Thanks to all who reviewed my last chapter! I'll try to keep the updates coming, but school is just becoming so hectic. But I have Thanksgiving break coming up next week, so I should get quite a bit of writing done then if all goes well. By the way, Gwen ferch Cynyr is an actual historical character. What her role in history is, I don't think anyone is certain, but it is believed by most that she was the wife of Salomon, so I thought it would be logical to have her in here. I'm not exactly sure if I'll follow history though, so…. You'll just have to read and find out later!  Oh, and just a little warning: there's a small part in this chapter where things get a little sexual. It's not bad enough to up the rating yet, but I thought I should let ya'll know.

Of Lust and Promises

Lord Marke of Cornwall set at the head of his great dining table patiently waiting for his dinner guests to arrive. He pondered a few things as he sat in wait, but what piqued his interest most was the young woman who his cousin was bringing to dine with them. It was immensely strange for a common girl to be invited to dine with the king and royal family… but Salomon was going to be king soon- his own health was fading quickly; he couldn't deny it- he could invite who he wanted to dine with them.

Marke was pleased with his choice of heir. Salomon, although he sometimes acted with the brash thoughtlessness of youth, was intelligent. He would make a good king. It was a pity that he hadn't had any children of his own though. He had not remarried after Isolde disappeared. So having no sons, he had chosen his cousin to succeed him on the throne. God willing Salomon would have the prospering family that Marke had never had. His future wife, Gwen, the daughter of an Irish prince of Caer-Goch, should be arriving any day now. They would be married almost immediately. Mark prayed for Salomon's sake that she would be fruitful.

Suddenly the great doors at the front of the room opened, and Marke looked up. His cousin, Salomon, walked in. Despite being only 19, he already looked like a seasoned warrior. His muscled limbs and chest spoke of relentless training and fierce battle, as did the hardness of his cool blue eyes. But it was not Salomon who riveted Marke's attention. It was who was on Salomon's arm. The girl was younger than his cousin, perhaps 16 or 17, and she was extremely beautiful. Something about her face stirred something in his mind, but he ignored the feeling, for he saw something in Salomon's eyes as he looked down on the young woman. Salomon wanted her. Marke immediately tensed. This was not going to turn out well.

It was certainly not unknown for a man to take other lovers and mistresses aside from his wife or his betrothed, but Marke knew Salomon's nature, and he wasn't sure if Salomon would be able to let go when it was time for him to wed the Lady Gwen. And he had to marry Gwen ferch Cynyr. Marke and Salomon had already given their word to Lord Cynyr Ceinfarfog.

Salomon bowed low and gave the young woman a pointed stare, after which she curtsied. "Cousin," Salomon said, "What a pleasure it is to dine with you again this evening." He gestured to the young woman. "This is Fallon. I found her a little ways away and invited her to take shelter here from the storm. I trust you do not mind that she be our guest for a while."

Yes, Marke wanted to say, but for the sake of courtesy and propriety, he refrained. "Of course not," he said instead with a smile, "You know any guest of yours is welcome here in Castle Dor, Salomon. Good evening, Fallon," he addressed the pretty young woman politely, "I you are welcome here for as long as you wish to stay."

Fallon blushed. "Thank you, Milord," she said quietly, not meeting his eyes, "But I'm sure I must be leaving soon. I have to go…." She paused thoughtfully. Finally she finished with, "Somewhere."

Marke felt a pang of pity rise up in his heart. It was obvious that the girl did not know where to go. He had once felt that some feeling of being lost in the world. It was just before he had been named King of Cornwall. The night that Tristan's parents and his own wife had been slain by the Irish.

He only had one objection to Fallon staying in the castle. Salomon. For all through dinner, the young man could barely keep his eyes off her.

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After dinner Fallon walked around the wide corridors of Castle Dor trying to reach her room so she could go to bed. She had gotten turned around somewhere, and now she had no idea where she was. She didn't really mind. She had always loved to explore and find new things. What better a place to do it than a castle? She was also glad for the solitude. Aside from the brief time when she was talking with Bragnae, Salomon had been by her side. It was not that she disliked him really, but sometimes she would catch him looking at her in an unnerving way.

Suddenly, she got a feeling and the hairs on the back of her neck stood up. She turned swiftly, vainly grappling for the dagger she kept at her belt, only to remember that she had left her belt in her room. Luckily it was only Salomon. She wasn't in any real danger…. Was she?

He regarded her with that odd look in his light blue eyes, and it was all she could do to meet his gaze. "Are you lost, Fallon?" he asked finally, his deep voice resonating off the walls.

Fallon looked away nervously. "Yes," she replied quietly, "But I was rather enjoying exploring the castle. If that's alright?"

