“Ugh, I’m beginning to feel like I should just have Kennedy graft this dress onto my body.” Peyton said, glancing to up meet Ren’s eyes in the mirror over the dresser. “It seems like I’m wearing it all the time anyway.”

“But what will you do if it goes out of fashion?” Ren asked curiously. Peyton snorted and tossed a platinum curl out of her face. It would probably only be another few days before she handed him the scissors and told him to trim the ends off it. He couldn’t help but wonder though, what she’d look like if she ever grew her hair out completely. Not that he didn’t like it short, Peyton could shave herself bald and he would still think she was beautiful, but he still, sometimes, wondered.

“Since when do I follow fashion?” She turned and looked at him with a raised eyebrow. Okay so she had him there.

“You don’t, but–well what about when it wears out, it’s only cloth after-all.” She sighed and rolled her eyes.

“I suppose you have me there.” She echoed his thought from only a moment before in that odd way she had. He remembered his mother telling his sisters that good wives could do that, but given what his mother had also said, somehow he doubted that Peyton’s ability to do it had anything to do with being a good wife the way Martine had thought of the title. “How many festival days does one season have to have?” She turned away from the mirror and slid onto the bed next to him, smoothing the coverlet with an absent hand.

“There’s really only one more.” Ren said. “Then we get into harvest season and all there’ll be time for is harvesting or finishing up the last of projects before winter sets in.”

“Yeah. Vikki said that at least from what she and Camden have talked about, the borders maybe reopened before the harvest faire, I guess it won’t be like last year.”

“Oh?” Ren asked. Did Lord Camden really tell Lady Victoria about what happened in counsel sessions? Was the king really expecting that they would get a lot of visitors for the faire this year. By the time Harvest Faire came, there wouldn’t be a lot of time for merchants to return home, most who had come before the plague had come with the intention of wintering over.

Would anyone want to winter over in a country that had so recently been closed to a plague. It seemed odd to be thinking of winter, he glanced at the window, at the sunny summer sky visible over the town wall that backed the property, on a summer day, but it wasn’t that far off either. Peyton’s lips pursed as if she were trying to decide between sighing at him for stuffing so many questions into one word or smiling because he did stuff so many questions into one word.

“I more meant that it just doesn’t sound like we’re all gonna have the big feast that we did last year.” Peyton clarified, her fingers flicking at an invisible piece of lint on her dress. “Vikki doesn’t give me a lot of details, I have a feeling that’s part because most of what she tells me is pillow talk.” Ren couldn’t help twisting to stare at his wife for a minute.

“Oh, don’t look at me that way.” She laughed, that deep throated chuckle that made Ren’s knees turn to water. “People with brains have to talk about something in bed other than just sex–and,” The sentence trailed off.

“And?” Ren prompted.

“Babies, you know, like Raquel’s going to spawn–soon–like Heidi’s gonna have, like Vikki’s going to have?” Peyton tucked her hair behind her ear and looked at her hands.

“Lady Victoria is–” it was Ren’s turn to trail off, the tips of his ears burning. Maybe some people talked about the occupants or future occupants of noblewomen’s tummies, but not any of his mother’s children.

Peyton glanced at his ears and grinned. “Yep, she told me right after she came back from Kennedy. It’s a girl thing.” Peyton shrugged, her grin fading as she plucked at the bodice on her dress.

“What’s wrong?” Ren asked, his eyes widening slightly in panic.

“Well, it’s just–babies, Ren. Three out of four of the married couples in Shadowcrest are expecting one–and we’re four.” Peyton said.

“We hadn’t really talked about–children.” Ren found himself hesitating over the word.

“I know, that’s the problem.” Peyton admitted. “We haven’t talked about kids.” She gnawed on her lip before exhaling a sigh.  “At all.”

“Uh.” Well that was intelligible. He hadn’t brought up children because he didn’t want to seem like he was putting pressure on her. The same reason he didn’t harp on her wardrobe, even though Fox seemed to think that he should. (Well, in part, the way her trews showed of her long, athletic legs certainly didn’t hurt Ren’s–er–views on the subject.) He wanted her to be happy here in Shadowcrest. If she was happy in trews then she should wear them. If she wanted to talk about children, he would have thought that she would have.

Was this something he was supposed to have brought up? He knew that Lady Kennedy had insisted that Blake and Raquel wait, but that mostly seemed to be because of Raquel’s age. Lady Heidi and Lady Victoria hadn’t waited, but…

“Do you want–kids?” Peyton asked tentatively. “I mean I know we’ll need them eventually, but–” She sighed.

“I…” Did he want kids. Not did he think they should have them, but did he want them, as in right now? “Do you want them?” He asked. She turned and looked at him for a long moment, something sad lurking behind her gray eyes. He’d put every royal in the cash box on it having something to do with Peyton’s mother.

Martine had raised her children not to speak ill of people, but Ren once again was completely grateful that he would never meet his mother-in-law. She had to have no idea of how amazing her daughter was. He felt a deep smoldering anger once more that she had been so dismissive and restrictive to Peyton that even simple conversations like this hurt Peyton.

“I–Well, we’d talked about opening a shop, for my pottery. Right now it’s kind of stuck in with your metalwork, which I mean I guess is as good a place as any. It isn’t quite like my fabric samples hanging in Fox’s workshop though.” Peyton said. Ren nodded. “And if the borders are going to be reopened, there might be more interest in it–if it weren’t sitting in between the horseshoes and the penny nails.”

