Chapter 7: The Unreadiness of Things

Summary:

Lord Ren struggles as he realizes that his feelings for Rey may be verging on the inappropriate.

[excerpt]:
He stood the weapon in front of her, eyeing the quillons and nodding as they reached slightly below the span of her waist. He placed it in her hands, curling his fingers over her slim grasp and trapping it against the hardness of the rapier's elaborate cup-shaped hilt. His flesh seemed to burn into hers as he slid her forefinger over the crossguard, the silkiness of his deep baritone lulling her into a near hypnotic trance as he guided her forward.

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

Young men are apt to think themselves wise enough, as drunken men are apt to think themselves sober enough

-Lord Chesterfield

xx

Kylo regained his footing, trying to tamp down the nausea which had bubbled up and threatened to overwhelm his senses. The figure which stood in front of him was every bit as beautiful as he had remembered. She was a ghost from his past: an apparition of everything he had once wanted, a tangible representation of his dreams. But there were also subtle distortions, those differences which disputed his now inaccurate memories: the harder set of her jaw, the secretive look in her eyes, and the rigidity in her bearing which hinted at a cynicism and loss of innocence.

He was instantly wary, even as he realized that the same could easily be said of himself.

Bazine stepped forward in an effort to bridge the distance and the years between them. "Is that any way to greet an old friend?" she asked teasingly, her lightly painted lips curling up into a coquettish smile.

He stiffened, proffering a small bow while taking her right hand in his and gracing the back of its soft skin with the lightest brush of his lips before dropping it back unceremoniously to her side. His acknowledgement was brief enough to be considered a greeting for only the most casual of acquaintances, and an affront to those who were not. She frowned at its inadequacy, glancing again at the striking young woman who stood beside him.

Kylo turned to Rey, his expression simmering with a mixture of repressed anger and disdain.

"Rey. May I introduce Her Grace, The Duchess of Silesia. Your Grace, I present Miss Kenobi, my ward." There was no mistaking the derision which dripped off his words. Bazine may have retained her exotic beauty, but there was also the matter of her new title, bought at the expense of his heart and for the price of his soul.

His ward. Things had certainly changed at Caserta in the last ten years. Bazine noted how Kylo had leaned fractionally towards Rey in that moment, his body language protective and their proximity radiating a familiarity. His ward was young and unpolished, but there was no denying the delicate nature of her features, the laughter and intelligence in her eyes, or the spirit of her carriage. The girl was by no means a simpering fool, but the type of girl who could keep a man interested well past the initial attraction of her looks.

Bazine's eyes narrowed. Her fingers traveled to Kylo's upper arm, lingering there possessively as she relished the tautness of his muscles and the heat which lay underneath. The intimate gesture was accentuated by the plaintive request which left her lips, her words blanketing themselves around him in an effort to soothe his wounds.

"Darling. I missed you so very much. Please, may we go somewhere in private to talk?"

Kylo breathed deeply, fighting to keep his emotions in check. He knew he should tell her to stay away, to never set foot on Caserta's grounds again, but the need to punish her for her betrayal and seek the answers to the questions which continually plagued him was overtaking his common sense.

Rey watched him quietly as the beauty of their afternoon together disappeared like the evanescent swish of fabric from Bazine's silken gown. A tension and uncertainty settled over the room, compounded by the fact that there were currently three people present in a tableau meant for two.

Rey extricated herself as gently as possible to allow Kylo to make his decision without the added awkwardness of an unnecessary observer.

"My Lord. I would like to thank you for the wonderful excursion this afternoon, although I admit that I am feeling quite tired after our ride. Please excuse me, as I would like to rest before dinner."

Kylo smiled at her gratefully, relief washing over his features as he dipped his head slightly in assent.

Rey bid the two goodbye as Kylo led Bazine to the parlor. The space and location was less intimate than that of the library, and he had no desire to stir up additional memories of their youthful indiscretion. Despite this, Bazine accepted his willingness to listen as a small victory. She took a deep breath and sat, smoothing the folds of her gown and clasping her hands in her lap. She tilted her face towards him, the angle accentuating the delicate slope of her shoulders and the vulnerable line of her neck.

