burning through your darkest nights

i am clairac, reeve of commerce and brother to our good knight, lord merek.

[ysabellebelot-blog]

As the night proceeded, Ysabelle let herself wonder into the center of the crowd. Mainly because her feet were getting tired of simply standing in one place and also, because her stomach was already growling. She had spent too much time making these appetizers she thought it would be unfair if she didn’t taste them. Moving through the crowd, she tried to keep her head low and blend in. If she went the night without talking to anyone else she would call this her lucky night, but as usual, she was unlucky. As she passed through the dancing crowd, she felt someone grab her, pushing her to dance with them. “W-What are you doing?” 

[clairac-tristam]

Clairac had, regrettably, been caught up with business on a night he'd hoped to escape such obligations. Discussing such matters while his mind wandered to the ball -- and the woman he'd asked to accompany him -- proved to be quite difficult, but the Reeve did his best to rush the conversation along as quickly as he could afford to. When he was at least freed, Clairac hastily secured the mask over his eyes and walked bristly to the ballroom. It was filled to bursting with partygoers, music, and food. A truly marvelous occasion, but he had only one destination in mind. He knew what she'd be wearing, considering he'd procured the gown for her, and it wasn't too long before he caught Ysabelle making her way through the crowd. He reached for her hand and pulled her in, an arm wrapping securely around her waist as he led her into a dance. "I am dancing with the most beautiful belle of the ball," he answered, placing an uncharacteristically gentle kiss to her cheek. "Sincerest of apologies for my tardiness, m'lady."

[clairac-tristam]

hey everyone, just wanting to apologize for my lame activity the last couple days. work is crazy again, and i'm actually going out of town tonight, so i won't be on much (if at all) until i return saturday night. soooowwwyyyyy <3

[ysabellebelot-blog]

Slowly her moans turned into growls that build up from deep within her chest. Her patience was running thin as he pushed deeper into her. Her walls stretching out, making room for him. Ironically, the teasing, the frustration just turned her on even more. The gentleness was still there but Ysabelle simply wanted him to move. To feel him against her skin. She needed him, even though she refuse to admit it. The servant lips parted as she felt him pull out, her body already prepare for what was coming. Her legs tensing up from the tension and when he pushed in she let out a moan full of ecstasy. Her body loving the feeling of him filling her up once more. His pace was deliciously slow. Pulling out of her slowly, making her wait before pushing back in harshly. Her moans growing louder with each thrust. Whimpers being silence by his lips as she met his kiss with the same need behind it. Pleasure taking over her emotions and just for that moment she could ignore the hate she felt for this man. Her fingers tightening around him, just as her free fingers found their way into his hair. Holding on for what seem her life. Eventually the powerless feeling got the better of her and she began to try to move her hips with his, even though his steady hand was holding on to her. Her sounds of pleasure growing louder and harsher as she grew closer to her climax point. 

[clairac-tristam]

They moved together with more fluidity than they ever had, each one anticipating the other's every move, every sound. Ysabelle's moans and whimpers of pleasure were absolutely intoxicating, more so than the wine, and Clairac was happily drowning in her. The fingers in his hair were heaven and the man groaned softly, turning his head enough to brush his lips along the inside of her wrist. A silence gesture of appreciation, for having his hair played with was one of his secret weaknesses. It did nothing but add to every sensation, every bolt of electricity that coursed deliciously through his body. He was aching with need for her, to be as close as possible, to simply disappear inside her. As the heat in his abdomen steadily grew, Clairac moved a little faster, a little harder. His thrusts grew in intensity, in passion, and the Reeve was certain he couldn't have remembered his own name in this moment. All he could feel, think, hear was her. Ysabelle. The hand on her hip moved, skimmed up to brush headily over a pert nipple before diving down again. His desire to touch everywhere at once was maddening, but Clairac settled with his fingertips at her mound, slipping easily over her clit with her wetness. An impassioned sort of growl rumbled in his chest as he rubbed her, thrusting into her mercilessly now with the need to bring them both to the edge of their ecstasy.

