Hi everyone! Thank you so much for your reviews, I love how enthusiastic you are about this fic that's in such a different setting from what we are used. The ending is different from what I originally pictured it would be, but I hope you like it.. Anyway, enjoy this chapter and as always can't wait to read your thoughts. X

Chapter 3: Williamstown

His eyes lock with hers and his heart skips a beat as he sees how she briefly bites on her bottom lip, a smirk smile appearing on her face as she looks down just a little. Her sparkling eyes still locked with his as she looks up from her under her eye lashes. His breathing heavy, his feet pushing him towards her. His finger tops scraping her upper arm through the split in her sleeve, a gasp escapes her lips.

Her head's thrown back, her chest moving up and down with every breath she takes, her body bumping backwards by his proximity. His left hand falling against the wall again, it's the only thing that stops his body from crushing into hers. She shivers as his fingers trail down her arm, her lips parting to catch her breath when his hand hooks around her elbow.

His breath is warm against her skin as both of them remain in place. Their eyes still locked he waits for her to object, she merely waits for him to carry on. His gaze descents to her lips, a smirk smile turning on his as he notices she's still waiting for him. His lips lastly brush against hers, they're moist and warm and this briefest moment of intimacy is enough for her to give in.

Her lips seize his bottom lip in a small tuck, her right hand clinging onto his crispy white dress shirt she pulls him closer. His chest now even against hers, his hand travels to play with her auburn manes. Two strands curled around his fingers he cups her face, kissing her harder now. His tongue sliding against hers, she tastes like vanilla and the limited air between them is filled with a soft moan fleeing her mouth.

His hands loop around her middle, his fingers burrowing into her skin through the silk nightgown. A shiver runs down his spine as the cold air hits his skin when she succeeds to pull his shirt out of his trousers. He pulls back, his lips still parted as he tries to catch his breath, but the smile she's giving him as her hands slips under his blouse against his bare ribcage and the way she angles her head backwards, his eyes are drawn to her stretched out neck making him lean back in.

His lips on the suave skin just under her chin, he moves his way down to the side of her neck. Wet kisses, soft nips, her skin becoming his territory by the marks he leaves behind. His teeth pinch her skin at the beginning of her neck, just above her collarbone. His movements making her whimper his name, her back arching as his hands slide over her hips. Lifting her up just a little, his hips pressing against hers as she raises her left leg.

He looks at the way she's breathing, her head still thrown back but he can see her smile. His hand moves over the leg she elevated, pulling the fabric up until his fingers scrape her knee. His lips back on her collarbone he kisses the freckles on her chest, following the edge of her robe over her breasts, she giggles at his touch, his name escaping her lips once more.

Her right hand's between them, her fingers moving over the edge of his pants, brushing against his skin every now and then, making him groan. She draws lazy abstract patterns over his upper body, her hands now pushing over his shoulders to the back of his head. Fingers digging into his locks she lifts his head from her cleavage. Eyes locking, their lips follow soon after. The pace is quicker this time, both of them fighting for control. She pushes herself up, her nails digging into his shoulders, his left hand hooking around her knee as he kisses her again.

His right hand brushes over her thigh, his thumb pressing against the bone of her hip as she hooks her right leg around his waist. She helps him pull up the silk negligee between them, now feeling his urge press against her and a gasp escapes her lips. He pauses, his lips slowly lifting from her jaw he looks into her eyes as she gives him a small nod.

Everything after that goes ten times faster than it had until then. Her hands are on his shoulders, her legs wrapped around his waist. His hands moving over her ribcages to her breast. His lips devouring hers, her back arching as he thrusts inside her, closing his eyes her hand caressing his face. Hips rolling in sync they move as if their bodies were made for each other.

.

His eyes flicker open, gasping for air as his chest moves up and down in a hasty pulse. He sits up straight in his bed, his hands clinging onto the sheets, his hairline covered with droplets of sweat. His eyes take some time to adjust to the darkness of his chambers, he looks around, his heart sinking in his chest as he already knows there's nothing to be seen. She isn't there.

It was just a dream.

He lets out another deep sigh as his body falls back against the matrass. It was just a dream, he tells himself over and over again as he thinks about what did happen between just a few hours earlier.

"Please," she whispers, "help me."

His eyes meet hers, seeing the tears welling in her eyes, her begging words on repeat in his mind he swallows, nodding slowly as a sign of agreement. He'll help her, even though he barely knows the women something deep inside him tells him he should.