“Right.” Ren nodded, if still slightly confused.

“I–I don’t know that I want to deal with trying to get a new shop off the ground and swollen feet and general waddles, Ren.” She turned and looked at him, hurt and shame in her eyes.

“That makes sense to me.” Ren said. Her gaze returned to him from where it had retreated to off the footboard.

“It–it does?” Peyton asked. Her voice seemed near to cracking. “But–don’t you want children?”

“Of course I do eventually but I think that right now it’s as much your choice as mine.” He said taking her hand kissing it. “If not more so. Maybe I would think differently if I were going to be the one carrying the child, but I’m not. And if you want to wait, then we can wait. Until you’re ready.” Ren said.

“Or until the gods have other ideas.” Peyton laughed ruefully. Ren looked at her curiously. “There’s an old saying back home, if you want to hear the Lord, meaning God, laugh, just tell him what you have planned. The only way we’ll completely one hundred percent for certain not have kids is to one hundred percent for certain stop–any bedroom activities that lead to kids.” Ren’s ears burned. “We should go, shouldn’t we?” Peyton asked.

“Fox is expecting us.”

“If he’s not busy trying to convince Phoebe that she should join us.” Peyton smirked.

“Do you know why Lady Phoebe doesn’t like him?” Ren asked, swinging his legs down off the bed.

“I don’t think it has anything to do with like, I think it has more to do with trust, she doesn’t trust him.” Peyton said after a moment. Huh? He turned and looked at his wife, who was looking thoughtfully at the ceiling. “Fox is smooth as silk and charming as a fairy tale prince. But that doesn’t always add up to trustworthy. Sure, he’s charming, but is he sincere?”

“Well…” Admittedly not always, Ren thought. He’d known Fox before the plague and he had always treated every woman who walked into his master’s shop as if she were the most beautiful woman on the planet. It helped him sell more dresses, and unlike some of the other salesmen who would adopt the same thing, he never turned to one of his fellows after she left and commented that the woman in question was a dog–or any other insult. But he couldn’t have meant all of that flattery to all of those women.

“I’ve known chicks like Phoebe before. She strikes me as the type who has been burned before.” Peyton shrugged. “Probably by a guy who talked very pretty but meant about every third word. If you wanted to pass along a bit of advice to our dear friend, the tailor, I’d start with, skip the flowers and go straight to the truth, it’ll get him further.”

“Oh.” Should he have done that? He wondered, chewing at the corner of his lip. Ren didn’t think of himself as a man who was overly flowery, most of the time he couldn’t think of ten words to say, let alone how to make them all sound pretty.

“Now me, I’ve always had the opposite problem. Guys have a very hard time being flowery or flattering with me, but I get more truth than I’d ever want.” Peyton laughed. Oh. “But I guess he’ll have time to work on his game, what with her helping him out for Joey’s wedding.”

“Will it be that hard?”

“If what I’ve heard is any indication, it’s a damned good thing that the King is footing the bills for weddings, and that ours was less than extravagant.” Peyton laughed, Ren sat back down the bed next to her in wonder. He thought their wedding had been fine. “Sawyer’d be in hock until his great-great-great-grandchildren.”

“Really?” He had no idea.

“Oooh yeah,” Peyton shook her head. “I’m half getting the idea that she’s going so overboard for the whole thing because she’s hoping someone will call the whole thing off rather than accede to her demands, after all if the king says no, then she doesn’t have to.”

Except of course if Ren knew anything about Lachlan as a person he would never say no, not on something like that. If that’s really what Lady Jolene was doing, then she was bound to be disappointed.

“So she doesn’t want to marry him?” Ren asked. Peyton shrugged.

“I don’t know. Joey’s not got the easiest head to climb into. I think there’s more going on there, but it’s not as if she talks to me.” Peyton shrugged again.

“We really do need to go.”

“I know,” Peyton sighed. “But I don’t really want to go. Fox is so boring when he’s talking saints.” It was Ren’s turn to shrug. “You know, it’s almost too bad that we didn’t decide we really wanted to have kids.”

“Why’s that?” Ren asked.

“Because I can think of a lot better ways to celebrate the feast of For Pete’s Sake, or whatever today is. Lots and lots and lots.”

Suddenly, so could he.

“Why’s that?” Camden asked as they laid back on the grass, starring up at the sky.

“Light pollution, mostly. Even on the clearest day back home, there’s too much light in the city to be able to see the stars this clearly.” Her head came to rest on his shoulder, the feel of silk against her cheek, warm and soft, the rise and fall of his breathing.

“I used to watch the stars a lot when I was on my quest.” Camden said. “It’s much nicer watching them with you than with my horse.” Victoria chuckled.

“When do you move into your new manor?” She asked.

“Tomorrow, probably. If the weather cooperates.” Camden stretched a little, his arm tightening just slightly around her shoulder. “I, uh, wanted to talk with you about that.”

“Mmm?” Victoria asked, her eyes closing.

“Would–would you–would you like to come over tomorrow, for dinner?” Camden said the last part in a rush that made Victoria almost positive that that wasn’t what he was going to say originally.

