A Royal Affair - Part VI (NC-17)
“You’re really sure you have to leave?” Blake’s body was molded to Leighton’s as she bent forward in front of the vanity, trying to shimmy back into her corset.
“I’m quite sure, and I’m also quite sure that you would make a most awful maid.”
“Why would you say such a thing?” Blake asked in a pouting tone while her fingers swiftly unlaced all of the ribbon that Leighton had been awkwardly trying to tie for the past few minutes, and which Blake refused to help her with. She thoroughly enjoyed watching Leighton’s reflection in the vanity’s mirror, as her brow twisted and her lips cutely turned down in a frustrated frown.
Quickly moving around, the brunette grasped Blake’s jaw in a firm, yet yielding grip. “That’s exactly why. Now, really, you must try to behave.”
“I’ve been trying, but it is entirely your fault that I cannot.” Blake insisted, smirking while looking down her nose at the face of the half dressed woman before her.
“Oh really, and may I ask why?” Leighton’s hands rested on the curve of her bare hips, her fingers lightly and enticingly smoothing over her own skin. She knew a certain pair of blue eyes was carefully watching the motions.
The backs of her thighs met with cool, varnished wood as Blake placed her hand over her loosely corseted lower stomach and gently pushed her backwards. A gasp was close to escaping her lips, but was held by the press of the blonde’s mouth against her own.
“What are you doing?” Leighton questioned softly as her arms rose to loop around the taller woman’s neck, without any conscious thought. An effort to lift her onto the vanity’s surface was successfully taking place.
“If you’re going to walk about my room disrobed you can’t expect me to behave properly…” Blake stated cryptically and as she settled Leighton onto the furniture her fingertips immediately brushed the apex of her thighs, urging them to part.
The brunette had no will to fight the advances and soon the nerves in her muscles were quivering with sensation, as Blake’s fingers delved into the warm wet heat of her center. “Mmm…Blake, you’re impossible -”
“Shh, don’t speak. I have to revel in you while I still can.” Blake whispered, the edges of her teeth dragging against the shell of Leighton’s ear. And in that moment, she was powerless to do anything but wind her emerald clad hand into soft blonde hair and obey the suggestion, knowing that it was the truth.
*****
“I really wish you would have allowed us to take one of the carriages, Leighton.” Blake chided gently and adjusted herself in the saddle to sit closer against the brunette’s back. For comfort’s sake, she had insisted that she could wake a member of the staff to escort them back to the Meester estate, but Leighton had insisted right back that she could not see any amusement in that idea.
Tipping her shoulders back, Leighton giggled and cocked her head to look upwards at Blake. She playfully ran her palm over the blonde’s cheek, deliberately letting her feel the chilled temperature of her skin. “Am I to be scolded with my full name?”
“Yes, you are. Now give me your hand before you catch your death in this cold,” demanded Blake, although behind her stern tone there was a hint of laughter.
Leighton surrendered her fingers to Blake’s, finding that the heat beneath her heavy cape was much more desirable than the night air. Arms came about her waist and trapped her own limbs down with their weight, bringing them both into a warm embrace.
“You’re sure that you can make it back into the house alone?” Blake suddenly broke the silence that had settled upon them with a question that neither really wanted to consider.
“Of course, just slip past the guards, remember? Besides, one has to wonder if they’ve even noticed my absence.” Leighton stated with an air of nonchalance that could only come from years of being overlooked and regarded as a possession. It sent a twinge of sadness through Blake’s mind and she held the hand cradled within her own a little tighter.
Not knowing what else to say, Blake let her horse’s rhythmic footfalls and the quietness of the forest surroundings lull them into silence once more. The snow was dropping from the sky in delicate crystal formations, blanketing everything below. It contrasted beautifully in the ringlets of Leighton’s hair, as well as the horse’s dark mane. And every few moments, when the large beast would toss his head in annoyance of the icy coating, Blake would catch a glimpse of a hand sneaking from beneath black fabric to brush away some of the stray snowflakes.
“I like the stillness, when it’s just you and I.” Leighton whispered, supporting her statement in the manner in which she had spoken, like if she had said it too loudly she would disrupt the serenity.
Blake waited for the swirling evidence of the brunette’s words to disappear from the crisp air before sighing with empathy and placing a soft kiss on her cheek. “I know you do not want to part, but we must.”