Kylo remained standing, using his considerable height and physicality to assert a dominance and confidence he didn't necessarily feel. He stared at the only woman to whom he had ever pledged his love, impervious to the siren's call of her ebony hair and flawless skin, her voluptuous curves and her dark and expressive eyes. His lips thinned as he remembered how those eyes had similarly pleaded for his understanding in the past. Displeasure and resentment colored his words.

"You have some nerve Bazine, coming here after all these years." His words were soft, yet dangerous.

She thrilled at his tone and the restrained, masculine fury which radiated off of him. She realized that she still had the ability to provoke his emotions, even if they were not the ones she initially sought.

It gave her something to work with. She decided to gift him with a small truth.

She sighed, lowering her eyes, a tinge of sadness in her voice. "I missed you."

He turned towards her angrily, his jaw set and lips pressed into a cruel smile as he circled in front of her.

"Missed me? Did you miss me when your family sought to place me six feet under the ground? Did you pine for me while I suffered from the pain of my wounds and a broken heart, without you by my side? Did you long for me as you wore your expensive jewels and your gowns, little trinkets of your husband's affection?" He sneered, spitting out his next words as he leaned in towards her, his intentions cutting and crude.

"Did you yearn for me as you lay in the warmth of your bed, limbs entangled while you were being pleasured by another man's mouth and his cock?!"

Kylo stood over her seat, boxing her in between his arms, his words vibrating with outrage.

"I haven't seen or heard from you in ten years, Bazine, yet I have a permanent reminder of your treachery every day that I look in the mirror. I will not be played for a fool twice in my life." The muscle in his cheek twitched as if to amplify his statement.

Her eyes filled with sorrow and regret. Her voice softened.

"I never meant to hurt you, Kylo. I loved you then, and I still love you now. I would never take back our last night together, and if -if things had been different, I would agree to run away with you to Gretna Green all over again."

She straightened and looked him directly in his eyes, their amber color flashing with his roiling emotions. Her own were bright with unshed tears.

"The Duke and I are in the process of obtaining a divortium a mensa et thoro. I could not bear it anymore, the unspeakable things I was forced to endure. My time away from you has been agony, my marriage the biggest mistake for which I can never fully make amends. I only ask that you hear me out, and that you open yourself to the consideration of letting me back in your life, even if it is only in the capacity of a friend."

She looked at him imploringly, and just as she had with nearly everything in her life, got her wish as she watched him settle his tall frame into a chair hesitantly.

The two sat there for well over an hour, and by the time they were done, he emerged, as conflicted and confused as ever.

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

Kylo gently threaded his arm through his companion's as they strolled through the flowering gardens, relishing the comfort and security she provided even as he towered over her by nearly a foot. The herbaceous borders of viburnum were punctuated by the bright pink and fuschia colors and fragrant perfume of the Portland roses, setting off a nice counterpoint to the white of her flowing morning gown.

The rest of the Organa-Solo family and staff had finally joined him in Caserta following the end of the Parliamentary Season, and the place was abuzz with activity. Leia resumed her responsibilities as the Lady of the house, while Kylo and Han oversaw the state of their tenancy and game in preparation for the fall hunts. Kylo found himself oddly at ease despite the noise and traffic and his parents' scrutiny.

Leia's soft brown hair was wound in a neatly coiled bun, eschewing the tendrils and natural artifice of the Romanesque hairstyles which were currently popular. Her deep brown eyes sparkled with intelligence and wit, and her features still evidenced the great beauty of her youth, despite the faint silver streaks which now graced her temples and the delicate lines dotting the corner of her eyes.

Those eyes were filled with something akin to pride as she looked up at her only son. The month spent in Caserta appeared to agree with him, quieting some of the restlessness and lack of purpose which often dominated his behaviors.

Leia stopped, grasping Kylo's hands. He hesitantly allowed himself to give in to the love she exuded in that gentle touch.

"I like Rey very much," she said slowly, gauging his reaction. "She is fascinating and strong. She has your academic inclinations and Phasma's indomitable spirit."

