If the impersonal nature of Jess’s summons meant anything, it proved that Aylee had long passed up any chance to repent before her sovereign. As his inferior, she could not seek him out, so she could not work to make amends. When she again reached her home, her mother rushed out to offer what support she could.

“What does this mean, Aylee? A summons from Capigan?”

Aylee could not speak, so Chester stepped forward to offer an answer. “You know, father and mother, Aylee's noble-”

“He is hardly my noble,” Aylee contradicted, and no one could miss the sense of hysteria brimming just beneath her tone.

“Friend Jess,” their mother nodded, drawing the spotlight away from her elder daughter.

“Yes, Mother,” Chester agreed. “But his name is not Jess. It is Jameson. And she believes she has offended him.” Chester let the words hang in the air, and everyone but Bruison turned to stare at Aylee.

“I am sure,” Bruison assured the room at large, “that Lord Jameson will show the utmost in forbearance for the young Miss Aylee. He is known throughout Capigan as a fair man, and a kind.”

Despite his reassurances, no one spoke for several minutes. After a time, her father moved to her side, standing erect with his usual confidence renewed, though he had shaken for several moments when he heard the news.

“We will send you away,” Mistress Hembry interrupted any words he might have said. “We have far distant cousins on the other side of the mountains, and I am sure they would accept another set of helping hands.”

“Now, Raehan,” Everett Hembry countered.

“No, mother,” Aylee picked up on her father's sentiments, and she directed her next statement to Bruison, quick to assuage any anxiety her mother's words had stirred. “I must go. I have committed an offense not just against a sovereign and a royal, but against a friend. Even if I pay with imprisonment, I must offer J-Jameson some explanation for my behavior. Or at least to beg his forgiveness.” She paused a moment, staring at her nervous hands. “Some of my actions can garner no explanation.”

Raehan Hembry peered at her daughter with admiration and sorrow. “You are your father's child, my dear, brave and honest and bold.”

“And I'm yours, mother. I will not leave him thinking that I am ignorant of his true character, not after the accusations I leveled at him. It would be unkind. I forgot kindness during my time on the run.”

“Well, Chester, I'm afraid our first trip together will have to wait,” Mr. Hembry apologized to his eldest son. “Someone must accompany our Aylee to this trial and make sure that she is treated fairly.”

“Father – ” Aylee protested.

“Oh, Everett!” Raehan interrupted. “You are the greatest man who ever lived.” She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him on the cheek. “Now I will fear nothing for my girl, because I know that you will manage a way around this.”

“And my trip would not have proven very educational, because I would have worried the entire time about my Aylee,” Chester offered in a very fatherly tone, and Aylee could not help but smile. She had always loved her little brother, but he was very near in a way of making her like him, too.

At the thought of her father's presence, Aylee found herself almost complacent in the idea of visiting the castle. When Chester begged to go, Raehan at first refused under all circumstances, but when he assured his mother that he had left the earl on the best of terms, she capitulated.

“I will take good care of our girl, Raehan,” Everett insisted. “If I plan this right, I have a good idea that I will return with her little worse for the wear.”

By sunrise, Everett Hembry had prepared three horses, and Chester, Raehan, and Aylee had prepared small bundles to provide necessities for a short trip. Aylee looked to the diminutive size of the bundle as reassurance that she would, indeed, return in little time. What happened in the meantime, she prayed, would offer Jameson some peace.

+++++++++++++++

When Everett Hembry had volunteered to accompany his daughter to Capigan, he had mentally prepared himself for battle, either physical or philosophical. Everett rarely face the necessity of resorting to force on anything, but that did not indicate a lack of ability. Though in his mid-forties, Everett worked in a job that required a certain amount of physical strength and prowess, plus he had a few years of training in the Duke's army, as did many men his age. They had helped install James as ruler after the previous royal grew sick and died. Knowing what he now knew, Everett wondered if the earlier ruler had not met with some untimely demise. Fortunately, Everett and his fellow soldiers had repelled a usurper who rose up from within the ranks, and the good Lord James ascended to a position uniquely suited for his character and abilities.

