This chapter was probably the hardest to write, so far. That I'm finally happy with it is due to my beta reader, WellspringCD, who has held my hand through practically every paragraph. If this one hits the mark, it because she has provided invaluable advice every step of the way.

"It should be down here" Leliana said, turning off the main square into a broad alley.

Eirwen was glad that she'd sent Leliana into Denerim the previous evening while they made camp. It had only taken her a couple of hours to find out where brother Genitivi's house was; she'd been able to leave the Denerim in plenty of time before the city gate was closed for the night. It meant that when they'd entered Denerim early this morning, they knew exactly here they were going. Eirwen was hoping that they could be in and out of the city as quickly as possible.

Zevran followed Leliana round the corner; Eirwen paused, looking back over her shoulder to check that Alistair was following them. He'd come to a halt some way behind them and was gazing across the square at something. She followed his gaze but could only see a shop and a few dilapidated-looking houses. What's over there? He's kept looking back at that spot ever since we entered the square. One of the houses?

"Andraste's blood, you're a Grey Warden! Duncan's apprentice." The voice, filled with outraged indignation, forced Eirwen out of her reverie. Leliana and Zevran drew their weapons, as Eirwen turned her attention back to the alley and found her way blocked by a very large man. She waved her hand at her companions, bidding them to stay their hands; the man hadn't drawn his own weapon. The knight confronting her was even taller than Alistair and just as heavily armoured.

"You killed my friend... and good King Cailan. I demand satisfaction, ser," he proclaimed.

The man's accusation filled her with fury. She stuffed down her anger and squared her shoulders. "Loghain's charges against the Wardens are false," she told him, relieved that her voice sounded calm. Satisfaction? What does he mean? She risked a glance over her shoulder, almost willing Alistair to come and catch them up.

"So you would compound slander on top of treason? You dare smear Teyrn Loghain's word?" he demanded furiously.

Slander? Alistair, come on! "What did you mean by satisfaction?" Eirwen asked.

"An uncommon traitor deserves no common death. We will meet on the field of honour, and my blade shall see justice done."

Eirwen stared back at the knight, completely baffled. He seriously expects me to go to a field so that he can execute me?

"Meet me in the back alley behind the Gnawed Noble Tavern. There we will duel," he informed her.

Eirwen blinked. A duel? A fight! He wants me to fight him.

"Very well. If you insist, you'll get your duel," she told him.

"Make peace with the Maker, ser. These are your last moments." The knight glared down at her for a moment, then turned and headed down the alley.

~o~O~o~

"Make peace with the Maker, ser. These are your last moments."

What?

Alistair turned the corner to see Eirwen, Zevran and Leliana confronted by a haughty-looking knight. Leliana half-turned as he joined them and he gaped at her in confusion.

"What's going on?" he demanded.

"This knight recognised Eirwen and has challenged her to a duel," Leliana explained in a low voice.

Alistair groaned. "Don't tell me she accepted."

"He left her no choice, Alistair," she told him.

He watched in horror as Eirwen followed the knight into the alley and made as if to move after her.

Zevran turned, planting his hand firmly against Alistair's chest, grinning up at him.

"Besides, she can take him easily."

Alistair didn't share Zevran's casual confidence and watched with a horrified fascination as Eirwen removed her bow and quiver, laying them down at the side of the alley, then drew her Dar'Misu. He cast an appraising glance at the knight. He was an older man, obviously experienced. His armour was well-made and well-cared for. Alistair swallowed as the knight drew a shield and a wicked-looking mace. Eirwen stood casually, her posture relaxed, the curved daggers loose in her hands. All at once, the knight charged with a roar and Alistair flinched as the knight surged forwards.

"Does she even know what the rules are? Alistair asked. He could see from the astonished looks on their faces that it hadn't even occurred to them that Eirwen wouldn't understand what she was getting herself into. He looked up to see Eirwen dance out of the way of a crushing blow and slip behind the knight. She hooked a foot around one of his shins and jerked; the knight fell forward with a crash. Eirwen crouched down, her dagger at his neck.