Kylo couldn't suppress his smile as he recalled Rey's spittle-by-way-of-greeting on the day they first met. "Yes. She's a veritable bluestocking with quite the adventurous streak."

Internally, he was surprised and pleased with how easily his family had accepted Rey into their fold. He had only recently realized in the days prior to their arrival that the act of inviting a complete stranger to Caserta-and a petty criminal, at that-followed by the assumption of responsibility for her upbringing was decidedly not one of his more well thought-out plans. The rashness of the act only served to highlight those behaviors which forced Han and Leia to issue their ultimatum in the first place. He had hemmed and hawed his way through the circumstances of the situation, highlighting what he had hoped was an altruistic bent, while purposefully leaving out the bit about his wager with Hux. Once Leia met Rey, however, Kylo's fears subsided, as his mother quickly embraced the girl, welcoming her and subsequently taking her under her wing.

Leia had a serious look on her face. "Han and I will be going into town tomorrow to seek out Plutt. The thought of subjecting mere children to such horrible abuse..."

Her voice trailed as she hung her head in shame. "How can I champion the rights of the populace and the need for economic reform in London when such hypocrisy exists in our very own country seat?"

Kylo looked to reassure Leia. "All things are ready if our minds be so."

Leia smiled gratefully. She paused, briefly hoping for an offer of his assistance. She hid her disappointment when it was not forthcoming and continued.

"Rey has been providing us with much information regarding the details and breadth of Plutt's activities. She is eager to assist others who were coerced into the lifestyle she had been forced to lead. We will create viable opportunities for them, giving them the chance to make an honest living. Her willingness and desire to help is truly a sign of her strength. A lesser person could easily turn tail with their change in fortune in order to forget such a sordid and difficult period in their lives, yet she wishes to fight by our side."

She mused. "Rey's conviction appears to have been a family trait. Do you know why she and her family were traveling to England?"

Kylo shook his head. He was surprised that Leia was able to glean such intimate knowledge from Rey in such a short period of time.

"There were questionable activities taking place regarding sovereign lands in the States. It appears that Andrew Jackson had formed a business some twenty years prior designed to purchase and sell such lands, which were at that time contained within military bounds. These were lands which were reserved by treaty for the Cherokee and Chickasaw tribes."

Kylo was surprised. "Andrew Jackson? As in General Andrew Jackson?" The General was currently battling the Creek Indians in the Southern United States, part of the Anglo-American War. In addition to his questionable tactics regarding the relocation of the Indians, he was also an elite plantation owner of nearly 300 slaves, known to condone the whipping of fugitive slaves, or those who did not meet the plantation's standards of productivity.

Leia nodded, concurring with Kylo's expression of distaste. "Yes, the one and the same. Rey's parents felt that his business dealings may have violated the Royal Proclamation Act of 1763, and were planning to meet with some British sympathizers in an effort to prevent the private purchase of American Indian land. They were on their way from Virginia to London when they fell ill."

Virginia. Her lilting voice now made sense: it was not the unstressed sequences and raised tongue of New England or the clipped and semi-formal tones of the mid-Atlantic dialect, but a southern drawl adulterated over time by the Estuary English of London and the regional variance of Northern Maridunshire.

Leia indulged herself in a moment of self-reflection, she too having lost her mother at a very early age. "I know Rey is too proud to want our sympathies in that way. Despite it all, she has been able to maintain her compassion for others and to find pleasure in the little things in life. I am very pleased, that for whatever reason the Fates had in store for us, that she came into our lives."

Her gaze turned serious as she looked Kylo, a gentle but firm warning in her tone.

"I understand that you will be bringing Rey with you to London in the upcoming months. Although she has witnessed and survived more than her share of hardships, she is still unschooled when it comes to the social manipulations and calumniations of the peerage. You will be exposing her to a den of vipers. I would hate to see her naivete lead to the loss of her faith and her ability to see the good in others."

Kylo looked out over the flowering hedges, missing his mother's meaningful look.

"Not to worry. I promise to always look out for her best interests."