[ysabellebelot-blog]

Suddenly the pleasure in Ysabelle peaked as his hands began to explore with more greed. Her breathing hitching as she tried to not show any signs of pleasure. It was obvious that she was enjoying the attention his hands were giving her but her pride told her it was wrong. She felt betrayed by how her body responded with just a small touch from him. How her nipple hardened underneath his hold, wanting more. His lips moving to her neck elicited a small moan from her. Her mind focused on his lips tracing a repetitive line along her neck that when his fingers began teasing her sex she gasped loudly. Suddenly it seemed like every nerve in her body was focused on the apex of her thighs. Ysabelle flushed at how wet she was getting under his fingers. His teasing fingers leaving her wanting for more that whenever he came close to entering her and didn’t a small whimper would leave her lips. She wanted him inside her but she didn’t dare utter such words. Ysabelle knew she would just be giving him more power. Her whimpers mixed with moans became more aggressive as his assault continue. Her back arching off the bed as her body searched for some friction. The young girl didn’t know how much longer she could hold on under his expert fingers, that were making her lose control. 

Her hands that had been digging into his back were pinned down so fast she didn’t even noticed. Opening her eyes just in time to feel him slide into her. Ysabelle had been waiting for this feeling for what seem too long that a moan shakes free from her lips, no matter how hard she tried to hold it back. Stretching her out and filling her up. Ysabelle legs wrapping around him, attempting to push him in deeper. “Clairac” His name falling from her lips like a prayer before she could stop it. The servant girl felt powerless under him; pinned down, his lips on her neck and him bury deep inside her. A small whimper was the last thing she let slip from her lips before she began to attempt to move underneath him. 

[clairac-tristam]

The way she squirmed anxiously beneath him had Clairac's possessiveness over her flaring heatedly inside his veins. His teeth scraped against her neck, fingers squeezing hers a little tighter with every display of wanting for him. Ysabelle was beautiful, in every way possible. Clairac had always thought so. But she had never been more breathtaking than she was in this moment, writhing beneath him, breathing out his name. Slender legs wrapped around his hips, pulled him closer, and the Reeve gave in generously. He pushed up, rocked down against her in an attempt to reach even deeper. And when Clairac had tested not only Ysabelle's patience, but his own as well, he began moving. One hand released hers in order to move to her hip, holding her still as his own hips lifted away from her. With nothing but his tip inside her, Clairac stopped, paused, then thrust forward with precision. The rhythm he developed was slow but steady, an agonizing pace of pulling out slow and pushing in hard and deep. He breathed her name again, muttered the syllables so quietly that he could have been whispering a prayer. And as he continued to move with her, Clairac once again found her lips, kissing her as deeply as he penetrated her.

[ysabellebelot-blog]

In all the three years she had been forced into this same position Clairac had never touched her with such tenderness. Their lips moving in unison and both of their hands exploring each other body. Everything was different and for just this little while, it felt normal. Ysabelle no longer felt like she was just being fucked senseless for his own pleasure. The servant girl didn’t know what had caused this change and a part of her was afraid. Afraid that she was actually enjoying it, though she told herself because it reminded her of Jondar. Afraid of the softness his voice held as he utter her name. How his travelling hand made her squirm as he held on to her breast gently. This was not the cruel man she had met so many years ago. It frightened her even more. She couldn’t help but wonder if this was all a game and she was losing. 

