A/n: I think my new job is killing some of my creativity, but on my long commute I have been writing. I had intended to make this chapter longer, but I cut the chapter in half because the other half still needs a lot of work. Until then, heres some Rake x Pepper fluff and angsty Jester. Thanks for the reviews, and I hope to post again very soon.

Chapter 39: Reprieve

Before dawn Pepper was busy preparing the meals for the day. There was mutton to be roasted in a low fire, bread that was to be baked, a bone broth to be made, and the stew to boil. Since there was never a rest day for the meal service, it was easy to forget how the world shifted and changed without much notice, although there was a marked difference happening. The same could not be said about her husband, whose teeth chattered as a strong gust of wind persuaded him to leave his beloved garden and into the kitchen to seek out its warmth as well as the comforting presence of his wife. As naturally as his hands found the earth, he approached and encircled his arms about Pepper, whose petite form provided a reprieve from the weather.

"I hope I am not disturbing you." Came his gentle remark.

"Not at all." She reassured, conscious of the intimacy their current situation would present; bolstered by its possible effect on any onlooker that might peek in. "I was just stirring the stew. What were you doing?"

"Earlier, I was thinking that I should cut back the rose bushes and prepare them for the winter."

Of course, it was to be expected that such thoughts were on his mind. To be sure, although such phrases might have brought about vexation in the past, at present it was a charming peculiarity; his preoccupation with plants being at the forefront of his mind. Dirt caked hands or sweat-drenched clothing never deterred her before, and neither would his acts of affection be any less dear; this is how he was. "Will you need my help?"

"Perhaps, but I might ask Smithy instead. I know how busy you are."

Indeed, she was, but never too busy for him. It always gladdened her heart to be useful to him, despite being as busy as a bee. Yet, at the moment, simply allowing him to remain was more than enough to satisfy him. Nonetheless, it disturbed her when she felt him tremble. "Rake?"

"Yes, Pepper?"

"Your skin is cold."

"It is."

"Then why not draw closer to the fire? I can retrieve a blanket for you."

"There is no need for that Pepper."

"But you might catch a cold."

"If you believe it is best, but I thought…well, I would rather stay here where I am. That is," He added, "if it is alright with you."

Her pale skin took on a most becoming shade of red, and her girlish laughter warmed his heart. "But of course."

And for a while, all that could be heard were the sounds of the crackling fire and the bubbling of Peppers stew. The cook leaned against her husband, relishing his warmth and the nearness of him as the sweet smell of the earth wafted off him as they enjoyed the companionable silence. Patting the hand about her waist, the cook sighed with delight at this display of affection; being one of the few wishes of hers that had come true. "Do you not have a lot of work to do today?"

"I do." He answered gently.

What followed his answer was a tightened grip about her. This pleased the cook, and her amusement coloured her voice, "Then what are you doing here? The morning meal is not yet finished."

"It is a little cold out there, Pepper." And pausing for a moment, warming at the sentiment that had driven him to her side, the gardener confessed, "And it is nice and warm here with you."

"Well, the food will be ready soon. You may wait for it," she started, and suddenly feeling eager to tease, "but it will cost you a kiss."

A gasp was his reply. It gratified the cook to catch him off guard despite all their years of acquaintance but when his arms loosened and turned her around, he answered shyly, "If that is what you would like."

The bloom about her cheeks deepened and encouraged him to lean down, but the petite, work-worn, warm hand that cupped his cheek stopped him, "Rake, that is sweet, but you know I was only jesting."

"You might have," He answered; pulling her closer against him, and smiling with as much loveliness and boyishness as a midsummer's day, "but I did not."

The fluttering of her heart and the happiness that enriched her dark eyes emboldened her again as she pulled his face towards her, and for his part, Rake relinquished himself to his wife.

From his window, Jester could hear her voice; as sweet and lilting as a songbird. The wind always seemed to carry her song over the backs of mountains. However, on this fateful day, the wind carried her beauty in a different direction; anywhere but towards him. In dismay, his eyes followed her form until she disappeared, then later reappeared with the blacksmith who held a wooden practice sword that matched her own. To be sure, he did not know how much more his soul could take.

Jester had expected so much more from the lady knight, for her to seek out a better person to love and admire. He had wanted that person to be himself, as he had written in many ballads, poems, songs before, but he could have borne it for the rest of his life if nothing had come of her minor inclination. If kingdoms and countries had admired her, and she relished in their worship, he would have accepted that, but there was no fairness in this. How did one man's indifference win her heart as fully as it had? Had he been indifferent, would he have been more winsome in her eyes?

No, perchance he would not have been. Though, he could not help but wonder what his life might have been if his lovable beanstalk could have loved him. And if Jane ever had, where did he go wrong?