In Which Ceidrid Does the Easiest Thing

November 3, 1164

Ceidrid had lost track of how long it had taken him to work up the courage he needed for this task. For the life of him, he couldn't recall ever being so nervous--Ceidrid Wythleit was not ordinarily a nervous man.

On the other hand, Ceidrid Wythleit had never been an unpredictable man either. He'd always been easy-going and willing to take whatever life happened to throw his way, constant and compliant as an old workhorse, and in the eyes of others, probably just as dull. He never took action... never stood up and faced the world and told it what he wanted...

Well, there was no better day than the present--if only he had chosen to begin with a less difficult task. Taking a hesitant step into the dark bedroom, Ceidrid swallowed. "Uh... Evaleith?"

Her face unsettlingly neutral, she pushed herself from the mattress and met his eye. "Yes?"

Ceidrid cleared his throat. He had to do this; regardless of the outcome, he had to do his part. Otherwise, he would never even know. "Can I talk to you for a second?"

"What do you think you're doing right now, stupid?"

It's just her way of showing affection, he told himself, smiling shyly. She doesn't really think you're stupid... does she?

Evaleith tilted her head, a concerned frown twisting her pretty mouth. "Ceidrid? Are you all right?"

He barely heard her. He was about to do the most difficult thing he would ever do--he both fully and barely aware of her presence.

"Ceidrid...?"

Maybe I should wait a while--

The thought died as she wrapped her arms around him, pressing a comforting kiss to his cheek. "Ceidrid..."

A smile blossomed on his previously grave face; he had just had a revelation.

This was not the most difficult thing he would ever do--far from it. As her features all but lit the gloomy room, he realized it was, in fact, the easiest thing he would ever have to do. How had he ever thought otherwise? Good Lord, he really was just as stupid as she said he was.

And he didn't even care.

Choosing to begin with a smile, Ceidrid tried to remember the speech he had practiced by reciting to the chickens that morning. He couldn't recall a word... but that didn't even matter. "Evaleith... you've been living here for close to seven months now, and I think people are beginning to talk, so..."

She reacted with a mere flicker of her eyes. "Oh. So... you want me to leave, then?"

Ceidrid could have sworn his ears were playing tricks on him. "Leave?" he repeated with a laugh. "Leave? Evaleith, the last thing I want is for you to leave! On the contrary, I was going to ask you to marry me."

Now it was Evaleith's turn to be surprised. Her eyes bulged and her lips pursed, but her face betrayed neither ecstasy nor horror--at the very least, he had said it. It was her choice now. "Ceidrid..."

She trailed off on her own, at an obvious loss for words. He closed his eyes, then took her hands in his. "I know we haven't known each other all that long, and it's sudden and we're both a little young, but... well, I've been thinking, and I think we can do this if you want to. You know I had a good harvest this year, and my brother is a steward and my sister married a gentleman, so it might not be long before I'm a gentleman myself. I know you can take care of yourself, and I can take care of myself, but maybe we could both grow quite a bit if we take care of each other too?"

Gradually regaining her composure, Evaleith consented to meet his eye. "I'm not sure I'd be a great choice of a wife for a gentleman. I've been a prostitute since I was ten."

"I know."

"My mother was a prostitute too."

"I know."

"My father is a pirate, and he's been in prison for four years now."

Ceidrid almost had to laugh. "I know--and I don't care. It just doesn't matter to me."

Evaleith snorted. "Damn good of you."

"It never mattered to me," he assured her, tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear and running his fingers down the side of her face. "You know that. Anyway... if you need time to think about it, take as much as you need--or if you prefer, you could just reject me on the spot. I'll find a way to cope."

She took a moment to consider, sizing him up with her eyes, her frown deepening with each thorough scan of his body. "Hmmm... you make a good case, actually," she admitted; Ceidrid's heart made an attempt to break out of his rib cage. "I have one condition."

He raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"

Smiling slyly, she leaned into him, resting one delicate hand on his shoulder and two beautiful eyes on his own. "We seriously need to get you laid already."

Ceidrid chuckled. "What? Can't wait until the wedding night?"

Evaleith shrugged. "Of the two of us, you're the only one with a virtue to worry about--and you're the man, so no one cares."

"Fair enough," he agreed. "All right, my love--I accept your terms."

Evaleith flashed him her white teeth; it was an immensely satisfying feeling, knowing that she had every intention of flashing him a whole lot more. Regularly. As long as they both lived. "Then we have a deal. Now, less talk--more taking off your pants."

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