[clairac-tristam]

His thumb brushed slowly over the peak of her breast, calling it to attention beneath his touch while his lips left hers in order to breathe. His kisses fell back to her neck, drawing invisible lines from her ear to her shoulder. Something here had changes, and he was certain Ysabelle could feel it just as strongly as he could. But instead of dwelling on it now, Clairac continued on, reasoning that his doubts could find him later, when he was alone. Growing more and more desperate to be with her, the man reached between their bodies, fingers sliding over her mound with a testing touch. He met her heat, releasing a grumble of pleasure at the fact that her arousal was plentiful. For a moment longer, Clairac teased her with his touch, fingertips circling her entrance without the satisfaction of actually dipping inside. And when he was certain Ysabelle was ready, he found her hands, laced their fingers together and pinned them gently to the bed on either side of her head. Still burrowed against the side of her neck, Clairac let his hips fall, sinking into her warmth with a low groan that rumbled from the depths of his chest. Their bodies met, pressed flush together as he buried himself inside her completely. And there he stayed, giving Ysabelle the chance to adjust to his size as he tenderly kissed along the line of her jaw.

[ysabellebelot-blog]

Everything felt different this time around. Not only his kiss but simply his hands on her. After pushing his shirt off him she let him push her into the bed, going down without a fight. Voluntarily she cradle hims between her legs, her lips never attempting to break away from his. Everything about his actions began to heat up Ysabelle; The way his hands ran over her body like they couldn’t get enough. How his mouth never left hers unless to breathe. The young servant felt desired by this powerful man and just like it made her weak it gave her power. It gave her courage enough to let her hands begin to travel down his back. That whenever they broke away from the kiss she would restore to kissing his neck. She was intoxicated with his touch and she couldn’t get enough. His hands leaving her wanting for more. She hated herself for feeling such way but nevertheless, she let his touch control her. Ysabelle began to get lost into his kiss, her breathing growing heavier. Her hands beginning to shape every muscle of his well-built body. 

[clairac-tristam]

For the first time since he'd brought her to the manor three years ago, this felt perfectly consensual, and Clairac found that he liked it that way. Maybe even preferred it. Ysabelle's hands skimmed along the shifting muscles of his back, brought a warmth to him that the man hadn't even realized he was missing until now. "Ysabelle," he breathed quietly against her lips, though he didn't dare open his eyes. Clairac wasn't a soft man, he didn't do emotion and when he slept with women, it sure as hell wasn't making love. But something about this encounter was intrinsically different, and Clairac was equal parts afraid to lose it and scared to look it in the eye. One hand dragged slowly up her satine skin, settled over the swell of her generous breast and held it gently. She was his, completely... even if just for this one night.

[littletyrell]

"Does the good Lord Tristam find things laughable?" She inquired with a light touch of humor in her tongue, glancing back to Clairac with a small smirk on her lips. "I can scarcely recall his smiles, let alone laughter. Though I suppose he does not enjoy my company." Aline refused to relent on her inquisition regarding who he was being accompanied by. “Is she unable to choose one of her own accord? I cannot fathom what I might wear if I left the choice to Seagarus.”

[clairac-tristam]

"Fortunately for me, my timeline with Merek is much longer than yours," Clairac reasoned simply with a shrug of his shoulders. "We shared much laughter as children, as young boys often do." Of course, those days were long gone, and Aline was right -- even Merek's smiles were rare. Clairac grit his teeth as the lady insisted upon asking about his date to the ball, but he grinned and found her gaze. "I promised my lady an extravagant gown that is befitting of her extravagant beauty. It is my pleasure to treat her to such a gift." Which was something Clairac never would have been caught saying three years ago. Lord help him...

[melodiebeaumont-deactivated2014]

"I would have thought the excitement would have come when you took off the dress, Clairac." She teased, remembering his name. Melodie was no fool. She knew of her fellow Reeve favorite pass-time. It wasn’t an uncommon one to hear about among the other Ladies gossip. Smirking she cleared her throat. "I’m joking.I have a personal woman that weaves my clothing. If not, then there are plenty of common woman who will be honor to make you a dress. Personal opinion, get it done with silk. It’s a beautiful type of cloth. You want to go all out, get her a fury cape to go with it. It does get chilly during this time of year." The Reeve gave her opinion to him. Melodie may not be the type of person to ponder much about what she would wear to a silly ball but she was raise to look like a Lady. Though the curiosity of who Clairac was taking her kept eating at her. "But believe it or not, the type of dress you get depends on the ones who’s wearing it. Especially when it comes to Masquerade balls. The dress must reflect something of the person wearing it since it’s the only thing people will see. What’s the girl like?"

