Chapter 5: The Duchess Returns

Summary: A blast from Ren's past portends trouble...lots and lots of trouble

[excerpt]: His eyes appeared lighter in the sun, their amber color holding a mischievous glint.
"I promised you something your first night at Caserta. I think it's time I fulfilled it."

~O~~O~~O~~O~~O~~O~~O~

You must look into people, as well as at them

-Lord Chesterfield

xx

The suffering may be moral or physical; and in my opinion it is just as absurd to call a man a coward who destroys himself, as to call a man a coward who dies of malignant fever.
-Johann Wolfgang von Geothe, The Sorrows of Young Werther

Kylo slowed his steps as he heard Rey's voice, hesitant in her skepticism. He leaned against the door of the library as he observed her lesson, the relaxed angle of his hips and the fold of his arms creating the dissemblance of a careless curiosity.

Their relationship had been more subdued and restrained following their return from town. Rey had thrown herself voraciously into her studies, while he had devoted himself to his duties at Caserta. Their association felt safe, superficially pleasant, and entirely unsatisfying. There was a return of that emptiness, although at times he felt himself being swayed and entranced by her, as if she could help fill it. He now watched as the sun streamed in from the windows, warming the rows of brown and black tomes sitting on the shelves with their patterned and gilded designs, before settling on her face. Her hair shone, golden highlights stranded on bronzed chocolate, and her pert nose and delicate features scrunched up in consternation as she seemed at war with the sentiment printed in front of her.

She closed the book, its well-worn leather cover making a satisfying thump as she shook her head.

"Master Luke. Although I understand that extreme passion can drive someone to consider absolute self annihilation, it is difficult for me to sympathize with a character such as Werther, as he ultimately commits the most selfish of acts. He is indeed a coward."

The older gentleman looked down at Rey kindly. He enjoyed teaching his new student. Her frankness and perspicacity was a refreshing change from the jaded attitudes of many of the children of the first circle. She was even more impressive, some could say, given her sex and the circumstances of her upbringing.

"Heartbreak and isolation are universal concepts, Miss Kenobi. It is, at the very least, a story of tragic and unrequited love."

Rey frowned. "But Werther is not the ideal of the sensitive and passionate lover. He demonstrates in many instances evidence of his emotional immaturity and the lack of self-discipline."

Kylo strode into the room, nodding his greeting to Master Luke. His tall figure and barely restrained energy filled up the space as he stood in front of Rey's seated form. He rested his body against the desk, his long legs stretched out in front of him as he addressed her.

"Perhaps you are being too harsh on our hero, Rey. His condition speaks to the feelings of an entire generation. Napoleon himself considers the book one of the greatest works of European literature. Others have identified with Werther to such an extent as to carry out his tragic ending in the depths of their despair. "

Rey scoffed. "Self-obsession is not the quality of a hero. Nor is it one we should choose to emulate."

Kylo's eyes bore into hers. "But what about the Sturm and Drang? Werther's passion? His humanity? Are these not the things that give us our individual sensibilities, that give our lives meaning?"

He paused. "That make life worth living?"

He allowed himself to lean in, his voice remaining low but laced with an undercurrent of fervor, his gaze never leaving her face.

"How often do I lull my seething blood to rest, for you have never seen anything so unsteady, so uncertain, as this heart?"

Rey felt her own traitorous heart quicken upon hearing his words. She wanted to think that it was a physiologic reaction to the heat of their intellectual disagreement, but a deeper part of her knew that it was Kylo's proximity, his raw power which was making everything catch in her throat. She answered with a false bravado as she took in a deep breath, unable to look away from his stare.

"I am alone the cause of my own woe, am I not?"

The air lay thick and heavy, the fine thread of tension and dissent wavering and tightening between them. He drew his body closer, his face hovering slightly above her own.

"I have been more than once intoxicated; my passions have always bordered on extravagance. I am not ashamed to confess it; for I have learned, by my own experience, that all extraordinary men, who have accomplished great and astonishing actions, have ever been decried by the world as drunken and insane."

Rey was suddenly reminded of what his passion had looked like, under quite different circumstances. She gazed upon the intensity of his eyes, the strength of his nose, the fullness of his lips. Images of those lips pressing against a willing body flooded her. She inhaled the scent of his soap and skin as he held her entranced, a cat to her mouse. She fought against her hypnotic state, desperately reaching through the haze of her emotions and her confounded mind to come up with a response, however weak.