"Are you satisfied now, ser knight?" she asked him.

Eirwen stood and stepped over the fallen knight. Slowly she walked towards her companions. Alistair felt relief wash over him. Not a duel to the death, thank the Maker! Alistair was still gazing in awe at his diminutive companion when he heard Zevran call out a warning and looked beyond Eirwen to see the knight lurch to his feet, swinging wildly with his mace. Eirwen whirled out of the way, but not in time to stop the mace grazing her exposed back and side. The knight staggered wildly, unbalanced, and Eirwen darted behind him, plunging her dagger into his neck without hesitation.

As the man slumped to the floor, his companions came forward. They nodded to Eirwen.

"You fought with honour. Ser Landry couldn't have asked for a nobler death," one of them told her.

Between them, they picked up the knight's body and bore him away. Eirwen watched them, her face impassive. Leliana ran to Eirwen, fumbling around in her small pack and drawing out a poultice. Eirwen's skin had been scored deeply by the spiked mace's glancing blow.

Alistair erupted. "Are you out of your mind? What the hell do you think you were doing?"

Eirwen looked over at him. "He said he was at Ostagar. He said the Grey Wardens were traitors and murderers. I tried to explain but..." Eirwen paused, flushing, "he kept going on about 'satisfaction'. I didn't know what he meant." She frowned. "Why did he make me kill him? Where is the satisfaction in that?"

Leliana looked up, nodding. "He really was determined, Alistair. Nothing less than a duel was going to appease him." She looked up at Eirwen. "I'm sorry, Eirwen. I should have explained to you that it would be a duel to the death. I didn't realise that you didn't understand the finer points of duelling for honour."

"Honour? None of that felt honourable!" burst out Eirwen. She shook her head. "I don't understand you humans. It was pointless death that served no purpose."

Leliana patted her arm. "We'll talk about it later." She looked round anxiously. "You stand out to much here, you're too conspicuous. I think we should go to Gentitivi's house, then get out of Denerim."

Alistair ran his hand through his hair in a gesture of frustration, then nodded.

"You know where it is?"

"It should be in the next alley," Leliana told him. She pressed the poultice against Eirwen's side. "You'll have to hold it in place for now, I don't have a bandage."

Zevran darted across the alley and retrieved Eirwen's bow and quiver, then the four of them headed out of the alley.

It took only moments to find Brother Genitivi's house. As Eirwen had expected, he wasn't there but his assistant, who introduced himself as Weylon, was. She was a little startled when the young man invited them in; they were an odd looking group after all. She was acutely aware that she stood out like a sore thumb in Denerim, an armed, tattooed elf in exotic looking armour, added to which she was clutching a poultice to her back. Zevran was almost as conspicuous, yet the man didn't seem at all fazed. Eirwen felt the hair on the back of her neck rise. Either Brother Genitivi regularly had odd-looking visitors or...

The young man looked at her sharply, then quickly rearranged his face into a smile.

"I was hoping that you'd actually come to bring me news of Brother Genitivi." He sighed, a tad melodramatically Eirwen thought. "Wishful thinking, it seems."

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Zevran sidle over to the wall, so that he was almost behind Weylon. As his head turned to follow the Antivan's movements, she asked, "What do you mean?" drawing his attention back to her.

"I haven't seen Brother Genitivi in weeks. He's sent no word; it's so unlike him," explained Weylon. Eirwen could see his head twitch as he resisted the urge to turn and watch the assassin. Eirwen cocked her head to one side, holding Weylon's gaze.

"I'm afraid something's happened, that his research into the Urn may have led him into danger."

Eirwen risked a quick glance at Zevran, who was eyeing up a door at the back of the room. She saw his nostrils flare. She breathed in deeply and caught a faint, sickly-sweet aroma. She looked at Weylon and saw his attention had started to wander.

"Why would searching for the urn lead him into danger?"

The man started slightly and his eyes snapped back to her. "Perhaps the Urn has been lost for a reason. I pray for Genitivi's safety, but hope dwindles with each passing day."

For a reason?