[clairac-tristam]

"Well, that is a given, of course," Clairac replied with a cocky grin and a wink to match. The number of women he took to bed was no secret to the inhabitants of the Manor, and quite frankly, Clairac didn't care. There were far worse reputations to have, after all. When Melodie began to list off different options and the types of details who should pay attention to when having the dress made, Clairac's attention focused and he listened with rapt attention. He nodded here and there, showing his understanding without fully knowing about anything she spoke of. Not at all surprisingly, the other Reeve once again turned the topic of conversation back onto his date, and Clairac sighed, looking away again. "She is the most beautiful girl I have ever laid eyes on, m'lady," he admitted without a hint of hesitation. "She is strong, a fierce individual with a fire in her eyes that I... that I have never seen rivaled," Clairac explained, letting his gaze fall on Melodie once more. "I am quite certain that she could attend the ball wearing not but a potato sack and still turn heads."

[ysabellebelot-blog]

Ysabelle cursed herself for letting her pleasure get the better of her when she felt his grin against her skin. She felt weak and helpless under his touch. The servant hated this powerless feeling but even then, her body reacted positively to his lips on her neck. Their continuous assault making her muscles clench once more. Her breathing was heavy as she let him dispose of her slip without a fight. She was lost in the feeling of his hands roaming her body with greed. The feeling of his tongue against her warm neck was intoxicating.

                                                       She was his and he knew it.

Small gaps escaped her parted lips as his hands glided over chest. The sound of his groan against her pale skin sending shivers down her body and making the muscles in her womanhood clench deliciously. Lust over-taking her as she loved what her body did to this powerful man. By now it was getting easier to ignore the disgust for him as her mind and body were flooded with pleasure. When he pulled away her eyes sprung open, immediately hating the distance between them but at the same time glorifying over it because it gave her a chance to think straight. “My Lo-” She spoke breathlessly as he spun her around but was cut short by his lips on hers. Ysabelle had to admit, she had never been kissed like this before. At least not from him. Before she had felt like a play thing. Something to simply help him pass time but the emotion behind the kiss took her by surprise. She actually felt—wanted. For a split moment she let this feeling consume her as she kissed him back and moan against his mouth. Ysabelle hated what his kisses did to her. She knew that what she felt was wrong but it felt so right. But she had to remind herself as her hands glided up his chest to cup his face that she meant nothing to him. That he was a heartless monster that had taken everything from her. Eventually she pulled away from the kiss. Panting she looked up at him through her eyelashes, her hands already lowering themselves to help him get rid of his undershirt. The faster she got this over with the faster she could retreat to her own small room. 

[clairac-tristam]

Truth be told, he was getting a lot more out of this than he ever had before. While Ysabelle had never been particularly receptive of his sexual advances, she always seemed to enjoy herself well enough. But this time, it seemed as though she was actively participating, and Clairac knew it wasn't just the wine doing crazy things to head head. She touched him freely, of her own accord, and the man felt himself reacting more strongly than he ever had with her. What a strange occurrence... What a palpable difference this was in comparison to every other time Ysabelle had graced his chambers with her presence. A part of him knew that he should have been wary of such affections from her -- not because Ysabelle was a servant, but because of his own feelings towards the girl. What had started out as a mere attraction had progressed to infatuation, which had quickly led to an almost dangerous obsession. That very attachment to her rumbled in Clairac's chest now, the sound a contented purr as Ysabelle pushed the shirt up his body. The Reeve lifted his arms above his head, assisted in getting rid of the garment so that the next time he pulled the girl against him, they were skin to skin. His arousal was mounting quickly, the proof of his attraction growing stiff between their bodies as he guided Ysabelle to the bed and carefully lowered them both to the tousled sheets. She fit beautifully beneath him -- Clairac had always thought so, and he made quick work of settling gently between her fair thighs. Though their mouths remained fused in a heated kiss, his hands were everywhere at once, tracing over every inch of her naked body as if attempting to memorize every detail, every curve, every freckle...