"No it's perfectly fine," he answered, walking closer to her, "But if you would like someone to show you all the interesting places and explain some things, I'd be happy to accompany you."

Fallon knew she should refuse him. But when she opened her mouth to tell him politely that she would be fine, these words came out, "I would like that very much. Thank you." She could have banged her head against the hard stone wall.

"Good," he said, smiling slowly. His voice was sensual, and despite her furious mental protests, she felt her body heat up and her heartbeat quicken. Why did he affect her so? No man had ever made her heart race like this.

Fallon reluctantly took the arm that Salomon offered and began walking with him. He was pleasant as they walked, and it seemed and utter change from how he had been that morning. He hadn't really been rude to her for the most part, but he certainly hadn't been as pleasant or polite as this. She briefly wondered why the change had come about, but soon she was too lost in his rich voice and the feel of his body so close to hers to notice anything.

"And this painting," he was saying, gesturing to a lovely picture of a beautiful sunrise on the bank of a river, "Was a gift from Lord Marke for the Princess Isolde. It is quite beautiful, is it not?"

\"Yes, quite," Fallon murmured absently. The painting was beautiful, but Salomon was distracting her. She liked the way his strong jaw looked from the side and the way his firm lips looked as he spoke. She wondered what those lips would feel like on hers. Immediately she tried to push down the thought, but with the brief and fleeting image of him placing his lips firmly on hers, came others. Suddenly she wondered what it would be like for him to make love to her, and in her mind she saw him naked and covered in glistening sweat, moving above her, kissing her whole body. Her cheeks turned crimson at the thought. Unfortunately, it was then that Salomon decided to turn away from the picture and look at her.

"What is it?" he asked with an amused grin.

She blushed even deeper, and her heart raced. "Nothing," she replied breathlessly, but he shook his head.

The look on his face had changed from amusement to desire in an instant. His voice was deep and husky as he said, "No. You were thinking about exactly what I've been thinking about since I first touched your hand today at the stables."

"I don't know what you're talking about," she protested nervously as she took his arm from hers and began backing away.

"You know exactly what I'm speaking of," he persisted with that dangerous lusty look in his eyes. He took a step toward her, and Fallon thought that he had never looked so large or imposing or dangerous. She wondered what part of her was in danger. Her body or her heart? "Why else is your face as crimson as blood? Why else is your voice so breathless? Why else are your breasts heaving with your heavy breaths?"

Modestly, she brought her hands to her breasts and tried to steady her breathing. His comment had caused her to realize that her breathing was, in fact, threatening to force her breasts out of the tight bodice of her dress. "Sir!" she began to berate him, but he spoke over her.

"You're a beautiful woman, Fallon," he said as he took another step to her, "I noticed it right off. When you're this close to me, I have trouble breathing. I want you. Badly. I need you, Fallon." And with that, he swiftly closed the distance between them, and before she knew it, Fallon had her back pressed against the wall and was being quite thoroughly kissed. Of their own will, her lips parted and welcomed his exploring tongue. She moaned against his mouth as his tongue gently massaged hers, and her body couldn't help but respond. She grinded her pelvis into his thigh, trying vainly to soothe the growing need in her loins. She felt the hardness of his arousal pressed against her belly.

"Oh, Fallon, Fallon," he murmured when he took his mouth from hers only to place it on the sensitive skin of her neck. She whimpered in reply and tangled her fingers in his light hair. One of his hands came up to caress her breast. He massaged lightly causing flames of desire to run all the way up and down her body.

But as he reached down for the hem of her dress, a cold wave of realization came over her. This man did not love her. Salomon wanted her body. Nothing more. Maybe he would tire of her after a night, or maybe he would keep her for his pleasure longer, but either way he did not love her. Lord Marke had even mentioned his betrothal to another woman that night when they dined. No, he didn't love her. Not that she loved him. Now that she had control over herself, she realized both of those facts. They weren't in love. Certainly not. No. And she wasn't going to give herself to a man who she didn't love. Anyways, even if she did love him- which she didn't- nothing could ever come for them. He was to be married, and she was a commoner.

In the time it took her to think this, Salomon had gotten the hem of her dress up to her thighs and was quickly pushing it farther as his mouth went down searching for her breast. She knew that if she didn't stop him then, then she never would.

"No, milord," She used the title, hoping to dispel the closeness that now existed between them. She wanted to seem distant and uninterested. "Stop. I don't want this."

He took his mouth away from her breast and looked up at her with a sultry smile as he lightly caressed the tops of her thighs. "Don't want it? I know…."

She realized that force was the only thing that was going to stop him, and she knew she had to act quickly, for one of his hands was moving up between her legs. She slapped him as hard as she could across the face, so hard that her palm stung. That made him release her and back away with a surprised and angry look on his face.