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

Kylo frowned at the two figures on top of the hill, the clang of metal on wood and glints of silver cutting swaths agains a background of greens and blue. The larger of the two was more powerful and aggressive, but the smaller lithe and agile, able to sidestep the attacks with a graceful motion. He didn't recognize the figures from this distance, and as he moved closer to see which of the house staff could possibly be shirking their duties in the middle of the afternoon, he noted that the smaller of the combatants was backing up quickly, eventually losing balance as the taller pressed forward, landing unceremoniously on their backside. Shouts of laughter pealed through the air, sounds which were decidedly...

Feminine.

"Bloody Hell!" He charged up the hill furiously, coming upon Phasma as she stood over Rey, holding out her hand as Rey grinned, standing. He gazed at them critically as the two looked at him guiltily with flushed faces, tendrils of their hair escaping from their ties, the dampness of their linen tunics pressing against their chests, and the strain of their legs exhibited in extremely form-fitting breeches and boots.

Kylo swallowed. "Rey. We've spoken of this previously. A lady does not gallivant around wearing men's clothing. It's..unbecoming." He ground out his words even as his eyes raked hungrily across her form.

Phasma laughed. "Since when did you become such a stickler for formality, Kylo? These are comfortable, and infinitely more practical when engaging in swordplay. Besides, it's my fault. Rey offered to show me how to ride astride, in time for the hunt, and I couldn't resist." She paused, admiring the freedom of movement and the endless line of her tall limbs which the new clothing afforded her.

"I had these specially made for the both of us." Phasma grinned wickedly, recalling the blush on the tailor's face when she and Rey had made their request known.

Kylo huffed as Phasma continued to look pleased, finally drawing his eyes to Rey. Her pants were made of buckskin, and the custom fit hugged the shapeliness of her legs, highlighting the gentle swell of her thighs, the flex of her knees, and the soft curve of her bottom. His voice stuttered, as he forced his eyes away from that delicious posterior.

Phasma had the gall to wink. "I take it you approve?"

Kylo rolled his eyes. "Phasma, you're a lost cause already. But you know very well that Rey does not have your history, or the protection of your title from catty gossip. You have already been branded an eccentric, but for her...she would be called much worse."

Rey looked at Phasma conspiratorially. "Lord Ren, if I may be so bold. The breath of fresh air in the afternoon does me much good, and I enjoy very much the time I am allowed to spend with your sister. I am hopelessly inept when hampered by the excessive fabrics of my skirts, and I believe that my bumbling efforts at dancing would be made much worse if I were to suffer repeated falls due to a heavy dress. I promise that I will only wear my new clothing in the privacy of Caserta, and out of the prying eyes of company."

The chit had the temerity to look up at him prettily as Phasma came around to her side to plead on her behalf.

Kylo smiled in faint amusement at their efforts. He knew that Rey was anything but bumbling, and that the two women had likely hatched an excuse to work around his earlier refusal regarding her request for masculine attire. He also knew that he didn't need to acquiesce to their wishes, but the earnestness behind her request and the delicious outline of her body had his mind wandering to all the naughty things he would love to give in to happily.

He glanced at the weapon in her hand. A practice rapier foil. An interesting choice. It was outdated and out of favor in terms of its practicality, although its shape and weight favored her quick speed and agility. He wondered if she gravitated towards it having spent much of her life in the back alleys, drawn to the possibility of a weapon known for its fast and thrusting assault.

"Just a bit of polite swordplay for two, respectable young ladies on a nice summer afternoon?" He drawled, quirking up his eyebrow up quizzically.

He came over to Rey's side. "My sister, in her overzealousness to finally meet another member of the fairer sex who shares her same interests, has neglected to refine your technique." He pointedly ignored Phasma's feigned pout, picking up a different weapon as he tesetd its slender and rigid blade. It felt weightless and lightning fast in its handling. Rey took a deep breath as he brought it over to her, removing her foil from her hand, and holding the new one towards her.

He stood the weapon in front of her, eyeing the quillons and nodding as they reached slightly below the span of her waist. He placed it in her hands, curling his fingers over her slim grasp and trapping it against the hardness of the rapier's elaborate cup-shaped hilt. His flesh seemed to burn into hers as he slid her forefinger over the crossguard, the silkiness of his deep baritone lulling her into a near hypnotic trance as he guided her forward.