"You exaggerate everything and are certainly wrong at least."

He was so close, his fingers resting on the armrest of her chair, almost grazing the sleeve of her dress. The slightest change in her position would have allowed her to give in to his touch.

He closed in verbally, a riposte to her inadequate parry, which was softened by the surprisingly gentle tone of his words.

"Is this the destiny of man? Is he only happy before he has acquired his reason, or after he has lost it?"

Rey felt her breath stop. Her voice was barely a whisper.

"Once we are lost unto ourselves, everything else is lost to us."

She nearly closed her eyes in that moment, her chin tilted up towards him, the line of her neck exposing her bounding pulse which quickened against the proximity of his mouth and the heat of his words. She knew her breath was coming fast and heavy, until she saw the faintest of smirks dance across his face.

Her temper flared. He was enjoying this, reducing her to a quivering, besotted schoolgirl to prove his point!

He quirked his eyebrow as he heard her mutter something that sounded suspiciously like "insufferable arse." The spell between them was broken as a throat cleared nervously in the background.

The tutor's ears looked decidedly red, as he awkwardly interrupted. "Yes, well, epistolary fiction such as this certainly enhances one's ability to have an, uhmm, intimate and psychological relationship with the subject matter, does it not?" He looked relieved as the younger man turned to face him.

Kylo stood. "How are Rey's studies progressing, Master Luke?"

The tutor broke out into a genuine smile, his blue eyes twinkling. "Very well, Lord Ren. She has a true love of learning, devouring everything I have put forth. It is a great pleasure to work with someone of her inquisitiveness and intellect."

He hesitated. "I understand that you wish to introduce Rey to London society during the upcoming season. Although I feel that her qualities in the academic arena are unparalleled, I would be doing both you and her a great disservice without reminding you that to be successful in that regard, she would also need to learn those skills which would be important for her to fulfill her role as a lady of the ton. To-well, increase her chances of finding an appropriate suitor."

Kylo's look darkened slightly at his words.

Master Luke persisted. "Sewing, embroidery, dance and music? She doesn't seem to have as natural an affinity for these areas. Perhaps more of a female influence, and the services of a dance master, could help you accomplish these goals."

Kylo suppressed his laughter as he watched Rey attempt to hide a frown of distaste, at which she failed miserably. He knew she was thinking that any appropriate suitor would not require her to do such conventional tasks. He didn't disagree. In his mind, she made a much more appealing image with her head bent over a book instead of a needlepoint.

Kylo nodded. " I appreciate your candor, Master Luke. I will have Mrs. Kanata look into those very things."

The man bowed. "It is my pleasure. Good afternoon, Lord Ren. Miss Kenobi."

After he left, Kylo turned to Rey, teasing her. "Insufferable arse, hmm? Have you always been this outspoken and headstrong?"

She failed to bite back her retort. "Only in the face of arrogance and insufferable conceit." She then had the decency to look abashed, coloring slightly. "I apologize for my temper, My Lord. I'm afraid you have your hands full with me. I can't say that I've been one for the niceties and proprieties of polite society."

"Well, that makes two of us. Although if you apply yourself with half the efforts you devote to your other studies, I have no doubt that you'll have them eating out of the palm of your hand in London." He admonished her gently. "Do try, Rey. Circumstances here at Caserta are very different from those in the city. There are many, both male and female, who would love nothing better than to expose your shortcomings, take advantage of your artlessness, and tear you apart."

He looked at her, his gaze taking in her form and her clothes. She was wearing a sensible dress, made of a light yellow muslin, with a deep skirt and attached bodice. She hesitated, uncertain as to why he was assessing her in such a manner, and self-consciously raised her hand to her face as if to erase a non-existent smudge of dirt from her flushed cheeks. She felt relieved as he nodded his approval and requested that she accompany him outdoors.

His eyes appeared lighter in the sun, their amber color holding a mischievous glint.

"I promised you something your first night at Caserta. I think it's time I fulfilled it."