[ysabellebelot-blog]

Ysabelle could only see his feet getting closer to her before she felt his hands on her body. The gentleness taking her by surprise. Her body immediately tensing up as she was foreign to this type of touch that calmed her down. Ysabelle had a wild heart, one that needed taming and that was why she missed Jondar soft touches. They calmed down the fire within her and Clairac touch was doing just that. She hated it. But that didn’t matter, she was here to please him. Her body was his and the worst part was, that her body enjoy it. In that moment, with his hands gently on her body, Ysabelle actually thought that there was a part of him that was human. His lips on her shoulder causing her eyes to slowly close. Involuntarily, she leaned her head to the side, inviting him to kiss her neck as she pressed her body to his. Ysabelle refuse to admit that she missed his lips on her skin. She couldn’t; this man had ripped her away from her family. She could have had a happy life with her father and Jondar. She could have had it all but instead she was in the Manor. Where her future depended on if she could please the man behind her. Letting out a small sigh of pleasure she forced herself to lift her arm and curl it behind her to caress him. Hoping this gentleness would last, though she didn’t know from where it had derived. One would have thought that the time Clairac had gone without Ysabelle would have made him impatient.

[clairac-tristam]

The sound that fell from Ysabelle's lips was one of genuine pleasure. He could hear the sincerity in it, could all but feel the sound vibrating in her chest. It was real, and it was clearer than ever that no matter how much Ysabelle told herself she didn't want this, her body liked it. Clairac knew how to play her like fine-tuned instrument and the man grinned against her skin, pleased with the fact that this woman was his. Ysabelle tipped her head to the side, a blatant offering that the Reeve accepted readily. His lips traced a heated line up the elegant curve on her neck, stopping to pay special attention to her pulse point. Her heartbeat thrummed against his tongue and Clairac groaned softly, the sound emitting from deep within his chest. He reached for the hem of her slip, dragged the light material up her body and over her head, tossing the garment aside with no care at all. Bare before him now, Clairac let his hands roam greedily over her body, fingers gliding from her hips to her navel, up the front of her torso and across her chest. Satisfied with the attention he'd paid to her neck, the man gently urged Ysabelle to turn in his arms. He didn't give her a second's moment to doubt before his lips found hers in a wanting kiss that spoke volumes of his growing attraction to her.

[ysabellebelot-blog]

Ysabelle didn’t understand Clairac; One minute he was making her feel like trash by letting her know he didn’t wish people to know he was attending with her to the ball and the next minute he was whispering into her ear that she was worth the trouble. Ysabelle decided that she was only worth the trouble when it came to bed, though she still didn’t understand why after three years he was still with her. She was no seductress. The young girl of twenty didn’t know how to please a man. Frowning, she felt her heart lurch to her throat when their dance came to a stop. Silently she let him guide her to his chambers but inside she wanted to beg. But three years of experiencing this walk let her know that no amount of begging would help her. It would only humiliate her more than she already was. Her heart was beating loudly by the time they arrived at his chambers and he was only in his undershirt. He was handsome but Ysabelle didn’t wish to be here. Gulping she looked around the room. The servant girl had been in this room more times than she could count in the past three years and yet she could not feel at home. This was not a safe haven to her. It was her personal hell. Ysabelle arched one eyebrow when he offered her a drink. He had been undressing himself before they had arrived to their chamber and now he wanted a drink. A laugh escaped Ysabelle lips before she could stop it. “Sorry.” She apologize, stopping her laugh midway and accepted the drink. The servant girl wasn’t one to drink, not something she made a habit of but not knowing what else to do she mimic his actions. Her nose immediately scrunching up at the taste of it. “Did I ever tell you I don’t like to drink.” She commented as she placed the drink down, though she bet the Reeve didn’t care. Three years of intimacy with this man and still, Ysabelle could not find herself to be comfortable around him. He knew her body better than she did. Clairac knew what made her tick and yet her hands shook as she began to undo her worn-down dress. By the time her dress was off, she could no longer bare to look him in the eye and instead restore to looking at the floor. 