Alistair wasn't paying much attention to the conversation, still silently fuming over the fiasco of the duel. What was she thinking of? She could have been killed! His head swam at the possibility. How could she let herself get talked into that? How could Zevran and Leliana let her get talked into that? He shuffled uncomfortably. Because I wasn't there... I was dilly-dallying, staring at Goldanna's house. He sighed. Goldanna. I don't know if I should ask... can ask...

He almost snapped to attention as he noticed Eirwen go still. He suppressed a smile as the words started to tumble from the assistant's mouth. He couldn't see Eirwen's face, but he knew what he'd see if he could. I bet she's giving him the look.

"I-I tried to send help, but some knights came from Redcliffe looking for him not long ago. I sent them after him and they too have disappeared."

"How do you know they've disappeared?" Eirwen's voice was soft, the question casual but the man swallowed nervously. Alistair coughed to hide a small smile. She just used the eyebrow.

"Well, they... haven't returned, and they sent no word either."

Eirwen said nothing and Alistair saw beads of sweat break out on the man's brow.

"Why would they send you word?" she asked eventually.

"I... I don't know." There was a note of desperation in his voice now. "After what happened to Genitivi, can you blame me for thinking the same thing could happen to the knights?

"After what happened to Genitivi," repeated Eirwen, her voice low and dangerous.

Weylon groaned, raising his hand to his face. "I gave you a chance to turn aside and forget you ever heard of Genitivi and the Urn, but you persisted. Now it has come to this... Andraste forgive me. I do this in Your Name."

Alistair felt a prickle of magic and started to gather his will to counter it when Zevran's blade flashed across the man's throat. The man crumpled in a heap as his blood spilled out on the floor.

A cursory search of the back room revealed a decomposing corpse, probably the real Weylon. Eirwen watched with embarrassment as the other three searched the bookcase and the desk. There had never been any need to read when she was with her clan but illiteracy was proving to be something of a handicap in the world beyond her clan. Leliana gave a triumphant shout and waved a battered-looking, leather bound book.

"I think this is a journal!" She flicked through the pages, then grinned. "He's headed to a place called Haven, in the Frostbacks."

"That's clear across the other side of Ferelden," Alistair grumbled.

"But we have to go to Orzammar anyway, so it's not out of our way?" asked Eirwen.

"I suppose not." Alistair sighed heavily. "Let's get back to camp. We've had enough trouble for one day."

Slowly, they skirted Market Square. Eirwen watched as, again, Alistair stared at a house on the far side. Suddenly it dawned on her.

"I have a half-sister... In Denerim... maybe it's time I went to see her."

How could I have forgotten that? She was supposed to be Alistair's friend and she'd been so caught up in avoiding him, trying to stifle her feelings for him, that she'd ignored the things that were important to him. Why hasn't he mentioned it? Guilt and shame coursed through her. Because I've barely spoken to him...I've been avoiding him. Determined to try and put it right, she tapped his arm to get his attention.

"That house, is that where your sis...?"

"I think so," Alistair told her curtly.

"Don't you want to go and see her?"

Alistair glanced ahead. Zevran and Leliana had stopped and were watching them curiously. "I don't think now's a very good time."

"No time like the present, let's get it over and done with." Alistair stared at her in confusion as she called to Leliana and Zevran, "You two go ahead, we'll catch you up shortly."

Eirwen strode across the square, to the small house. Alistair stumbled after her.

"We really don't have time to pay a visit, do we? Maybe we should go," he suggested hopefully.

"Let's see if she's home."

"Will she even know who I am? Does she even know I exist?" He tried to quell his rising panic. "My sister. That sounds very strange... sister." He stopped, drawing the word out. "Siiiiister."

Eirwen turned to look at him.

"Hmmm. Now I'm babbling." He looked down at her, his face a mixture of hope and desperation. "Maybe we should go. Let's go." Alistair started to turn away. "Let's just... go."

Eirwen's hand shot out and grabbed his arm. Tugging him off-balance, she dragged him, stumbling, to the small house. Still grasping his arm, she rapped at the door, then opened it and pushed him inside.