She sat up and looked at him for a long moment. “I–I…”

“I’m just asking you to come for dinner.” Camden said. “Vikki, please.” She chewed on her lip, avoiding his so very green eyes.

“Camden, I think we might be…” She sighed and made the mistake of looking at him. he was twisting a strand of grass between his fingers, the lantern light touching off his hair and softening his face.

“It’s dinner.” Camden repeated in a way that Victoria would have bet money was as much trying to convince himself of as much as her. “If you don’t come–then…”

“You could always come to dinner–at Ren’s with us.” A few days prior Peyton had decided that before someone could suggest that, as Ren’s house had three spare bedrooms, someone make use of them, that she and Victoria would move in.

“I worked too damn hard to get him, Vikki, I’m not gonna let any other chick move in and see just how much better a wife she could make for him.” Peyton had said.

“And I’m coming, because?” Victoria had retorted with a quirked eyebrow.

“Because we need a chaperone, or at least the appearance of one, it’ll make it look less like impropriety,” Peyton had shrugged. “We’re not married yet. You’re there to make sure I’m not sneaking into Ren’s room every night. That might knot Gray’s panties.” 

“You could still sneak into Ren’s room.”

“Doubly so cause you’ll suck as a chaperone, you’re always with your boy toy.” Peyton laughed. “But it’ll look like I’m keeping an eye on you too. See,” she gestured, “it’s a mutual respectable thing.”

“But–you can’t see the house if I come over to Ren’s.” She was going to lose this–argument? discussion? whatever–she was gonna lose it, cause she couldn’t even begin to win it in her own head.

“Alright, I’ll come for dinner.” Victoria said with a sigh.

—

If there was one thing you could say for Tiffany, she knew how to pick locales. You could see straight down to the shore of Lake Haven from Camden’s front yard. “I’ll have to decide what to do for plants.” Camden said as they walked through the white washed iron gate.

“But you have the beds all marked out.” Victoria smiled. “Most guys, especially your age wouldn’t even think of it.”

“I didn’t, Lady Tiffany did. She said it’d make putting the fountain in the right spot easier.” Camden admitted. It wasn’t a huge house, so the tour didn’t take long. Nor did it take long for Camden to toss together a salad.

“I wouldn’t have thought lavender cushions and wallpaper.” Victoria commented as they sat at the long wood table in the dining room. It was sort of empty. Not too many personal touches, the whole house felt like it was waiting for… something.

“Mistress Raquel picked them. She helped with a lot of the decorating. Said it gave her something to do.”

“It looks nice.” Victoria smiled.

“I’m thinking, after Lady Peyton’s wedding, of taking a short trip up to the summer home that my family kept. The estate was–lost–but I might be able to find some things in the summer home as it wasn’t visited after the plague started. At least tapestries and portraits and the like.” Camden said.

“That sounds like a great idea.” Victoria smiled. He seemed to hesitate for a moment, as if about to ask something else, then shook his head and asked about Peyton’s wedding plans. If ever there were a person less prepared to plan a wedding…

—

That was definitely the door. Peyton thought, struggling her way out of sleep. About a million “could be wrongs” went through her head as she shook out of the blanket’s hold and stumbled to the kitchen. She scrubbed at her eyes, blinking at the darkness. A sound came from her right and she turned. Just barely, as the fire was banked for the night, she could make out…

“Vikki? Vikki, what’s wrong?” And why are you sitting in the corner of the kitchen in your panties? was hard on the heels of that thought. But that could wait. She started at the sound of Peyton’s voice and brought her arms up over her head, curling in on herself.

“Oh, god, Peyton. I–I can’t. Oh, god.” Victoria stammered out, tears clear in her voice.

“C’mon, what’s wrong, you can talk to me.” Peyton said trying to project reassurance into her voice. Victoria stumbled to her feet and buried her face in her hands again.

“I–oh–How did this happen, Peyton?”

“Not know what “this” is, I can’t say.” Peyton told her, rubbing her hand up and down the other woman’s back in what she hoped was a calming gesture.

“Peyton, he’s not even eighteen yet! And I just–” Victoria sobbed out. “I just raped him!”

“Somehow I doubt that.” Peyton said as Victoria wailed. “Vikki, Vikki, listen to me. Did you like tie him down or in anyway coerce him?”

“No, but…”

“Did he tell you no?”

“No!”

“Then it wasn’t rape.” Peyton said waiting for the shriek she knew would come–agh, right on schedule. “Vikki, Vikki, listen to me.” When that didn’t work. Couldn’t the morning after guilt have had the decency to wait until morning? Seriously. “Screw that, listen to yourself.”

Vikki cut off in midwail and looked at Peyton, eyes huge. “Now, I understand your guilt.” Sort of. “But before you wake the entire neighborhood and we have to explain this to everyone, let’s think about this.”

“You were in prelaw, there’s more than five years between us!” Victoria moaned, thankfully a little lower. Peyton shot a look at the ceiling and nudged Victoria toward the room Victoria was staying in.

“True. But there are no statutory rape laws in the country were in, Vikki. Not to mention, Camden’s like three months shy of turning eighteen. He’s barely a kid by our standards, and might I point out, quite lawyerly, the majority in Shadowcrest is sixteen. He’s old enough to enter a contract and he’s old enough to have sex.” Peyton pointed out. Victoria was still sniffling. “Forgive me a tangent here, but, did you really come all the way home wearing that?”

