A/N: Hey guys. Sorry for the longer than usual wait on this one. Aside from the obvious annoyances of adulthood like working, I ran into a total writers block on this one. Only because I felt so much pressure to do it right, and I'm still not entirely satisfied by it honestly. But here it is, the long awaited chapter ten. I am quite proud of the poem I found for this chapter, because I felt like it so adeptly described the relationship between Victoria and Melbourne through my story. And where they end up.

Attraction

The meadow and the mountain with desire
Gazed on each other, till a fierce unrest
Surged 'neath the meadow's seemingly calm breast,
And all the mountain's fissures ran with fire.

A mighty river rolled between them there.
What could the mountain do but gaze and burn?
What could the meadow do but look and yearn,
And gem its bosom to conceal despair?

Their seething passion agitated space.
Till lo! The lands a sudden earthquake shook,
The river fled, the meadow leaped and took
The leaning mountain in a close embrace.

- Ella Wheeler

Chapter Ten: The Meadow and the Mountain

"What's the matter with you, girl? You look as if you've seen a ghost."

Nancy, or rather Eliza Skerrett while she was at the palace, looked around at Mrs. Jenkins, who was paying very close attention to some mending she was doing on one of the Queen's dresses. On a table nearby lay the dress of the day in which their Queen had been shot. The blood stain was dark brown and dried by now, but somehow neither of the women could bring themselves to get rid of the pretty little green number. It was a favorite of the Queens, but how could they know if she still wanted it? They could make a new sleeve for it of course. Skerrett had intended to ask the Queen about it when she had brought her dinner, but found her very much otherwise engaged.

She was struggling with the situation she had walked in on. It had been much easier to ignore her suspicions, but to have them confirmed before her very eyes…. Well, she knew enough of what transpired between a man and a woman.

Scrubbing at a pair of stockings, she wondered if this sort of thing happened with all monarchs, or only the young female ones. When the stain wouldn't come out, she threw the stocking impatiently to the side and looked for something else to do. Mending would be nice and rhythmic, something she could get lost into without having to dwell too much on the secret she kept.

"Ms. Skerrett," Mr. Penge appeared in the doorway to the dressers' office, formal wig discarded for the day and his usual aging lines of stress appearing more prominent after the frenzy he had had to organize that day. Eliza looked up at him in surprise, only able to recall two other times when the man had addressed her directly. "The Queen is asking you."

She stared wide-eyed at him, attempting to swallow the lump that had risen into her throat, which was suddenly quite dry. Mrs. Jenkins set down her own mending, and stood as if to respond to the summons as well.

"The Queen was very insistent that only Ms. Skerrett is to come." Penge and Jenkins were both looking at Eliza Skerrett in a way that made her extremely uncomfortable. She would give her left foot that this was about Lord Melbourne, but did her best to look surprised and confused. She had become quite good at acting, in any case.

Ascending the servant's steps to the Queens rooms, she felt her heart hammering away inside of her. She did not fear a scolding. Actually, she felt quite strongly that if the social hierarchy and monarchy did not stand between them, she and the Queen would be great friends. The Queen trusted her, anyway, which was as great an honor as any.

Entering the lavish rooms, she found the young Queen sitting by a window, arms wrapped around her knees in a childish pose. Her hair was loose and her dressing gown was discarded to the side. Upon noticing a new addition to the room, Queen Victoria stood and faced Eliza Skerrett with a smile on her face, greeting her warmly.

Descending into a deep curtsy, Skerrett found it hard to meet the Queens eyes. "You called for me your majesty?"

"Yes, there are a few things that I wish to speak to you about, Ms. Skerrett."

Nodding in response, Eliza awkwardly looked around the room as if she would see Lord Melbourne hiding behind the curtains engaged in a twisted form of hide and seek. He was nowhere to be seen.

"What is your first name, Ms. Skerrett?" The Queen asked suddenly, smiling kindly.

"Eliza, ma'am."

"May I call you Eliza?"

"If it pleases your majesty."

Victoria gestured that Eliza should come closer, and so the young maid did, wondering what on earth was going on, and if this were really her life she was experiencing. It was so surreal, to be talking to the Queen of England like an equal.

"Eliza, I know you cannot ignore what you saw this evening."

Skerrett smiled hesitantly, attempting to make light of the situation. "I don't have to have seen anything if it pleases you, ma'am."