"Er... hello?" called Alistair as she stepped into the house behind him.

A thin woman appeared from the back of the house. Eirwen examined her curiously. Apart from the colour of her lank, stringy hair, she bore no resemblance to Alistair. Her fair skin was lined and she looked prematurely old. Her lips were thin and her mouth pinched. The woman's gaze swept briefly over Eirwen, then rested on the warrior who all but filled the small room.

"Eh? You have linens to wash? I charge three bits on the bundle, you won't find better." The woman's voice was high-pitched and had a strident quality to it. "And don't trust what that Nalia woman tells you either, she's foreign and she'll rob you blind."

Eirwen examined the small house as Alistair haltingly explained who he was. The atmosphere was warm and steamy, a faint odour of soap hung in the air. There was very little furniture, only a rudimentary table pushed up against one wall with a bench stowed underneath it; a worn, faded rag rug was laid on the floor. The room was spotlessly clean, as was the woman who was gaping at Alistair. All of a sudden the woman erupted into a furious diatribe.

"You! I knew it! They told me you was dead! They told me the babe was dead along with mother, but I knew they was lying!"

Eirwen was horrified as the thin washer woman went on and on about how hard done to she was, while Alistair just stood there, looking miserable, like he wanted the floor to open up underneath him and swallow him up. This is all my fault. I shouldn't have dragged him in here like this. When the woman accused Alistair of killing their mother, Eirwen couldn't stay quiet any longer.

Eirwen felt her temper rising. "That was hardly Alistair's fault, was it?"

"And who in the Maker's name are you? Some elf to follow him about and carry his riches for him?" she sneered.

Before Eirwen could reply, Alistair's interrupted indignantly. "Hey! Don't speak to her like that way! She's my friend, and a Grey Warden! Just like me!"

Eirwen felt a rush of shame at Alistair's heated defence of her; she didn't deserve it.

Goldanna turned her attention back to Alistair and resumed her list of grievances. Eirwen had had enough. She turned to Alistair and tugged free the small, leather purse tucked just inside his breast plate. Alistair looked down at her in confusion.

"What... "

"Give her some money. It's all she's interested in and if it stills her tongue, it will be money well spent."

Goldanna's diatribe stumbled to a stop as she saw the purse, the greed plain in her eyes.

"Fifteen sovereigns, maybe? Would you let me give her that?" he asked.

Eirwen nodded. "Yes, go ahead, if you like." Eirwen had no idea how much money they had, but trusted Alistair not to give all their money away.

Goldanna shot out a hand and snatched the coins, secreting them in a pocket. Eirwen could only gape when she sneered at Alistair. "You, a prince, marching in here with your fancy armour and such, and this is all you got to offer? You must think I'm very stupid."

Eirwen drew one of her Dar'Misu and stepped towards Goldanna. "Someone ought to cut out that tongue of yours!" she hissed, and was satisfied to see the other woman's eyes widen as she stepped back with a frightened squeak.

She felt Alistair grab her arm and tug her back. "No! Just... leave her alone. It's her house, after all." Eirwen looked up at him.

"Let's just go," he said miserably, tugging her out of the door.

Once outside, Alistair ran his hand through his hair. "Well, that was... not what I expected. To put it lightly," he told her ruefully.

Eirwen bitterly regretted dragging him in there in the first place. She hadn't thought it through at all. She'd pushed him into it because of her own guilt, with no regard as to the consequences. All she'd succeeded in doing was causing Alistair more hurt.

"I'm sorry I gave her any money at all," Alistair continued, shaking his head. "This is the family I've been wondering about all my life? That gold-digging harridan? I can't believe it." He turned and marched across the square towards the gate and Eirwen struggled to keep up with his long legs.

"I guess I was expecting her to accept me without question, isn't that what family is supposed to do? I... I feel like a complete idiot."

"I don't know what to say," Eirwen told him. "I'm sorry it turned out like this."

Alistair sighed. "Yes... I'm sorry too. I guess I should have known better."

He strode through the gate. "Let's just go. I don't want to talk about this any more."

