The morning sun filtered through the palm trees growing in the guest bedroom of Duke Lelheal’s villa. A small rain cloud hovering over the showerstones did its best to maintain a downpour upon the bathing elf. No matter how much the cloud produced, it did not seem to be enough.
Countess Ahmiiri had been in the bath for hours. If her bronze colored hair and ivory skin were scrubbed anymore, she would become invisible. If she were invisible, all who were near would still see what burned inside her. By all that was sacred, she was in love with a man!
In spite of the freezing cold water; the Countess could still feel the Baron’s sweltering embrace around her body. His tongue in her mouth blending with hers and his teeth upon her flesh! Oh why did she take that passion flower?
The Countess sought out the Baron to confront him for giving her so impossible a gift. She found him alone as he cut through the palace gardens towards the Gala Hall. It seemed simple enough. She would use her authority of station to command him to stay clear. That had worked with all of her would-be elven suitors.
She gave him the command and without argument, he agreed to do so. In fact, he apologized for he had intended to give the flower to the Ambassador as a gesture of goodwill. When he saw Ambassador Dallanhe already had a gift, he followed custom and gave it to the next person he
met; which just happened to be her. The Baron said he was just as mortified as she that the passion flower bloomed when they both held it.
Baron Hundredfoot remarked it was all quite innocent. The only breech in social etiquette was; him offering a gift to an elven female, and her accepting one from a human male. The fact that the passion flower bloomed was nothing to be upset about. All the early opening of thebloom suggested was the two of them were physically compatible, nothing more.
The Baron forthrightly stated that he was fully aware of her distaste for him. He had no intention of causing her further discomfort. It all was a unique coincidence and if she would forget, so would he.
The strange thing of it all, she was not yet willing to forget. She needed to know, was it possible the passion flower was wrong? Throughout history, epic events were set into motion by the portents of the passion flower.
The Countess had to be certain. She held the closed bud out to the Baron. For a moment he did not react. He then took off the bone-white expressionless mask and looked her in the eye. Without further hesitation, the Baron grasped the flower below her fingers. As soon as he touched the stem, the passion flower bloomed in all its fiery glory.
His brown eyes seemed luminous as they bored into hers. “What now Countess?” asked the Baron softly. “I-I do not know,” was her honest reply. With a smile that shined in the starlight, the Baron said, “Well in the meantime Countess, may I have this dance?”
And dance they did in that secluded part of the gardens, far from the prying eyes and waggling tongues possessed by the Gala guests. The Baron was a wonderful dancer! No matter the melody, no matter the tempo, he moved with her as only a long-time companion could. Dancing with
him was effortless! What made matters worse, gone was the cold, overconfident, overbearing human she so despised. When they stopped to rest, the two sat talking beneath the thick canopy of willows in the deepest part of the palace garden.
To the Countess’ surprise, the Baron was exceptionally well-read and educated. The majority of their conversation was in the highborn dialect of her homeland! He was familiar with poetry, the classics both elven and human, he could even sing! The only other male she could speak to
on such a level was her friend and mentor, Duke Lelheal.
Kindred spirit Ryman Ut Lelheal was, neither he nor any male until now managed to reach the purely feminine part of her. Often, the Countess had listened with disinterest as her female acquaintances blathered on of romance. In those brief moments with the Baron, she began to understand.
It was then the Gala’s Minstrels played a human song so spirited, no elf could resist it. Just as she started to rise, the Baron grabbed her hands pulling her to her feet. Round and round they danced to the savage beat of the music. When the drummers began their battling solos, the Countess was no longer pretending to be the savage Faerie. Her blood was aflame and for the first time in her four-hundred years, sweat flowed from her skin! The feel of it all was exquisite as she undulated every curve of her slender body about the Baron.
Whichever way she swayed, pushed or pulled, the Baron equaled her movements with the perfect amount of give or resistance. When the music abruptly stopped, deafening applause from within the Gala Hall echoed deep into the gardens. They both held each other close out of breath from the dance.
The Countess took off her mask, teeth bared in a savage grin. As if he had been challenged, the Baron flashed a grin equaling hers. “By the gods you are beautiful,” the Countess told the Baron breathlessly. Baron Hundredfoot smoothed the sweat plastered hair from her face and replied, “Beautiful.” He then lifted her off the ground in a powerful embrace kissing her mercilessly.
A knock at the guestroom door ripped Countess Ahmiiri from her remembrance. The Countess suddenly realized she had been feverishly diddling herself just short of a soul-rending climax. Vexed by the untimely interruption, the Countess yelled, “WHAT?”
An elven female servant replied through the door, “Are you alright my lady? I heard you in distress.” Suddenly, the rain cloud went dark and a stroke of lightning crackled inside the guestroom. The servant hastily fled from the door leaving the Countess alone.
The rain cloud gratefully dissipated, and Countess Ahmiiri stood naked on the showerstones feeling
remarkably unfulfilled.
Fortunately, when they came up for air the Baron prudently suggested they stop before things went too far. Though she agreed, she could not let go of his hand. He said they should go their separate ways. The danger of so illicit an affair was too great for either of them. Just as she was ready to hate him, he said the magic words; ‘For as long as he lived, he would treasure this night,’ and then he
was gone.
Now she was unable to sleep and would have to carry on as if nothing happened. The Countess was in love with a human! What was she going to do?
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