Everett hoped that the son bore a resemblance in character to the father. If Master Hembry found himself forced into combat, most likely neither he nor Aylee would escape unscathed. With every step closer to the castle walls, Everett grew more determined to resolve the situation with words alone whatever grievance Aylee had committed. He had no desire to take on thirty soldiers, though he would do so for his Aylee if necessary.

“Did you know,” Aylee begged, desperate to find a topic she could address without emotion, “that Lady Willen actually served in court? She waited on the queen while she gave birth to Jess.” Aylee's words trailed off at the end. Jameson, she corrected silently; she could not escape his presence, especially as she moved closer to him once again.

When Everett looked at his daughter, confusion confounded his thoughts. Aylee should have worn fear, agitation, anger, desperation. Instead, Aylee simply seemed sad. For his part, he could not imagine his usually fiery daughter subdued into base melancholy, especially when confronted by a power or authority far beyond her ability to take on. Aylee always rose to the level of her opposition, but today, she had fallen into some sort of pit from which he did not know how to extricate her.

Finally, Everett and Aylee Hembry found themselves standing before two enormous wooden doors, and a few moments later, they stood inside them, a great hall stretching a hundred feet before them. Everett knew the proper etiquette, so placed his hand on Aylee's arm while they awaited an invitation. Though the palace had petitioned them, a court consisted of clearly laid social tenets, and he would not let Aylee run afoul of one before she even had the chance to present her case. Whatever case she may possess, Everett realized. She had not informed him of exactly what charges she expected to face.

Bruison lead them forward, and Aylee forced herself not to gawk at a level of finery she had not before encountered, at least all gathered into one place. Not that finery impressed her per se, but beauty did, and Aylee beheld an unusual amount of beauty in the room through which she now passed. She could not stay focused on the environment, though, when finally she perceived the presence of the Duke.

In and of itself, power did not overawe Aylee, but she had never before beheld someone so wholly possessed of authority, and though James spoke with consideration and frankness, no one doubted to whom supremacy belonged. Aylee saw it now: the regal qualities that had always hovered around Jameson, traits that should have betrayed him to her, but he had managed to subdue them. How could he hold her responsible for falling for the so-common image that he chose to portray?

She registered no sign of Jameson inside the royal court, and the loss moved her to near-tears. She knew that she should fear him, but she so desperately felt the wrong she had done him that she longed merely to speak to him for a few minutes. Her apology could not suffice, but she should offer it nonetheless. Still, she began to prepare herself for the worst. If she walked into an interview with the Duke wearing a mask of misery instead of a reverence, she just might find herself subject to some form of punishment that would affect her father. No doubt, he planned to interfere in any discipline meted out to her. As they approached the Duke, Aylee adopted her closest possible approximation to a respectful smile.

Though no one else save her father would have known it, Jameson recognized from where he stood the plastic smile of discontent. When Aylee really smiled, she always wore a laugh just behind the sparkle in her eyes, but Aylee's eyes held no sparkle now. Jameson had watched the phenomenon many times before: a man or woman putting forward his best face just in case he needed the Duke to like him. Though it seemed foreign in Aylee's countenance, she definitely wore a facade. Perhaps she did it for her father, Jameson realized. Watching Aylee's father, the elder Hembry could not mask his feelings quite as well. In Everett's features, Jameson read fury and fear, and maybe even violence.

Such emotions would not bode well for the man's daughter, and so Jameson decided to interfere. Calling over his page, he directed the boy to lead Everett Hembry to the miniature portrait room, informing the man that a friend wished to offer help to his daughter. “Reassure him,” Jameson insisted to the page, “that Lord James is a patient and kind man, and will offer his daughter a very pleasant and amicable conversation if only he can speak with her alone.”

As the page reiterated the message, Aylee paused to listen to the words as well. She wondered who would call her “friend.” If she had not condemned Itchy to her same fate, she might have imagined him the unknown benefactor.

“Go with him, father. I will be fine with the Duke; I can see it in his eyes.”

Though Everett wanted to protest, he knew his daughter's usually astute gift for guessing character, so he acquiesced and followed the page, if a tad reluctantly.

Now Aylee stood alone with the Duke.