She looked at it hesitantly. The blade was longer than the one she was using before. "Are you sure, my Lord?"

"This is lighter, properly weighted, and will be easier for you to wield. It is also the correct length for you." He brought his arm alongside of her, extending it in a forward movement.

"Not so stiffly," he added, "Don't use the force of your whole arm from the shoulder when you thrust, it will slow you down." He breathed the next words softly, asking her to trust the flow of her body and to withdraw from the limitations of her mind.

"Trust your natural instincts."

The flush and burning of her skin intensified as she experimented with her movements. Rey was constantly aware of the hardness of his body supporting hers, the deep rumble in his chest as he voiced his instructions, and the heat of his lips near her ear. She felt her heart quicken and her breathing catch, which had nothing to do with her physical exertions.

He placed his hand on her forearm, continuing to make the slightest adjustments, encouraging her to feel the change. "What is the shortest distance between you and your opponent, Rey?" He shook his head as she demonstrated a thrust. "Your blade should not be brought in a curved line, but straight ahead. You'll extend your reach, and given your size and speed, it could make for an effective attack especially if you have the element of surprise on your side. Always be in control of your movements."

She felt the disappointing loss as he disengaged from her, circling around to assess her form. She repeated the movement for him, trying to feel the weight and shift in movement naturally. Her control of the weapon improved, becoming faster, but something was still lacking in its finesse.

"I feel unbalanced." She bit her lower lip in concentration, trying to place where she felt off. "It is as if my arm movements are uncoordinated with those of my legs." She couldn't resist. "Even with the benefit of breeches."

Kylo laughed, the deep sounds causing Rey to grin and Phasma to raise an eyebrow in interest. She missed her brother's carefree laughter, which nowadays seemed to always accompany a sardonic comment or thoughts of a particularly bawdy nature.

"It's the way you're standing on guard," he explained gently. He repositioned himself in back of her, nudging her right leg forward with his thigh while using his hands to stabilize her back leg. Her body tingled as his voice seemed to thicken. "Place your weight slightly on your back foot. It will aid you in both your defensive and offensive maneuvers, while maximizing your mobility."

She tried to settle into the stance, which Kylo abruptly halted.

"No," he rasped, his voice dark and low, taking his hands and placing them firmly on her hips, stilling them. His breath was warm in her ear, sending shivers down her spine. She felt the flush of heat from his whispered words as it travelled down the length of her body, settling in the pool of her stomach. Kylo himself quieted briefly, before continuing.

"Take a deep breath. Inhale. Now drop into guard, and exhale." He murmured his approval as she practiced the exercise several times, finally removing his hands from her waist and coming to her side. He removed the rapier temporarily from her grasp, bending down towards the ground as he eyed the line of her legs.

"Shift your weight so that it's concentrated in the front of your foot as you move," he stated, pointing to the box of her boot. "That will increase your ability to move defensively in either direction, at a moment's notice."

Rey watched as Kylo concentrated on her form, his head lowered, the length of his locks falling across his face. His shoulders were straining against the fabric of his jacket in this position, and she fought the urge to lower her hands and run them through softness of his hair, tucking the loose strands behind his ears and away from his eyes. She had felt the quickening of his breath and the lowering of his voice as she stood, and wondered if he had felt the same heat and excitement as well.

Satisfied with her stance, he straightened, urging her on. "All right, Rey. Stand on guard, and lunge forward into a thrusting attack."

Rey fell into a static guard, feeling the balance and pressure on her hind leg before transferring her weight forward, her knee flexed and the pressure stabilized in the front of her foot. As she moved ahead, she brought her sword arm up and then down, followed by an extension forward. Her body sang, the movements flowed, from her right arm through her legs and out her trunk and left side, exiting through her fingers. She couldn't help the smile which spread across her face at the power and ease with which this was done, her weapon an extension of herself.

The heady excitement of success and the adrenaline of the day overwhelmed her as she took in Kylo's look of pride. She ran over to him in her exuberance, leaning forward to give him a fierce hug. She pulled back upon feeling him stiffen, her joy cut short at the look of shock and displeasure on his face.

