You Are Only Trying To Persuade Yourself

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For two days the council meeting ran and on both days, Charles battled to rid himself of the thoughts of Lady Beth. Her hair, the fiery, unruly mass invaded his thoughts over and over again. He wished he had defiled honour and reached out to them as they lay on her back. Wished he had felt how silky they were. Through his distracted thought, he heard someone note on the cost and manpower to push back the bandits and another suggested complete eradication, but Charles didn't care for that, he couldn't care for anything else. Brand had inquired if he was well and truthfully, Charles no longer was sure. On the first day, while the gentlemen discussed the bandits and how best to rid themselves of them, Charles thought continuously of Lady Beth, only coming back to the room when inquired to utter a word of agreement.

When the discussion had moved further away from security unto humanitarian works and poverty eradication, Charles was even more uninterested. All that held his interest was the enchanting redhead who was, at that moment, far from him.

That afternoon, when the visit to the impoverished town was through and after the meeting was over, Charles walked briskly to the chambers assigned to the ladies only to find it empty. Upon inquiring, he was informed by the maids that they had gone out of the Castle into the marketplace. He was glad, knowing she hadn't been bored while he was engaged with matters of the court.

In the garden, by the gates to the east of the Castle, Cossington caught up with him. It wasn't the company he craved. "Lord Carlisle, I would like a moment with you." He turned to the impulsive young man, disbelieving. The Viscount walked up to him and planted his feet firmly on the grass. "I have been meaning to seek you out." Charles' eyebrows arched. "It is concerning your marriage to my sister. When do you intend for the wedding?" His expression became sly. "Or is Lady Fitzgerald too much of a sport for you? If so, I could implore my sister to wait, I'd rather you be a subtle rake now than after the wedding." He paused and smiled. "Although, I have no problem whatsoever even after the wedding." He stood to his full height which was still short in Charles's standard. Was he trying to establish authority? "You can fool around with her as much as you want, but my sister must bear your sons."

Charles was silent, but underneath he throbbed to come to blow with the young and foolish Viscount, to subdue him mercilessly. Maybe a swordfight, a duel or a tournament, he thought. Cossington continued. "I suppose she and her sister are only good enough to be mistresses. How appalling. Though they remain beautiful as ever, quite comely to look upon." He rubbed his palms in a suggestive manner.

Charles was livid and for a moment he understood the hatred Lady Beth harboured towards him. "How generous of you Cossington, but I don't suppose I am to stand here and listen to your blabbing. You would receive a letter concerning the nuptials." Cossington smiled. "I suppose we can be done with it before the year runs out."

Cossington barked out an excited laugh. "How wonderful, Harriet would be beside herself with joy." Then he stepped closer and whispered. "Also when you tire of Lady Fitzgerald, I can take her off your hands." After which, he winked.

Charles blinked, slowly, pushing back his anger. It was not a good emotion for a man of his status. He told himself. With a drawl, he warned. "You should be careful of your words, Lord of Sorway. I have a low temperament and an annoyingly good memory." He stepped back. "Keep your distance from the Fitzgerald sisters if you desire all to remain well."

Cossington glared, flushed with anger. "If we are to be brothers-in-law, you should learn how to take a joke as one." He walked away.

Charles watched Cossington saunter away and the anger built. A joke?! The guts of the young Viscount to demand his audience, to demand an answer from him, to proposition Lady Beth from him. If he tires of her? As if he would ever be tired of the kindly Irish lady.

And then it came to him; he would never tire of her.

He began to pace about the place, creating a pathway with his feet on the grass. Why would he never tire of her? Was it her charm, her beauty, the tranquil air that surrounded her being? She wasn't entirely beautiful by the standards of their circle, though her hair always made her stand out. What was it about her that continually tugged at him, continually enthralled him?

Distracted by his thoughts, he didn't notice the company until the voice startled him. "You dashed out as soon as the meeting was done, only to end up here?" He turned to find Alexander paces away from him, holding two glasses of liquor, one in each hand. He was leaning on the wall, watching him.

How long had he watched? Charles sighed, somewhat annoyed at the disturbance. Alexander walked to him, past him a Brandy, and returned to position himself again by the wall. He slowly sipped from his glass, watching Charles.

Charles did the same. "This was not my intended destination."

"I am aware." He flexed his arm. "Yet here you are with troubled steps and a busy mind. My tongue burns to tease." Charles glared from the rim of his glass as he made for another sip. "But your troubled steps send it afar off. What is the problem, Carlisle?"

Charles dropped his eyes to his glass, staring at its bottom through the golden liquid. "Nothing I cannot solve by myself." He downed a generous portion of the content in one go. And as it ran through him and warmed his blood, his mind left Alexander's company to find peace in the one voice he had been craving for two days. He was pulled back.

"Brand was right to ask after your health." He raised his eyes to the King. Alexander walked to him again, twirling his glass. "I suppose the spell Lady Beth has on you must be quite binding." Charles ignored him. There was no spell, just words and camaraderie. He could no longer lie, Lady Beth was pulling at him, and rather than be uncomfortable, or worse, revolted, he was content. "Where are they? Lady Beth, and her bewitching sister?"

He walked farther away. "I am told they are long gone into the market after poring over the Castle grounds."

Alexander acknowledged the information with a nod. Charles held his eyes out into nothingness, paying attention to nothing in particular. As he poured the remaining drink into his mouth, the King asked. "Do you want to bed the stunning Lady Beth?"

The brandy took a wrong turn and ended up in his airways. Choking, Charles dropped his glass and held onto his neck. Tears filled his eyes. Through them, he saw Alexander smiling. "Alexander!" He let out a dry, painful cough.

Alexander's smile quickly became a smirk. "I see your thoughts are not far from my words."

"Oh please, Alexander." He turned away, tapping lightly on his chest. This was madness! He felt his nose to find some liquid there. "Would you be mindful of your words? Damnit!" He cussed, already finding it hard to contain his thoughts. He won't let them start in that direction.

Alexander stroked his beard. "I am no fool, Carlisle. Do well to remember that." A smile of distaste formed.

Vexed, Charles replied through clenched teeth. "I haven't thought about bedding her, Your Majesty." He was thinking about it at that moment. She was never far from his thoughts. He exhaled, slowly. "Has there ever been a rule that a woman must become a man's mistress when he seeks friendship?"

"No. But there has also never been Charles interested in a Lady." He drank his brandy slowly.

Charles knew. He had never been the sort to seek out anyone, neither a gentleman nor a lady. Not for power, information or wealth. But Bethany Fitzgerald was trouble to his thoughts and she was slowly becoming one to his groins. Her petite figure was all he could think about for days, and he did think about her all the time, even in the most unusual moments. He would miss her even if she was across the room from him, and would search for her desperately when she was far away.

When Cossington had discomfited her, he felt murderous and when she trembled before Alexander as he teased, he had felt the need to protect her. His heart lurched whenever she laughed and spoke directly to him and he was incredulously grateful whenever she chose his company over all else.

He searched through his pocket for his cigar case, lighted one and passed to Alexander after a drag, but was rejected with a salute of the brandy glass from the King. Cigar between fingers, he ran his other hand through his hair, and sighed. "I do not want to bed her, Alexander." His voice was almost a whisper. He wasn't convinced he spoke the truth.

"You speak only to persuade yourself." After another swirl, the King said. "But whatever it is you choose to do Charles, do not hurt the young lady." He shot the drink down his throat. "Nor her charming sister." And then he stalked out.