Well, I got to where I wanted to get with this. Thanks for going on the journey with me.

Disclaimer: see part 1

The worst part about being a countess was the dresses. When not performing tasks in the workshop, or seeing to people who had increasingly started to trickle in for formal and informal medical consultation, Sakura was expected to be dressed like a real lady. Her wardrobe had exploded from a handful of dresses to a couple dozen and the initial cost had left her breathless, even if Chiyo had insisted on footing the bill from those city seamstresses that she insisted were crooks even as she admitted they had their own genius. The sneaky old woman had procured measurements for an 'apron' for the workroom, so by the time the dresses arrived Sakura had had no choice but accept them graciously along with a number of apons, sick that the duchess had spent so much outfitting her like a human sized doll.

Sasori used to surprise her with new doublets when he deemed the older ones too faded or if something tore. He wanted her to look the same every day and inconsistencies over time developed in well-worn clothing, especially in the harsh desert conditions they had lived in. Sakura had to remind herself frequently that the grandmother was not like the grandson, even if they had similar quirks in a lot of ways.

Absolute disregard for family connections seemed to be one of those quirks, because the first time Lady Chiyo's brother Lord Ebizo showed up at their door Sakura had assumed he was some friend of Chiyo's from childhood. When she had finally figured out from the context of their conversation that not only did Ebizo live an hour or two away by carriage but he also visited monthly as Chiyo refused to leave the city, Sakura was about ready to call the whole family but the kind older gentleman a lost cause.

Spring passed in a blur of medical texts and long hours mixing and chopping and drying in the storeroom, only punctuated at the end by the first day of summer which also happened to be Ino's wedding. Ino looked so happy that Sakura couldn't help but be happy for her as well even when the priest droned on with rituals to please the gods. The best thing about Ino marrying was that her relocation to Sai's household put her a little bit closer to Chiyo's neighborhood even if a tradesman would never be able to reside directly next to the aristocracy.

The high of happiness that Ino gave her was followed by despair of ever having enough trust to let someone in like that. Marriage was not her path. As a medical practitioner who specialized in pain and poison she would always be uncanny to an average suitor, and she had been under the thumb of one man long enough that she didn't want to invite it in another.

Still, by midsummer, she was sufficiently lonely that one late night drinking with Temari she stumbled out of the royal sitting room straight into the stiff retreating form of the crown prince. Those dead eyes were the wrong color, she had thought, but had felt familiar enough to remind her of something forbidden she longed for in the dead of night. Temper short from drink, she may have accidentally said a few wickedly scolding things meant for a different redhead's ears. In another time Gaara would have had her in stocks for her disrespect, but perpetually tired eyes had glinted at her even as his deep voice asked if she needed an escort to a room to lie down. He never told her which room.

Sakura had isolated herself from pretty much all social outings that happened past sunset after that low point, realizing that there was a touch of self-destruction in how quickly she had started letting herself collect hedonistic experiences. She didn't need to make up for lost time, she knew what a hangover felt like and it wasn't any different than challenging Naruto to match her drink for drink while snowed in and trying to forget how Tsunade was keeping vigil over Jiraiya's bedside as he faded.

By fall she was as predictable as a clock chiming the hour. Every morning she would get up and stretch a bit and do basic body weight exercises to wake her body up, then review her notes from the previous day's work and visitations and make revisions if she had new insights, then breakfast with Lady Chiyo who more often than not was up with the sun. There would be morning visitors now and then, and if not then Sakura would be working through an old formula of Chiyo's or reading in her room. Food and more work in the afternoon, or a visit to Ino or Temari should she need a break. She wrote to Hinata and Naruto every other week, also sending out correspondence to her parents and occasionally to Lady Tsunade to get different feedback on her new course of study.

While a great deal more pleasant than accompanying Sasori on what amounted to human hunting expeditions or watching the duke sleep at night, Sakura couldn't help but think that now with all this time to relax and collect herself together that she was terrifically bored more than in living memory. Then again, some of her more interesting memories of the fortress stalked her nightmares so perhaps boredom had more value than she gave credit.

Still, sometimes her heart longed for impossible things.