[clairac-tristam]

Clairac's brows furrowed together when the girl informed him that she didn't like to drink. It was a strange revelation, considering wine and liquors were one of the Reeve's favorite guilty pleasures. "Wine is an acquired taste, I suppose," he offered in her favor, not really bothering to spend any more thought on the matter. He would have preferred Ysabelle to consume at least a little alcohol, for nothing more than taking the edge off. She was always so tense, still so resistant despite her obedience. Clairac sighed, watching with interest as the girl began removing her dress. He finished his glass of wine, set aside the goblet and approached Ysabelle with careful steps. He didn't wait for an invitation to touch. He didn't need one. The servant was left with nothing but the slip she'd worn underneath her clothes, and Clairac circled around to stand behind her. Hands that had seen such roughness throughout his life had never been more gentle than they were now, on Ysabelle's body. Her hair was swept aside over her shoulder so his lips could drop to kiss along her bare shoulder.

[ysabellebelot-blog]

Ysabelle body tense when he confess he knew she was lying. The first thought that crossed her mind were those involving punishment. The servant knew she was only here on his word. If it wasn’t for him she would be out the door and back to her father. Clairac always got what he wanted and Ysabelle knew that in that moment he wanted her. What she couldn’t process was why a man who could have anyone settle for a servant girl he knew didn’t want to join him in bed? But all thoughts left her when she felt his lips tracing her lobe. This small touch sending chills down her spine. Her lips parted to let out a soft sigh and her eyes slowly closing as he continue to whisper into her. Ysabelle knew she hated when he took her to bed but she also knew that Clairac was an expert in the art of pleasuring. It was silly how much she hated him but yet his lips near her made her muscles clench in anticipation. The servant already knew what was coming and her body already wanted it. She hated what he did to her. She refuse to give into her sexual attraction. Ysabelle rather be disgusted and hate every minute of her time with him rather than let herself enjoy it. Forcing her eyes open, she clenched her jaw. Letting the hate within her course through her body. He’s a monster. She repeated this in her head over and over again. “Quite on the contrary, Clairac, I like to believe I’m an exceptional liar but if you know I’m going reluctantly to your bed, why do you even bother?” Ysabelle didn’t know if it was the anger she was letting herself feel or her hormones that were raging that were suddenly making her brave. Maybe a night in the cell wouldn’t be so bad now. His final comment clenching her muscles once more that she couldn’t stop her lips from parting slightly to take in a sharp breathe. It was ridiculous how much control he had over her body.

[clairac-tristam]

Her anger was palpable, but so was her attraction. It didn't matter how stern of a face Ysabelle wore on the outside, because Clairac knew for certain that he was capable of pleasuring her. Knew, beyond the shadow of a doubt, that she physically enjoyed the time she spent with him in his chambers. The girl could resist him all she wanted -- in the end, she would always find herself between his sheets, glistening and breathless. "You are worth the trouble, Ysabelle," he answered simply, the breath of his words ghosting across her ear. Clairac could feel the affect he had on the young woman and truthfully, she was foolish for trying to hide it. "I think it is time to retire to my chambers." So saying, the Reeve slowly brought their dancing feet to a halt and took Ysabelle by the hand, leading the way through the manor and towards his bedroom. Clairac was instantly disrobing, letting the weight of his noble garments fall from his shoulders until he remained in only his slacks and white undershirt. "Please, make yourself comfortable." He knew she wouldn't, considering Ysabelle was stuck on the idea that she could never be comfortable here, with him. Clairac busied himself with pouring two goblets of wine, then approached the servant girl with heat in his eyes. Monopolizing Ysabelle's time wasn't exactly high on his list of priorities, but the man couldn't deny that he missed her flesh when he went so long without her. "Drink," he instructed simply, taking a swig of the rich red wine himself. Everything was easier with wine, after all...