“Why?” Leighton questioned, even while already knowing the answer. She was not so naïve as to not understand why, but she could already make out the familiar lines of her family’s home looming in the distant and she wanted - no needed - to hear that voice against her ear, soothing her into believing that everything would be alright. The tall blonde sitting close behind her could always make the truth seem much less foreboding than it really was.
Blake smiled softly then and resituated her reins in one hand to pull Leighton impossibly closer with the other, not leaving a fraction of space between them. “Because if I never brought you back, I could never whisk you away again.”
And then Leighton smiled too, as she heard the words and felt them warm against her neck. Just as she had thought, the blonde’s words made returning home seem just like another one of their schemes and not like something she had to fear.
“Fair enough,” Leighton expelled a breathy agreement, because when everything Blake had spoken of occurred even better than expected, she could not find the heart to doubt the future she promised.
*****
“You have to go back inside…” Blake rasped against Leighton’s collarbone, while she held her hips and pressed her back into one of the columns near the estate’s front entrance. “We can’t stay out here all night; someone is going is to see us.”
“Then let them see, or come up to my room with me.” Leighton challenged back, as she traced her fingernails along Blake’s scalp, conveying that she wanted more of the kisses that were being splashed across her skin.
“Hush, you know I cannot do that,” the blonde stated, an edge of frustration apparent in her voice. The leather of a gloved hand sent goose bumps over Leighton’s flesh as it moved upwards over her neck; fingers supporting her head while a thumb drew circles on her cheek.
When Blake’s face was visible again, her lips were glossy and full from the feverishness of their last urgent kisses. “I’ll write you in a few days, Lei. I won’t make you wait.”
“I am holding you to your words, because I am ready for my title of Marchioness.” Leighton teased, her deep brown, near colorless eyes glittering with humor.
Blake’s mouth curled into a knowing smile and she slowly nodded with gentle enthusiasm, before pressing their lips together in a final kiss. “I have to go…”
As she began to step away, Leighton caught her shoulders in a firm grip, fingers digging into cloth covered flesh. “Wait, Blake.”
“What’s the matter?” Blake asked lightly, her gaze softening into concern when she studied the seemingly apprehensive expression on the petite brunette’s face. She could still feel the hands at her back, yet their touch had begun to lessen in intensity.
Leighton averted her eyes and then brought them back up in swift succession. “I love y -”
“Not yet…” Blake quietly interrupted the beginning of the sincere confession, bringing her forehead against Leighton’s and her index finger against her trembling lips. It was too soon, though she still wanted to assure the brunette and let her know that she understood, but before she could utter another word both of their senses were filled with raucous sounds.
Leighton was suddenly frantic and a sharp inhalation combined with a startled choking noise broke into the previously peaceful night, as she roughly shoved at Blake’s shoulders. The echoes of rapid footsteps and maniacal snarls reverberated in the empty courtyard, and the blonde only caught a flash of fearful eyes before being pushed backwards.
“You there! Step back!” a voice was suddenly and violently commanding. The Baron abruptly materialized from the direction of the doorway, pistol in hand and another man at his side, who was struggling to hold the taut leash of one of the family’s guard dogs.
The cutting bays of the animal added to the sudden adrenaline pumping throughout Blake’s body and from her position behind Leighton, she grasped at her waist out of instinct. She had never taken into consideration what would happen if they were to be caught and now that is was occurring she could not gather her thoughts quickly enough to think rationally. Leighton was in front of her, arm outstretched in a weak halting gesture, and Blake could only guilty hope that the brunette could make her irate father see reason.
“Wait!” Leighton shouted, her voice pleading and unusually strained as she tried to distract her father.
“Out of the way, Leighton!” The Baron was swiftly advancing towards the couple and his hand swung his upward pointing gun precariously in the air. His darkened eyes did not even see his daughter, he was only thinking of the mistakes she had made and of getting to the figure standing behind her.
“Father, please stop! Let me explain!”
Blake could easily sense the panic emanating from the brunette’s body as the Baron drew closer. Her own hand was quavering in its effort to remain gripped over Leighton’s ribs, where she could feel the quick catch and release of hurried breathing. She tried to keep her stance rigid, like she was not fear-stricken, but her eyes would not leave the lessening distance between them.
“Stop!” Leighton attempted one last plea, sounding near hysterics, before her open palm collided with her father’s chest. She gave a slight shove to resist his pushing, but that was all interrupted when his hand came across her face with brutal force.