Sakura was tired. People had been in and out all day to talk to her not only about their aches and pains but somehow also about personal problems she felt she had no real grasp on. A lady's maid who had twisted an ankle and needed some sort of splint, but felt the need to complain at great length about how her mistress made her keep watch while her lover Lord So-and-so was visiting and that's how she fell down those stairs. Or the elder nobleman who simply could not be convinced that his family wasn't slowly poisoning him for the money they sorely needed after squandering it on lavish living. Sakura had gotten very good at neutral expressions with Sasori, and she drew deep from that well today.

If no one had ever really spoken to her at court before now she was almost ready to scream from the rooftops at them to stop. The transition had been too sudden, she figured. Most of her life she had only really dealt with a few dozen people at a time, and now it felt like hundreds looked to her for answers. Even Sasori's troops had been mostly a grim horde she could ignore at the best of times. Was it a terrible thing to feel nostalgic for the silence of her cloister in the desert fortress?

Just think of the smell, she'd remind herself on the days she wanted to retreat into herself the most. This was a life she had chosen for herself, and it was getting easier bit by bit.

"Should I have really given him a small selection of common antidotes," She mused out loud to Chiyo who had spoken with the man briefly before he left for home. "It only encourages his paranoia."

"For now I suspect it's all in his mind, but people have killed for less attractive reasons than money." She saw Sakura's serious expression and patted her on the shoulder even as the duchess' small stature made the gesture humorous. "Don't worry, if you're wrong it's not like he can come complain."

She shuffled away cackling at her own macabre joke and Sakura decided that with that she was done for today and informed the staff that she wasn't taking patients. Winter wasn't yet here but the days were growing short and the cold winds that blew in from the sea felt unrelenting since there was no answering warmth in the daytime even with the sun out. Somehow, Sakura found she had a perpetually runny nose and she blamed her suddenly weak constitution on the lack of exercise in her new lifestyle.

In her room, Sakura looked at the bright stuffed couch next to the shuttered window, the dainty writing desk and plush canopied bed. The dark wardrobe dominated a wall. The only real decoration was her lone sword and shield that she had insisted be mounted above the desk, polished but worn. Sakura had reminded herself that she should get a painting or some quaint little blown glass ornaments because even if the room was brighter than the fortress and a magnitude more comfortable it still seemed sparse. What was the character of the person who lived in this room?

Searching, perhaps.

Maybe what she needed was a plant, something to care for that didn't need much in the way of attention.

Tapping a booted foot—because even if she had to wear dresses she believed in solid footwear—she heard the knock at the door and knew she didn't have the patience for anything less than an absolute medical emergency.

"Tell them to come back tomorrow!"

"But, lady," the door opened and a frightened lady's maid couldn't seem to get a word out as a glowering Sasori stood behind her, "His-his grace is—"

Her words were a whip judging by the way the maid cringed, "You're dismissed." It must have been a great relief because the woman practically ran even as she made a curtsey in passing to one or both of them. Sakura only had eyes for Sasori.

"Your grandmother is playing cards tonight with her so-called friends. Though given she comes home with handfuls of coins every other week, I can't think they like her much."

Sasori shrugged, "Skill in bluffing is hereditary for us." He hadn't entered her room yet, and she wasn't sure she should invite him. Dressed in a dark forest green, by contrast his eyes were practically amber in the lamp light. One hand was behind him, and she was getting goosebumps from her nerves firing as she tried to guess the danger coming for her.

"But you didn't come to see her. If you had meant to see her, Sasori, you would have come earlier." Occasionally she had cursed him silently or under her breath in the practice yard, and every now and then she had slipped up around Ino and once, mortifyingly, while drinking with Temari. This was the first time she had ever said his name to his face. She meant to spit it, but it was a caress.

Crossing the threshold at the invocation of his name, he pulled the door shut behind him and Sakura wondered if she should grab the sword off the wall now or hear him out. There was no obvious weapon on him, not even a dagger, but that didn't mean he wasn't deadly. He still had a hand behind his back, and now he brought forward the book clutched in his calloused palm.

"You wrote to me, Sakura." The tone was light chastisement, but she knew he approved of her suspicion. He liked being feared.