[melodiebeaumont-deactivated2014]

Standing behind him, Melodie let her brow raise. Not only at his first reply but at the simple thought that Clairac would want to buy someone a dress. She didn’t depict him as someone that would simply do that out of the kindness of his heart. “Just an observation, but for someone that is buying a mere gift you don’t seem so excited about doing so.” She pointed out. Biting her lip she then took a step to stand beside him and look out into the horizon. “But if you should need of a female opinion, I would be more than glad to give you mine. Who’s the lucky lady?”

[clairac-tristam]

Clairac smirked and shook his head, yet another facet of his predicament that seemed so very obvious. "The giving is where I will undoubtedly derive my excitement, m'lady. Not so much the getting." Considering he really had no idea how to go about acquiring a ballgown worthy of both his status and Ysabelle's beauty. "I would value your opinion a great deal. If you have any advice as to whom I should seek out for such a purchase, it would also be appreciated." Clairac purposefully let rest the question regarding his date, far too hesitant to admit to another Reeve that he had invited a servant girl to decorate his arm.

[ysabellebelot-blog]

It had been three years and still, Ysabelle was not use to his touch. She knew she probably would never get use to it. It wasn’t Jondar touch. It didn’t have the same softness that she miss. His touch let her know he wanted her but it made her feel dirty. Like a whore that belong in the Tavern, unlike Jondar touch that had actually made her feel loved. Beautiful. Closing her eyes she imagine the hand wrapped around her waist was not of the man that had torn her from her family. Her small hand held onto his and she follow his lead. Letting her hips sway under his hold. It was her first time dancing but it wasn’t special. It wasn’t what she imagine when she thought of her first dance. What had she done to deserve this personal hell? She thought to herself. There were other noble women that share her beauty. Women that could hold their tongues and yet, she was the one having to endure his greedy touch. The words that were whispered into her ear sent chills down her spine as she realize her worst nightmare was about to come true—again. Her stomach twisted into a knot and she felt like running away. She hated the man that held her so close. Hated the way he used her body. The way he controlled her life. But again, she held back her comment and simply nodded. “Of course, My Lord. It has been a while—It will be my pleasure.”She commented, silently hoping this dance would last forever.

[clairac-tristam]

There was a great deal of resistance that boiled just beneath the surface of Ysabelle's beautiful skin. He could all but hear her blood bubbling, and yet, the girl agreed. In all the three years Clairac had ensured her steady employment here at the Manor, she had never physically resisted his advances. A smart girl, really, considering there was very little she could do. Clairac was a man of power who was abnormally adept at getting what he wanted. It was this skill that had landed her here in the first place, after all. It was fascinating to watch, really, the fire in her eyes giving way to the obedience in her heart. A beautiful and tragic thing, indeed. Of course, her lack of willpower certainly did nothing to tame her attitude, and Clairac chuckled beneath his breath. "You are not the slightest bit convincing, my dear," he murmured in her ear, letting his lips trace lightly along the lobe. "If your acting is as abysmal as your lying, then I derive a great deal of satisfaction knowing that each performance you have given in my bed is genuine." Granted, Clairac didn't need anyone telling him that he was a good lover. If there was one thing the Reeve was exceptional at, it was sex, after all. "I do so enjoy the sounds of your pleasure..."

[littletyrell]

She received the nod with a slight curtsy of her own, before stepping out onto the balcony to join him. “Oh—I’ve learned to doubt very few things. Surprises happen every day. I would personally be delighted to see you enter in women’s garb.” Laughing quietly, she tilted her head to the side and regarded the Reeve. “If not for yourself—then for who?”