Jameson peered out at Aylee, his compassion finally supplanting the disgust he felt for himself that had reigned in his mind for the past day. For weeks, he had lamented her, had missed her, and had hated her absence from him. He had buried the sensations under his busyness and his father's recovery, but seeing her now stirred up all that he had until then suppressed. Seeing her in the court, he noted that her blue eyes had rimmed with dark circles from lack of sleep, and her hands twisted in uncharacteristic nervousness – fearless Aylee. The past few weeks waiting for his summons seemed to have taken more of a toll on her than the almost two months that she had spent on the run, when someone had pursued her life.

Perhaps, Jameson tried to convince himself, she feared Malchus and that anxiety explained her exhaustion. He could not escape the probability, though, that she had suffered because of himself. How he had wronged her in both intention and deed! If she would forgive him, he would move the stars to make amends.

“Everett Hembry, my lord,” the page announced, and Jameson turned, instantly regretting the loss of his view of Aylee. Still, he needed to mitigate whatever fevered intention Everett Hembry held in his heart. Master Hembry held a reputation for fierce determination, and Jameson couldn’t help but wonder if the man had traveled to the castle to demand recompense for Jameson’s treatment of her or some provision for her lost honor. Away from his daughter, though, some of Hembry's intensity faded, and Jameson prayed that they could carry on some semblance of a rational conversation.

When the page introduced Aylee's father to Jameson Wilmington, the older man marched brazenly into the cramped space of the room, and Jameson took the manic intensity of the smaller man to mean that he was prepared to unleash his displeasure. Hembry perhaps should have waited for permission to address his sovereign, but, like Aylee, Everett Hembry did not allow convention to hold him back. “You know, young man,” the older man ventured, “that a man may do many things during a stressful time that perhaps he would not have done otherwise. Still, that does not excuse untoward behavior.”

Startled, Jameson gawked at the man before him. Of what did the father suspect him? “I assure you, sir. I will allow no excuse for wrong actions.”

“Still, to derive a person's character under such circumstances seems, dare I say, foolish. It seems to me that a reasoned response would hold the possibility that the person simply erred and should not be judged based on a few reckless events occurring in an unusual time.”

“Well, thank you,” Jameson tried to make sense of Hembry's ramblings. “So you would allow pardon even for true offenses?”

Everett stared at the young man, somewhat shocked to find him so unbending. Why had the man called him in if he intended to refuse quarter? In previous days, the Wilmingtons had proven highly practical, a trait which recommended them when the people had begun searching for a new ruler. Yet, now the Duke's son stood ready to condemn Aylee for her actions taken in the worst of circumstances, with her family in danger and her own life compromised. Surely the man must have some penchant for mercy. “Of course, for true offenses, but even then, mercy is required,” Everett finally insisted, hoping to appeal to the sovereign's sense of largesse.

“Exactly! Mercy, I beg of you,” Jameson finally lost his composure. For all that he knew, the Hembrys had spent the past month delineating all of his faults and insults. And now her father, the man upon whom Jameson’s happiness depended, stood before him.

“You beg mercy of me?” Everett sputtered, not sure how to respond.

“Yes, Master Hembry. I beg your mercy. I never intended to leave your daughter’s situation unresolved for so long, and I recognize the pain it must have caused her – caused all of you. In truth…I love your daughter. I told her as much if she could just have understood me, but I could not reveal all to her until I returned to my office. I would have explained my intent to her, but how could she believe my intent when she knew I was deceiving her on my identity? I was hurt at her disbelief, that is all, and I could not see past my pride. Have I injured her so badly that she can offer me no forbearance?” Jameson turned and took Everett's hand in his. “Please, sir. Allow me to request this of you. Plead my case with your daughter. I fear she will not hear the truth from me.” He turned away from his guest, his agitation robbing him of the ability to speak. “I'm sorry, sir. I have just struggled over these words for over a week, and I had planned to speak them to her.”

Rarely in his life had Everett Hembry found himself completely at a loss for words, but he now stared open-mouthed at Lord Jameson Wilmington, Earl of Capigan, struck dumb with utter astonishment. The silence swallowed Jameson in insecurity, and he raised his eyes to assess his guest's reaction. Everett Hembry appeared as if someone had struck him in the head with an iron pot and his body still reverberated with the echoing vibrations.

“Master Hembry?” Jameson prompted, tapping the older man on his shoulder. “Master Hembry, are you quite well?”