"You could have sent the book back by messenger months ago as I suggested. Though, I'm gratified you didn't burn it when you no doubt emptied out my room."

Since her tone was still combative, Sasori tossed the book casually onto the small table next to her reading couch. It landed with a hard splat that would have startled her, but she was too focused on her visitor. The disdain in his voice was more familiar than the courtly tones earlier. "A twisted bed frame, a rotting desk, and a few pitiful swatches of cloth. It didn't even fuel the hearth for an evening."

"You may be a duke, but I'm no longer your vassal. I could have you thrown out right now. You should make your bows to Lady Chiyo if you wanted this to be above board." Getting the sword out would take too long, and she'd have to stand on the desk to get to it. From behind the headboard of her bed, where she had fastened it, she pulled a long dagger from its scabbard. "I had thought you would come for me sooner or later, but I had thought you would at least last the year,"

He looked closer to laughter than murderous rage. "You must be spoiling for a fight, my lady, because from where I'm standing you've got me at a disadvantage. I would not come to my family home armed. If you don't believe me…" He lifted both his arms up, lightly threading his fingers in his artfully messy red hair and tilted his head to the side.

Sakura held out her dagger and approached, used the tip of the blade to turn his head this way and that. She circled to the back of him and then aggressively patted down his doublet. When her hands reached his hose, she lightly skimmed fingers down solid legs before reaching into his boot to pull out the blade she knew waited there. Backing up, she sheathed her blade at the bed once more and tossed his underneath for good measure with a sharp clatter.

"Would you believe me if I said I had forgotten about that one?" Butter wouldn't melt in his mouth, according to him, she was sure. Gracefully, his arms settled back to his sides.

Her expression was telling, but then she sighed. "Ok, if you aren't here to kill me, and I suppose you wouldn't have intended to given just how many witnesses probably saw you enter this home then please tell me what could possibly bring Sasori of the Red Sands to my doorstep?"

Looking around once more, lip curling a bit at the subtle femininity of Sakura's inner sanctum he made himself comfortable on her reading couch while she crossed her arms in his general direction.

"You're a riddle to me, Sakura," Sasori looked at her as if he'd like to dissect her. Given who he was, he might actually desire that. "Outwardly you act as if you want nothing to do with me, and yet you wrote me not once but twice in the past year. One of those times you implored me to write to my grandmother and assure her that I wasn't preparing to kill her."

Lips in a tight line, Sakura tried to explain herself, "She constantly brings it up as motivation for me to learn faster, but while I'm smart I can't memorize her whole library of notes in a year or even three. Five years isn't enough time, and you couldn't possibly seriously have taken up her offer…"

"That's between me and the old woman and you shouldn't concern yourself," Sasori smoothly interrupted then blandly changed the subject. "You used a favor from Gaara himself to have my troops dismissed from your father's barony, but then you offered to have them located to plots of land you now own if they wished to continue the rural life. They are still my vassals, even those handful that stayed against all reason in that backwater. Why would you invite such complications?"

Her father had written to her. Of the dozen men Sasori had left behind, apparently a handful of them had grown accustomed to the pace of life there. A couple had found wives and one had already had a child. Until she could get real farmers set up with housing on her property, with help from her father, it had seemed like a natural thing to let people continue a life they had built. Sasori was right that it had complicated things, though.

"I didn't do it to give you a riddle to solve, I assure you. I still remember what you did to that bard last winter."

Sasori was unrepentant, "I merely gave him time to think of less elementary riddles in an environment free of distractions."

"A dungeon is hardly conducive to creativity." She rubbed at her temples as if the tension headache that was coming on would fade faster. The longer he was here and not presenting a clear threat, the harder it was to stay firm in her resolve to forget about him and move on with life.

That had been a problem though, forgetting in general. The mind had a way to take the familiar and make is nostalgic, even if it was horrifying. Sakura had come to dread certain things. Dressing certain kinds of bloody wounds sometimes gave her flashbacks to the few times she had been injured badly in a skirmish and Sasori was the only one with enough medical knowledge at the fortress to patch her up. He had sewn her flesh together more than once with neat efficiency she envied, pressing poultices on open wounds to keep them from festering. Inevitably thinking about those moments he had touched her gently would lead to thinking about the tourney in spring and how he had made her feel with a few deft strokes of his fingers. That memory had come to find her more than once in the middle of the night.