The walk back to their campsite was tense and uncomfortable. There was a palpable atmosphere between Alistair and Eirwen. Initially Alistair took the lead, with Leliana at his side. After a while Leliana flashed Zevran a look and he moved up to take her place and she dropped back to walk with Eirwen. They walked along in silence for a while.

"Eirwen. I don't know what Wynne has said to you, but I think you're being very unfair to Alistair."

Eirwen sighed heavily. "I know. I know I need to talk to him, but I can't bring myself to say the words. I..." She stopped, struggling to keep a grip on her emotions.

Leliana patted her arm. "You need to find a way, my friend, and soon. If you have to hurt him, then do it quickly and cleanly."

Eirwen nodded miserably. "I'll talk to him later, when we get back to camp."

~o~O~o~

Leliana and Zevran were busy cooking. Zevran had purchased some spices in Denerim and was eager to show off his culinary skills. Eirwen changed into a shirt and breeches and wandered away from the camp, needing some time alone, trying to prepare what she wanted to say to Alistair. Leliana watched her go, Gelert trotting dutifully behind her, then hurried down to the stream where Alistair was refilling their water bucket.

"Alistair! Eirwen's gone for a walk. Maybe you should go after her?"

He shuffled uncomfortably. "I don't know, Leliana." Alistair looked at her doubtfully. "Wouldn't it be better to wait for her to tell me what's on her mind?"

Leliana snorted in exasperation. "You've been patient enough, I think." She reached for the bucket. "Go and find her. She needs to talk; you both need to talk."

Finding confidence in Leliana's certainty, Alistair handed over the bucket and set off to find Eirwen.

It didn't take Alistair long to find Eirwen. She was wandering aimlessly through the trees, not far away from their camp. He called out to her, and was dismayed at the look on her face when she turned to look at him. She looks like a startled deer. One wrong move and she's going to run away. He approached her cautiously, coming to a stop in front of her.

"Uhm... I appreciate that you brought me to see my sister, and that you... well, that you were there to talk me down after we left." He saw her eyes widen in surprise, before the impassive look shuttered her face. "You're a true friend and I... love you. I just... wanted to tell you that," he blurted, the words tumbling out of his mouth before he could stop them.

He was mortified at the pain in her eyes as she backed away from him. "No! You can't! I... we can't... " Eirwen turned away as her eyes filled with tears. She stood, rigidly, hugging herself.

Alistair started to reach out a hand, then caught himself. "Eirwen, tell me what's wrong. This is about something Wynne said, isn't it?"

He saw her nod and waited patiently. Eirwen sighed, then he saw her hand go up to her face and she sniffed loudly.

"She said... she talked about duty," she told him, her voice soft and thick with tears, "and about... love."

Alistair ached to put his arms around her.

"Wynne said that love is selfish, that it can... compromise duty. That as a Grey Warden, I have to put duty first and..." Eirwen sighed again, "she's right."

"She is not right," burst out Alistair angrily. Eirwen started at his tone and turned her head to look over her shoulder at him, her eyes wide. He stepped towards her and grasped her arm, turning her to face him. "She is not right," he repeated more gently. "There are plenty of people out there who manage to do their duty and love someone at the same time." He saw her frown. "Tell me," he asked her, "how does duty work in a Dalish Clan?"

Her frown deepened. "I'm not sure what you mean?"

"You have a duty to your Clan, yes? How does that work?"

She thought about it, then tried to put it into words, "I suppose it means we all work to keep each other safe. Everything we do is for the greater good of the Clan," she paused, thinking.

"Yet your Keeper doesn't tell you that you can't love, does she? She doesn't say that love is selfish and that if you love someone then you can't fulfil your duty to your Clan."

"Well, no," conceded Eirwen. "But what Wynne was saying was that love demands devotion to one person..." Alistair snorted as she continued, "and she asked me that if I was forced to choose between saving my love and saving everyone else, what I would choose? At first I thought her foolish, but when I thought about it..." she looked up at him, her eyes full of anguish, then dropped her gaze again, "I wasn't sure any more what I would choose."

