Author's Note:

In case you guys are unaware, a man and a woman were generally not allowed to be alone without a chaperone—it was considered highly improper. On top of that, having a conversation with someone without having been formally introduced prior to that conversation, was a huuuuge no-no. Just FYI ;)

Usual notes at the end. Enjoy!

The water inside the fountain's stone bowl rippled outwards with every additional drop that fell into its depths. Seifer watched the tiny waves roll across the liquid surface, trying and failing to keep his mind devoid of all negative thought. All he could hear were Miss Caraway's last words about their impending marriage.

Visions of the future flashed across his mind, of days where he'd lock himself in his study because he resented his wife for the mere fact that she was his wife; of times where she'd force him to attend balls and social gatherings that he'd rather not be present at; of times where she'd rail at him and scream for silly little things that he did or didn't do, like fold his socks just right—he didn't know whether claiming that was his valet's job would be a valid excuse for her.

Miss Caraway didn't seem like the type to buy into excuses.

He pulled at the hem of his tight-fitting dinner jacket and let out a long, strained sigh. Sometimes, life as a member of the peerage involved complications that Seifer would rather not have in his life. All he wanted was the ability to do whatever he wished, whenever he wished, without the oppressive presence of an authority figure over his head. Sadly, as a Marquess, that was simply not possible.

As these thoughts flitted across his mind, it was then that he heard the lilting, clear voice of a woman call out to him.

"Who are you?"

His hackles rose at being addressed so informally; under normal circumstances, he wouldn't particularly care if he was addressed in such a way, considering most days he abhorred his title and all that came with it. However, even though he was currently cursing whoever created the peerage system, he was already irritated after being in Miss Caraway's presence, and that irritation transferred over to all further interactions with the female species.

Pivoting on his heel, he whirled around and shot the most intense glare he was capable of conjuring upon such short notice at the woman who was standing in the mouth of the sanctuary's entrance. However, when his eyes landed upon her and he actually took in her appearance, his glare quickly petered out and his mouth fell slightly open.

She was absolutely beautiful.

The first thing that caught his eye was her dress. It was made of iridescent peach fabric that was the palest shade he'd ever seen. When she shifted in place, the lights from the house above and behind her shone down onto the dress and caused it to shimmer, holding his attention rather aptly. The way the illustrious fabric clung to her feminine curves, accentuating her slender waist, rendered him speechless. In addition to that, her hair was breathtaking. It was the shade of spun gold, and the flaxen strands begged him to pull the pins out and run his fingers through the loose waves.

When he'd first turned around, a sharp retort had been ready on the tip of his tongue. Now that he'd laid eyes on her, the clever comment was nowhere to be found within his addled brain.

"I-I beg your pardon, madam?" Seifer managed to stutter.

The woman's eyes narrowed at him. They were the lightest shade of blue that Seifer had ever seen. In fact, the hue reminded him of the early morning sky, or of the brightest aquamarine with stunning clarity. He'd been gazing into them a little too intently and hadn't realized that she'd spoken. By the time he stumbled back into the now, she was almost finished with her sentence.

"—a lady," she snapped in response.

"I'm sorry?"

An exasperated sigh left her wonderful, deliciously plump lips and she repeated, "I am not a madam, I am a lady. I will ask you again sir, who are you?"

The indignation in her tone irked him once more and suddenly, he remembered why he'd been ready to fire an insult at her when he'd turned around. The color and tone of her words implied that she was either used to getting what she wanted when she asked for it, or that she at least felt self-important enough to have the ability to ask for things in such a way. This was a woman who made demands and held the other person to those demands; she did not fool around.

He straightened to his full height, adjusting his cravat as he retorted, "I am Marquess Almasy of Balamb. Take care with your tone, my lady, for you've yet to actually tell me who you are."

Her eyes widened in surprise for a brief, fleeting moment, until she schooled her expression into something more neutral. Seifer marveled at the fact that she was able to adjust to the unexpected situation so quickly; in fact, he was rather impressed, though he wouldn't admit that aloud.

