PLANS ARE MADE
Blaine sat in his bedchamber, weary after practice at the quintain. However, it was not that which tormented him. The taste of that kiss occupied every aspect of his thoughts. In the practice yard, in the hall, in his chamber, it followed him everywhere, making him thirst for Chrissie. He ached for her presence, longed to hold her and kiss her, and more besides.
His body shivered and he tried, valiantly, to erase the thoughts that came to him then. Of Chrissie naked, her soft hair loose on her shoulders, her breasts like small globes, tipped with rose-red, her body soft, curved, and smooth as porcelain. It was all speculation, since he had never seen her naked, of course. However, he was sure she was stunning beneath those clothes. His groin ached and he groaned, clenching his fists, and then collapsed onto his bed.
“Chrissie Connolly!” he shouted at the ceiling. “You torment me.”
He smiled. He knew he was hard with longing, and had been for some time – every time he recalled that walk, he felt his loins fill with blood, his body stiff, and waiting to find release with her.
She had let him kiss her, and laughed, and twirled around in that delicate way that made her look not quite of this world. His soul was snared by her, his heart lost, and his body seeking her.
“Blaine..?” Someone knocked on his door, shattering the beautiful imaginings. He sighed.
“Go away. Or I'll skelp yer lug!”
There was silence for another few moments, and then the voice hissed again. “Blaine!”
Blaine recognized the voice and wished he hadn't. It was Theodor, his friend. The last person he actually felt like seeing this late on in the day. All he wanted to do was lie back and contemplate the ceiling and the joys he had experienced. Nevertheless, he couldn't very well ignore his friend. Whatever it was, it sounded serious. A moment later, his suspicions were confirmed.
“Blaine!” Theodor called urgently through the door. “I need help.”
Blaine grunted. He couldn't ignore a friend in need. He pulled on the door and Theodor, all long limbs and thin features, fell into the room. He caught the lintel and dragged himself in.
“What's the trouble?” Blaine asked casually.
Theodor glared at him, and, wordlessly, went over to a seat with injured pride. He sat down, glaring at Blaine again. Then they both laughed. Blaine closed the door and came to join him.
“What's the matter?”
“I'm hiding from Fergus,” Theodor explained in whispers. “I owe him and if he finds me, he'll have my head, so he will.”
“No, he won't,” Blaine sighed. “Lord Brien doesn't want people murdering his guardsmen. All you have to do is find Fergall the armorer and he'll settle the matter.”
“No, he won't,” Theodor said decisively. “I've done that and he said that, this time, it's my own mess and I have to fix it. I'm staying here, if you don't mind.”
Blaine shrugged. He went to the pitcher and poured cool water into a clay bowl, offering it to Theodor to drink. He took it gratefully. “Stay, then,” Blaine said evenly. “It's not like I have something to do, anyway.” He couldn't very well claim he was too busy imagining Chrissie Connolly naked, now could he?
“Thanks,” Theodor grunted, wiping his face. “I really needed this. I brought something,” he offered, producing a stone bottle which proved to contain ale. Blaine inclined his head.
“Ta! I'll get beakers.”
They poured ale and sat in Blaine's small chamber with the scent of dew drifting in through the small, high window from the garden outside. Somewhere birds greeted the sunset and Blaine found his mind wandering to thoughts of Chrissie.
“Good day?” Theodor asked, wiping the ale from his lips with the back of his hand. “Good ale,” he said approvingly, tilting the glass at Blaine.
“You brought it, not me,” Blaine chuckled, grinning at him.
“Well, I know,” Theodor laughed.
They both chuckled.
“Arrogant sod,” Blaine grinned. Theodor kicked him and they both laughed.
“Seriously, though,” Theodor said quizzically. “I haven't seen you grin like that for years. What's up wi' ye?”
Blaine chuckled softly. “You really think I look different?”
“Man! You havenae stopped grinning since I came in. I know my company's scintillatin' stuff an' all, but this is sommat excessive for that.”
They both guffawed. Blaine found himself pleased his friend was here. If anyone could be a pleasant distraction, it was his longest standing comrade.
“It's a girl,” Blaine said shyly.
“Chrissie? It is, isn't it? I knew it!” Theodor guessed immediately, grinning and pointing at Blaine's shy grin. “Well done, man!”
“Thanks, Theodor. It's not serious, mind,” he added, spreading his hands to denote carefulness. “I only kissed her. And nothin's been decided or anything, not really.”
“What?” Theodor stared at him, almost dropping his beaker. “You daft, man?”
“What?” Blaine asked, wiping his mouth with his hand. “Why am I daft? You're the one in here hiding from a creditor.”
“Oh, that,” Theodor shrugged. “I'm being over dramatic. Fergus won't kill me. Really, it's just an excuse to skive off and chat. But this! Chrissie kissed you, and you didn't ask her anything? You're daft, man!”
Blaine stared at him. He set his cup down carefully on the nightstand, leaned forward on his knees and regarded his friend steadily.
“You mean, you think I should have straight-out asked her? To marry me? Today?”
“Yes!” Theodor gave a slightly unsteady laugh. “Of course you should! Beat a sword while it's glowing, Blaine. First rule of metal workers. Don't wait till the thing's freezing before you try and knock it inter shape.”
Blaine sighed. “Chrissie's not a blade, Theodor. She isn't made of metal and I can't make her do what I want.”
“True,” Theodor sighed after a moment of silence. “Women aren't like blades. Which is no bad thing. I don't much fancy sleeping holding a sword!”
He chuckled as if this was a fine joke and Blaine sat there, feeling vaguely annoyed with him. If all he meant to do was make crude jokes about his spotless love, he could go away. He was about to tell him that when Theodor cleared his throat.