Victoria actually giggled, and Skerrett noticed she looked happier than she had seen her in days. "I am going to be quite frank with you, because I need you to understand this first. The truth is that I am in love with Lord Melbourne, and despite his best efforts to pretend he is not, he is in love with me as well." Skerrett said nothing, not entirely surprised but unsure what exactly she could say in reply to such a statement.

Victoria walked closer, off handedly rubbing her arm just below her fresh wound. "I must obviously ask that you keep this secret for me, at least for now."

"I swear not to breathe a word," Skerrett vowed. And here they were, arrived at the reason the Queen had asked her here.

Victoria smiled, "I know. I think you and I have an understanding of each other, and I am quite lucky to have someone like you that I can trust. We obviously intend to try and go through all of this with the proper channels and protocols, but there is a chance we will be denied by the Privy Council." She sighed, frowning momentarily. "But I have been too unhappy for too long, and I refuse to deny myself anymore. This is where I have a request to make of you."

Eliza nearly laughed, wanting to point out to the Queen that she was at her service, and she did not need to ask, for she was duty bound to obey any order or request by her sovereign. Pacing now, anxious and restless, Victoria continued on with her dialogue. "Today I realized that my life could be taken at any moment, be it by assassin or fever or by accident. I do not want to wonder what it is like to be in love and happy with a great man merely because there are extra hoops that I, the Queen of England, have to jump through. My happiness does not matter to parliament or the people, or even mama. To them I am a figurehead without feeling or wishes or desires. But I do have all of these things. And what I need from you tonight, Eliza, is your help."

"My help?" Eliza echoed emptily, trying to make heads or tails of this long-winded speech. "Another letter, ma'am?"

Victoria shook her head. "No. Of course I will compensate you, not as a bribe but out of my deep appreciation for your help. We can settle terms if you agree. But what I need is a room, currently unused, preferably one in the opposite wing where a guest would stay. On the ground floor maybe, where it would be easy to get in and out unnoticed." She stopped her restless pacing and faced Skerrett straight on, looking her in the eyes with burning intensity. "And I need you to get Lord Melbourne there to meet me."

"This is a very bad idea," Melbourne muttered to himself. He had just paid off his driver to return to Dover House with an empty carriage, no questions asked. The driver had been instructed to to insist to anyone who should ask that he had taken the Prime Minister home that night.

Victoria had vowed she would take care of the particulars, telling him to wait for a half hour in the stables. He felt entirely foolish, acting like a much younger man chasing after a pretty girl. There were so many things that could go wrong; being discovered being the most obvious. Twice as many men than usual were guarding the palace that night, being the very same day an assassination attempt had been made on their Queen, not to mention all of the people who resided in the palace.

Melbourne's insides squirmed with discomfort at that very thought of how close she had come to losing her life, and he would be lying if he said he did not want to be at her side; if only to ensure her continued safety. He could only imagine a night spent lying wide awake in his own bed wondering if the Queen of England remained safely in her own. It would have been utterly maddening.

It was also not worth it to deny to himself anymore that he did not want this. Because the truth was, if you dug deep past his doubts, reservations and anxiety over the foolishness of their hasty plan—he was very much in love, and very much thrilled to spend an entire night alone with Victoria. No prying eyes, no carefully veiled flirtations and judiciously drawn lines they could not dare to cross. He had no idea where the night was going to take him, having decided long ago that Victoria was to dictate every step they took and when. He could not forget that while he was experienced with a marriage (albeit an unsuccessful one) and multiple scandalous affairs to his name, she had not yet known what is was to have a lover.

The stables were filled with a deep chill, and the stench of horses and manure so strong he slipped outside the door, standing in the shadows and gazing up at the palace, set prominently against a clear sky littered with stars.

He was contemplating what his excuse should be if he were to be discovered when the glowing light of a lantern appeared before him. He turned sharply, bracing himself as if preparing for a fight, when he recognized the face behind the light. The shadows from the lantern were distorting her facial features, highlighting the hollows beneath her eyes and the jut of her cheekbones—but it was undoubtedly the same girl that Victoria swore was trustworthy. He should've known she would have chosen this maid to fetch him. For one, who knew the castle better than a servant, and for another reason it would not have been wise tell another person their secret.