In a more demure voice than before, she said, "My apologies, my lord. I've made an egregious error, for I was not aware of your title. I am Lady Trepe, daughter of Viscount Trepe, of Deling City," and finished with a deep, apologetic curtsy.

When she straightened, Seifer noticed that her lips were now set into a thin line. Before, they'd been able to hold his attention with their full, feminine appearance. Now however, it almost seemed as if she was forcing herself to remain polite. It confused him and threw him off balance. No matter how he tried, five minutes was not nearly enough time to accurately pin down Lady Trepe's true character.

He's a Marquess. Of course he's a Marquess, Quistis thought bitterly.

She'd made an utter fool of herself to a member of the peerage and by Hyne, she did it rather well. Of all the things she could possibly excel at, on tonight of all nights…She hoped word of this wouldn't reach her father; he'd probably never let her leave the house now.

After she apologized, she'd straightened and averted her gaze, refusing to meet the Marquess' bright, overly-inquisitive eyes.

First of all, they were the most remarkable shade—one she swore she'd never had the pleasure of seeing before. They were a rare, demanding hue of blue, so vivid that she had trouble looking away from him. Within his cobalt irises, there were flecks of brilliant green. The mixture of the two shades caused his eyes to appear almost turquoise in color, and even here in the dim light of the garden, the color was stunning.

As if his eyes weren't enough of a gift to the world, the rest of his face was equally pleasing to the eye. The bridge of his nose was pin-straight, leading down to a slight upturn in the tip. He had strong, well-balanced nostrils and underneath his aristocratic nose, lay a pair of masculine, yet appealing lips. They weren't overly full and turned down slightly at the corners, but their size and shape was enough to hold her attention. Paired with his angular jaw and refined cheekbones, they were the perfect accent to his handsome countenance.

What held her attention the most though, was the large, diagonal scar running across the center of his face. It started on his right cheek, just under his eye, and ran upwards over the bridge of his nose, ending halfway up his forehead. It was...intimidating to say the least, and incredibly out of place on a member of the peerage, or even the gentry. They generally had flawless countenances, and it was off putting to see something so...so rogue—on a Marquess' face, nonetheless.

Quistis gasped as she realized that she'd seen this man before, only a few minutes ago on the balcony as she'd hidden behind the fern. With that realization, came the chilling reminder that this was the type of man she was doomed to marry: the condescending, presumptuous, entitled sort of man—though he was handsome. The conversation he'd had with his betrothed ran through her mind and she cringed in distaste as she clenched her jaw, tightening her fingers around the fine, silky fabric of her dress.

When he next spoke, his rough, but no less rich, baritone timbre startled her out of her reverie. As much as she hated to admit it, he had a rather attractive and compelling voice. "What exactly brings you out here to Lady Hartley's garden, Lady Trepe?"

His words were smooth like the silk of her dress. They flowed over her in an obviously practiced fashion. If she had to wager a guess, she figured the Marquess knew the effect his charm had on women, and he didn't hesitate to use it.

Well, I am not so easily won. In a cool, overly-polite tone, she retorted, "I could ask you the same, Marquess Almasy."

The corner of his wonderful lips turned upwards in a smirk and quietly, he replied, "Touche."

They stood there for a few silent seconds, inspecting each other as if to see which of them would be the first to fold. Marquess Almasy had an amused expression on his face; his eyes were filled with mirth as if he knew he'd be the winner. Quistis concentrated on keeping her expression neutral, but it was difficult, seeing as how all she really wished to do was sneer at his pompousness.

In a dramatic fashion, the Marquess bowed slightly and swept his arm out in front of him, gesturing to the garden around them. "Well by all means, Lady Trepe, the garden is a large space. Don't let my presence hinder your experience."

Quistis narrowed her eyes at him. There was no way for her to know for certain, but it sounded like...like the Marquess was being sarcastic.

Very well, if that's how he wishes to play things…

She curtsied in return and with her voice practically dripping with false sweetness, she replied, "Why thank you, Marquess Almasy. I can't imagine how your presence would hinder my enjoyment of these wonders of nature. After all, you can't be that impressive."