“I could find this without having to light a candle. My dress is still somewhere at Camden’s.” Victoria admitted shamefaced.

“Okay.” Peyton refrained from rubbing her temples by grabbing the flint and steel from the kitchen and lighting the candles so they weren’t sitting in the dark. Then she turned the chair from Victoria’s vanity toward the bed and sat down. “If you can tell it without wailing and going all mea culpa, he’s a kid, rape-0rape-rape, aka all Joey on me. What happened.”

“I don’t even know, Peyton. I meant to come home and then he kissed me good night and then we were in his room, on his bed. I–mean I like him, but it’s still–now I’ve totally ruined him for anyone else.”

“Back up to the room. What color was his bedding?” Peyton asked.

“What does that have to do with anything?” A flash of anger crossed her face.

“It helps me set the scene.” Peyton said blandly.

“Purple, and white–and teal.” Victoria said. Peyton mouthed an Ah, but said nothing. That’s what I thought. Just who else is she thinking he’s likely to want?

“Then there went my dress and there went his tunic and… how much detail do you want?”

“Can’t remember?”

“Can remember all to well.” Victoria said primly.

“This is plenty. So, lemme ask this, if Camden weren’t seventeen, if he’d been–seventy-one, would you have called this encounter a rape?” Peyton tapped her fingers against each other.

“… No…” She said in a very small voice.

“Okay, then I think you’re safe enough.”

“He’s going to hate me now.”

“He’s a guy, a teenaged guy. Unless there’s a very good reason for not having the sex, it usually takes more than sex to make them hate someone. At least if it was good sex…” She looked pointedly at the redhead, who blushed and looked away. Meh, that’s what I thought too. “Vikki, you’re hating yourself WAY more at the moment than Camden will hate you for this.” Peyton shook her head. Victoria climbed onto her stomach and propped her head up between her hands.

“What am I gonna do, Peyton?”

“Oh, come on, Vikki. You didn’t ruin his life. It’s not like a teenager can’t survive through one panties on the ceiling fan experience. In fact, I’ll bet you wearing that frothy white lace wedding dress you suggested versus the one I want, that as soon as that kid wakes up and finds you gone, he beelines straight here. If you’re lucky, he’ll even bring your dress with him.”

“Really?” Victoria said.

“Really the bet or really that’s what I th…” Peyton grinned as a brisk knock came on the door. “I’ll get that, you might wanna–just saying.” Peyton left Victoria scrambling for the dresser and went to the door.

“I’m so sorry to bother you, Lady Peyton.” Camden stuffed his hands behind his back, but not before Peyton saw a peek of teal.

“Vikki’ll be out in a minute.” She noticed him glance over his shoulder, then gulp. “Or now. Why don’t you guys go uh, talk it out. I’ll get some–tea.” Peyton gestured toward the couch.

If they kept pausing and stammering it was going to take them all night to talk out anything. But maybe this didn’t need talking, at least tonight. She heard a door upstairs open and slipped out into the shadows and up the stairs.

“Peyton? What’s going on?”

“Oh, just your average middle of the night crisis.” She smiled.

“Is everything alright?”

“I bet it is now…”

“Um, what sort of something?” Ren asked, his brown eyes puzzled.

“Well, last night, Joey comes home looking like someone just passed a mandate forever banning the rom-com.” Peyton began, then shot Ren a glance and shook her head. “Bewildered, I guess, like she couldn’t believe that something had happened.”

“Oh.”

“Apparently, our dear musical Romeo asked her if she’d ever think about marrying him.” Peyton said.

“Oh.” Peyton tapped him on the nose.

“You said that already.” He smiled and held her hands in his, not seeming to notice that she still had clay under her fingernails. Maybe he didn’t notice. She somewhere along the line had stopped noticing the work roughened texture of his hands, too caught up in the strength and warmth of them. Kind of amazing. “I don’t think he asked her to marry him, just if she ever would marry him.”

“What does that have to do with the water?” He prompted, after her left hand escaped his grasp and brushed the long strands of white blonde hair off his forehead.

“In and of itself, nothing. It’s just not long before that I ‘caught’ Vikki and Camden making out like teenagers under the oak tree.”

“Camden is a teenager.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. But Vikki isn’t.” Peyton shrugged. He mouthed one of those “I have no idea what you’re talking about, but please keep talking” sounds he seemed to make at her frequently. “It just got me thinking, what is it with your young men and falling hard and fast?”

“Um.” He shrugged.

“Maybe it’s a limited population thing.” Peyton thought for a moment. “I mean there are only thirteen of you, there are only going to be maybe that many of us. But still, I could see them being as eager as anyone for the, you know, random roll in the hay. Not so much for putting a ring on it.”

“Maybe they just have confidence that we older gents lack.” Ren said after a moment.

“Well, maybe.” She cocked her head to the side and willed Ren to keep talking. The blacksmith had really good insights into people, but getting those insights out of his head was not so easy.

“They’ve had less time to build up doubts and concerns, they can pour their whole hearts into things where we tend to dither or lose our courage.” Ren shrugged his broad shoulders.