The girl curtsied quickly, and Melbourne saw the hilarity of the situation—being shown respect by a woman who was helping him covertly into the palace to engage with the unmarried Queen. "Lord Melbourne, the Queen has sent me to fetch you."

He merely nodded, gesturing that she should lead the way. They went through the stables, where inside the young woman – Skerrett, had Victoria called her? – blew out the flame of her lantern and then whispered, "we should move in the dark, to not attract attention."

He raised his eyebrows in silent approval of this idea, and continued to follow her. They entered the palace through a small door that turned out to be the kitchens, clean and deserted after dinner had been finished. Skerrett indicated that he should wait, and she walked quietly to a door, opening it to reveal a staircase, looking up into it, listening for the sound of footsteps.

She must have been satisfied with what she heard, or rather did not. Melbourne followed her lead and they ascended the stairs together, quietly and with the bated breath of someone who does not wish to be discovered creeping though a palace at night.

For another couple minutes he followed her, feeling like a person of espionage in novels. All the while his stomach dropping at the smallest noise, or perceived movement that was only the trick of light. Finally, the maid pushed open a heavy oak door to reveal a room awash with the dancing light of a lit fireplace. She raised her brows at him and smiled, and he understood that this was his destination. Slowly entering the modestly furnished room, Lord Melbourne stood quite alone, with only his ardent anticipation to keep him company.

Victoria stood facing a closed heavy oak door. Through a small slit between it and the floor, she could see the dancing light that indicated that the room was in use. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes, feeling foolish for the sudden attack of nerves that just came over her. Up until this moment she had been giddy with anticipation, ecstatic about this small victory, convincing him to be with her despite all of the obstacles in their path.

But now… Melbourne's age had never bothered her in the slightest. And in this moment it was not the actual number of years he had that was disturbing her, but the experiences that filled them. She felt foolish and so very young. She was a Queen of a great country, born from a long line of royalty, but the small number of years she had to boast of were filled with hours spent secluded at Kensington. She had seen nothing of the world, had done nothing except take her rightful place to the throne at the ripe age of eighteen years.

Now, nearly twenty, she felt as if she might as well be twelve.

Victoria opened her eyes to stare at the imposing door once more. If she entered that room there would be no turning back; they were going down a dangerous path and there would be no returning to where they had started. But she thought of who was waiting on the other side of the door for her, and she felt calmer. It was Lord Melbourne, her Lord M. There was nothing to fear from him, she knew it in her heart. And stealing herself with determination, she pushed the damned door open.

He was standing before the fire, hands braced on the mantle above him and leaning forward ever so slightly, giving the appearance that he was about to dive head first into the flames as one would into a swimming pool. His coat had been discarded on a nearby chair and the sleeves of his undershirt rolled up past his elbows, revealing taunt muscles that flexed minutely when he heard her enter the room.

But he gave no other indication that he heard her enter, and if she were not studying him so closely she wouldn't have noticed the sharp inhalation or tightened grip of his fingers. However she was watching him closely, and felt a rush of relief come over her when she realized that he was just as anxious as she was. Even with all of his years he had never encountered a situation like this; covertly meeting the Queen in a deserted room with no witnesses. A situation so scandalous it only seemed plausible if written on the pages of a novel.

Taking a few hesitant steps forward, Victoria wished he would look at her. She did not know what to do with herself. How does one greet a man being met for a secret affair? She thought about calling out his name, but how should she address him? William certainly, though he had never actually given her permission to use his first name, so surely she should call him Lord M? But at this point what should it matter what she called him, as they were both so happily about to sentence themselves to an afterlife in hell.

Instead of saying anything, Victoria merely sank down onto a sofa facing him. The vast room was only illuminated by half with the firelight, and she gazed apprehensively at the shadowed corners of the room. She wasn't very sure if a minute or an hour went by, she just stared at his unmoving form and felt more and more idiotic by the moment. Was she not handling this correctly?

Finally he turned to face her, his expression so infuriatingly unreadable as it so often was. He seemed to be taking in her appearance, much the same as when he had left her rooms not long ago. "You're still sure about this?" He asked her quietly, eyes critical as if daring her to lie to him.

Victoria nodded and attempted a smile, but it felt fake upon her face and she quickly dropped it. Slowly, Melbourne walked towards her, still staring at her with an indecipherable expression, and she felt so irritated that he gave no indication to how he was feeling. She was sure he could read her expression as an open book, and it was hardly fair.