Slowly, Everett nodded his head, though his dumbstruck look did not fade. “Dear sir,” he offered slowly. “I believe we both have labored under misapprehensions for far too long. While you fretted over her censure of you, she thought for certain that you had brought her here to place her on trial and sentence her to some punishment!”

Jameson realized with horror that Itchy had foreseen correctly, and he himself had somehow belittled the anxiety she would suffer after he had called her to the castle. And now she stood in council with the Duke, under the impression that he had called her there to punish her! What misery she must endure!

“Master Hembry, I must go rescue your daughter!”

“Rescue her?”

“From her own misconception, though I am to blame. How she must stand in dread of some imagined reproach from my father!”

Finally recovered from his shock, Everett Hembry began to laugh, and even as Jameson stepped from the room, he heard random bursts of laughter erupting from behind him.

Though Aylee had steeled herself for a confrontation, what she received from the Duke more resembled small talk. He spent near half an hour interrogating her about her family, her time in the woods with the troops, her brother's health. After standing for so long, boredom and apprehension rendered her weak, and she found herself barely able to restrain the tears that sprung unexpectedly to her eyes.

She could have endured many outcomes, either good or bad, but the interminable stretching on of the minutes sapped her of her resolution, and Aylee feared that she would make things worse in her exhaustion. For days, she had succumbed to depression, certain that she had sacrificed Jess on the altar of certainty. When she had found out Jameson's true identity, she had despaired of more than just her heart and had chewed incessantly on a mix of fear and shame ever since. Now the morning had tumbled into the afternoon, and Aylee could not find her bearings.

Though he should have worn a sterner demeanor, the Duke spoke jovially, eliciting from Aylee nothing beyond a one- or two-word answer. Occasionally, his spirited humor drew forth a wan smile for her, but he seemed completely undaunted by her lack of enthusiasm.

The hand on her should sent her lurching in utter surprise at least a foot or two from her original position. When the voice that accompanied the hand collided into her, her well-contained tears rode the wave of emotion that flooded her mind. She turned to run, suddenly unable to withstand another minute of the insecurity. Anticipating her movement, Jameson gently but firmly wrapped one arm around her waist to restrain her. He would not let her leave again while still under such gross misconceptions.

“With your permission, Father,” Jameson addressed the Duke with all proper respect, “I would like to request a private audience with the young lady.”

For a moment, James stared blankly at his son, but when he recovered from the shock of watching Jameson wrap the young woman in his arms, James dismissed them both.

Aylee could not constrain her tears no matter with what force she willed them away. She could not reconcile the fear she had harbored for the entire day with the pleasure of feeling Jameson's arms around her again. Jameson. Though she could intellectually comprehend the reality of his name, she could not successfully associate the moniker with the familiar face, and even such a discrepancy added to her affliction.

To Jameson's relief, Everett Hembry had vacated the small portrait room at some point since they had parted ways, and Jameson now urged the lachrymose lady through the doors. He fixed the sturdy wood firmly closed behind them, and he led Aylee over to a commodious chair that rested empty in the far corner. She did not at first resist, so completely had her sorrow depleted her usual fortitude, but when Jameson seated himself in the chair and began to pull her into his lap, she finally pulled back.

“Aylee,” he murmured, the intimate warmth of his voice at last seeping under the substantial walls that she had erected to hold herself together over the past few weeks. “Dear Aylee, please listen to my words. I mean you no harm.”

Though the disclosure should have alleviated her despondency, the impersonal nature of the declaration sent her farther into depression rather than luring her from it. What did she care if he exonerated her after how she had maligned him? His pardon did not erase the fact that she had poisoned any chance of his renewing his attention. If Itchy had revealed her suspicions, a near-prince would not forget such transgressions.

“You have completely misunderstood my purpose in bringing you here, and if I had foreseen the light in which you would interpret my summons, I would have found another way to call for you.”

As the words soaked into her mind, Aylee's tears began to dry up. She twisted in his lap so she could peer into his eyes, and she could not comprehend the expression she read there.

“You confuse me!” she complained breathlessly. “For what have you brought me here?” Jameson ran his hand through his hair, and Aylee managed a weak smile at the familiar and endearing gesture he so often used with her. “I have exasperated you,” she asserted.