“If I was you, Blaine, I'd move now.”
“Why?” Blaine asked, still feeling annoyed.
Theodor wiped his mouth with his hand. “Because she was walking with that bloke in the gardens earlier. It's not like she's only got eyes in one direction, if you see what I mean, friend.”
Blaine tensed. He was fully aware of who “that bloke” was. It was Heath Fraser. The last thing he needed to think about was that, he thought sourly. He had also borne the brunt of his closeness with Chrissie for too long.
“You really think he's a risk?” he asked carefully. Just lately, though, it seemed as if that affection was more for him than for Heath. He had, at least, managed to convince himself of it.
“A liability, Blaine, a liability.”
Theodor looked as if he was a little drunk, and Blaine was tempted to throw him out, but he had to admit his friend had sense. He should at least try and talk to Chrissie more. If she did have affection for Heath and he her, he ought to know now. Before he built all these castles in the air.
“You know,” he sighed, “I think you're right. About moving faster.”
“Yes, I am,” Theodor nodded gravely.
“What's the time?” Blaine asked quickly, mind already looking to the future. If the family were still having dinner, he might have time...
“It's nine o' clock, or thereabouts, Blaine,” Theodor said.
“I've got to go somewhere for a while, Theodor,” Blaine said, already thinking fast. “If you stay here, then you should be able to avoid Fergus. In addition, you can let me in when I'm back. Good?”
“Very good,” Theodor inclined his head deeply. “I might fall asleep while you're gone. If I do, just knock very hard. I'll hear you.”
“I'll do that,” Blaine called over his shoulder. He left Theodor where he was, leaning against the wall and looking with unfocused eyes at something in middle distance. He locked the door, put the key in his pocket and headed to the solar. At least his friend was safe in there for a while.
When he reached the solar, he could hear voices, which was a good sign. If the family was still at dinner he could speak with Chrissie. He reached the door and peered inside. Five faces looked back at him. None of them was Chrissie, and only two of them did he recognize: Heath, and Lord Brien.
“What? Oh,” Lord Brien said. “You again. More hallucinations?”
Blaine groaned. Lord Brien, his guests, and Heath were all seated at the main table, feasting on the season's mushrooms and something savory in a pot. However, where was Chrissie?
“Um, yes. No,” he paused, shaking his head and trying to think quickly. “I was looking for Lady Chrissie. One of the men thought he saw her on the turret and I wanted to check she was safe. Is she?”
“She's not here, as you see,” Lord Brien said shortly. He was looking from Blaine to his guests as if he had warned them that Blaine was not quite well, and then looked back at him. “Do you need anything further?”
Blaine heard the irony in the statement and swallowed hard. Who was he, a mere guard, to disturb the earl's supper?
“Sorry, sir. No, sir. I'll go back outside.”
“Be sure you do. Next time one of your men hallucinates – dragons, nieces, mist, whatever – you be sure to send him to me. I am sure I can cure him.” He gave a thin smile.
They all laughed and Blaine walked out feeling as if he had been slapped. He felt embarrassed. However, worse than that, he was worried. Where was Chrissie?
He couldn't have said why he was worried; he just was. He hurried along the hallway and headed upstairs. He was not, strictly speaking, allowed in the family living quarters, especially not the wing where the bedchambers were, but Chrissie's maid, at least, had allowed him in. He went to her bedroom, the endmost one with the turret view, and knocked.
“Hello?”
Whispering through the keyhole brought no response, so he hit on it again and waited. After a moment the key turned. Ambeal, Chrissie's maid, appeared.
“Sir?”
She looked scared, and was already pulling the door shut. Blaine grabbed it and held it hard.
“Sorry,” he whispered, feeling bad. “But, Lady Chrissie. Is she here? I have to know.”
Ambeal stared up at him. “No, sir. She's no' here. I thought she was at dinner. Is she no'?”
“No,” Blaine said grimly. “She said she would go down?”
“She dinnae say so directly, no, sir.” Ambeal paused. “She was out riding. But she did say she'd be back before dinner. She said if she was late, she'd go straight there. So that's where I thought she was, sir.” She paused, biting her lip. “If she's no' there, then perhaps she's at the stables?”
Blaine nodded. She had to be. Of course. “I'll check,” he promised the maid, who looked worried too. “If I find her, I'll tell her you were worried. Good?”
“Oh, thank 'ee, sir. I am worried! Thank 'ee kindly.” She beamed up at him.
“Don't mention it,” Blaine said lightly. He tried to compose himself, but, for some reason he could not quite understand himself, he was deeply worried. She had disappeared after they had talked this morning, and he could not help thinking it was his fault. Why had she gone out riding, of all things! There were hostile troops about and the attack at Dunkeld did not mean they had simply gone away.
Running a distracted hand over his head, he walked quickly down the stairs. He headed to the stables. He ran through the door, panting. There was no one there.
“Hello!” he bellowed, feeling driven by some desperate urgency. Alfred, the stable hand, heard and came out of a stall, a hay fork in one hand, long face sallow and tired.
“Alfred!” Blaine said quickly. “Lady Chrissie? She in?”
“Huh?” Alfred wiped his hand down his face. Then, “No. She went out about four hours afore this, sir. Not back yet.”
“Didn't you think to tell someone?” Blaine snapped. Then he realized he was being unfair. It wasn't the stabler's job to take care of the members of the family. It was his.
Alfred was still looking up at him, and Blaine shouted to him. “Saddle my horse.”
“Huh?”
“I'm going after her.”
While Alfred saddled the horse and Blaine waited, tapping his foot with impatience, he knew that he had to get there soon. Before it was too late.