Kylo was temporarily at a loss for words. The color drained from his face as his lips turned down into a scowl. Her happiness was crushed underneath his next words.

He could barely look her in the face as he straightened and pushed her away from his arms.

"I see that I have been terribly remiss in allowing you such latitude. From now on, Miss Kenobi, you will remember what it means to behave as a proper lady. There will be no more displays of inappropriate clothing, or participation in ill-suited pursuits, from here on out."

He didn't bother looking at the two women as he turned on his heel to head back home.

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

Rey stood at Kylo's door. Her heart ached at his displeasure, although she was uncertain as to its exact cause. She only knew that she was determined to apologize for, and correct whatever transgression he had perceived to have taken place.

She took a deep breath, steeled her resolve, and knocked.

Kylo sat in his room, listening to the tentative rapping. He had sensed her the second she was there, confirmed by the soft, swirling sounds of her skirt against the oak door. He envisioned her slightly pinched expression as she chewed her lower lip, the look of uncertainty in her hazel eyes as she mustered up the courage to confront him.

He poured himself a generous dram of Scottish whiskey, the rich and decadent amber liquid reflecting off the cut crystal of his glass. He brought it to his lips, welcoming the initial burn in the back of his throat, later mellowed by its honey heather and smoked peat tones as he let the drink settle in his mouth. He closed his eyes, gratified for his slightly inebriated state.

"Lord Ren?" She was still there, her voice calling to him from the other side. There was a second knock, followed by a third, before he finally heard the defeated sounds of her retreating feet.

Kylo placed his head in his hands. He was continually assaulted by unwanted images and sensations from that afternoon. The fierce joy she showed at her competence and her rapidly growing skills. The sensation of her pliable body against his as they moved as one, fitting perfectly like a sword sheathed in its scabbard. The widening of her eyes and her progressively shallow breaths as she ran towards him in her excitement. The rounded curves of her breasts and the softness of her crotch against his thigh as she hugged him through the thin barrier of her tunic.

The lesson had been exquisite torture. He needed to bite back his audible groan when he felt her ass rocking and wiggling against his stirring cock as she settled into her guard. When he had bent down to reposition her legs, it was all he could do to restrain his hands from sliding them against the poured fabric of her breeches and pulling her into him so he could bury his face in her crotch. He had seen the desire in her eyes, felt her tremble at his touch, and knew how easy it would be for him to lead her down an ignominious path.

He knew it was wrong. His conscience screamed that she was young, that she was his ward, that she was his responsibility.

His mind toyed for a second with the knowledge that their age difference was not so unusual, and his devilish imagination flirted with the pleasurable lessons he could add to her currently staid curriculum. His ruminations were cut short as he remembered his mother's words from that morning.

Rey was in many ways an innocent, something he definitely was not.

"Don't be a fool," he thought angrily. Leia had asked that Kylo protect Rey, but what Rey really needed was protection from someone like himself. He could never give her the free and open heart which she wanted and deserved. He belonged with someone who didn't care about his incapacity to love them in return, or who was as damaged and broken as he. He would not destroy her life with false promises and hope, as his had been all those years ago.

He slowly grasped a quill and began to write, the sharp, angled lettering of his missive filling up the parchment quickly as if he wanted the words to materialize and seep into its cotton and linen fibers before he changed his mind. He watched as the iron gall ink darkened quickly from a light grey to a purplish black hue, marking the permanence of his decision. He folded the paper, addressed it and affixed his seal, the molten wax cooling and congealing, sticking along the edges of the metal stamp.

He stared at the letter for another minute before ringing the bell. Dopheld appeared quickly, entering through the dressing room.

"Yes, Mister Kylo?"

Kylo handed him the letter. "Please make sure that this goes out with the post tomorrow."

Dopheld bowed. "Of course, sir." He turned the letter over, not wanting to smudge the ink, the imposing, scrawling script signaling a conciliatory gesture and the faint hope of a provision of succor for both the writer and its recipient.

Her Grace, The Duchess of Silesia