“Aylee, no. You have not exasperated me.” He clasped their hands together as he had done so long ago in Lady Willen's kitchen. “I am exasperated by my own stupidity. Please understand, I did not wish to delay so long in requesting your presence. If it had lain in my power, I would have rushed to you as soon as I understood my error, but political upheaval places heavy demands on a dominion. My father needed me to help undo some of the damage that Maximus had caused. People's lives were ruined...”

“You owe me no explanations, Jess – Jameson.” She ducked her head, slightly abashed at her mistake.

“If you would like, you may always call me Jess. It is not so far from Jameson, and it can be your special name for me – ” Jameson cut himself off, appalled that he would imply such intimacy before he had successfully reconciled. “I'm sorry, Aylee. I would never have presumed. I mean, I realize that I have progressed beyond our current conversation, attributing wishes to you that are not your own.”

Instead of answering, Aylee began to cry again. She hated her weakness, but his words had implied a possibility that she had long laid to rest, though she had not ceased mourning its death.

“Please do not cry, dear woman,” Jameson pleaded, reaching his hand to her face.

Every hardened sentiment inside of Aylee melted into a waxen flow, ready to assume whatever form Jameson demanded from her. Though she knew she would solidify into her old self soon enough, her heart seemed to know that she would need to let go of every hindrance if she were to undo the damage she had caused over the past few months.

“Whatever wish you attribute to me could not answer to my own,” she asserted, “because I have not dared to hold any wishes. Now that you have presented them, I am overcome.” When Jameson shook his head, Aylee drew a deep breath. “I had not dared to hope anything more than forgiveness from you. After how I had mistrusted and maligned you, I expected at best pardon and at worst, punishment.”

“But you must understand that I now comprehend your mistrust. My heart revealed it to me beneath a tree outside the camp. You had so thoroughly ensnared me that I had determined you a seductress, and I had imagined that no one would be able to withstand your allure.” Then Jameson unfolded for Aylee how he had overheard her covert conversation with Itchy, how he had made out only enough to create misguided impressions, and how he had watched with fury as they again kissed. Aylee blushed scarlet as he spoke the words. “I have since learned the true substance of the words, as well as the innocence of the kiss, but for the past month, I have let my insecurities separate me from you and prevent me from recalling back to myself the most important thing that has happened in my twenty-five years.”

Between sniffles, Aylee bit her lip. “A seductress, eh? I guess it is true, then, that people are most attracted to those who admire them. Because the level of my admiration of you honestly overwhelmed me, and it scared me so intensely that I fled from it as from a monster.”

Jameson leaned his face close, placing his cheek upon hers before he murmured, “A monster.”

Aylee shivered in pleasure.

Calling herself back, she finished the thought she had begun before he distracted her with his seductress accusation. “I did execute a not-so-innocent kiss. Could you possibly forgive me for that?”

“Nothing is easier. If you had not coveted my affection, you would never have sought to stir my jealousy. And if I had offered you honesty, you would not have needed to hold me at arm’s length.”

Embarrassed, Aylee buried her face in his shoulder. “Neither of those is an excuse for my behavior.”

“Aylee, you have to understand,” he wrapped his arms completely around her, pulling her to press against him. She prayed that he understood the implications of such an act of intimacy, far beyond a pet name. “Though I have worked to maintain perspective in my position in life, the circumstances of my birth had formed me into a sort of naive child. I have spent my life reckless, rushing into danger with the sure knowledge that everyone around me would give their lives to protect me. It made me insensible to the precariousness of your situation.

“As you know, I recently encountered true danger, removed from my seat of power and security, but the significance of its effect did not sink in until I doubted you and Itchy – the two remaining safeholds in my life. Only then did I understand the risk I had asked you to take with your heart, and that fear that I had been duped rendered all other belief irrelevant. In truth, you acted much more rationally and compassionately than I, and I with so much more potential for damage, with my troops and power and privilege. You were a lone maid from a moderate family with far fewer resources, and as such, your caution speaks well of your sense. You possessed an insignia, a story, a motive, and my persistent lack of forthcoming to lead you astray from the truth. You had even witnessed me among the troops of your enemy. I hardened my heart against all your just pleadings, and you could not have rendered yourself vulnerable until you knew the truth. I can have no choice but to exonerate you completely lest I convict myself in sentencing you.”

