncing in response.

"I think it's you influencing me," Luke countered. "I've laughed more in the last two months with you than I have in the last four years," he wheezed, twisting around and launching himself to lie next to her.

"I never laughed until I met you," Mara rejoined, sobering slightly as she considered her words. "Never." She languidly rolled her head to the side and gazed at Luke, who was lying on his side, regarding her with an ardent fascination.

"I hope we find some occasion to laugh together every day for the rest of our lives," he murmured, reaching out to trail two fingers across her small waist, then up and down her ribcage. He smiled faintly as she squirmed beneath his touch.

"And if we don't, you'll tickle me until it happens!"

"If necessary," he confirmed, jerking back suddenly as Mara endeavored to grab his wandering hand.

"This new golden rule of the Skywalkers will work both ways, you know," she reminded him, zeroing in on his ticklish spots that only she was privy to. With a lightening fast whirl, Mara rolled on top of Luke, pinning him to the bed.

He didn't seem to mind in the least.

"Your skirt is all tangled," he commented huskily, their titillating frolicking already forgotten. He tugged on the heavy fabric, making no attempt to straighten it out.

Mara leaned up on her elbows, her whole body aware of the synchronous pounding of their hearts.

"Your shirt is too tight around your neck," she breathed in response, her slim fingers deftly unfastening several buttons. Luke watched her a moment, then closed his eyes and hugged her tightly as she pulled his collar aside and softly caressed his neck with her lips and tongue.

"Mara, please," he moaned, his hands roaming desirously across her shifting body and through her sensuous hair.

Raising up just enough to undo another button, Mara's lips continued to savor the saltiness of his smooth skin.

Luke's mind kept telling him this wasn't the right time. Not yet. Not yet. But "We shouldn't..." was as much as his voice was able to choke out, even as his straying fingers were maneuvering to wedge themselves between the two writhing bodies and open a few buttons of their own.

Mara abruptly stopped her ministrations the moment she felt Luke's touch inside her garment. Shuddering deeply, she buried her face in Luke's shoulder, a groan of pleasure mixed with regret escaping her. (I'm corrupting you,) she sent guiltily, gripping his upper arms in a vise-like hold.

Luke pulled back his own transgressing hands and clutched the back of her wrinkled blouse. "You're not the only culpable party here," he whispered, recognizing his own lustful cravings. Squeezing his eyes shut, he remained motionless under the weight of his would-be lover's tantalizing body. He didn't trust himself not to react if either of them shifted even slightly.

How long they remained inert neither of them could have guessed. Nor could they have pinpointed just when their ragged breathing finally slowed to a palsied whimper. The thoughts that filled both their minds alternated between disappointment and anticipation.

It was Luke who finally breached the oppressive silence, and even then Mara had to strain to hear his muffled words.

"A Jedi should have better control," he murmured, tightening his embrace.

For a brief moment, Mara wondered if he was talking about himself, or her.

"We're also a man and a woman, on the eve of our wedding. It's only human nature..." Raising up slightly, she had to fight the urge to cover him with fervent kisses. "Luke, we could go ahead... I mean, I wouldn't think any less of you if we..."

"We promised ourselves," he croaked, summoning the courage to gaze into her beautiful, mesmerizing eyes. "Not a very auspicious beginning for a marriage, if we start breaking vows already."

Mara cupped his pleading face with her trembling hands. He was right; she hated it when he was right. "I'm so sorry," she breathed, struggling to keep at bay the tears she dreaded would fall.

"Hey, there," Luke said softly, bringing a hand up to caress her cheek. "Never apologize for wanting me," he said with a wink, throwing back her own admonition from the previous night. His attempt to lighten the mood was successful, as she laughed quietly and laid her head back upon his welcoming shoulder. The tension gradually evaporated as they hugged each other warmly.

"Mara?"

She lifted her head just enough for her penitent emerald eyes to gaze into his hopeful sapphire ones. "Yes?"

"Promise me you'll corrupt me ... tomorrow."

This brought a relieved smile to her weary face. "With pleasure, my love. With pleasure."

That simple acquiescence was all it took for Luke to hungrily devour her mouth. His hands tightened their grip on her clothing and he pivoted their once-more inflamed bodies onto their sides. Panting as hard as he was, Mara pushed him away ever so slightly.

"Luke..." she chided reluctantly.