With that, she brushed past him and out of the corner of her eye, she saw his mouth fall open in shock at her words. It wasn't until she was nearly on the other side of the gardens that she allowed herself a victorious smile.

Let's see you beat that, Marquess Almasy.

Did she just...insinuate what I think she insinuated? And she's a lady?

Over on the other side of the area, Lady Trepe was wandering around the perimeter, admiring the various blossoms and foliage. As she turned around the corner and faced him once again, she lifted her gloved hand and ran it along the surface of the hedges, a small smile lifting the corners of her lips.

That little minx...that implication was most certainly intended. Well, well. A lady of the ton who isn't meek and demure. Who would've thought? Color me intrigued…

Seifer watched her travel around the garden and when she was standing practically in front of him, he called out, "So, tell me Lady Trepe…"

She faced him with a start and tilted her head inquisitively, waiting for him to finish. He cleared his throat and finished with, "What brings you to Lady Hartley's ball?"

At his question, she faced him head-on, folding her hands in front of her and resting them on her dress. "How is that any of your business, my lord?"

Her tone wasn't necessarily impolite, but he could tell that she wondered why he was even bothering to ask. The curiosity on her face, intermingled with a bit of apprehension, gave that away rather clearly.

With a nonchalant shrug, he replied, "Just making conversation. If we're both trying to escape the ball and just happened to arrive at the same oasis, we might as well try to get to know each other, right?"

Her expression didn't change. After a second, she asked, "You do realize that it's highly improper for us to even be speaking to each other? After all, we weren't formally introduced."

He snorted. "That's preposterous. I introduced myself to you, you introduced yourself to me. Isn't that good enough?"

"Not by society's standards."

"Well, society can sod off," he muttered.

She raised an eyebrow. "I beg your pardon?"

Seifer met her gaze again and dismissively responded, "Nothing, Lady Trepe." He had been leaning against the edge of the fountain the entire time they'd been speaking, and it was now that he pushed off of it, walking slowly towards her. "Are you trying to tell me that you'd rather spend our time together in absolute silence?"

"That would be the...appropriate thing to do," she replied in a quiet voice.

He now stood directly in front of her and peered down his nose at her. She was quite a bit shorter than he was, making it only up to about his chin. Indignantly, she craned her head back and met his gaze directly, as if daring him to speak down to her. Instead, he leaned down, intentionally invading her personal space, and she pulled away from him, her skin flushing pink.

With his lips nearly against her ear, he murmured, "I rarely do the appropriate thing, Lady Trepe…"

He felt her shiver and he smiled knowingly as he straightened, turning his back on her and walking over to stand beside the fountain again. He leaned back against it once more, and folded his arms across his chest, smirking at her.

She didn't move, she didn't respond...she simply stood there in shocked silence. It wasn't until nearly a full minute later that she finally recovered and cleared her throat, tucking an errant strand of her golden hair behind her ear. Her fingers brushed against the pearl and diamond earring that she wore and it dangled, twinkling as it caught the light from the lanterns lining the garden. It was as if the piece of jewelry was taunting Seifer to return and breath in her scent once more; he thought he'd caught the subtle hint of lilies and crisp summer apples. It was a refreshing change from the musky scents that the other ladies in the ton seemed to prefer.

"Very well then, I shall throw caution to the wind and forego propriety for one night," she stated with a firm nod.

Though she kept her back ramrod straight and stared directly into his eyes, her voice wavered slightly and Seifer ventured a guess that breaking the rules was not something Lady Trepe did often.

"You make it sound as if I'm forcing you to do so," he quipped.

Defiantly, she shook her head at him. "Not at all. You've simply enlightened me to how exciting life can be when one...doesn't care."

He chuckled and replied, "Exactly. The best example would be that we probably would never have met under normal circumstances. But since we took things into our own hands, here we are, having a friendly chat."

"Indeed," she responded with a coy smile.

Seifer gestured to the bench along the opposite end of the garden and invited, "Care to join me?"