“Not a child, Jess,” Aylee spoke into his chest. “Your humility in learning from your error proves that you are a very good man. As I have learned through this as well, we are all naïve until we are not. Now, hopefully both of us are wiser.”

As she spoke, Jameson could feel Aylee calm in his arms. He discerned no impatience or desire to escape in her posture, and when she turned her cheek and lay her head down against his chest, he felt certain of her concession.

He felt her sigh, then she steadied herself to speak. “If you will forgive me, Jess,” she began.

“Anything, my love,” he whispered, and he could feel Aylee's smile against his shoulder.

“I believe I must apprise my father of the change in my circumstance lest he reveal more than is meet to do. Perhaps you are the person who should unveil the events of the past few months to your father, and not an irate man who fears his daughter's imprisonment.

“No need,” Jameson smirked. “I believe your father already possesses a fairly comprehensive view of exactly where you stand with me.”

She turned her face to observe Jameson's expression, and he wore a mix of amusement and smug satisfaction.

“However,” Jameson continued, a new tension constricting his voice in too minute a fashion for her to notice, “now that we have removed so many obstacles to our intimacy...” He nuzzled his face against her hair, sensing there the familiar scent of clover that he had grown to love. “It seems foolish to arrest our motion at so superficial a level.”

When Aylee leaned back, staring hard at him and again chewing her lip, he broke into a wide grin.

“Don't fear for your honor, my dear.” He grinned wickedly. “It seems to me,” he continued, pulling her back against him, “that our long excursion into misapprehensions has given us, upon their removal, a deeper knowledge of each other's character than most relationships possess in their entire existence.”

“I can see your point,” she murmured against his shoulder, and Jameson got the distinct impression that she had begun to lose focus on his conversation when her hands ran themselves across his back and up toward his neck.

“Aylee,” he murmured, “I feel like we're back on that horse when I first met you.” He recalled her to herself and felt a marked amusement at her gasp of horror when she realized what she had done. “What I'm trying to say is...” He wove his fingers into her hair, gently urging her back so he could stare into her eyes. “I am thinking that I would be justified in asking for your hand in marriage.”

For a full minute, Aylee could only blink at him, starting after several seconds to huff a skeptical laugh. “Jess,” she finally ventured, “do you really expect me to believe that you not only wish me no harm, but wish to bestow on me the greatest honor possible to a woman such as I.”

Jameson twisted his mouth in amusement as he shrugged. “If you wish to see it as such,” he stroked her cheek, “when I met you, I had determined that I must lie to almost everyone I met in order to save my father's life, but I did not know you then. It became my greatest regret after I grew to know you that I had ever needed to deceive you, and I have long since prayed that the need will never arise again. You have to understand, cities and regions can rise and fall through one mishandled word from me, but you have my pledge. I will at least do you the honor from now on of explaining to you when I am not able to offer you details, and I will encourage you to apply for confirmation to Itchy if you need, through whom I will manage all my affairs.”

“And I,” she hugged him again, “will do you the honor of trusting your character to possess good reason and virtuous motives whenever you must withhold something. You are certain, Jess?”

“Of course, my love. He raised his left hand to her face, and she caught it and held it there, turning the palm toward her face so that she could kiss the scar she had placed there.

“You pulled me from the fire, did you not?” She peered up at him the memory rising to her vision, of the charred linen that had obscured the injury on his hand. “I was so concerned at escaping you, but you had saved me – again. And after I had injured you. You know,” she lowered their hands and began to brush her thumb gently along the pink, raised line that delineated the injury’s ghost. “I determined to set this scar as a reminder never to trust you again. The fool was I.” The sorrow in her eyes when she raised them to him broke his heart. “How can you forgive this?”

The sensation of the touch on the sensitive skin sent a shiver across his skin, and he closed his eyes. She had given him the pain, but she seemed somehow able to suppress its memory. Opening his eyes, he sought hers. “It is a fair reminder, Aylee, never to take lightly the trust you place in me. No man is without fault, and this will remind me – to guard carefully the faith you have placed in me, and to strive always to deserve it.”

Pulling in a breath, Aylee raised the hand to her lips again, managing to withhold every tear save one as she held his scarred hand to her cheek. “You deserve it, my love, more than I could ever have imagined.”