“Yeah, I guess. Less baggage.” Peyton nodded. “Still you do realize that you guys might have less time though, right? I mean for all that Charlie Chaplin was still having babies when he was in his seventies–well his wife was having babies, he was just putting them there. But, still, I mean if Jarrett were ever going to get remarried, he’d have years less time to go about the busy of providing wee Crestians than say Sawyer would, wouldn’t he?”

“He will.” Peyton blinked.

“I think I missed something.”

“Jarrett, he does intend to remarry.” Ren said.

“Really?” She cocked her head. “I thought…”

“He believes it’s his duty.” For a man whose job was whacking the shit out of metal with a big-ass hammer he sure could put things a little too subtly and delicately for her sometimes. Oh well, best to blunder ahead anyway, that was her job, chewing leather clad foot.

“No one would blame him if he didn’t, though.” Peyton said. “I mean considering all the shit he’s gone through, psh, I don’t think there’s a single one of us who wouldn’t understand. Does the king know?”

“Aye. That’s how I know. We had many talks about it before the king told us about his intended plans. The king offered Jarrett an exemption, but he insisted.” Ren told his hands.

“Jeez. He’s a better man than I am.” Ren ducked his head, but not fast enough cause she could see the flush on his neck and his ears. “Person sort of man, I’d call you a lech, but I kinda like the fact that you notice.” He went even redder.

“It’s not so hard.” Ren finally stammered out.

“My mother would disagree.” Peyton shrugged. Ren’s lips tightened.

“Well, I would say if your mother were ever right about anything as far as you were concerned, it was come to by complete and total accident.” He tucked her hair behind her ear, fingers skating down her jaw, leaving tingles in their wake.

“Thanks.” For once she was the one ducking her head and speaking toward her hands. “So, who do you think the next one of us to get married will be?” Peyton asked after a moment.

“I–do not know?” Ren said.

“I thought you were the blacksmith, aren’t you the one who makes all the metal stuff? Doesn’t everyone come to you to get rings made.”

“I’m better with horseshoes than jewelry.” Ren said looking at his fingers.

“Liar. I saw that necklace you made for Raquel.” Peyton said.

“Well, also, with the nobles, they may have heirloom jewelry.” Ren pointed out. “Which they might use to propose with too.”

“You take the fun out of trying to guess, though I know who I hope is getting married next.” Peyton said. Ren cocked his head to the side. Even though she’d practiced, it was just slightly easier to be confident with a tree stump stand in. She went to her knee, pulling the jewelry box out of her pocket. “I hope it’s us. Ren, will you marry me?”

His hand pressed against his chest, his brown eyes huge for a long moment. His hands shook as they took the ring from the box in Peyton’s hands. The next few moments seemed to blur together, clearing with her face tucked against Ren’s neck, arms wrapped tightly around him and his arms wrapped tightly around her. He released her wiping the tears off her cheeks that she didn’t even know she cried.

“You know,” he dug in his belt pouch and pulled something out. “I’ve been carrying this for weeks.” She held her hands out and he dropped a beautiful gold ring into her palm. “I just didn’t have the courage to ask. I’m glad you did.”

“And you,” she sniffled. “Said you didn’t have talent with jewelry.”

—

“You look very pleased with yourself.” Victoria said when Peyton came into the barn that afternoon.

“As well I should be.” She smiled and flopped on the sofa.

“Why?”

“Let’s just say blonde hair and a fondness for the sound of my voice aren’t the only things that  I have in common with a certain merchant.” Peyton said.

“Damn, there’s only one blonde merchant, so I can’t even pretend I don’t know who you’re talking about.” Victoria grinned. “So what, did he propose?”

“No, well, kinda. I tipped it off. Got the ball rolling.”

“Is it sad how much I want to squee?” Jolene asked Heidi.

“Over the fact that I’m getting married–or over the fact that I’ll be moving out and you’ll have more closet space?” Heidi teased.

“Which do you think? Especially considering that Zahrah will be taking over your wardrobe space before the last of your stuff clears the stairwell.” Jolene stuck her tongue out at Heidi who laughed and stuck her tongue out back.

“Ah, well, then, no. I don’t mind if you want to squee over the wedding.” Victoria tucked a strand of her hair back into the updo and headed down the stairs.

“So, ten bucks says it’s six weeks or less before Kennedy’s firing up the old preg tester again.” Peyton was saying as she came into the living room of the barn.

“You’re betting on people’s sex lives now, Peyton?” Tiffany asked, a bit incredulously.

“Isn’t anything else to bet on. I wonder how hard it is to make slot machines.” She trailed off looking at the ceiling.

“Fairly.” Victoria pointed out as she took a seat in the empty chair to Peyton’s left. The blonde looked at her with an eyebrow quirked. “Think about it. Not only would you have to figure out the mechanics of making one, you’d have to figure out how to build a generator cause they need power to run. Besides, would you really want to dump all your money into something like that?”

“Not for me, I’d build a bank of them and everyone else could lose their money in them.”

“Right.” Victoria said. “And what would you do if someone won?”

“I’d think of something, don’t kill my buzz, Vikki.”

“Have you been drinking already, Peyton?” Jolene asked from behind them.

“Oh, you know. Just a little liquid courage.” Peyton stretched.

“For what?” Jolene sneered. “You aren’t getting married, after all.”  If Peyton was in the room, Victoria would have sworn that it was her permanent expression. Granted this was the real world and not some place occupied by fuzzy little bears or ponies who were all bff’s all the time, but Victoria still didn’t know why Jolene was so disparaging of Peyton all the time.

