All Consequences Be Damned!

He cleared his throat. "You leave tomorrow still?"

She nodded, her lips in a pout. "We leave as early as possible." Then her lips pulled into a smile. She sat upright, smiling at him. "But we return in two weeks for Lucy's wedding and farewell." She clasped her hands together and brought them to her chest in delight, still smiling. "How absurd to already look forward to the day we would return when I haven't left yet. It is amazing how Carlisle has grown on me." She chortled quietly.

He became incredibly still; he couldn't look away. Her eyes shone with the reflection of the fire at the thought of returning to Carlisle, to his Duchy. "Do miss me, Beth." He blurted out. She froze up, surprised. "For I will miss you." He finally confessed.

The night became still and quiet. The wind calmly troubling the grass and her hair as usual, dancing to the song of the wind. Beth's eyes remained on him and he held her gaze.

He had began to refer to her given name rather than adhere to calling her with distance. If she had noticed, she had turned a blind eye to it. His stare remained on her and he was not prepared to turn away. Then she hiccupped.

Appalled, she raised her hand to her mouth, her eyes bulging. "I apologize." She hiccupped again. "I don't know what has come over me." When she hiccupped again, she quickly picked up the bottle of Port and drank generously. He was simply staring. What has come over her? She hiccupped again and drank again. She hurriedly apologized again. "I am sorry."

When she attempted to take another sip, he held unto the bottle, stopping her. Charles remembered how she had said on the night of the ball that she wasn't a good drinker. "I think you should stop for now. Or rather take it slow." He retrieved the bottle and after taking a light sip himself, capped and sent it to his farther left. "Are you calm now?"

Beth wiped her mouth, burping lightly. "Yes, I suppose I am." She licked her lips, slowly running her tongue over them. She had no idea how sensual her behaviour was. Charles's eyes followed the movement. He thought no woman could affect him. Women; they were a good and comely creature, and although the need to have one once in a while arose, he was never eager for them. None could hold his attention as much as the Irish gentlewoman did and if not for the sake of her virtue, his honour be damned, he would have had his way with her from the moment he began to realize that he wanted, needed, more than just friendship from her.

"Would you miss me, Bethany?" His eyes moved to her lips. He quickly looked at her hair.

She took her time. "Of course I will." She drew in her legs and wrapped her hands around her knees. "Why else will I choose to climb up this late at night just to see you?"

His blood warmed with joy. She would miss him, maybe as much as he would miss her. "Then I'll wait earnestly for your return." They fell into another comfortable silence.

He had no knowledge of how long they sat in silence; he watching her, until she threw herself down upon the grass, lying down with her back to the grass and her hands on her abdomen. She began to giggle. "Are you feeling alright, Beth?" He inquired, terribly concerned.

"I believe I am foxed, My Lord." She replied, still giggling. From two sip? She really had no tolerance to wine. Her giggles soon became laughter. Charles found her behaviour funny and endearing, rather than irritating. The wine must have been more than she could handle.

Suddenly she got up, and before he could react, she shifted close to him, consuming whatever space had been left between them. "Beth?"

Her scent surrounded him and he became more conscious of her presence. "You are now referring to me by my given name." She whispered in his ear. A tingle went all the way down to Charles's toes. "Don't think I haven't taken note."

Another wood broke and the fire crackled, sending sparks dancing in the air and dancing in her eyes. Charles thought she had never looked more beautiful. Her fiery red hair became even more invigorated with the yellow light. She looked at him in a suggestive way and although he knew it was a result of the wine, Charles leaned in and stole a kiss from her.

Surprised, she blinked, and blinked again. "Hmm." Then she giggled. "Why do you call me by my given name as though we are old friends?"

He looked her in the eyes with her soft lips a whisper away. "Do you prefer I don't?" He was not asking her about her name, that, he was sure.

She leaned in. and placed her lips by his ear again. Her hot breath caressed his ear and Charles became undone. "I don't suppose, do I?" Then she rubbed his cheeks with hers. She was flirting! Blood rushed to his pill. He became shamelessly aroused. A voice at the back of his head yelled at him to stop her but he was enjoying it too much to listen. Unlike with other Ladies that irked him, Beth's drunken flirt enticed him, drew him in. The savaged barbarian in him longed for another kiss, a meaningful one.

Her eyes were half-opened, and her breath smelt of the wine that had her behaving less than herself. Holding onto that, and whatever string of civility he had left, Charles replied to her, breathing loud and hard, his hand grabbing a fistful of grass to contain his errant desire. Her lips calling for him. "If you are against it, we can very well return to our formal relationship." He was still not talking about her name.

Beth did not reply, she just stared, stared at his lips and he let her as his hold on the grass became tighter. Without warning, she raised her thumb to his lips and whispered. "Have you ever kissed a woman before?"

Charles gulped heavily. "Yes." He answered silently, kissing her curious thumb. She did not flinch.

Whispering to herself, she said. "You have had a fair share of them grace your bed too." Then, she lifted her eyes to his. "I have never been kissed before." Charles saw a red haze. Her voice was shallow, her eyes on his gave him the most seductive look he had ever received.

The invitation was clear. All consequences be damned!

Charles leaned forward towards her and sent one hand to her back, pulling her closer. Her heaving breasts brushed against his and that was all that could happen for him to completely lose all thoughts. His lips were quivering to know hers. He used his thumb to peruse them, waiting for a protest, anything to stop him, to refrain him. She did not. Rather, she shuddered convulsively in his arms, a sigh escaping her lips. He did what he had been meaning to do for as long as he could remember; he claimed her lips with his and kissed them both into oblivion.

Let honour and respect be damned!