He was standing before her, looking so tall as he looked down on her, and it made her feel small. Victoria looked away from him. "Please sit, you are making me nervous staring at me like that."

Melbourne actually chuckled, and it lightened the weight in her heart as she felt the sofa give with his weight beside her. One hand came to rest on her shoulder just above her bandage, and she turned to him. "How is your arm?" He asked her softly, staring at the place beneath her gown where her mended injury was.

Victoria shrugged. "I hardly feel it. But then, I had a rather large helping of wine before I came here…" she smiled conspiratorially, "… for the pain, you know."

He caught onto her implication and grinned in return. "The pain? I see. Not to help with anything else?"

"Anything else the wine aided with was just an added benefit."

Melbourne laughed, while both of his hands moved to her waist and softly pulled her to him. She settled against his chest, loving the way he encompassed her. She felt safe and loved, and they sat like that watching the fire for a few moments, before he broke the silence once more.

"It feels so good to have you here," his arms tightening around her momentarily, "especially after I felt that I may have lost you today."

"These things do give us perspective, don't they?" She murmured, leaning her head back against his shoulder to try and look at him. She felt him nod once. The issue that had been plaguing her since he stood by the fire came to her mind once more, and she sat forward to turn and look him in the eyes. "Can I call you William, or must I call you Lord M the rest of our lives?"

Melbourne smirked. "I am rather fond of Lord M," he told her as he pushed back an errant stand of hair from her face. "But as we are breaking a myriad of rules and laws, I think it should not matter if you call me William in private."

Victoria scooted closer to him; she was kneeling before him on the sofa, and brought herself up to eyelevel with him. "Are you nervous?" she whispered, placing a hand on his chest over his heart, as if hoping to feel it hammering the same jagged beat as her own. She could feel nothing through the layers of clothing he wore.

William stared at her intently for a few seconds before answering truthfully. "Indescribably."

"I cannot tell. You hide your emotions and thoughts so well it infuriates me. I wish to know all that you are thinking." Victoria exclaimed with evident frustration. "It seems hardly fair, you always know my thoughts so well."

"You make it so easy," he teased with a hint of a laugh. "Do you wish to know what I am thinking right now, at this moment?" He asked her, delighting in the smile she gave him and quick nod of anticipation to go along with it. "I am thinking that I am staring at the most beautiful woman, and I can hardly even guess as to why she has picked me to share her night with."

Victoria shook her head at him. He was full of flattery, when in reality it was she who could not grasp his inclination to be with her. But he did look quite sincere in his words. He seemed so at ease with the situation, and an uneasy thought gripped her suddenly."Have you ever done anything like this before?" She asked him curiously.

"Have I ever secretly engaged with a monarch? I cannot say your uncle was as obliging as you are, or nearly so attractive," he goaded her. She rewarded his jest with a playful swat.

"You know what I mean."

He studied her for a moment, contemplating his words. He breathed deeply, letting it all out in a rush of air. "You have to understand that I am older than you are Victoria, and have had much more time to make mistakes. This is a very unique situation, and anything I may have experienced to come close to this was meaningless bordering on idiotic."

Victoria considered his answer, a delicate way of saying she was not the first woman he had been with since his wife. She appreciated his honestly. It was not as if she were completely naïve, she knew the way men operated, even while they were married. But Victoria felt that Melbourne was not so much like the others. She hoped he was anyway.

"What makes me different?" Her question sounded much more self-conscious than she had intended, and she found herself wishing to take her words back. She didn't want to sound jealous or as if she was begging for compliments.

But he handled her inquiry with grace as he always did. "What is different is that I am so completely entranced by you. The moment I first met you I was intrigued by your independence and resolve to prove yourself worthy to a world determined to believe you incapable. And then, I began to find myself craving your laugh and your company, to hear you call me 'your Lord M.' After you so cleverly ensured I remained your Prime Minister- stubborn as you are considering even I advised you against it – I realized I would do anything you asked of me. Letting you down when you visited me at Brocket Hall was the hardest thing I think I have ever done, and I only did so because I felt it was my duty. And then," he ran a hand through her hair, freshly brushed and falling in soft waves to her shoulders, "you insisted I kiss you in that hall during the costume ball. And I went home that night and realized that without even noticing, I had fallen in love with you."