“For seeing my ass in this dress.” Peyton waved airily. At least Peyton got as good as she gave very rarely letting the other woman get her goat.

“I take it,” Kennedy interjected before they could get any further into a disagreement. “That Heidi is ready to go and that we should head for the chapel?” Jolene looked at Kennedy for a long moment as if judging whether she’d win a battle with the doctor, but apparently she didn’t think so because she just nodded.

Heidi had decided that she wanted to have an outdoor wedding, something that was questionable, given that it was spring, and doubly questionable considering the dark clouds on the horizon, but, as Heidi pointed out, the king was a wizard. If he could bring people from the future, he could keep it from raining on one wedding ceremony.

Though she really didn’t know Heidi that well or Dolph either, the ceremony was very sweet and apparent to everyone that the bride and groom adored each other. After the vows were said, Dolph swept Heidi off her feet and spun her around, garnering applause from the spectators.

Then it was inside, after all there was no reason to tempt fate with an outdoor reception as well. The plants did need rain so if it decided to drizzle all afternoon, they should probably let it.

“Aren’t you going to have any cake, Lady Victoria?” A voice asked by her elbow.

“I want to be able to fit into this dress for the next wedding if I need to.” Victoria said turning toward Camden.

“I think it’ll fit fine,” Camden blushed then. Oh, my. Victoria stopped herself from giggling. He’d been checking her out! Maybe walking everywhere and not being constantly stuck behind a desk going over columns of numbers was helping put her curves back where she remembered them being.

“What about you?” Victoria asked. Camden’s green eyes widened for a moment. “Cake, aren’t you going to have any?”

“Oo-oh. Uh, no–I don’t think so.” Camden glanced around. “The young lady with Alistair, who is she?” She glanced over her shoulder in the direction that Camden was looking.

“Is that Alistair?” Victoria asked. For some reason she had been expect Alistair to be–the skeezy guy in the trench coat. Someone who looked like a rat. He looked normal. Handsome, even. Then her eyes flicked onto the girl talking to him. Zahrah. She was new to Shadowcrest too.

Of course Camden would notice her. Zahrah was young and very pretty, and her curves had the benefit of never having shifted out of position in the first place. She was probably closer to Camden in age than she was. Victoria stifled a sigh, as Camden would probably notice. Still, when she turned back Camden’s eyes shot up from where they’d been settled, which wasn’t on Zahrah.

“That’s Zahrah. She came a few days ago.” Victoria said, watching Camden’s face for a hint of his eyes leaping away to look at Zahrah again. Except they didn’t. Huh?

“Hadn’t you met Alistair?” Camden asked as if the girl was no longer anything he was concerned with.

“No. I wasn’t sure I wanted to. I can’t name a single complimentary thing that was said about him.” Victoria admitted. Camden looked thoughtful for a moment. “What?”

“I’m trying to think of a complimentary thing I’ve ever heard said about him.” Victoria stifled a giggle. Alistair had moved away from Zahrah, who sat on one of the benches as Dolph and Heidi took the dance floor.

Camden grabbed a couple of glasses of wine and handed her one. She twisted the stem of the glass in her fingers before taking a sip of the wine, as Camden’s eyes swept over her profile.

The peace was broken by the sound of someone angrily hissing their breath in between their teeth. Victoria glanced at Camden who was watching Dolph and Heidi. He looked at her with a raised eyebrow. Okay, it wasn’t Camden… who then…? She wondered taking a slightly larger drink of the wine from her glass.

A stir by the door caught Victoria’s attention. “Well, my loves.” Blake said, rubbing Raquel’s tummy in a way that made Victoria smile wistfully. “I think I should take you and your mommy home. It’s walk from here.”

Considering Victoria hardly knew Raquel and Blake even less, it felt somewhat wrong to watch the two of them leaving, so she turned her attention back to the wine in her glass. Whatever it was, it was a lot stronger than the wine in a box that was served at book club and it was seeming to go straight to her head. Just one glass shouldn’t have tipped her into “buzzed” but this stuff had managed.

“Lady Victoria?” Camden sounded concerned.

“I just need a little air.” At least she hoped that she only needed some air. She didn’t know how she’d live with it if she got too drunk to walk home off one glass of wine. The young knight fell into step with her, holding the door open as the still-slightly-chilly night air hit her arms and face and cleared her head.

They both stood looking up at the sky for a moment until a cultured voice speaking in a hushed but obviously angry tone caught her attention.

“Leave her alone.” She recognized the redhair and black embroidered clothes from the back.

“You–you don’t.” Whomever responded was obviously by the voice a lot younger–and a lot smaller as she couldn’t see him past Alistair.

“Oh please, come back and retort when you can do it without a stammer.”

“Go to hell.” The boy said. Alistair grabbed the younger boy and jerking him half off his feet.

“What was that, you little urchin?” The boy didn’t say anything and the redhaired man shoved him away, obviously prepared to walk away. Camden’s fists were clenched like he was about to lay into Alistair.

“Go get Sawyer.” Victoria suggested. Camden looked at her. “Please, Camden.”

