For the next several weeks her life became much more bearable. Leandra felt guilty that it had taken the old Comte's death to make it so, but welcomed the respite from the constant uncomfortable dinners and her mother's pressure. The Comte's family had been so consumed by the funeral arrangements that there was simply no time for social gatherings- even if they were in a mood to do so.

Saved from the incessant scheming of her parents, she found herself in a mood to enjoy the warm fall weather. One afternoon, while walking through the Hightown marketplace looking absentmindedly at dresses, Leandra found herself receiving congratulations from a pair of passing matrons. Before she could ask why, they had continued on their way.

"What's all this?" she asked, entering the house. Taking up much of the front hall were flower arrangements, dozens in all.

"Oh good," her mother said, rushing over, "you're home."

"What's going on?" Leandra asked again. "Why all the flowers?"

"The flowers were a gift," her mother explained brightly. "They're yours."

"Mine?" Leandra glanced around again. "From who? Why?"

"Well, from your betrothed, of course," her mother replied.

"My… what?"

Lady Amell sighed. "You knew this was coming, Leandra. Since he's come into his title we saw no reason to put it off any further. Really, now, you're already almost two years older than I was when your father and I were married."

"But I don't love him," she said, backing away as though distance could change the words her mother had spoken.

Elizabeth Amell's eyes narrowed. "Do you really think you're the first noblewoman forced to marry a man you don't love?" she asked sharply. "Don't pretend this is some new form of torture we've invented, it's the way of things." Face softening, her mother drew closer, putting a hand on Leandra's shoulder. "Sweetheart, it will be fine. You'll grow to love him."

"And if I don't?"

"You will," was all her mother said, giving Leandra a look that told her there would be no further discussion.

That night, after an uncomfortable meal and even more uncomfortable discussion about the house he would build for them with the Comte, Leandra hid in her room until the family had gone to bed. Once she heard her parents' door shut, and Gamlen's tread on the stairs as he went out, she snuck down to the servant wing.

Knocking softly, Leandra pushed Malcolm's door open without waiting for an answer. He was curled on his side, lying in his robes on top of the blankets. As her eyes adjusted to the darkness she could see him shift into a sitting position. "I suppose congratulations are in order," he said, voice rough.

"Condolences would be more in order," she replied, climbing up to sit at his side.

He snorted. "This where you come to say goodbye?" Leandra looked over and could see Mal's shoulders rise in a shrug. "Can't imagine it's… you know, proper, for a married woman to carry on with a mage."

Leandra raised an eyebrow, a gesture lost in the darkness. "Is it proper for anyone to carry on with a mage?" After a pause she chuckled, adding, "and believe me, that's not an invitation for you to tell me stories about the Circle of Magi."

"Oh, I didn't plan on it," he said. They sat quietly, shoulder to shoulder, listening to the crickets outside. Eventually Malcolm broke the silence.

"So what now?"

"Now?" she said quietly. "Now… nothing. It isn't tomorrow. I'll think of something before then. Odds are he'll decide he wants something else once he realizes I'm not about to warm up to the idea. I can't imagine anyone wants a cold wife."

"Cold? You?" Malcolm laughed.

"Well, for him I am." Leaning over, Leandra kissed him. They shifted to lie on his narrow bed, arms around each other. Breath quick, Malcolm pulled away from her eventually, apologizing. "No," Leandra whispered, "don't stop."

"Are… are you sure?" he asked.

"Yes," she said, pulling him back down onto the bed. "I'm sure." Fumbling with the top of his robe, she made a frustrated grumble.
Malcolm chuckled. "Look at these things," he said, gesturing. "You think getting them off would be that simple?"

"I should have known," she replied, trying to hide her nervousness.

It didn't work. "You're really sure?" Malcolm asked again.

"I'm sure I'll hit you if you ask me if I'm sure again."

"Yes, serah," he said, pulling his robes off.

Leandra bit her lip and looked at him, eyes moving across the skin of his shoulders in the moonlight. Kissing him again, she looked confused when Malcolm pulled back after a moment. "What?"

"I'm feeling a bit underdressed," he said. She could practically hear him smirk. With a giggle Leandra pulled off her long nightdress, tossing it to the floor.

With a sigh, Mal ran his hands across her shoulders, lips following his fingers. Her head falling back to the pillow, Leandra groaned as he latched onto one nipple, warm tongue flicking against her skin.

Moving his hand lower, she parted her legs slightly. Leandra gasped as his fingers moved, legs opening wider.

She clung to his shoulders, mewling with pleasure.

"I love you, Leandra," Malcolm whispered as she shook in his arms.

Gasping for breath, she kissed him again. "I want to… how do I…?" Wrapping her fingers around him, Leandra looked up at Malcolm. Guiding her hand, he groaned and leaned against her.

Eventually their eyes met, barely enough moonlight entering the room to see each other. "Are you ready?" Leandra nodded after a pause. Malcolm shifted, positioning himself above her. She grunted with pain and he backed away.

"No, I know it'll hurt," Leandra said, pulling him back towards her. "It's fine. I love you, I want this."

"I'll heal you right away," he promised.

Leandra giggled. "So… why in the world don't people like mages?"

Malcolm grinned, light briefly glinting off his teeth, and pushed forward, wincing at her sharp cry. Pulling out almost immediately, he quickly cast a healing spell before sliding forward once more.

Pain gone, Leandra rocked her hips up against him. Sweat coating their skin, the two moved against each other on the rough straw mattress. Her hands explored his back, shoulders and chest, lips not leaving his.

Once finished, they curled in each others' arms, silent.

"We'll figure something out," Leandra finally said, not sounding convinced.

"I know," Malcolm agreed, voice equally doubtful.