[clairac-tristam]

As Aline stepped up beside him, Clairac let his gaze wander back out to the lands, comfortable knowing she was beside him instead of behind him. An object in his peripheral vision, should he need to keep an eye on her. "As entertaining as it would undoubtedly be, I am certain my brother would not find it merely laughable. I fear he would disown me," the Reeve teased with an easy grin. "No, the dress would be for the woman accompanying me to the ball."

[melodiebeaumont-deactivated2014]

With her nose in her book Melodie couldn’t help but stop at the sound of his words. Why would a Reeve need of a dress? She had gotten her invitation to the Ball therefore she suspected that was what he needed it for but surely any woman attended the ball with the Reeve would own a dress. Approaching him, she closed her book. “Forgive my asking but why in the world would you need a dress?”

[clairac-tristam]

Clairac looked up to find that he'd been overheard by another Reeve, and he greeted the noblewoman with a polite smile. "For the ball, of course," he answered, as if Melodie should have already known the answer. It was true, most nobles would assume a man like Clairac -- not just a Reeve, but bother to the Lord of the Manor -- would be attending with a woman of status. "As a gentleman, I would like to gift my company with the dress she will wear while standing at my side." Good enough of a reason, really, one that shouldn't beg more questions.

[ysabellebelot-blog]

If lucky. Those two words echoed in her head over and over again. Her heart dropping and every hope of Clairac actually feeling something for her disappeared. Her small smile shook and slowly the hope that had been in her that those three years of her life had not not just gone to waste changed into more hate. In that moment she was more mad at herself than at him. How foolish of her to think the Reeve of Commerce, brother of the Lord of the Manor actually felt something for her. She was merely a servant he took to bed whenever he got bored. Ysabelle realize all this and her jaw clench. It took every ounce of her to keep her smile on her face and not ask why he was taking her to the party, a servant, when he could take a noble woman he could show off to the world. She bet that was the only reason he was taking her to this ball, because no one would know he was with a servant. The lowest type of people, next to a prisoner. “Of course, My Lord. I will do my best to blend in, I wouldn’t want to embarrass you.” She finally replied, attempting to hide her anger. If she was a threat to his reputation she wonder why he was even bothering taking her. Most likely her sharp tongue would out her during the ball. She might as well pretend to be mute. It didn’t matter how much she hated him. Ysabelle knew where she stood in the pyramid of classes. Her emotions didn’t matter anywhere. It didn’t matter that she loved another man, she was here to serve him. That was if she wanted to live. If she ever wanted to see her father again. If she was ever to get out of this hell she had to play the part. The part of a good little servant. Exhaling her emotions she put her small smile on and bowed, extending her hand towards him. Inviting him to dance with her; She made sure they were alone of course. “I have no doubt of your leading skills. I have experience them first-hand.” She commented on the night he had taken her virtue. “But a little practice won’t hurt us.” 

[clairac-tristam]

She really was a sassy little thing, and so long as her tongue never saw her in trouble, Clairac genuinely didn't mind it. It was one of the reasons he was drawn to her as he was. Not many young women of her status had the gall to show such courage, but the fact that Ysabelle did set her apart. Made her special in more ways than just one. Yes, the servant girl was of the highest caliber of beauty, but she was also strong. A girl fit for nobility, if only her blood didn't make her a commoner. Her little remark about his ability to lead had Clairac standing a little taller, jaw set. The girl wasn't just speaking of his dancing, and they both knew it. Such a tongue, indeed. But when Ysabelle offered her hand, he took it and stepped close, one arm sliding around her thin waist. "No, it won't," he agreed, his hand lifting hers into a proper dancing position. There was no music, but it didn't matter. Clairac could hear a beat in his head and he knew Ysabelle would follow his lead. There was no one around to catch him dancing with a servant girl, and so the Reeve stepped forward, guiding her in a simple step he'd learned when he was quite young. "When we are through here," he spoke the words directly into her ear, his voice accompanied by a low, wanting sigh. "I would like for you to accompany me to my chambers." It had been too long since Ysabelle had graced his bed, after all.