Alistair opened his mouth to say something, but she carried on. "I couldn't stop thinking about the Arlessa, Isolde. What if I had to make that kind of choice for you? If your life was the price to pay for saving everyone else?"

Alistair gave into his impulse and pulled her close, wrapping his arms around her, holding her tightly to him. He rested his cheek on her head and, as he felt her sob, he blinked away his own tears.

"She is wrong in so many ways, Eirwen, I barely know where to begin." He stopped, trying to gather his thoughts. "There are many kinds of love. I was told by a Sister in the Chantry that the Maker makes our hearts big enough to hold them all, and I believe that. If you would deny yourself one kind of love, where would you draw the line? Must you stop loving Ashalle, because one day your love for her might conflict with your duty? Will you stop loving your friends? Love is the very opposite of selfish, or at least that's what I was taught."

Alistair felt her sobs subside. He squeezed her gently. "As to choosing... I hope you never have to make that choice, but I know that you will do the right thing because you always do." He loosed his arms and leaned back, wiping away her tears with her thumbs, cradling her face in his hands. "If I ever have to choose between what is right for you and what is right for the Grey Wardens, what would you have me do? What do you think I would do?"

"I think... " Eirwen gulped a little, breathless from crying, "that you would do what is right for the Wardens."

Alistair smiled at her, then hugged her close again. "And I expect no less of you." He kissed the top of her head. "Maker, Eirwen! You had to choose between searching for Tamlen or leaving your Clan and joining the Wardens, if anyone has proven themselves with regard to duty, you have."

Alistair brushed his fingers under Eirwen's chin, tilting her head up, and leaned in and kissed her softly. "We're in the last two Grey Wardens in Ferelden. We're in the midst of a Blight and a civil war. I have no idea what our future holds, or if I can even offer you a future. All I know is I love you and I want to be with you. "

Eirwen gazed up at him, her eyes large in her face. She reached up a hand to cup his face. "I love you, too," she told him softly.

A wild joy surged through Alistair at her words and he lowered his head, kissing her fiercely. He felt the familiar ache building in his groin as she pressed against him. The fervour of Alistair's kiss made Eirwen's head reel. There was a hunger to it that bordered on savage. He crushed her against him, a possessive hand roaming down her back to grasp her backside, clasping her to him.

Alistair pulled away and Eirwen whimpered in disappointment. He looked down at her, his eyes dark with desire; she felt as if she might burst into flames under that gaze.

"I've missed you so much," he told her, his voice low and husky.

She felt a pang of shame at those words. Flushing, she stammered, "I... I'm sorry, Lethallin. I should have... "

Another, softer, kiss silenced her. "No more words," he murmured as his mouth grazed against her lips, her nose, her eyes. She felt a shudder of desire run through her as his mouth wandered lightly over her ear.

Alistair felt her shudder against him and felt the feral desire to possess, that he'd been trying to suppress, flare in him again. His lips and tongue explored the deliciously tapered ear, that had somehow felt off-limits before; licking, nuzzling, nipping. He felt Eirwen tug his loose shirt free of his breeches, then her hands were blazing trails of fire over his skin. He growled in frustration as Eirwen's own, tailored shirt proved harder to penetrate.

He almost yelped in surprise when she pulled away from him. The flash of irritation on his face was rapidly replaced with a look of open appreciation as she pulled her shirt up and off, over her head. His eyes widened as she reached a hand behind her and unfastened her breast band, her small firm breasts springing free as she dropped it onto the grass. Alistair tugged his own shirt off and sank to his knees, pulling her to him.

Eirwen arched, gasping, as Alistair's mouth closed over her nipple. He sank back to sit on his heels and her legs encircled him as he drew her down onto his lap. He groaned as she writhed against him. He wrenched his mouth away from her breast, shuddering.

"I want you so much," he murmured against her throat.

Eirwen leaned back, catching his face in her hands. Her grey eyes were dark and serious as she gazed at him. "Then take me, Lethallin. I am yours."

A bark of startled laughter escaped him. "What? You mean right now?" He looked around doubtfully. "Right here? Outside? In a wood?"

