©Megan Hart, may not be reproduced without permission

It was the wrong season for a brannigan, the weeks-long house party generally thrown in winter when weather made travel difficult and guests and activities helped ease the dullness of short days and long nights. Apparently, Cillian Derouth didn’t care for such constrictions on his social life.

“Food and lodging I can easily provide,” Edward said that night, slouched in front of the fire while she knelt before him to unlace his boots. “But entertainment I’m sorely lacking.”

He took the glass of warmed wine from her and settled back while she put soft slippers on his feet.

“Alaric, I’m certain, could aid you in that.” Nessa got up to poke the fire into brighter blaze, then returned to her place at his feet.

“Aye, Alaric.”

“So allow him to organize them.” It seemed simple enough. “Or perhaps the ladies who’ve arrived would play hostess, as you’ve none.”

She’d not meant it as reproach, but Edward’s eyes told her he took it that way.

“I don’t want you to think I’m ashamed of you.”

“I know you’re not ashamed of me.”

It was himself that shamed him, and for that she could do naught.

Edward gestured for her to lay her head upon his thigh, which she did with a contented sigh. His hand passed over her hair in smooth strokes. “Unbind your hair.”

He wove his fingers through the braid-kinked strands until they fell across her shoulders and back. Nessa closed her eyes and rubbed her cheek against the soft cloth of his trousers. His hand on her head petted and soothed, as much a pleasure to her as solace to him. She waited, gauging his mood by the tension in his muscles.

Happy people didn’t request the services of a Handmaiden. All of her patrons were in some way damaged. As she herself had been damaged. Sometimes, Nessa discovered the source of her patron’s pain and was able to dissipate it. For others she never learned what secrets in their past had hurt them, but it didn’t matter, for she succeeded in helping them anyway.

Edward was different then all of them, every one she’d ever had. The kind and the cruel, the smart and foolish, the generous and stingy. He’d touched something inside her no other had, and the realization of that was enough to tense her muscles.

Edward was different because…she was falling in love with him.

At the infinitesimal tightening of her body against his leg, Edward’s hand came once more to rest upon her head. “What disturbs you?”

“It is my place to ask that of you, Edward. Not yours to question me.”

He urged her with his touch to look up at him. “I would know your secrets.”

“I’ve bared them all to you.” She got up on her knees and reached to touch his cheek. “Will you tell me yours?”

He shook his head. He moved her palm over his mouth to kiss it, his lips warm. Nessa got up and settled onto his lap, an arm curving round his neck to put her forehead to his.

“Edward,” she whispered. “I want so much to see you happy.”

“Because it is your pleasure and your purpose?” He nuzzled her cheek with his lips before looking into her eyes.

“Not only that. No.” She kissed his mouth with sweet intent, though the underlying spark of constant passion between them was impossible to ignore.

His hand slipped up to tangle in the hair at the base of her neck. “Will you understand me when I say I want you to fail in your purpose?”

She smiled a little, her throat tight with sudden, nameless emotion. “My expense is too great? You wish to recoup what you’ve paid to the Order?”

He shook his head. “No. But if you succeed, you’ll have to leave. And I don’t want you to leave me.”

She took a long, slow breath. “If I fail, I would have to leave you, as well.”

“Do you always have to leave your patrons, Nessa?”

“I do.”

“Have you ever wanted to stay?”

She took his face in her hands and kissed his mouth slowly, and pulled away just enough to breathe against his lips. “Yes, Edward. I have.”

With a low groan, he slanted his lips to hers. His hand tightened in her hair, pulling. His tongue dove inside her mouth, stroking her into a gasp of desire.

He pulled back suddenly. “Every time I think I’ve sated myself with you, I discover I haven’t. I’m not sure I ever can.”

“I’m happy to serve you –”

“No.” He shook his head. “It’s more than that. Tell me what it is.”

Nessa hesitated. She was never unable to put aside her training, to forget her pleasure and her purpose. Telling him what he wished to hear would surely grant him a moment’s peace but in the end might harm more than help. The line was fine, the edge sharp; a false step would slice them both.

His hand in her hair tightened, bringing another gasp from her. “Answer me.”

“It pleases me to know that I so please you.”

This answer, while the truth, seemed not to satisfy him. He pushed her from his lap, not ungently but without any question as to his intent. “I sent for you because I needed someone who would not play emotional games. A companion who would ease my mind. Make my home a haven and a comfort.”

“Have I done so?” She made to go into the Waiting, but his command stopped her.

“Stay on your feet. Yes, Stillness, you have. You have brought light and warmth to these rooms beyond the simple matter of tea and clean floors. And for that, I’m grateful.”

“I’m pleased –”

He stood, towering over her. “There’s more. You’ve pleased my mind, but my body, too. An unexpected but welcome gift.”

She said nothing, looking up into his face.

“You’re here to give me something I think impossible for me to attain.”

“Ultimate solace. Even a moment of it and my duty is fulfilled.”

“And you will do anything I need to achieve that goal. Will you not?”

His voice had gone low and dangerous again. It sent an anticipatory shiver through her. She nodded.

“Yes.”

“Then tell me,” he said, voice like silk snagged on a rough branch, “that I’m more to you than just another patron.”

She wanted to, by the Arrow, she did. But there was no place for love in a Handmaiden’s life. Nothing good could come of such a revelation, and her duty wasn’t to her heart, but to his.

“I value each of my patrons individually, Edward,” Nessa said at last. “Each is unique to me, and each holds a separate but equal place in my heart.”

Edward lifted his chin, and when he spoke, ironwood had replaced the silk in his voice. “Then if I’m like all the others I shall devote myself to the effort of helping you succeed in your task. I shall allow you to grant me solace.”