He lets out a breath, his hands wanting to reach for hers, but they cling to his suit instead. "I'll make him pay, Donna," his voice is soft and soothing, the words he spoke making it more personal than it was, but he not only wants to help her. He feels the need to do so.

She presses her lips into a thin line, the corner of her lips curl up slightly and she nods too. Neither of them speak, their eyes still locked she notices how he breaks her gaze. How he wants to turn around again, "twelve days," she whispers then making him stop once more. "I only have twelve days to get out of this."

He pressed his jaws together letting her words sink in, "I'll get us out of this," he mumbles not even realising the way he referred to the both of them, "tomorrow," he bows his head turning around again. This time both of them remaining silent as the return to their original chambers.

.

He swallows, looking down. Finding himself across the table from her yet again, he shifts on his chair. Pushing away the memories of that dream he stuffs his mouth with a piece of bread. Focussing on the food in front of him he just listens to the conversation his younger brother has with the redhead.

Taking a large sip from his chalice he can't help but notice how her eyes drift off to him every now and then. His gaze lifts from her lips to her eyes then and she smiles softly. "Will you still help me?" she whispers, because he seemed so distant just now.

"Of course," he mumbles, he meant what he said to her the night before and he still does. He sees her smile once more and he can't help but grin himself as she breaks his gaze when his brother coughs trying to continue the conversation. He smirks, rolling his eyes as he bites his tongue. Seeing her blush from the corner of his eye as he continues eating again.

.

His hands rest on the small of his back, he's two steps behind her. Taking her figure in one last time he catches up with her as she looks to him over her left shoulder. "What happened?" he asks his head now directed to the rest of the garden in front of them. "You know what happened," she counters, her shoulder brushing past his, "you were there."

He nods looking down, his foot kicking a pebble. "You didn't know?" he repeats her words from last night and she shakes her head. "No," she sighs, "My uhm.. my unlce arranged this betrothal," she looks down as he stops walking, turning to face her. "I never heard of this Lord before.. I didn't think this would happen."

"Why?" he frowns, "it's custom for – "

"I know," she looks down, she knows that arranged marriages are the tradition. She knows what her mother told her, about him. "My mother," she whispers facing him again, "she always told me she didn't want that for me." Her words making him swallow, he still doesn't know why that plan their parents once had fell apart. He doesn't know if she knows about it, but the only conclusion he can draw now is that her mother didn't think he was worthy of her.

"Ooh," he sighs, rocking back and forth on his feet. Contemplating whether or not he should continue walking. "She wanted me to marry out of love," she brakes his gaze, taking another step forwards, "and so do I."

He swallows, letting her words sink in as he watches her stroll further down the maze. "And so do I," he whispers, closing his eyes. It wasn't what he told his father, but deep down it was the reason he was never on board with the plan in the first place. Seeing her turn another corner he gets pack on his feet and runs towards her.

"We should –" his words and feet stopping abruptly as he faces an empty lane of the maze. He frowns looking to his left and right, he could have sworn he saw her turning this way. Taking two steps forward he searches for her in another path, both of them empty.

Before he can really start to worry he hears a giggle from behind him, his lips curl up a little as he closes his eyes. Shaking his head slightly he turns on his place, slowly opening his eyes he sees her laugh, leaning against a hedge. Her hands behind her back she gets back on her feet swaying from left to right as she throws him another teasing smile. "You weren't worried now, were you?"

He lets out a sigh, "No," he lies a smirk plastered on his face as he walks his way up to her. "But Marcus and I did get lost in here once. They couldn't find us till the next dawn," he tries to scare her, but she doesn't flinch. "Good thing I have an excellent sense of direction," she smiles and he just frowns, questioning her words. "It led me here."

He remains silent at her choice of words, wondering if she meant more than the actual spot they're in right now, because if anything this isn't the best part of the maze. "Just don't walk away again," he gives her his puppy eyes, waiting for her answer. "Only to the place you were about to inform me on." He has to hide a smile, still getting used to this gift she has of reading people. "The library," he crooks his head to the left he signals her to follow him.

.

She hears him sigh and she briefly looks over her shoulder, back to the petite brunette they just walked by. "Who's that?" she inquires as she increases her step, noticing how he started walking hastier. "No one," he scoffs not even looking at her, but he can feel that her gaze is still directed on him. "No one important," his tone firmer this time. Hoping she will leave the subject for what it is, of complete insignificance.