Victoria's breath caught. She had known he loved her, but this was the first time she had heard him say it aloud. "Oh William," she breathed, so softly it could hardly be heard. He smiled his unique smile at her, and bent forward to capture her lips with his own.

It began softly, lips just barely grazing past one another, nearly chaste. Victoria wondered at the incredible differences there could be between kisses. The night of the ball, and again at the dinner party, she had provoked him so insistently that they had met in a crazed crashing of wills. They had been desperate and pleading and fighting…. And earlier that night had revealed to her a kiss of relief, both basking in the kind of exultation that can only be found after avoiding the loss of life. But this kiss was all together different from the other three. It was born of tender passion and deepened love for one another. There was no urgency, for most of the night belonged to just the two of them.

Victoria sighed happily into him, leaning forward until their bodies met in a close embrace. Ever so slightly, she parted her lips to him, and he took advantage of her welcome. His hands were on her back, pressing her closer to him, tracing a path up her spine that sent a shiver through her, and she circled her own arms around his neck, one hand seeking refuge in his hair. Encumbered by her long nightgown, she shifted her hips side to side with the ultimate goal of freeing her knees to straddle his lap, when he gasped and released her.

One hand was firm on her hip, squeezing. He stared at her, and she stared back. "My gown is in the way," she stated into the silence that had fallen over them. Attempting to make her point, and trying to beat back any shyness she was feeling, she reached down and tugged the fabric upwards so that it bunched around her lap, leaving her legs bare.

That quickly caught his attention. His eyes gazed at the peachy skin of her thighs, suddenly revealed to him. And his gaze was so intent that she felt blush begin to creep up into her cheeks, unsure of the last time anyone had seen her bare thighs. His hands traveled down wards and began to delicately stroke the exposed flesh reverently. A chill traveled up her spine once more.

"Victoria…" he murmured. "How far exactly to you intend for this night to go?" The question was quiet and delicately stated. He made no eye contact with her, just continued to drive her near insanity by his continued caresses.

"I think my intentions have been quite clear," she whispered in return, and slowly she rocked her hips as she had when struggling with her gown, eliciting the same reaction she had seen from him before. He closed his eyes, fighting against some deep seeded instinct struggling to take hold of him.

He suddenly grabbed her hips to steady her; unable to formulate the words he needed to until she stopped moving. "I can assume you understand the risk we take?" It did not sound as if he was trying to convince her against their course of action, but she was positive he would not have protested if she suddenly changed her mind.

But she would not be dissuaded. "Are there not ways to avoid a child?" She asked, certain she had heard servants gossiping about such things before. But her words were laced with uncertainty, and not for the first time that night she felt the weight of her naivety.

"Nothing is fully effective, but yes."

"Do that then." She stated, snuggling herself closer to him. "I have decided what I want and I will not change my mind."

He chuckled. "No, I did not think you would. So stubborn…." He whispered, caressing her face and pulling her to his lips once more.

It felt subtly different, though she could not tell why. Perhaps the insistency had changed or just the fact that the last of his resolve to give her a chance to back out had completely melted away. Whatever it was she enjoyed it.

His lips parted from hers to lay hot trails upon her neck, making her mind cloud with no thought but for how great it felt. It was hardly fair; the thought occurred to her that her legs were so bare yet they brushed against the comparative harshness of his pants. Desperate to feel his own skin beneath her fingertips, she set to work on his shirt; tugging and untying and releasing clasps where she could find them. With her work being done only by feel and without the benefit of sight, it was slow work. But eventually her hand slipped between fabric, grazing against his warm skin and slowly moving up to broad shoulders to help shed the interfering shirt.

He helped, letting go of her to pull the sleeves off, and she stopped for a minute to admire him. He was the first man she had seen without a shirt on except for sketches in old anatomy books, and it was really an odd realization for her. But his chest was broad with lean muscle and she found it quite pleasing to look at, and even more pleasing to feel beneath her fingertips. She smiled up at him, and he grasped one of her small wrists, bring it up to place small kisses on her fingertips.

Hesitantly, he reached for the tie on her gown just below her neck, slowly pulling on the silken strings, watching her for any sign of reluctance. But she had none, and waited with her breathing coming in ragged spurts for the tie to come apart.

And then it did, and the neckline dropped lower, hanging loosely and leaving not much to the imagination. "If at any point you want me to stop," he whispered, "please tell me."