The chaos seemed to cease for a moment save the dog’s vicious growls and the hard drawn breaths sending clouds of vapor into the air. Appalled, Blake watched as both of Leighton’s hands were drawn up to hold her cheekbone and her glassy eyes reflected a new form of humiliation, of hurt. It seemed the Baron had even surprised himself by the peculiar countenance he wore while taking in his daughter’s reaction.
She should have been the last person to speak, but in her genuine concern, Blake was the first. “Leighton?”
“Don’t speak to her, salopard! Etienne, take her inside!” The Baron was spewing orders, but Blake was not willing to obey. Not when a lowly house servant had his hand locked around Leighton’s arm and was leading her - none too gently - into the manor.
In her own stupidity or maybe in her own arrogance, the blonde stepped forward, prepared to brush past the enraged man blocking her way. The Baron was not going to make good on the threatening weapon he held, there was no way he would dare spill anyone’s blood on the front steps of his own home, especially not that of a Duke and Duchess’ ‘son.’
“Leighton!?” Blake shouted, not receiving an answer, but instead a strong shoulder suddenly being planted into the middle of her chest. The breath left her lungs in an instant and both she and the Baron lost their footing on the slippery layer coating the stone surface beneath them, leaving them to tussle in the snow.
Blake found her back colliding with the ground before she could even brace herself for the fall, while her hands clawed to find the stock and lapels at the Baron’s neck. She had had the typical sibling quarrels with her brother, but the only thing that could have prepared her for having Leighton’s father’s hand enclosed around her throat was the adrenaline rushing through her body.
Her knee found the crippling area between the legs pinning her down and in a moment of sheer reflex her fist connected with the Baron’s jaw, allowing Blake the only option she had left - to run. To flee like a coward and leave Leighton defenseless against the storm that she alone had created.
*****
Leighton had raced up the staircase against her mother to find the safety of her room, and now sat against the locked door. A key was clutched protectively in her fisted hand and she could only hope that its mate could securely hold the door against the heavy, fast approaching footsteps on the other side.
“Open this door, Leighton!”
The booming order startled Leighton from her concentration, along with the strong rapping that sent vibrations through the door to be felt along her back. Metal grated past metal as the lock mechanisms were put under the stress of the Baron’s merciless efforts.
“Damn you, Leighton! Open it!” The anger in his voice began to increase from his last words being ignored. But it only gave Leighton reason to not undo the lock, for never in her life had she seen or heard her father in such a state; she knew she had gone too far this time.
Closing her stinging eyes, the brunette settled her forehead onto her bent knees, not caring what the repercussions might be for staying silent. She did not think there could be much worse.
The Baron continued with his onslaught until he either tired, or he had no other forms of abuse for the door and walls to suffer. With one final slam on the door and a deep declaration of rage, he hurriedly stalked away until his stomping feet could no longer be heard.
Relief was not what Leighton felt when her father eventually abandoned her to her darkened room. If anything, it only served in making matters worse for it gave her mind the time to process what had just taken place. Her father had struck her, her cheek was still tender to the touch, but all she could think of was the stunned expression on Blake’s face when she had called out and received no answer. And beyond that, she could not have known what all had happened.
Tears trailed steadily from her eyes and blurred her vision as she reached down to work her shoes off her feet. After the removal of the first, she eased her frustrations by listening to the shoe’s hard heel crack loudly against the chest of drawers at which she had thrown it. But once she held the second, she did not even have anger enough to repeat the action. She left the handcrafted shoe forgotten at her side and pushed herself to stand.
Reaching behind her back, Leighton fumbled with the ties and buttons of her dress, feeling much too claustrophobic to be swathed in yards of heavy fabric. Even if the lengths and lengths of dark blue satin were gorgeous, they had no purpose anymore. She jerked at her knotted corset laces in aggravation for a few moments, finally giving up after the notion of having no one there to untangle the mess became too much.
“Breathe out…” Blake quietly instructed. The fronts of her bare thighs brushed against the backs of Leighton’s as she kneeled behind her on the bed, their legs entwining between each other.
Doing as she was told, the brunette let her eyes flutter shut and her breath released in relaxation. Blake worked silently, only pulling the strings until they met gentle resistance.
“Tighter…” Leighton whispered, and then slowly licked her lips while anticipating the next tug.