"This way," he opens the door for her stepping aside as he lets her enter first. She walks by him, a thin smile on her lips as she nods once in his direction, her breath being taken away as she takes in the gallery. Canvasses on either side of the marble floor, nearly a spot left undecorated. "Wow," she breathes her hands falling to her ruby dress, lifting it slightly as she walks herself over to a portrait on her right.

"These are absolutely breathtakingly beautiful," she's left speechless as she crosses the room from left to right, her head tilted backwards to take everything in. She smiles as she sees a portrait of two young man, one of them most likely now walking in front of her. "Wow," she mumbles again. He rolls his eyes, waiting for her. "They're alright," he extends his right hand, "the library is here."

She nods, swirling around again as she walks towards him, but before he can open the door her eyes fall onto a ruined portrait. "Ooh my god," she exclaims her feet rushing her to the object, "who did this?" her hand stretching to reach for one of the now folded patches of canvas.

"Don't," his hand on her shoulder for the briefest of moments. Her head turns in his direction, but her hands remain in place. "You did this?" she stares at him in disbelief, a sight of shock clear in her eyes. His jaw clenches, noticing how she didn't pull her hands back, his gaze moves from her hands to her face. Their eyes locking, he swallows. "I did," acknowledging it he hopes she backs down now, but she does anything but.

Taking a step forward, she brings the loose hanging patches of canvas back together, revealing the face of an older blonde woman with blue eyes. Her breath falters as she looks back from the portrait to the young man on her left. "Why?" she whispers, pulling her hands back. Now wondering if pushing this subject was a mistake as his facial expression changes to one with even more disgust. "We do not have time –"

"Is this your mother?" her hand points at the remains of the portrait again as she half-heartedly follows him to the door he holds open for. "It's the woman who gave birth to me. Nothing more," he looks away, signalling her once more to continue to walk. She stares at him, searching his face for an explanation. "I don't want to talk about it," he looks down ignoring her gaze and closing the door behind her.

She looks around, admiring the yet another beautiful room. Cabinets filled with books reaching from floor to ceiling, a fire burning in one of the largest fire places she's ever seen. "Where do we start?" she turns to face him again. "Marital law," he hums pointing at some books on the second shelf from the bottom and she nods as he walks over to his father's study to grab a few sheets of paper.

He turns around a small chuckle escaping his lips as he sees her sitting on the Persian rug, numerous of books scattered on the floor around her. One folded open on her lap. "What's so funny?" she whispers, her eyes still directed on the book as he sits down beside her. "Nothing," he counters as she looks up to him, his hands placing the paper and writing gear in between them.

She studies his face, but she doesn't comment and her gaze redirects to the leather bound book on her lap. "I've no idea where to start," she sighs, flipping through the pages. "I do," he takes the book from her lap, a smile plastered on his face as he hands her the sheets of paper and a feather. "I'll search the books, you take notes."

"Yes, boss," she smiles taking the quill from his hand, pulling her legs up, she lets her arms and head rest on them as she waits for him to cite.

.

He flips over another page, his fingers trailing down the page as he hears the tip of the quill scratching the paper. "What are you doing?" his tone's curious as he sees her hand that was rapidly moving over the paper come to a halt. "Nothing," she ignores him, just like he ignored her question earlier. She tries to shield the piece of paper from his reach, but he's faster.

A frown on his face he studies the black ink lines, recognizing his own hands by the monogram on his sleeve. She avoids his gaze when he holds the drawing up in front of her, "I thought we were looking for ways to get you out of this betrothal thing." She crooks her head, her lips pursed together as she gives him her 'I'm not apologizing for who I am' - expression, "I thought you were going to tell me what to write down."

He bites his tongue, not used to having someone go toe to toe with him on everything he does and says, he hands her a clean sheet of paper instead. "The wedding is in 11 days right?" she nods, "and the first time it was announced was – " "Yes," she answers before he can finish his sentence, "to my knowledge it is." He hums, looking back at the book in front of him, "then the marriage itself is illegal already."

"What do you mean?" she leans forward a bit, quill ready in her hand to write down as he continues explaining. "A couple's intention to get married has to be announced at in the church three times or on three consecutive Sundays or Holy days," he reads as she nods scribbling it down. "Informing the church minister with this could be an option."