Jameson gripped her hand with his and forced their clasped hands down between them. Lowering his lips to within a breath of hers, he wove the fingers of his free hand through her hair once again and pulled her even closer to him. “Aylee, please say that you agree to my proposal…”

For a flurry of seconds, she did not answer, and he felt her take several rapid breaths. Finally, she pressed even closer to him, though he had not thought it possible. “Are you certain?” she urged. “After so much confusion and misunderstanding, is it wise for you to go forward in such a brazen manner?”

“Ha!” Jameson snickered. “Brazen, you say? I adore you, Aylee. Let me explain to you how certain I am.” He lifted her gently, forcing her far enough away that she could look up into his eyes. “When I met you, I was immediately struck by your fearlessness. In my past, I have encountered countless men, many of whom did not know my identity, and none ever spoke to me with as much frankness as you did. Even after you knew me, you continued with your brazenness – since you wish to use that word – for the entirety of our acquaintance; I have learned over many years to persuade those I meet to attune to my requests, but you could not be persuaded by smooth words or promises. Even your offense against me – allow me to speak of it for just a moment – it grew from your fierce desire to act correctly. You wished to give me your heart. You responded to my overtures, but you denied your selfish wishes to ensure that you acted rightly. Such integrity, Aylee, I never expected to find in man or woman. And then, my sweet Aylee, I realized another truth about your character that drew me even farther into your net. Though you guarded yourself carefully, insisting on truth from everyone you met, you conducted yourself with the most astonishing compassion and kindness. No one among your acquaintance can escape your ready hand when in an hour of need, and even as you refused me, you regretted the pain you caused, hesitating in your resistance of me not because of my charm or persuasion, but because you saw how your rejection injured me.”

As he spoke, the words moved Aylee so powerfully that she could no longer hold his gaze. She stared down at her hands, abashed.

“Do not let it pain you, Aylee. Those things which once injured me are now the very things for which I take pride in you. You astonish me daily, and I cannot regret a moment of our acquaintance whatever it may have cost me, because I have gained immeasurably by what I paid. Not to mention,” he teased, “that you are the most lovely maid of my acquaintance, and I shall find no limit to the pleasure of beholding your face for the rest of my earthly existence. So, yes, I am sure.” His eyes followed hers to their joined hands. “But since we are questioning ourselves, might I ask, do you have reasons to accept me beyond the honor inherent in my position.”

Aylee sighed, her heart affected by the humility apparent in his request. More comfortable with the change in focus, she turned her face up to his, reaching her hand to stroke his rough cheek. “From the moment I met you,” Aylee began, “my very soul cried out that I wanted you. I had long thought of you as “my noble,” in fact from that first day when you kept me from wielding my fireshot as I wished.”

“Though, perhaps I should not have.” Though his words spoke regret, his face showed tenderness as he gaze down at her. “Thy noble?” he wondered, pleased.

“My noble,” she smiled. “Every evidence before me told me that you held a position of high authority, yet you never faltered in offering respect to every person you encountered. Your forbearance, your understanding amazed me, and even as I accused you in my thoughts, I admired you in my soul. It is not true that your charm had no effect on me.” She caressed his cheek, brushing her finger across the beloved dimple. “It compelled me against all reason to risk my heart in your hands, and I will be forever grateful. If it had not – if my reason had controlled me completely – I would not now sit here, wrapped warmly in your arms. My instincts understood what my mind denied: that you are good and kind, and will cherish and protect me to the highest of standards. You will respect me and favor me, and I will be better for it. And now that I understand the truth, I realize that my instincts guided me to the right path. You cannot know the depth of my gratitude. Lady Willen spoke to me of Providence, a single god who chooses a path and possesses the power to execute it. I begin to believe that she may be right. I feel as if all of what passed before happened to bring me to this place, and like you, the reward has proven worth the cost.”

When she finished speaking, Jameson raised his eyes to hers, laying his hand upon her cheek. Leaning down, he placed his lips gently over hers. She leaned up to wrap her arm around his neck, raising herself up to deepen the kiss. “I love you,” she whispered into his mouth, and he wrapped both arms around her, pulling her close. After a moment, they released the kiss, and they remained for as long as they could, entwined in each other's arms.