He finally relinquished his hold, and rolled dejectedly onto his back. "Why can't these people have the courtesy to schedule bondings at the beginning of their festival?"

Mara laughed at his grumbling. "Ahh, that famous Jedi patience."

"You better keep looking if you expect to marry a patient Jedi," came the forlorn response, as Luke ruefully rubbed his eyes. "Especially when it comes to you."

Sighing, Mara sat up and scooted to the edge of the high bed, her crossed ankles dangling just above the floor. "We are so pathetic," she lamented. "How are we ever going to make it through tonight?"

Luke pushed himself to stand, facing out into the center of the room, his backside pressed against the mattress. "Tonight, we are going to lie side by side in this bed," he declared, turning to point a finger at the tempting piece of furniture, "and wallow in our self-induced misery." He reached for his heavy jacket. "And we're going to keep telling ourselves we'll be stronger for it."

"And thank ourselves while we're at it?" Mara returned with a snort. "Is this some perverse Jedi training drill on self-control?"

"If it is, my prospects for having a lot of eager students don't look too bright." He flashed her an amused grin. "C'mon, let's go take a walk. I think we can use some cold, fresh air."

"I think you're right," Mara agreed, already pulling on her shawl.

When the pair exited the front door of the boarding house, their parallel thinking diverged into two different directions. Mara turned right, yanking Luke's clasped hand as he headed left.

"Where are you going?" she groused, her grin betraying her amusement of Luke's bewilderment.

"I thought we were going for a walk," he contended. "That way." He gestured toward the outskirts of the village.

"But the Festival," she pointed her index finger in the opposite direction, "is that way."

"You... You...," Luke stuttered in mock confusion, "want... to go to the Festival?" He began to snicker as Mara's eyes narrowed to gleaming slits.

"And what's so preposterous about that?" She parked balled fists on her swaying hips, even as she leaned forward to within centimeters of Luke's face. "Hmmm?"

"Nothing. Not a thing." He kissed her nose lightly. "A perfectly logical proposal."

"Humph." Mara tugged her more-than-willing fiancé in her chosen direction. "Unlike someone I know who spent last evening setting a new personal record for alcohol consumption, I had an enjoyable time at this little celebration. Force knows we'll never be able to experience anything like this on Coruscant."

Luke inexplicably began to chuckle to himself as they strolled along, nodding and smiling to the passing villagers.

"Now what's so funny?" Mara asked, though she had an idea what he was thinking about.

"Just reflecting on how much you've changed since I met you," he responded, his familiar grin warming her heart. "The Mara Jade I pretended to be enamored with in the palace would never have been anxious to go to a country festival."

"'Pretended' to be enamored with?" Mara teased. "You don't expect me to believe that line, do you?"

Luke only shrugged and grinned again, not rising to her baiting.

Mara sighed, letting him be as they walked, swinging their joined hands. "I guess it's pointless to deny you're right," she admitted. "I have changed. I don't even like to think about the way I was, the things I've done. It's easier to pretend that was some other woman, not me." She glanced aside at his gentle face. "And I promise to do my best to keep changing, and evolving, into someone worthy of a Jedi Knight."

"No. Don't." He startled her with his protest, and they both paused in the middle of the cobblestone street, oblivious to the stares of the passersby. "I don't want you to change any more." His soft voice was almost a plea. "You're perfect for me now, just the way you are."

Luke suddenly laughed to himself again, as if thinking of some private joke. Mara raised an eyebrow expectantly, but didn't badger him for an explanation this time, though he supplied one anyway.

"Leia confided to me once that Han is convinced she loves him because he's a scoundrel. He supposedly told her there weren't enough scoundrels in her life."

"And being her twin, you had to go out and find a scoundrel for yourself."

"I've never thought of you that way," he said, smiling. "But you have to admit, we do encounter occasional differences of opinion." He winked conspiratorially. "I rather enjoy them."

Mara knew that he meant it, despite Yoda's admonition of not craving excitement.

"I've had it on good authority," he went on, "that a sharp-tongued wife keeps a spark in a marriage."

Mara laughed loudly, continuing their cheerful banter as they started walking again. "Is that so? A sample of Zembuhl philosophy?" At his light-hearted shrug, she went on. "I guess we'll just have to start those sparks flying tomorrow night, farmboy."

"I can hardly wait," he murmured in a husky voice, slipping one arm around her waist and hugging her close as they reached the gaily-lit confines of the Winter Festival.