In response, Victoria grabbed his hand and brought it to rest over her breast. "Sometimes I cannot stop thinking about the last time your hand was here, over my heart. It was a feeling I had never felt before, and at night I dreamed of you here again. And now I have you here, please do not stop."

Suddenly she felt a hand on the back of her neck as he pulled her to him, colliding his lips to hers with such urgency she was sure she would bruise but did not care at all. He tilted her head back with insistency, deepening the kiss and exploring her mouth with reckless abandon. The hand already on her breast flexed, feeling so wonderful Victoria felt her back arching toward him instinctively, wanting more of this feeling she had never before experienced, and could not name.

Her gown was slipping down to her waist of its own accord. She had never been so naked in front of another person, and basked in the freedom of it. His own shirt long since discarded to the side, she pressed herself to him, craving the feeling of the warmth and closeness of flesh on flesh. They were gripping at each other with a necessity driven from primal instinct.

Victoria felt herself being laid back against the couch, and soon she was lying flat on her back, William supporting his own weight so that the majority of it settled where their hips met. They stared at each other, taking great heaving breaths. She felt burning in places deep inside her she had not known existed. Instinctively, she arched her hips up against his trousers, feeling firmness beneath the layers of fabric between them.

He elicited a mix between a grunt and a moan, closing his eyes and bringing his forehead down to rest against hers. Curiosity flared inside of her, wanting so desperately to see the rest of him. She reached down to the clasp of his pants, only to be met by a firm hand. "Not yet," he muttered, eyes still closed.

She startled a bit at this denial, but decided to follow his experienced lead. Yet she was unsure of what she was to do next. Laying there, staring at him she felt a little foolish, wishing only a little bit that he was as inexperienced as she was.

He sat up slightly. One palm came to rest on her stomach and the other hesitantly gripping the fabric bunched at her waist as if deciding his next course of action. And then he leaned over her, creating a trail of kisses between her breasts and down her stomach. She was squirming with need when his lips stopped their exploration just below her naval. He tugged gently on the fabric he met here, gazing up at her. "May I?" he asked her quietly.

She hesitated only momentarily, both excited and terrified at the prospect of revealing this last bit of undisclosed territory. She was well aware that he knew what he would find, but she still found herself growing wary. Still, Victoria was not know for her affinity for being scared off easily, and she rewarded him with a quick nod, staring at the ceiling unable to watch him unveil this last piece of her.

Slowly she felt him pull downwards, and she automatically shifted her hips upward so that he may continue unhindered. And then there was nothing but cool air and the certainty that he was staring intensely at her.

William was not particularly a religious man. But as he stared at the beautiful woman beneath him, completely naked and blushing from head to toe with the uncertainty of innocence, he found himself silently thanking as many deities as he could think of.

He could not remember the last time he had ever beheld something so perfect, and there she was putting all of her trust and love into him. Never would he feel he deserve such a precious gift, but here it was before him anyway. After a moments study, he noticed she was quite still and silent. Gently, he moved over her, supporting most of his weight on his arms as he drew to eyelevel with her.

"Victoria," he whispered, watching her determination to stare anywhere but at him. "Look at me," he implored her, placing one hand softly beneath her chin. Hesitantly, she met his demand and he smiled at her. "You are so perfect. You do not have to be embarrassed, you're the most beautiful thing I've ever seen."

She released a heavy breath in relief, and tried to smile in return at him. He could tell the stubborn confidence she had gone into this with was starting to waver out of fear of the unknown. Tenderly he kissed her, coaxing her back into fervency. She responded quickly enough, her stiff body becoming relaxed and pliable, her hips rising to meet his once more in rhythmic waves.

It was the most torturous thing to feel her pressed against him and he so desperately wanted to join her in her nakedness; though to do so would not help his resolve to take things slowly with her. Instead he slowly reached down to the warm junction of her thighs, feeling her still once more at his probing fingers.

He was met with hot wetness, and softly, slowly he stroked eliciting a soft moan from her. He continued like this and when she did not ask him to stop, he used a knee to pry her legs apart, giving him more access. Victoria's legs wound loosely around him, occasionally curling into his back in a silent plea to continue. Her eyes were closed, brows slightly puckered together creating a small crease in concentration, and bruised lips parted with heavy breathing. He watched her as he continued his ministrations, looking for any sign of discomfort.