“No…”
Leighton opened her eyes in confusion and turned around to see an easy smile on Blake’s face. An arm snuck around her waist, and soon she was lying back against the bed sheets again with Blake’s lips parting her mouth and their fingers perfectly woven together.
Trying to ignore the chill in her fireless chambers, the brunette curled up on her bed in her corset and stockings, not even bothering to pull the linens over her body. She then raised the heel of her palm to wipe away the glistening moisture beneath her eyes and wondered how she could not have known that something so sinfully right would turn horribly wrong.
*****
Blake could hardly remember the swift gallop back, the unsaddling of her horse, or anything else that had led up to her arriving winded and shaken in her room. She now stood before her mirror; a harsh flush on her face and cold, wet tears lingering on her cheeks where she had not really realized that they had been falling.
Studying her reflection in the mirror, Blake carefully touched her fingertips to the tacky dark substance that blotted one corner of her lips. She could not determine exactly when the small injury had happened, but the sting and irony taste on her tongue let her know that it was real.
The sound of porcelain clinking with glass was almost delicately musical as the blonde filled her wash basin with an unsteady hand. Thoughts pushed at her mind, but she tried her hardest to dispel them. Instead distracting herself by taking water into her mouth and rinsing the residue from her teeth, before indecently spitting it back into the bowl, where it swirled and clouded red.
Though, when Blake lifted her head again she could not deny the image staring back at her. Excess water clung to her lips and even after she had brushed it away, she found that she could not remove her hand. Sobs wracked her body and the only way to try to hold them back was to keep her fingers firmly clamped over her mouth.
Disbelief flooded her and nearly drowned her with guilt. She was not her brother, she was not a man, and she was just a young woman who had let an ignorantly absurd and selfish charade go too far.
The weight of Leighton’s naked hips was settled on Blake’s waist, just as the press of her lips was settled over her mouth.
The brunette’s kisses were teasing, allowing just a fleeting touch before her head lifted again. With a slightly devious smile, she repeated the movement until Blake brought her head from the pillows, trying to catch her in her retreat.
“You can’t have me.” Leighton whispered, holding her face just inches out of reach. Her forearms lied on Blake’s arms, where they were crossed above her head over messy strands of fair hair.
“Why?” Blake asked curiously, humoring the brunette’s playfulness with a grin.
Leighton dipped her head and shrugged her shoulder in a coy gesture, and in defeat, Blake closed her eyes against the innocent visage. Then, deciding that the woman beneath her had been patient enough, Leighton lowered her mouth to outline and tickle the edges of full lips with the tip of her tongue.
Blake murmured in amusement and then parted her lips for the brunette’s advances. As they came together, each could feel the soft exhales as they kissed deeper but were reluctant to pause. But eventually it became necessary and Leighton pulled away once more, giving Blake’s bottom lip a few languid nips and tugs before fully releasing her.
Upon reopening her eyes, the blonde was met with the sight of Leighton beaming widely, waiting for her to notice. She raised her hands to rest one on a smooth cheek and to tangle the other in the wavy brown hair curtaining their faces.
“I don’t want anyone else to have you.” Blake confessed in a hushed tone, looking directly into the dark, dilated eyes above her.
Leighton’s brow creased for a fraction of time before she smiled in return and carefully moved the blonde’s hair away from her forehead. “Then no one shall.”
Blake could no longer stand to look at herself and turned her body around on the bench in front of her vanity. Her fingers were still chilled and stiff, and it made it harder to remove her brother’s jacket which was now sullied with wetness from the snow. As she rid herself of the costume that made her everything she was not, she examined the remaining traces of one certain person that littered her room.
Two half filled wine goblets sat by her bedside that had been long forgotten in favor of something much more intoxicating. A forest green silk robe hung over one of the armchairs, most likely still scented with faint notes of rose water. The silver tray remained on the table, holding most of the pastries that had been originally placed there, except each with single bites taken from when she giddily insisted that they taste them all. The sheets and duvet lied in rumpled disarray and maybe under different circumstances they would have been inviting.
Crimson liquid clung to the glass walls of its confinement as Blake took one goblet in her hand, swirled, and then tipped the contents back. The cut at the inside of her lip burned in protest, but it did not keep her from taking the stem of the next goblet in her fingers and letting the tepid wine slide down her throat once more. Then, after replacing the glassware to where she had found it, she exited the room, closing the door without a sound.