Heat had crawled up her neck into her face. Sakura fought it back with weak anger. "Say your piece and leave."

"You have my crest on your bedroom wall." He slumped forward; long fingers tented. "Would I be wrong to assume you still have your livery in that wardrobe full of pretty dresses?"

"It was well made," She snapped defensively, "Waste not and all that…" She couldn't say why she had kept the shield. It was a constant visual reminder, dented and scratched as it was. Despite bearing his crest, she saw it as comforting. It reminded her that not only had she survived but thrived in truly adverse circumstances. That shield made her feel strong.

Unfolding from his seated position, he took a step towards Sakura. "I had thought to burn you out, but it seems my attention eliminated impurities and made you more quintessentially you. As you suspected I'm furious with you, but I'm equally curious." He had moved slowly in her direction, using a calm tone that belied his stated anger. She'd seen him use this move to tame horses and ambush men in the middle of negotiations, Sakura wondered where on the spectrum she fell. "I've already seen you forged in blood, perhaps this new setting will illuminate the way to break you..."

Why had she let him get so close? To slither through her thoughts and ignite feelings in her body she didn't have words for except in battle. Passion with this man was a mistake, but after months of what if scenarios playing through her mind she realized she wanted this knowledge. Instincts that had encouraged split second decisions in battle solidified the path she needed to take. If nothing else, this would be on her terms.

"Just so we're absolutely clear about this, you still disgust me on nearly every level from moral to emotional." The hands she placed on his hips could feel the structure of the bone and wondered at how narrow they were. Already furious with herself for what she had decided to do, she pushed a mildly surprised Sasori back until his folding knees forced him to sit back down on her low couch. "But you're not the only one who's curious."

Emboldened by finally being the aggressor in their interactions, Sakura leaned down to cover Sasori's mouth with her own. He wasn't moving, lightly chapped lips partially parted as Sakura tugged at them with nipping kisses. Cracking open her eyes she saw that he was staring at her, whites visible, and she straightened up and kicked one of his booted feet with her own.

"Don't keep your eyes open like that, it's unsettling."

No words in response to her order, Sasori instead closed eyes dark and uncertain and Sakura made a satisfied noise low in her throat as she hiked up her skirts and straddled his lap to have easier access to those lips. It was when Sakura ground herself down on his more than budding erection that Sasori seemed to realize he could participate in this as well as his hands moved up her skirts to grip thighs that had lost a bit of tone in the past months but remained firm.

Chapped lips, dry hair, a hint of bristle on his face—now that Sakura was this close, she could sense all the telltale signs of how he wasn't caring for himself like he used to when she was his bodyguard. This was a man who may have lived like a savage warlord in the dessert but he was a courtier in the city. Maybe not the courtier today, with her. Had he ridden here unprepared? That made her more breathless than the deep kisses they shared to think he had been that eager to see her.

The was nothing like the distant memories she had created with Naruto, or even that mortifying fumbling attempt with another rusty haired sociopath that had left her numb and regretful. Hormonal surges may have shocked her with their intensity as soon as her stress levels had receded out of Sasori's presence, but their upsetting focus always remained the same. Even if she wished it weren't true. Gods, she wanted him.

"If you move your hands I swear I'll beat you to death with that book," Sakura was furious with herself, feeling all the empirical evidence of her body's betrayal from aching breasts to a core already slick and ready for a man that she should by rights have banished from her presence the moment that door opened.

She pulled out his hard cock easily from his clothes and moved her own undergarments aside to create the opportunity to sink down onto him. As ordered he kept his hands on her thighs, his grip tightening as she took him in to the base. While not exactly girthy, he was well proportioned enough to pleasure a partner and Sakura was tight from inexperience and time. She knew the feeling of her own fingers inside of her sex, but this was quite different and wholly unfamiliar because of the dissonance of knowing it was Sasori under her.

