Purely Happenstance (Torant)

[dejavu]

For more than a decade, since the inception of Star Hold, Sarai had kept a low profile. She was a familiar enough face around the Hold, known as an archivist, a historian, mother to that self-important little boy (now young man) Jaivery, but she absented herself as often as possible from the presence of her Lord and Lady. In all truth, her priorities had kept her too preoccupied to bother to catch the eye of either of them. Surely, there had been meetings over meals, busy passings-by in corridors and courtyards, but it was no more than her curtsying and hurrying on about her business. Ever demure, even then. But her son was grown and, in response, she had become tired of the tedium of ink-and-hides; she was ready to place her finger on the pulse of the Hold.

Or its Lord. Depending on one's perspective.

So, the combination of renewed interest in her own life rather than a sole focus on her son's had brought her to the fore once more. She was lately made a handmaid to Alsea, there to do the Lady's bidding, to dress and entertain her, to make her deliveries. Whether or not Alsea had specifically requested this particular delivery is questionable.

But evening found Sarai in Lord Torant's apartment with a purpose. She timed her arrival such that he would be most likely to make an appearance in his own rooms-- after dinner, not yet the depth of the night but late enough to at least pop in and retrieve something if not yet late enough to retire. The pretext was a simple one: changing linens. She had stripped the bed, sheets piled at her feet for someone of less importance to haul away later, lucky laundress, and was now tucking and straightening fresh bedclothes.

In crimson, in no hurry, she even looked the part.

[erasmus]

Torant was grinning broadly as he used the muscles well toned in his long legs to take the stairs up to his rooms two at a time. He'd have to school that look of pure elation and mask his expression in beginner's excitement and anxiety if he wanted to get the best of the arrogant fishermen waiting for him. Shouldn't be difficult at all, he thought to himself with chuckle as he entered his rooms.

The Lord Holder's focus on his upcoming dragonpoker scheming carried him to his closets, right past his bedchamber, without his mind registering the fact that there was someone else there. Torant unbuttoned the bright bronze tunic, quite like little Kand's coloration, that he'd been wearing all day and stood topless considering its replacement for a moment before settling on a gaudy, but well cut, teal creation with gold thread. He really should have changed before dinner, but he hadn't been able to find the time with that blasted beastcrafter blabbing in his ear all day about the numbers of this and that. Numbers! As if Torant cared for numbers besides those painted on cards! This Lord Holder business was more tedium than not these days.

With a snort in response to his last thought, Torant started to button his fresh tunic as he turned around to return to the dining hall. Then, finally, he noticed her. His hands paused on only the second button up, leaving his chest exposed, as he took the woman in with his deep blue eyes for a moment. She was gorgeous. Slender and small, but also just right, fine in dark red with tendrils of dark hair that played with the depths of her attire so well, and those lips! Those full lips that hinted at something, perhaps everything, that made Torant want to find out exactly what.

Beside the man's eyes traveling the length of her, their was no outward hint of Torant's approval of the woman's physical beauty on his expression of carefully cultivated surprise and amusement, or in his tone that portrayed the same as he spoke with a soft laugh, "Well, hello, hello. Sarai, isn't it?"

He quirked an eyebrow upward as he questioned her name. He knew her name as surely as he knew the names of all the women in the Hold that he found attractive, but there was more behind his question. More like why are you changing my bedroom linens, why aren't we currently in my bed messing up what you've just straightened, and faintly, why did I ever agree to get married. Torant slowly finished buttoning his tunic as he waited for her answer to his question, the question he had actually voiced that is.

[dejavu]

Ah, but Sarai noticed him right when he entered. One perfect, unwrinkled pillowcase dangled elegantly from her fingertips while her smooth blue eyes lifted and pinned to Torant. She took a step, silent, the better to watch him flat-out undress; how fortuitous. And she could appraise him just as easily, only her view? Was a little better.

Demure, Sarai raised her eyes to meet Torant's when he took note in turn; she wanted him to know she'd watched, betrayed it with the pull at the corner of her mouth that hinted at a smirk, but she wouldn't gawk. "It is, my lord," she answered him quietly. If he was already cursing his fidelity, the silk of her voice, the pillow soft quality of it wasn't likely to help matters. The quirk of her lips, so like a smirk, was at odds with the perfect little curtsy she executed, his bedclothes folded amid the fall of her skirts, a flawless reminder of her familarity with his sleeping arrangements.

Perhaps they were silent, but Sarai responded to those unasked questions with a long-held look. It was not her matrimony that guards her chastity, that had her making rather than dishevelling his bedclothes. There was so much promise in that last glance before she turned, every answer that she was not here by chance, that she knew exactly what thoughts flickred behind his eyes. But then it was her profile, her eyes dragged between those still-open buttons, skated up the exposure of his neck, tripping off his lips, landing on the pillow for which she reached.

"Your wife," with a blend of deference and superiority; Sarai was not his wife, did not presume to intrude on Torant's well-known affections for Alsea, but that was the point, wasn't it? She was not his wife. Hers was the promise of different skin, smells, softness. "Would have your bed remade, my lord, to answer for my presence. You seem arrested by it." Which fact amuses her intensely.

[erasmus]

Torant could hardly miss the extreme juxtaposition of her words and her demeanor. As a man, he was perhaps not usually so well attuned to such subtleties, but when they reached out and stroked his desires like a kitchenworker stoking the Midnight hearth how could he ignore them? He usually automatically responded with a request to use simply his name when others called him 'Lord,' but the tantalizing quality of her voice forming the word made him pleased that the title was his.

His dark blue eyes caught her inviting, tempting, bewitching gray-blue ones as she pointedly traveled the length of his unbuttoned tunic to his lips - lips that still yearned to discover hers, to deliver the spark of passion promised behind her eyes, to feel something, anything new!