~O~~O~~O~~O~~O~~O~~O~

Rey stared in awe at the magnificent thoroughbred. His coat was the color of midnight, his eyes intelligent and spirited. Kylo stroked the length of the hot blood's graceful neck lovingly, his human form mirroring the horse's planed face, angular shoulders and impatient nature.

"He's beautiful, My Lord." Rey reached out tentatively, stroking its powerful haunches. "Hux mentioned that you are a horseman. Do you raise horses for trade or for sport?"

"Primarily sport. I must admit, I've participated in my fair share of races." His voice was tinged with pride. "Vader is descended from the Godolphin line of Arabians, the great-great grandson of Matchem. He placed second in Newmarket, and won the 2000 Guineas Stakes last year." The horse appeared eager and lively, champing at the bit for his owner to ride him. Rey had no doubt that, with Vader's lean body and long flat muscles, he was built for great agility and speed.

Kylo murmured, calming the horse as he signaled for the stable master to bring out another. This one was also beautiful, delicate with a skewbald coat of chestnut and white and a gentle disposition. A broad and padded saddle was mounted on top, capped by a curved, leather pommel and a second horn. Rey eyed it suspiciously, and noted that there was only a single, velvet-covered slipper stirrup hanging at the mare's side.

She looked at Kylo questioningly.

"I thought you mentioned that you had ridden on the back of a horse?" he asked, bemused.

"I have. This—this is a different type of saddle from that which I am used to."

"This is a side saddle. He frowned. "Have you not ridden aside?"

"No, My Lord. Only astride." Rey's face had taken on that scrunched up look again. She wanted to more than anything to ride that afternoon, but the contraption looked altogether silly.

She looked up at him hopefully. "Perhaps if there are a pair of breeches that I may borrow, I can ride on a saddle such as yours?"

"Absolutely not." Kylo looked momentarily appalled, although as he thought about it, he supposed it was not too far of a stretch for her to suggest such a thing. He was introduced to her wearing a boy's jacket and pants, after all. As he thought about it still further, he pictured her slim legs encased in breeches—his breeches, her thighs tightening as she leaned over her steed, urging it forward, and he felt himself stir between his legs.

"Rey. If you are to ride in the presence of others, outside of these walls, you will need to learn how to do so properly."

Kylo waved off the groom, choosing to check the saddle, the stirrup and the firmness of the girths himself. He next looked at the placement and condition of the headstall, bridle and reins, coming to stand by the left side of the mare's shoulder when he found they met his satisfaction.

He motioned for Rey to turn and face him.

"I'm going to help you mount Padmé. When you are seated, I want you to position your right leg between the two horns." He brought his gloved hand close to her thigh, indicating where it should be placed.

Rey gathered the folds of her skirt in her left hand as her right hand grabbed the pommel. Kylo leaned over, stooping so she could place her foot in his hands. He barely seemed to exert any energy as he lifted her, positioning her so her derriere was firmly on the seat. He set her left foot in the single stirrup and situated her right knee so it rested against her left leg. He finished by gently smoothing out the folds of her skirt. The constant and changing pressure of his hands against her body seemed to sear through the cotton fabric, making her prickled skin burn and her heart race.

Kylo walked slowly, guiding Padmé until Rey became more accustomed to being in the side saddle. It took a while to adjust to the novelty, forcing her to sit up with a straight back and her hips and shoulders even. Occasionally, the pressure from her left leg in the stirrup would cause her to slip downwards, which she learned to counter by increasing the weight on her right hip. She eventually grew more comfortable, although the deep leather skirt of the saddle prevented her from directly cueing the mare, preventing her from feeling fully in control.

When Kylo was satisfied, he handed Rey the reins. He mounted Vader, his tall and powerful body alighting in one graceful leap as he took his place to Rey's right.

The heavy fragrance of centofolia from the gardens changed to the smell of the grass in the meadows they rode near the gravel paths of the estate. The circuitous route and winding lanes showed Caserta's grounds to their best advantage, with its exquisite view of the countryside. The horses neared an area of controlled wilderness, filled with irregular plantings and a beautiful lake.

Kylo slowed the horses down. He dismounted and she attempted to follow suit, before he shouted for her to wait and was immediately by her side.

"Your dress," he warned, freeing her knee from the pommel and disengaging the fabric which had become caught between her legs and the horn. He assisted her in dismounting, his hands resting lightly but firmly on her waist and then sliding down the sides of her trunk as she lowered herself to the ground.