She shakes her head. "No it wouldn't," she lets out a sigh, this time it's him asking why. "Minister Soloff is my uncle's right hand. Whatever Hardman says or plans is law, there's no point." He frowns looking back to the book in front of him. "Anyone else that might listen to our case?" his voice is soft, not even realising he keeps referring to this as their case. "No," she whispers, looking down. "Everyone who's against him or doesn't share his views, left or got banned."

"So the fact that this goes without your consent isn't worth fighting either?" he mumbles. "It wouldn't make a difference, his word is law," she mumbles her fingers fidgeting one of the embroideries on her sleeve, "Always has been always will be."

"Anything else?" she tips the back of the feather against his hand that still rested on the book. He playfully pushes the feather away, his eyes flickering in her direction for a second before he focusses on the book again. "Let's see," he mumbles, "You are of legal age. Ever exchanged oaths before?"

He sees her shaking her head from the corner of his eye. She smiles softly as she hears a nearly inaudible "good," escape his lips, now making her wonder if he ever did. His eyes fall on the next line, 'Adultery', his mind drifts of to that portrait of his mother and back to the young redhead next to him. He doesn't feel the need to ask her, something deep down inside of him tells him she would never do that.

.

"Are you related to this Lord Mitchell?"

"What? Eew," she fires back in shock, "I sure hope not," she shrugs closing her eyes. He sees her cringe and a small laugh escapes his lips, "I would be a good thing actually," he smiles as she opens her eyes again, "if you were related to him, because if you are, within seven degrees of separation, it would be a reason to stop your wedding."

"Ooh," she mumbles, "well I guess it's better to be related to him now than in eleven days, but I've got no indication as to if I am related to him," she sighs as she sees him getting up and grapping some rolls of parchment. "We should draw out your family tree," he continues. "Like this," he signals as he undoes the knot binding his together.

Donna starts writing down the names she can think of from the top of her head, mentally walking down the art gallery at her home again. Remembering how her parents used to explain who each person depicted was. "I think this is it," she whispers, handing him the map as she leans back on the sofa she was sitting on now, "but there's no way to be sure. What if I forgot someone?"

"I don't think you did," he counters, his back resting against the wooden frame of the lounger. "Look at this," he pulls two different family trees on top of the book and her map on his lap, his finger tapping against a decorated leaf somewhere in the bottom right corner of the document. She gets back up slightly leaning on her left elbow as she looks over his shoulder. "Mitchell Wykeham," she reads out loud, her eyes scanning the rest of the document. "Who's family tree is this?" she whispers as she fails to discover a name she recognizes.

"Mine," he swallows, her breath warm against his neck, he pulls another piece of document on top of it. "See his great-great-grandfather, is the brother of my great-great-grandmother," his finger trailing down the lines across his parents family weapon to his own name at the bottom, he looks at her from the corner of his eye. "And are we?" she whispers, her eyes locking with his for a second, "related?"

"No," he answers, breaking their gaze. He tried to find a connection between the map she was drawing and the two he'd been studying, but there wasn't. Not a close one at least. He tries to convince himself he the only reason he checked was just because he saw the Lords name on his, but he knows he'd be lying if he said that.

She lets out a sigh, her shoulders falling back on the dark blue pillows of the sofa, her right hand lingering in the air just behind his head. The thought to touch his hair crosses her mind, but she doesn't. They already touched more than what was considered appropriate. Her hand falling back to her own chest, her gaze resting on the two moles above his left eyebrow. "Anything else?" she whispers softly. He lets out a deep breath, scanning the book in front of him once more. "Proof of a previous betrothal."

"You mean ours?"

Her words take him of guard, resulting in silence for a couple of seconds. "You knew?" he whispers, the last word turning into a small chuckle as he realises what he's asking. One of the very first things she said to him, that she's Donna, she knows.

"I know," she whispers slowly, seeing him turn around, his left elbow leaning on the sofa next to her arm, his gaze meeting hers once more and he sees her smile. "That's it," she pushes herself back up, now towering out above him, their eyes still locked. All he can do is look at her with admiration. "If we find evidence of that plan, we can.. we can get this whole wedding thrown out," she chirps getting back on her feet as she takes two steps away from him.

"What are you doing?" he mumbles pushing himself back on his feet as well. "Going to find it," she turns around her arms wide, "they planned our betrothal before I was even born, there's got to be a paper trail of that somewhere."