Could she be his salvation from the crushing tedium that Star Hold had become? Yes, she would, she could. He could clearly see her seductive willingness in her mannerisms, and it became obvious that he was the one who had decide whether or not this temptation would be his.

As she spoke again, the velvety allure of her words dancing in his ears, even as she spoke the name of his much loved wife, made him feel his pulse quicken. By the first egg! Was this woman temptation personified? Torant could not be sure, but he was sure that he was just a man, just a man aching for something more than daily routine.

He caught the amusement coating her words, and quickly made up the space between them. He looked down to her, clearly enjoying the view, her scent that somehow seemed to offer the promise of more as well, and the proximity of their bodies, and grinned in response. Torant took one of her smaller hands, momentarily enjoying the smoothness of the fair skin that graced her body, and placed it over his heart on his still exposed chest so she could feel the quickened pounding of his heart, "Hardly arrested, m'lady."

[dejavu]

She watched. Oh, she luxuriated in every small reaction that trespassed Torant's demeanor, eyes cast sideways even when she turned that shoulder as if she would resume tucking in his sheets. To have captivated a Lord, to have undivided attention... It only helped that he had appeal beyond power, that Sarai could enjoy thoughts of the man as much as she could thoughts of the rank he embodied. If she was desire personified, then he was her ambition in the flesh.

And the flesh touched. Her small, fine-boned hand followed his without hesitation, the lay of her fingers against his bare chest. Her fingertips, his skin, her eyes lifted to touch his briefly before they settled on that first touch. Her smile held, her voice caressed with an intimacy that her hand wouldn't yet permit. "No?"

Because she wanted him to be arrested. She wanted his second thoughts, his will to betray, his longing for change. The pillowcase fell from her free hand, landed whisper-quiet beside his feet. She had lost concern for doing the chore whose pretense brought her here, all distilled to her fingertips against his skin.

Sarai's perfect lips parted slightly, her breath drew visibly. Either she was truly tantalized by this touch, or she was one hell of an actress. "What do you want, my lord?" It could have been such a cold question, a demand, a challenge. But, with the softness of her voice, with the caress of her eyes, with the fingers that drew against the open tunic with a tiny movement, those words were invitation.

What did he want? What could she give to ease that tedium? And what could he promise her in turn?

[erasmus]

((I apologize for letting your reply go unanswered for so long! I was caught up in the whirlwind of life for awhile there.))

Torant carefully watched her reaction as he placed her small, fine hand upon his bare chest. At this point, he would have watched Sarai at a task so mundane as boiling fellis for the healers, just to take in more of her.

He caught the almost imperceptible motion of her fingertips releasing the pillowcase, his pillowcase, without taking his eyes off of the hand that still rested on his exposed flesh. Torant wanted to take her other hand, wanted to explore the silky smooth skin with gentle caresses of his fingertips, wanted to have that hand invite his to feel her heart, but he managed to resist in order to answer her query.

The question was a simple one, but so complex and full of depth that it could take him turns to find the proper answer. He drew in closer as her lips parted and she breathed in deeply as if he were being breathed in. His heart seemed to pound beneath the flutter of her fingers.

Torant leaned in even closer to her, once more reveling in that tantalizing scent of her's, and let his lips briefly, teasingly, invitingly touch hers for but a moment. But a moment of ecstasy! That was it, the rush of the new, the unknown, the forbidden sending the blood rushing through his veins. He felt as if that bold contact had awoken his mind from a deep lull.

Torant pulled away slowly, his eyes still closed for a moment longer to savor the feeling of that new contact, before he spoke in barely more than a whisper, "What I want is simple" he raised his free hand to gently caress her lips with a single fingertip, as if trying to further imprint that first kiss there before turning his eyes back to hers, "What you want of me, is perhaps more complicated?" His words could have been demanding or accusatory as well, but the deep whisper of his voice, coupled with his actions, managed to portray the fact that he was ready to give in order to receive.

[dejavu]

((Don't worry about it. I'm working 60 hours ATM and had finals last week, so the respite was a-okay.))

It was the same moment that Sarai realized his intent to kiss her that her fingers renewed the pressure against Torant's chest, a touch that could be interpreted so many ways. Was it a feeble effort to push him away? Meant to encourage? To betray surprise? Elation? Desire?

And when he moved away, when his lips left hers, she drew her hand slowly away from his chest, let the tips of her fingers graze briefly toward the hollow of his throat before her hand found the curve of his wrist near her mouth. They were tiny movements, small touches, minute but evocative, promises.

Beneath his fingertip, her lips curved from the soft smile of a woman kissed to the one-dimpled smirk of a woman's avarice. His question lifted her eyes, eyes that could be at once demure and direct, met his from beneath the dark fan of her lashes. Yes, as much as this was by Sarai's design to come here, Torant had her; she could not have expected his boldness to this degree, not knowing the reputation of his fidelity, and she needed a moment for composure to return to the velvet undertones of her words.

"Is it not enough to do my faithful duty to my lord's whims? Should that not suffice as reward for a woman's efforts?" But her eyes held no lie: she was not a woman to tumble in a hayloft, to have and then forget. There were long, satin nights in a future with this mistress, pleasures that would not be given if only to be discarded. She would be Torant's cherished secret, or she would be another man's paramour.

[headwoman]

Alsea walked in and stood for a moment to acertain the situation before she cleared her throat, purposefully. "I would hate to inturrupt, but I must speak with my husband alone." She gave the other woman a warning glare. Though she turned her gaze pointedly to Torant. She couldn't help the tendrils of jealousy rising up to take hold on her heart. A flash of hurt passed in her eyes. But then she covered it back up quickly. Her gold firelizard came into the room just then and hissed at Sarai before landing on Alsea's left padded shoulder.