"Teasing, wench!" he exclaimed furiously, "You lead me to believe…!"

"I led you to believe nothing, Sir!" she shot back just as angrily. She balled her hands into fists and her small body shook with rage. How dare he accuse her of being a teasing wench!? "I said nothing to encourage your rash actions. You acted of your own will!"

"And what did you do to stop me before now?!"

"I couldn't do anything sooner! But know that I will be ready next time. Your affections and caresses are not wanted by me." That was a lie. "So I suggest you bestow them elsewhere." She tossed her head with an arrogant sniff. She was glad that her face did not seem to betray her lie.

"Oh, trust me, I will," he hissed. And she knew that he was seething with wrath. "You are not worth my time or my affection." He whirled around and stalked back down the hall. With an angry growl, she turned and stomped off in the opposite direction.

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Salomon was still shaking with ire by the time he reached his chamber. The nerve of that woman! He knew she had wanted him at the beginning, and yet she had seemed so vehement in her objections there right before he left her. How could she have changed so quickly?

Unfortunately for him, he still desired her. He thought that maybe if he had her once, his lust would be satiated, but how could he ever know that if she wouldn't have him? Her lips had been so soft and sweet. And her breasts! They had fit perfectly in his hand and had tasted wonderful under his mouth. He was still hard and thinking of Fallon like that was not helping.

Just as he picked up the pitcher of cold water that sat on his table and was about to pour it over him, a knock came at the door. He cursed softly then called out, "Enter."

The door opened, and to Salomon's immense surprise in walked his cousin, Lord Marke. Immediately, Salomon bowed. "I was not expecting you at this time, milord. Please sit." He led Marke to his most comfortable chair.

When he had gotten himself situated in the chair, Marke said, "Let us not be formal, Salomon. When we are alone, I am Marke. I came here to speak not as King, but as a man."

"Yes, mi… I mean Marke. What is it?" Salomon wondered what could be important enough for Marke to come to his chamber so late.

Marke sighed. "I came to speak to you of that young woman who dined with us tonight. Fallon."

Salomon wince inwardly, but he tried not to let it show. What exactly did Marke know? "What of her? She is…."

"You have seen her recently, have you not? Moments ago?"

Marke was irritatingly wise and perceptive. Salomon could have growled in annoyance, but he restrained himself. "Yes, but what…?"

"I can see it in your face. Your skin is flushed, and your breathing has not yet steadied totally. I also saw the way you looked at her tonight. And I want you to know that you cannot act of this desire, Salomon."

Salomon resisted the urge to deny, and instead said, "And why is that?"

"Because you are betrothed to another. You have promised to marry another woman."

Gwen. Salomon groaned aloud. He had met Gwen ferch Cynyr but once, and she was a pretty woman and seemed pleasant enough. But there hadn't been the attraction there that he now felt for Fallon. He was drawn to this mysterious raven-haired maiden more than he had been to any woman. He was so consumed with need for her that until now, he had totally forgotten about his impending marriage. He wished fleetingly that Fallon instead of Gwen could be his wife, but he immediately pushed the thought away. Gwen was royalty born and a proper woman for a king's wife. Fallon was not. Finally he said, "But many men take mistresses. And I am not even married to Gwen yet."

Mark shook his head. "Salomon, I know you. You have always been a passionate person, and whatever you care for you will not let go of without a fight. This woman would grow to be more than a mistress to you, and you would not be able to let her go. But you must marry Gwen."

"I could let her go," Salomon protested sullenly, "I know I could. I just… want her. Have you never wanted a woman, Cousin? Desired her so badly that it hurt?"

A nostalgic look came over the older man's eyes, but it quickly vanished and turned to firmness. "I know what you desire, but my command stands you will not act on this. Now I do speak as king. You must not. In a week's time Gwen will be here at Cornwall, and you will be married. You can wait that long and then your desires can be fulfilled, but not with Fallon. Never with Fallon. Gwen ferch Cynyr is your destiny." Marke yawned. "I grow tired. My health is failing me, Salomon. I am not the man I once was, and you will soon have to take my place as King of Cornwall. Take that place with a respectable wife and family. Do this for me." And then Marke left Salomon alone.

He undressed and lay down in his bed. His mind was torn. He loved Marke. He was his kinsman, and he was loyal to him. He should not go against his wishes. And yet, he was on fire for Fallon! His whole body cried out for her. He needed her. He tossed and turned in bed thinking of what it would be like to lay with her. He knew it would be amazing. But Marke was right. He had to marry Gwen. But other men took mistresses, and he could let go of Fallon if he wanted to…. Maybe. He hit his pillow and growled in frustration. This was going to be a sleepless night.