"Lead the way, my lord," she agreed, placing her hand in his. Though she wore gloves, Seifer could swear he felt the heat radiating from her palms into his own hands.

He led her over to the bench and allowed her time to adjust her skirt before she sat down, and he followed suit. Ensuring that he maintained a decent amount of distance between them—after all, he didn't want to scare her into running for the hills now, did he?—he propped his right ankle up on his left knee, resting his arm along the back of the bench.

Once Seifer was settled, he turned to Lady Trepe and asked, "So...what really brings you to Lady Hartley's ball tonight?"

She let out a long sigh and tucked yet another strand of hair behind her other ear. "Truthfully, it was not my choice to come."

"Ironic, that...it wasn't mine either," he commented.

She turned to him with slightly wide eyes and questioned, "What do you mean?"

"My father and mother forced me to come, in order to meet my...betrothed." He hadn't meant to say the word with such disdain, but before he could rein himself in, the antagonism in his tone had snuck out.

To his surprise, she smiled and covered her mouth with her hand, in an attempt to hide her smile from him. Unfortunately for her, he'd seen it anyway and he teased, "Is my discomfort amusing to you?"

Her gloved hands shot up and she waved them in the air, dismissing the notion. "No no, that's not why I laughed, forgive me. I found it funny that...that's actually the same reason I'm here."

"You came to meet your betrothed?" he echoed.

With a slight shrug, she explained, "Sort of. I'm not yet officially betrothed to anyone. But my father instructed that I attend so that I could meet someone to marry. He gave me six months..."

"Ah, I see now. Six months? That's the entire season, and then some," he noted.

"Yes, well...I have quite the reputation in the ton. I don't expect six months to be enough," she replied with bitterness coloring her words.

"Reputation? What sort of reputation might that be?"

She glanced sidelong at him and let out another sigh. After a moment of hesitation, she reluctantly muttered, "Ice Queen Quistis."

Seifer's mouth fell open and he gaped at her. "You? You're Ice Queen Quistis?"

At the sound of her obviously abhorred nickname coming from his lips, she cringed. He noticed her reaction and quickly said, "I didn't mean for it to...I didn't realize you were Lady Quistis Trepe."

"That would be me," she whispered, staring down at her hands.

"The ton can be overly cruel…" he trailed off in an attempt at comforting her. He'd never been good at consoling women. Instead, he switched topics and said, "I can't imagine having a deadline. Granted, my parents chose the woman I'm to spend the rest of my life with but...that removes some of the pressure, I imagine."

"Yes, about that...Who is your betrothed, Marquess Almasy?" Quistis asked, looking back up at him.

It was his turn to sigh. "I'm not sure you know her. Then again, as Viscount Trepe's daughter, perhaps you've met. Her name is Miss Caraway, she's the daughter of General Fury Caraway of Deling."

Quistis' mouth fell open and in an odd tone of voice, she replied, "Rinoa? I am acquainted with her, yes. We've only met a few times, but we do know each other."

Unsure of what else to add, Seifer simply nodded and stared off at the fountain, listening to the gurgling sound of the water. They were both ruminating over their current situations, and after a few minutes of silence, he wryly commented, "Oh fathers and mothers, what would we do without them?"

"Be free to marry—" Lady Trepe began, to which Seifer finished, "—whomever we wished."

The two shared a laugh, though it was without true mirth. More so, it was a laugh that indicated they were kindred spirits who understood exactly what the other person was going through.

Seifer looked over at Quistis and she smiled up at him. The expression lit up her face and he marveled at the fact that she could look even more beautiful. Inside, the orchestra struck up another chord and he recognized it as the tune of a waltz. He stood and held his hand out to her, causing her to look up at him with wide, surprised eyes.

"Care to dance, Lady Trepe?"

"I-We...There are no chaperones…" she trailed off, tucking an invisible strand of hair behind her ear again. Seifer noted that it must be a nervous habit of hers.

"Propriety has been tossed out the window, remember?" he teased.