She felt warm, from the heat of the afternoon sun, the exhiliration of the ride, and mostly from the touch of his hands. He led her to the edge of a small lake, the water reflecting the scenery like a thousand mirrors in the sun, blinding her with its beauty. The woodlands and gamelands were visible in the far distance. The melodies of the songbirds filled the air as they took shade under the oak, a pair of osprey taking off in flight.

Rey watched Kylo relax, the unconscious, occasional clenching of his hands stilling, the tension in his shoulders settling, the rate of his breathing slowing. He looked younger than his twenty eight years, unencumbered by trappings of his titular responsibilities and emotional unrest which often dominated his thoughts and movements.

She allowed herself to close her eyes, giving into the feel of the summer air and the sounds which surrounded her. She realized that such peace and tranquility were foreign to her as well. Her days had so often been filled with hunger or fear, or pain or emptiness, leaving no room for self-reflection. Life had been just a constant movement forward to survive.

She opened her eyes and saw Kylo watching her, his lips curled in a gentle smile. Everything about him seemed to soften as he looked out across the lake's waters.

"I haven't been back here in a long time. It used to be one of my favorite places. It's nice to…" He hesitated, his next words cryptic. "To be able to enjoy it again, as I had once remembered it, long ago."

Rey smiled back. "I can see why this place would mean so much to you." She dropped her head and peeked up at him through her lashes, suddenly shy. "Thank you, My Lord. I had a wonderful time this afternoon."

She felt it again. The thread of want which flickered and pulsed between them.

He leaned in, his hand on hers, glove on glove, hovering just on the edge of impropriety.

He suddenly withdrew his touch and looked away, his voice lowering as he fought against her pull.

"You're welcome, Rey."

She knew it the second it happened. A maelstrom of confusion, of desire, and passion. The yearning which he had spoken to earlier, the emotions which she had scoffed at. She now understood.

She wanted it all.

Her heart ached as she realized that she wanted it with him.

~O~~O~~O~~O~~O~~O~~O~

Kylo frowned as Caserta Hall pulled into sight. A massive, imposing town coach awaited under the portico of the drive, a golden armorial bearing on its black doors and a coachman and postilion at its side.

This was not Han and Leia's carriage. They weren't even due for another week.

He racked his brain to see if he had forgotten a scheduled visit. It was not time for the hunting season yet, and as his parents and the rest of the staff had not yet arrived from London, there was nothing planned on Caserta's social calendar for the next several days. He helped Rey dismount as he hurried towards the entrance.

Dopheld was at the door to greet them, taking their hat and gloves. He had a slightly anxious look on his face as he led them past the great hall and towards the library, bowing at its entrance.

"Mister Kylo. The Duchess of Silesia is here to see you."

A figure stood with her back to the door. She was petite, and dressed in a white satin gown embroidered in silver thread. A petticoat of primrose-colored crape trimmed with silver lace and festooned with roses hung delicately from her shoulders. The draping and folds of her gown did little to hide the curves of her waist and hip, nor the swell of her bosom. Rey gasped as the visitor turned towards them.

She was the most beautiful woman she had ever seen.

Her skin was a smooth and unblemished porcelain white, contrasting with the ebony of her hair. Her shiny locks were pulled back, falling in artfully arranged ringlets and blended with flowers. Her lips were perfectly formed, shaped almost in a constant pucker and cherry red. She appeared polished, yet seductive and mysterious. Her eyes flitted from Kylo to Rey, and Rey felt a sudden chill settle over her.

The woman's eyes were cold and calculating. Cruel. One of the things Rey knew from her life on the streets was her ability to read people. She caught the woman's simultaneous assessment and condemnation, in the quick purse of her lips and the flare of her nostrils and the slightest narrowing of her eyes.

Ren staggered backwards. Memories of the last twenty years came flooding back, an emotional tidal wave of love and lust, hope and joy, anger and hatred, and overwhelming pain and cruelty.

"Kylo." His name left her lips, as her voice curled around those four letters, holding within them a possessive familiarity and intimacy. A display and assertion of ownership, as she triumphantly looked past Kylo and directly at Rey.

"Bazine."