“Yes, Lady Victoria.” He said turning and running back into the reception hall. Alistair stalked past her, sneering down his nose and Victoria found her own hands balling into fists. The boy, she thought for a moment, Tate had his face buried in his hands. She wanted to say something, or at least give him cookies and a big hug, but they didn’t even know each other.

And having a woman you didn’t know witness you getting bullied was sure to perk the old self-esteem back up.

“Heyla,” Sawyer said, rounding the corner, Tate pulled his hands away from his face in such a way that Victoria was sure he was brushing away tears. Sawyer didn’t act like he noticed. “What’s wrong.”

“Just–Alistair. I asked–it’s nothing.” Tate said.

“Ah, Alistair, is it? You know the first time Jarrett put him in charge of stirrin’ the laundry, he burnt his braises?” Sawyer said. “He did. He was stirrin’ the pot of laundry o’er the cook fire, and he stirs like a sissy, y’know, barely swishin’ the water an’ me an’ Jarrett are at the pond fishin’ when we smell something burnin’ Go back and there’s ‘is braises at the bottom of the pot, burned just like the tag end of a pot of porridge in a cheap inn!”

The young bard continued to tell what Alistair would surely find to be highly embarrassing tales about him until Tate giggled, just a little.

“Alistair’s a bully isn’t he?” Victoria asked.

“That’s about all I’d call him in the presence of a lady.” Camden agreed. “Why’d you stop me?”

“I hate seeing a kid picked on, but I also know that if you interfered he’d just do it again, sometime when you weren’t around. And that Tate’d feel lower than a worm’s belly.” Victoria sighed. Camden cocked his head to the side. “My brother was bullied when he was about Tate’s age.” She felt her stomach clench.

“I didn’t know you had a brother.”

“I don’t. But I used to.” Victoria said staring down at her hands.

“Oh.” Camden said.

“Lady Victoria, Sir Camden.” Sawyer bobbed his head as he sauntered past. Tate barely looked up as he murmured something that Victoria couldn’t catch.

As if that were some sort of a signal for people to start leaving, the doors pushed open only a few moments later, spilling Peyton and Ren out into the street. The two walked along for a moment before Ren caught Peyton’s hands in his. Not a drop of romance in her, my ass.

After Emanuel and Kennedy headed down the dark street toward the town gates, Sawyer, Tate, and Jolene followed.

“That’s quite alright, Alistair. Jarrett and I’ll see Zahrah back to the barn.” Nessa said as the doors pushed open a fourth time. Good, I wouldn’t want to see anything happen to Zahrah, and I’m not sure I trust Alistair any further than I can throw him. Especially not after what he did to Tate. Victoria thought. Not that anyone had asked her. But still it was always good to have one’s personal approval met.

Alistair followed a moment later, a snarl on his face. Lastly Wesley and Fox, followed by Tiffany, and Lock.

“If you’ll wait a moment, Lady Victoria, for me to say good night to Dolph and Lady Heidi I’ll walk you home.” Camden said, twisting his hand nervously. Victoria smiled and nodded.

The walk back was more quiet than talk, but pleasant still. And then they were back at the house with the familiar lanterns and the scarecrow watching lecherously over the crops. Maybe it was just her but that scarecrow was creepy.

“Thank you, Sir Camden.” Victoria tried to curtsy, not that it worked worth anything, but she tried. Camden nodded then raised his hand, tucking it under her chin and lifting it.

“One, two, three, four, five.” As this was the seventh time in two pages Dolph had uttered this particular set of numbers, Camden looked up from his page. “What are you doing?”

“Pacing.” Camden’s eyebrow arched upward. “I’m waiting for Lady Peyton.” Camden could have understood (sort of) if Dolph were pacing while waiting for Lady Heidi, but as far as Camden knew, Lady Peyton was involved with the blacksmith and quite happy to be and Dolph was still head over heels for Lady Heidi. That meant unless things had drastically changed, the only reasons that Dolph would be meeting with Lady Peyton were completely mundane things, like new cups. And who would pace over a new tea pot.

Dolph stopped pacing and flung himself down on the settee. “Don’t look at me like that. It’s–complicated.” Camden looked at his friend.

“I want to–ask Heidi to marry me.” Dolph admitted, his cheeks taking on a flush of pink.

“What does that have to do with Lady Peyton?” Camden asked, stretching out his long legs.

“The only proposals I’ve had any experience with were a father sitting down with another father and hammering over betrothal agreements. Or a lass saying that she didn’t mind marrying the lad her father had picked for her. I’m fairly certain my previous experiences will not help me out here…” He ran a fingernail over a bit of candle wax that had fallen onto the table next to the settee. “I want to do this right, the way that Heidi would have been asked at her old home.” Dolph paused before adding “Only better.”

“So, may I ask why you’re asking Lady Peyton?” Camden asked, uncertain why of all of the women who were in Shadowcrest anyone would ask Lady Peyton for advice on proposals. Lady Peyton was a lot of things, a romantic was not one so far as Camden had ever noticed. Lady Jolene, he could see. Even Lady Tiffany, but Lady Peyton? She still wore trews!

As if he had read the thoughts that Camden had not voiced. Dolph slumped back against the cushions. “I don’t want anyone to know I’m asking. A secret is a secret between two, between three it’s in doubt. If I asked Lady Jolene to come here, even with you as chaperone, I’d fear Sawyer’s response. I don’t want to get into a fight with him. Lady Peyton, however, I could be asking her about any number of things.”