The corner of her mouth twitched in a small smile. "Outside. In a wood," she confirmed. A glint of challenge flared in her eyes as she added, "Shem."

"B-But don't we need a blanket or something?" he protested.

"The grass here is as soft as any blanket." Eirwen shuffled off his lap and sat down, tugging off her boots.

Alistair blanched. "What if somebody sees us... or worse, we're attacked?"

Eirwen glanced across at Gelert who sat, watching them with interest. Alistair flushed under the dog's gaze. As if sensing his embarrassment, the mabari flopped down and closed his eyes, although his ears twitched alertly.

"I don't think we'll be disturbed," Eirwen assured him, standing. Slowly she unlaced her breeches, then tugged them down, small clothes and all and stepped out of them.

Mesmerised by the sight of her, Alistair's doubts fled. Shifting, so that he sat with his long legs stretched out in front of him, he shed the rest of his clothes quickly. He caught her hand and pulled her down, laying her on the grass. He leaned over her, his eyes drinking in the sight of her, as his hand wandered lazily down her body. He watched her skin shiver and ripple as he caressed, first her breast, then her belly, then her hip. Her body turned into him as his hand meandered on its leisurely journey.

He heard her breath catch in anticipation as his fingers parted her sex. Trying to control the trembling of his hand, he sought out the little nub that he knew gave her such pleasure. His thumb grazed over it, and he felt her stiffen against him, heard her gasp. He let his fingers slide down between her moist lips and tentatively inserted a finger into the cleft he found there. He shuddered as it slid easily into her, enclosing him in soft, damp heat. Encouraged, he inserted another finger, thrusting gently while his thumb worked against the nub of her sex.

Eirwen grasped his head and kissed him urgently as she thrust against the hand doing wonderful things at her core. "Alistair... please..." She arched against him desperately. Gaining confidence, Alistair's hand increased its momentum, feeling her leg tremble, knowing she was close to her release. Eirwen cried out, flexing against his hand as she came. Alistair slowly withdrew his hand, his heart racing. His breath caught in his chest as Eirwen caught hold of his hand and she raised it to her face, breathing in the musky scent that lingered there, then she slowly ran her tongue along his fingers. She wriggled underneath him and he found himself between her legs.

He closed his eyes, suddenly unsure.

"What's wrong, Lethallin?" Eirwen asked.

"I'm afraid I'll hurt you," he confessed. His voice dropped to a barely audible whisper. "I want you so much, I can barely control myself."

She smiled up at him, then started to sit up. Confused, Alistair backed away. "Lie down," she instructed.

Warily, he laid on the grass. Eirwen shifted so that she straddled him. Slowly she slid up his body, her damp sex rubbing against his twitching erection.

Alistair groaned as he felt her lift herself up, then her hand grasped him, guiding him. He gasped, shuddering, as she lowered herself onto his length, slowly taking him inside her. His hands clutched the grass convulsively as he tried not to thrust up at her. He moaned as he felt her rise, then fall, his hands moving of their own accord to her hips.

He heard her voice, as if from miles away, murmuring softly, "It doesn't hurt at all, Alistair. It feels right."

He only realised that he had closed his eyes, when they flew open at her words, and he was greeted with the glorious sight of her astride him. Pushing himself into a half-sitting position, his mouth sought out the breasts so temptingly positioned above him, as he thrust into her. He heard her moan as he suckled greedily, his hips bucking. His self-control unravelled as he exploded into her, clutching her to him as he moaned her name against her breast.

Sated, Alistair fell back onto the grass, pulling her down onto his chest. He cradled her gently as she nestled against him.

"I wanted to wait for the perfect time, the perfect place..."

Eirwen lifted her head to look at him. "It was the perfect time." She looked around her, then smiled down at him. "And I think this is the perfect place."

He chuckled at that. "Well, you would." He cast an eye up at the sky; the light was starting to fade a little.

Eirwen caught his look and snuggled against him. "A few more moments, Lethallin."

Alistair squeezed her gently, sighing happily. "A few more moments," he agreed.