"Oh, I don't know…"

He smirked as an idea came to him. He dropped his arm and began to slowly walk away from her, calling out over his shoulder, "Very well then...I should have figured Ice Queen Quistis wouldn't rise to the challenge…"

Almost immediately, he heard the swish of her skirt which was followed by quick footsteps, and he grinned in anticipation. He turned back around just as she was coming to a stop right in front of him. This time, she held out her hand to him and stated, "Fine. If it is a dance you wish to have, then it is a dance you will receive."

"You surprise me, Lady Trepe," he quipped with a teasing smile on his face.

She huffed as he grasped her gloved hand and held it in his own, placing his other hand on her waist. He felt her rest her free hand on his shoulder, and he began to lead them through the lilting cadence of the waltz. The rhythm was familiar and they went through the motions aided by muscle memory. Every man and woman of respectable birth knew a variety of social dances, and neither of them were an exception.

After a few minutes of twirling in circles, Seifer noticed that she refused to meet his gaze. She didn't strike him as the shy type, so he wondered what caused her avoidance. For some reason, her timid attitude irked him; he wanted to see that fire that she'd exhibited when she'd first set foot into the garden.

In a spur of the moment decision that he couldn't have explained even if he'd tried, he wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her in, flush against his body and far beyond the allowances of propriety. She let out a surprised gasp that was quickly shortened by the air whooshing out of her lungs as her chest hit his.

Her pale eyes shot up to his and she squirmed in his arms as she verbally complained, "Marquess Almasy, I beg your—Please let me go!"

"Not until you actually look like you're enjoying my company. For Hyne's sake, woman, your expression makes it look like seeing the doctor is the next step up on your list of exciting times."

"I am enjoying your company," she retorted.

"Are you now?" he threw back at her, letting his doubt color his words so she could hear.

She sputtered in lieu of an actual response, still trying to pull out of his arms. Unfortunately—or fortunately, depending on how he chose to look at it—the motion of her body writhing against his made him feel rather...excited...and since she continued to thrash about like he was some heathen trying to kidnap her or something, he chose to let her go.

So much for a romantic dance…

She quickly backed away and he turned around to face the opposite direction, so that she couldn't see the evidence of his highly inappropriate reaction to her body. He could hear her angry breathing; long bursts of air left her lungs with little, indignant huffs at the end of them.

"I understand that you were trying to distract me from my situation, my lord, but I would've expected better behavior from you," she chastised.

The tone of her voice ignited that small spark of irritation from earlier, that had died down to a tiny smolder in his chest, and he placed his hands on his hips as he scoffed in disbelief. "Unbelievable. Are you honestly reprimanding me? What are you, my governess?"

He heard her sharp inhale and immediately afterwards, her angry voice called out to him. "Excuse you, my lord. You do not know me; you know nothing about me beyond what I've told you in the past ten minutes. Just because I shared something personal and private with you, that does not mean it gives you the right to—to manhandle me."

"Good Hyne, woman. I wasn't manhandling you. I was simply trying to invoke a sense of connection, a sense of—"

"Of what? Of an intimate sexual encounter? I'm sorry to disappoint you, my lord, I am not a lady of the night," she pressed. When he didn't respond, she stomped around in front of him and glared up into his eyes, demanding, "Why aren't you looking at me as I speak to you?"

"Because I'm trying to maintain the level of propriety that you were so desperate for," he spat.

She leaned away from him, her eyebrows lowered in confusion until her gaze flitted downward, taking in his current state of slight arousal. Her mouth dropped open in surprise and Seifer let out a long exhale, turning his head to the side.

"Oh...Oh, I…" she trailed off, her cheeks flushing as she dropped her gaze to the ground.

"Indeed," he muttered, turning away from her again.

"I'm sorry, I did not realize—" she began to say, until another woman's voice interrupted her.

"My lord? Marquess Almasy, are you out here?"

Seifer turned sharply towards the entrance of the garden, his eyes narrowing in recognition. "Lady Trepe, if you don't wish to be forced into becoming my wife tomorrow, I highly suggest you leave. Now."

Indignantly, she retorted, "Why should I leave? Why wouldn't you be—"

Yet again, she was interrupted. "It's Rinoa...Are you speaking to someone? Don't move, I'll be there in just a moment," Miss Caraway called out.