“And Master Ren will not get angry?”

“I don’t believe he would.” Dolph said. “There are too many logical explanations for why I might invite Lady Peyton.”

“Rap, rap, rap.” Lady Peyton called from the front door.

“Please, come in, my lady.” Dolph called back.

“I hope you don’t mind, I brought company.” Dolph and Camden exchanged a glance, he could see Dolph practically calculating what they needed more of to give this a legitimate feel.

But while the woman who followed Peyton was redheaded, it certainly was not Lady Heidi. Camden couldn’t help but stare for a moment. A bright fall of copper hair tumbled down over her shoulder in loose curls, brilliant green eyes sparkling even in the dim light inside of the house.

“G’afternoon, my lords.” Lady Peyton said. “This is Victoria. It was either bring her with me or leave her to listen to Tiffany’s plans for updating the walkway at the castle. Which she’ll hear about at dinner anyway.” Lady Peyton shrugged and absently swatted at her platinum hair.

“Oh, no, that’s fine.” Dolph said. “Greetings, Lady Victoria. When did you arrive in Shadowcrest?”

“Yesterday.” Lady Victoria said with a soft smile.

“Vikki, this is Lord Dolph and that’s Lord Camden.” She gestured over her shoulder.

“Greetings, Lady Victoria.” Camden added belatedly, closing his book.

“Pleased to make your acquaintance, Lord Dolph, Lord Camden.” Lady Victoria said, her voice a softer drawl more like Lady Nessa’s than Lady Peyton’s sharp angular sounding voice.

“So, what’s the damage?” Lady Peyton asked as Camden put his book back on the shelf. It would probably be very rude of him to spend the afternoon nose shut into a book.

“I beg your pardon, my lady?”

“Well, given the sick look on your face before you saw Vikki, I imagine you didn’t call me here to talk about plates, so why did you ask me to come by. And it better not be anything untoward or I’ll kick your ass further than Kennedy’s gonna kick Blake’s if he doesn’t either shut up and let Kennedy do her job or produce an MD.”

“Oh–of course. No, uh, I wish to propose to Lady Heidi. And I was–hoping that you might, perhaps, have some ideas.” Lady Peyton looked around the room.”What, may I ask, are you looking for, my lady?”

“The cosmic bunnyhole I’ve fallen down… again.” Lady Peyton said, Lady Victoria pressed her hand against her mouth and giggled. “Who in the name of Peter Pan’s floating panties would ask me for proposal advice?”

Dolph looked at Camden and mouthed “Peter Pan’s floating panties?” Camden could only shrug. He had no idea what she meant by that.

“Well, you at least know what Heidi would be familiar with, or perhaps, what she might wish for in a proposal?” Dolph said, sounding small and yet hopeful.

“Well, I guess I could run through some old rom-coms and see what I can pull out of my butt.” Peyton said. “Although personally, I was more a fan of shit blowing up.”

“But you can quote Casablanca perfectly, Pey.” Lady Victoria interjected with a laugh.

“Hush. We don’t mention that.” Lady Peyton pointed at the redhead. Lady Victoria smirked which just caused Lady Peyton to haughtily raise her chin.

“Well if we’re gonna think about something as dreadful as romantic proposals, perhaps we should sit down. Might as well not end the day with my feet hurting as not as much as my head.”

“Certainly.” Dolph said gesturing at the kitchen table.

“So, Lady Victoria,” Camden said. “How are you liking Shadowcrest so far?”

“Well, it certainly is different and when I saw the bathroom I almost cried, but I imagine that I’ll get used to it.” Lady Victoria said. Why was it that the bathing room was always one of the first things that the ladies commented on. A bathhouse was a bathhouse, wasn’t it?

“Is there anything romantic around here?” Lady Peyton asked.

“Has Master Ren not taken you to romantic places?” Dolph asked.

“Um, I don’t know that what I would think of as romantic is quite what Heidi thinks of as romantic. I mean we sometimes go down to the lake and skip rocks and fish. But I somehow don’t see Heidi find that romantic. Venice or the Eiffel Tower  it’s not.” Lady Peyton said.

“Well, what about a meadow?” Lady Victoria offered. Lady Peyton turned and looked over her shoulder. “You know something with trees and flowers and butterflies. Most women find that romantic.” She pulled out the chair across from Lady Peyton and sat down. Camden sat back down on the settee and picked up his book, though it was hard to concentrate on the words on the page.

What’s gotten into me, you’d think I was Sawyer. He thought, as he watched Lady Victoria talk, the animated way her hands moved and her eyes sparkled.

Still as he settled in that evening, after Dolph had made his plans and Lady Peyton and Lady Victoria had left for the evening, though he heard the conversation, and ostensibly had read twenty pages in his book, he couldn’t remember a word of what Dolph had said, nor a letter in those twenty pages.

He could, however, remember exactly the way the candlelight flickered off Lady Victoria’s hair, the way she flicked an errant strand back from her face. He tapped a quill on the treatise that King Lachlan had asked him to scan over, but his mind wasn’t on that either.

Instead he raised his eyes to the candles on the desk, the slow, almost lazy, way the wax slid down the side and thought of green eyes and a slow, steady hum, like that electricity that Lady Peyton sometimes talked about that seemed coursing through him.