"Well it's not here," he counters, he'd looked for any document himself a few months back. Before his father told him it had been cancelled. "Maybe the archives downstairs," he offers, his words barely pronounced as he sees her walking to the door again. "Donna," he calls after as he strides towards her, "it's late. Let's look for that tomorrow. Dinner will be announced soon."

"I don't have any time to lose," she looks at him, hoping he understands, "stop me if you must," she challenges him, continuing her path as she runs back through the gallery. He's running after her a few seconds later, his hand only just managing to catch onto the wall as he sees her make a sharp turn to the left and he follows her.

Both running down the main staircase he hears her laugh echo through the room and all he can do is momentarily close his eyes and endure, keeping up with the promise he made to her only a night ago. That he would help her. He follows her over the passage and down another flight of stairs, through another candle lit gallery. His arms stretched forward he's almost able to touch the fluttering auburn locks in front of him.

"Donna," he calls for her once more and she looks over her right shoulder, a laugh escaping her lips as her pace increases even more. She swirls around one of the pillars, his feet sliding over the hardwood floor, his arms in the air. Catching onto the cold stone again, making him turn around to follow her. A hand on either side of the barrier he moves his head to the left, looking to where she'd just run off too but the corridor is empty.

He moves his head back quickly, looking on the other side of the barrier, seeing her do the same. A smile on her lips. "Catch me," she teases him and he smirks, pushing himself past the barrier, as she spins around on the other side. His hands moving over the stones he slowly walks around it, her soft giggle giving away she's doing the same, making them circle around the object.

He bites his tongue, his signature smirk plastered on his face as he turns around going the other way, he manages to end up right behind her. "Gotcha," he whispers, her hand's pressed against the stones, his chest against her back and his lips near her ear. "Harvey," she swallows, his breath tickling her skin she closes her eyes.

He sees her eyes close, his gaze tracing down to her lips left agape, down her neck to her collarbone finding himself intoxicated by her perfume. "I have something that belongs to you," he whispers, his left hand lifting her pendant from his pocket as he lets it dangle from his hand in front of her face. She tries to regulate her breath, something she finds difficult being this close to him. Slowly opening her eyes she sees the silver object shimmer. "My necklace," she whispers looking up at him, "you still have it."

He nods giving her a smile. "May I?"

She hums, bringing her auburn looks to one side as he simultaneously moves his right hand around her neck, reaching for the chain in front of her. Her breath falters as she focusses on his hands and the heat radiating from them. He brings his hands back behind her neck, closing the clasp as her own hand holds the pendant flush against her chest, her eyes closed as she tries to take in every single second of this moment. The way his chest touches her back every time he takes a breath, the warmth of his breath on her jaw, the sound of his whispers so close to her ear. His cologne, the lines of his fingerprints, secretly wishing those lines would be imprinted on her skin.

His right hand latches onto her auburn locks, lifting them out of the chain as she slowly turns around to face him. Her shoulders resting against the cold stone behind her, her breathing becoming heavier as his left hand moves behind her head. Dividing her ginger manes between his hands, he brings them back in position. Reaching over her shoulders and onto her chest.

His gaze is on her parted lips, the pure sight of them making him swallow. The situation they're in so similar to his dream, his fingers still entangled in her hair, he slightly lifts his head at the same she does and their eyes lock once more. The same sparkle in them when he danced with her, the same sparkle he saw last night.

Neither of them move, breathing in sync he looks at her lips again, seeing them part even further and her eyes closing he can't restrain himself any longer. His hand moves to her neck, his thumb on the corner of her mouth as his hand now lifts her chin. His lips meeting her warm, moist mouth in a tender kiss. One she answers without hesitation as her lips capture his in a small tuck. His tongue teasingly against her skin, waiting for her to give in, something she does as her fingers move over his face. Caressing the two moles above his eye, he deepens the kiss, prolonging the moment they share as if they knew this would be the only chance they're given.

A soft moan escapes her as he pulls back, both out of breath his eyes remain closed as his head rests against her temple, both of them smiling. Her hand trails down his face, she can feel him smile under her touch. Her eyes flickering a few times as his thumb tracing her bottom lip. "Harvey," she whispers softly.

He slowly opens his eyes, looking at her again. Admiring her beauty, his heart skipping a beat just like the first time he saw her, his hand brushes over her cheek making her look at him again as he whispers, "Marry me."