One finger found her small entrance and slowly he pushed forward past the little barrier of virginity. Her eyes flew open in surprise and she jerked her hips back from him, but he was prepared for it. He reached up to cup her face, kissing her tenderly until she relaxed once more, and then he continued.

After a moment she responded, making soft noises of contentment as he tended to her with the aim of making the ultimate act less comfortable. Her small noises of pleasure egging him on, and he reached one hand up to her breasts, massaging and occasionally concentrating one tiny nipple. He drew it out as long as he could, but eventually he felt her muscles taunting and she let out a ragged, "oh… please." Even if she was unaware what she was begging him for, he knew, and he was enraptured by her response to him. Finally she found her release, crying out in a strangled gasp, hands gripping onto whatever they could find.

And then she relaxed, and he pulled his hand away from her womanhood, instead began to tenderly stroke back her hair as she stared at him in wide-eyed wonder.

"That was…." She started, panting as she struggled to regain her composure. "There are no words," she finished, looking at him like he had cast a spell over her. William smiled but shifted uncomfortably, his own body screaming at him for release.

Victoria watched him, eyes narrowed minutely as she recognized his discomposure. Her own hands began to move downwards to the source of his discomfort, hesitantly reaching once more for the clasp he had prohibited her from earlier. He didn't stop her this time, unsure if he even had the resolve to. Instead he helped her with the unfamiliar workings of men's clothing. Soon, he too was completely bare.

Her expression was near comical but it was lost in the seriousness of the moment. She was just staring at him, newly exposed. And then she met his eyes and he was surprised to find them wide with desire. She slid a small hand to the back of his neck and pulled him down to meet her with a kiss, all-consuming and desperate. All of the sudden they were moving with a quickened pace, rocking against each other and hands roaming, determined to cover every inch of skin.

William grabbed her legs, wrapping them around his waist, groaning of the feel of her pressed flush against him. He put pressure on the small of her back, arching her into him and slowly, ever so slowly, he entered her.

She stilled, an exclamation of discomfort echoing to his ears, but it sounded far way as if through a long tunnel. William was still, determined not to move but mesmerized by the sensations rolling through him. He couldn't focus on anything, needing to take one large steadying gasp of air into lungs that felt on fire. He collected himself just long enough to ask her, "are you alright?"

She did not move a muscle beneath him. "Yes… yes I think so." She whispered, eyes wide.

"Tell me if you need me to stop," he said, feeling like had said the same thing many times that night. But at this point there was no turning back, they had consummated a love unbound by the legal attachments of marriage.

William slowly began to move again, and she did not protest, instead she began to meet his movements, mirroring him. They met each other again and again, he judging his own actions by hers and finding Victoria to be just as eager as he was. It was mesmerizing, it was beautiful. The last of his restraint left him and he plunged into her with reckless abandon, and finally, finally found his release in an otherworldly moment of divine ecstasy.

Some time passed with the two of them embracing in complete silence, words feeling inadequate. Their breathing had long since normalized, the skin that was not flush against Victoria's felt clammy as his body heat dropped and the sweat on his skin evaporated. Inside the grate, the fire had dulled down to not much more than glowing coals. He knew he should get up to stoke the fire, but his body felt as unmovable as lead.

While his body was utterly spent and languishing in a simmering afterglow, his mind was whirling away. Conflicting thoughts fought for prominence, not the least of which was a constant rebuke of what he had just allowed to happen. But he was also so blissfully happy; a part of him feeling that even the punishment for treason was worth this experience with Victoria.

"Victoria?" he whispered, breaking the prolonged hush.

"Mmm?"she responded, sounding half asleep but moving a fraction in response to him.

"How are you feeling?" Emotionally, physically, he wasn't sure which exactly he was addressing.

She turned to look at him with a smile. "I have not been this happy in a long while. I did not think it was ever possible to feel this… content. Carefree." Her cheeks were bright with color, eyes shining with untold emotion. He was honored to be the one to give her that serenity, and to feel it in turn himself.

They lay there staring at each other. He was certain this was only the beginning of a long and hard journey with her—rewarding yet terrifying territory uncharted by anyone before the two of them. He prayed that above all things, Victoria did not suffer for the decisions they had made. William was prepared to do what he must to keep this magnificent woman in his life. However it was with an ominous feeling that he thought their days together were already numbered. The love they bore for each other would burn bright and fade fast, smothered at the whims of many nameless foes.