"As surprising as it may be to you, Lady Trepe, I am not jesting. Leave, now," he directed in a quiet voice, but no less firm, as he pointed to the exit on the other end of the clearing.

She glared at him one last time with her striking, icy-blue eyes, before she scurried past him; the swishing sound of her skirts as she ran was the last evidence of her presence in the garden.

Quistis hurried along the path leading out of the maze, her heart pounding as her feet carried her swiftly away from Marquess Almasy. Once she was out of the maze's embrace, the Hartley's house loomed up before her, the bright, inviting lights welcoming her back into its midst. As the dirt path from the gardens transitioned into gravel, she quickly made her way towards the front steps to head back inside, when she heard a man call out to her.

"Lady Trepe?"

She whirled around, her hand flying to her neck in surprise. Before her stood her butler, and she exhaled deeply as she asked, "Biggs? What in the world are you doing here?"

"I'm...here to retrieve you, my lady. The ball is over and has been for a few minutes…" he trailed off, letting her know in a subtle manner that he'd been waiting for her to appear for some time. "Your father instructed me to come and pick you up once the ball had ended."

"Oh, of course. That's right," she replied hastily. "I simply stepped outside to get some fresh air. I'm ready to leave then, if you are."

Biggs bowed and nudged the footman's arm. The younger man raced forward and pulled open the coach door, tugging down the steps for her to climb into the vestibule. When he stepped back, Biggs approached Quistis and held out his hand to assist her, and she smiled gratefully at him as she clambered into the coach.

The footman shut the door behind her once she was seated, and she heard Biggs climb up top to sit beside the driver. With a whoop, they lurched forward and were heading on their way home.

Now that she had a moment to breath and process everything that had happened tonight, Quistis found that her mind was reeling.

The Marquess of Balamb was indeed the same man she'd seen on the balcony earlier, with his betrothed, Miss Rinoa Caraway. Somehow, though she knew she'd never seen him before, his name sounded familiar, and she was having a difficult time placing where she'd heard it before. She knew for certain that she'd never met him prior to the ball, and that knowledge was cemented by the fact that Deling City and Balamb were nowhere near one another.

The closer they got to the house, the more frustrated she became. Not only at the fact that she couldn't seem to remember where she'd heard his name before, but at the man's arrogant behavior. They'd only known each other for just under an hour, and already he was molesting her and acting as if he was courting her. No, beyond that! A respectable gentleman would never act in such a way, regardless of whether he was courting her or not.

Granted, the Marquess had warned her that he rarely chose the appropriate path, but she'd thought he'd only been teasing her to rile her up. Who was she to know that he'd actually been serious? After all, they didn't know one another.

Out of nowhere, the mental image of him standing before her, his broad shoulders barely contained in his dress jacket, the front of his trousers protruding with his slight arousal, popped into her mind again.

It was the first time she'd ever seen, or felt, a man's arousal against her body, and she blushed fiercely as she recalled it. Part of her wanted to forget the entire ordeal and shove it into the back of her memories, never to be pulled to the surface again. Yet, the other part of her was insanely curious. She'd always loved learning and the challenge of new material, and this was something else entirely—something she had absolutely no prior knowledge of.

The strangest thing of the entire situation had been the way her body had reacted to him. Obviously, she had no idea what to do, but it was as if nature knew and the feel of his hard, masculine muscles against her soft, feminine curves, had sent waves of tension rolling through her. The muscles in her lower abdomen had tightened, as if in anticipation for something, and she was horribly confused at how she'd responded.

With a dramatic shake of her head, she forced all thoughts of the impudent man from her mind and let out a deep sigh, as she watched the facade of her home approach in the distance.

What has he done to me?

A/N:

Hooray! An update! Many thanks to Lecritic, ChoppingBoard, NoizchildJohnson, my lovely usual guest, AJ Maxima, and chinaglaze for the wonderful reviews!

Thanks to Strings805 and StarryNight101 for beta-reading : 3 See you guys next time!