"You'll never get rid of me now," Sasori murmured into Sakura's ear before she began to move over him. He seemed to have lost his words again as she guided their pace, and any question whether his apparent rapture was an act was dispelled long minutes in when just as she was starting to figure out the right angle to fuck him that would coach her own body to release he made a gurgling noise and thrust her away from him as he spilled himself out in the air. There had been little warning other than his fingers digging painfully into her leg muscles.

Well, if she needed evidence of her effect on him that was fairly unambiguous.

Shivering and unsatisfied, Sakura turned to grab today's work apron from the back of her desk chair and tossed it over to Sasori so that he could clean himself. After all, the cloth would need to be cleaned tomorrow anyway so what was another stain.

Cheeks flushed, skin glowing with a thin layer of sweat, Sakura thought Sasori had never looked more real than in the aftermath of losing control of his own body under her. He was shaking a little, as he put himself in the semblance of order again. Usually, it was his partners coming. Usually, it was his partners being ejected from his presence. Knowing how disgusted he was by the fluids of others she wondered how he had managed to lose himself in her.

"This isn't over," he growled, and Sakura knew better than to try to lead the way this time as he pulled her down to the couch and pushed her skirts back up. Probing fingers found her entrance and pushed in, first one then two. She had admired those long fingers before, the delicacy with which they moved as he formed his well-bred cursive letters and then the strength to gut his enemies on raids against the insurgents. Her body had been climbing towards something incredible before, and now his deft hands brought her right to the brink.

Right before she was about to come she felt him shift position so that he was partially leaning over her. Sasori's mouth came down on hers to swallow her cry of release, tense body arching then sagging boneless back down onto the couch. His tongue gave hers a quick caress before he pulled away. When Sakura finally sat up, pushing her skirts back in place she saw him using another part of her apron to wipe her fluids from his hand. She wondered if he would rush home to bathe.

When he turned back to her there was a careful blankness that she couldn't place in his pantheon of expressions. Maybe he didn't even know he was doing it. He looked lost.

"I have conditions." Sakura announced, clearing her throat when her voice came out scratchy to her ears. She wasn't even going to pretend like she didn't want to repeat this mistake a few more times. Maybe even in a bed, though not her bed.

"All the best things come with strings." There was a hint of arrogance returning to his voice. "I'm listening."

Sakura tried to smooth fingers through her hair while she spoke to catch out any tangles. It was a little longer now that she didn't have to have it cut to her chin every month. "No more whoring yourself out if you expect to do this again. I'm not looking to share."

"I'd say the same of you." There was a glint in his eye that said she needed to keep a safe distance from the crown prince for the foreseeable future. He wouldn't have known what a mistake she thought that had been, based out of desperation and Gaara's resemblance to the real target of her grotesque desire.

"And no one is to know; even if they guess it, I expect you to lie." This was the most crucial thing. As soon as they were discovered her credibility would plummet, she would be his pawn that had been used to infiltrate. Once more an extension of Sasori's will.

Sasori scoffed, "And what of you? Your skills at deception are rudimentary at best."

Sakura was deadly serious, "I will just tell them that only a fool would love Sasori of the Red Sands." The sinking feeling she got around him was particularly strong right now.

"Deflect with an unrelated truth, not a bad tactic."

It was less unrelated than she liked. Something in her expression must have given it away because he narrowed his eyes at her briefly before standing up quickly, breathing erratic.

"I expect you to return my dagger to me in pristine condition." He straightened out his clothes, adjusting everything as if he hadn't been ravished minutes ago. The fussiness of his actions and the lightheaded aftermath of her climax struck Sakura as humorous, and she imperfectly stifled a giggle. The look he cut her would have made her cringe back in fear a year ago, but now she knew she had him cornered by the slight tremor in his hands. He wanted something from her that he couldn't achieve with terrorism.

Sakura stood up as well and fastened the bottom clasp of his doublet that he had overlooked. Her gentle smile was simply the beginning of what she expected to be a long spiraling descent into worry and self-loathing tonight, but he obviously misinterpreted it because he caught her lips once more.

He broke away suddenly, angry at his own weakness, no doubt. "Witch…" He hissed, but his hands on her were gently smoothing down her back.

"Allegedly." Sakura replied, sure that her heart was falling out of her chest even now.