Why do they think up stories that link my name with yours?
Why do the neighbors chatter all day behind their doors?
I know a way to prove what they say is quite untrue.
Here is the gist, a practical list of “don’ts” for you…
Don’t please my folks too much…
Don’t sigh and gaze at me
Your sighs are so like mine
Your eyes mustn’t glow like mine
People will say we’re in love!
	--- “People Will Say We’re in Love”, Oklahoma

Her mouth was like the rest of her, sweetly yielding yet unhesitatingly responsive, and though that first kiss had been necessarily a bit awkward, to Anomen it was the greatest prize he had ever won. They had found a sofa in a deserted side parlor, and sat together until past two, when Tisha’s yawns had grown so wide that he had insisted that she go to bed. Now he waited anxiously at the bottom of the staircase for her to come down this morning. He knew it was foolish, but he admitted to himself that in one small corner of his mind he was afraid that her feelings would have melted away with the sunrise. He thought back over the rest of the previous night’s events.

He was glad that Maria had offered him a room for the night as well; also glad that his love did not carmine her lips the way so many women did. She didn’t need it, for one thing--- he liked their natural shade--- and it meant her kisses left no trace. There had been no tell-tale marks to betray their second kiss when he had gone back into the drawing room after parting from Patricia at the foot of the stairs. Winthrop, Ryan, and Keldorn had apparently appropriated another bottle of wine, and Winthrop had been trying to teach the other two some ditty in a strange tongue, for he sang a few words, then stopped to translate. “Si puer cum puellula--- If a boy with a girl--- moraretur in cellula--- tarries in a little room--- felix coniunctio---.”

He’d missed the next bit while replying to Lady Maria and Lady Trawl’s polite inquiries, but the following lines were all too clear.

“Amore suscrescente--- Love rises up,” Winthrop boomed, “pariter e medio avulso procul tedio--- and between them prudery is driven away--- fit ludus ineffabilis membris, lacertis, labii--- an ineffable game begins in their limbs, arms and lips. Think you’ve got it?” ^*)

“I’ll try,” Keldorn had said, chuckling. “Amore suscrescente, eh? Sounds like some of the bad verse I remember seeing scribbled in the margins of books in the holy libraries, some of which I regret to recall I was responsible for.”

“And I,” Ryan admitted, “though my heresies were never as sophisticated as yours. Remember the one about the succubus?”

Helm! That had been embarrassing! He’d been relieved Patricia hadn’t come back in with him, especially because he too remembered that particular song. Although he was thankful her parents seemed to have a sense of humor, at least; Delaine didn’t seem one whit disturbed by her husband’s antics. In fact, shortly thereafter she’d asked Winthrop to move over at the instrument, and had proceeded to sing a ballad so full of double entendres that Anomen was surprised the glass in the then-closed doors to the veranda hadn’t fogged up. He’d been glad enough to escape to a spare bedroom, where he could think in peace, without all those additional disturbing images….

But now the sun was streaming in, a day fit for his exalted mood. He wanted every bird in the skies to sing, every flower to be in bloom, the grass to be greener than ever before. It was good that they were to get out of this city and back into the verdant countryside; he only wished that he and Patricia could have the journey all to themselves. Still, he relished the thought of a whole afternoon spent near her, out in the fresh air and, even better, astride Cedar.

He heard steps in the hall behind him, but thought nothing of it until he felt a light touch on his arm. He whirled in surprise, just managing to catch Patricia by the waist.

“Hey!” she said in laughing protest. “I don’t recall giving you permission to do that.”

He swung her around to stand on the first step, so her eyes were level with his own. “And I didn’t tell you you could leave this house without letting me know, either, my lady!”

She crinkled her nose at him. She seemed nearly as young as Nalia this morning, and he was both entranced and humbled by the simple happiness that radiated from her. Was it truly possible that he had had something to do with creating this joy?

“Slugabed, the sun’s been up for two hours! We’ve packed up your stuff and collected the horses from the Coronet already!” she replied.

“Well,” he pointed out, “I’ve spent an hour waiting on you, because I thought you were still asleep.”

“I’m sorry,” she said contritely. “I just needed to be up and doing this morning. I should have left a message.” A curtain of shadow seemed to fall across her face. “Anomen, we need to talk about something. Do you remember our conversation with Sir Ryan yesterday morning?”

He nodded, unsure where she was going, but feeling obscurely threatened.

“Well, I still need to explain what Sir Ryan wants me to do. I think it’s a bad idea, but,” she sighed, “so far I haven’t come up with a better plan. I can’t tell you about it now, or on the road, because you know Jan’s going to have his ears flapping in our direction today. You’ll just have to trust me until tonight. And oh, Anomen, if you want to kiss me as much as I want to be kissed, you’d best do it now, because you won’t get another chance today.”

He was hurt and confused. “But why, Tisha?” Events seemed to be spinning out of control around him, and his own joy was rapidly evaporating.

She placed her hands on his shoulders and looked at him gravely, green eyes somewhat troubled. “Because, Sir Anomen, I am much afraid that we mustn’t appear to be fond of each other.”

Her words sent a cold chill through him. “I … see,” he said, striving to conceal his disappointment. Was she afraid that her parents disapproved of him? Or possibly Boo?

She caught his distress; he should have known she would. “No, Anomen!” she said forcefully, “I’m not ashamed of you. I’ve never been prouder of anyone in my life than I was of you yesterday! You’re the strongest person I’ve ever known besides Gorion. That’s why I hate this so much. It feels so wrong. Oh, please, just try to wait until this evening; we’ve got to go and pick up Delon.”

He rubbed his temples, which had begun to throb. “And here I believed that my life would be considerably simplified once I was inducted into the Order,” he said ruefully. “I shall take you at your word, Patricia, and try to possess my soul in patience until tonight. But you did say I might steal one kiss, my lady?”

His love’s face softened, and she brushed his cheek tentatively with one of her small hands. “I wish there were time for a thousand, but I suppose we shall have to make do with one. But… I would prefer to be out of sight of the servants.”

The Watcher led her into the study and enfolded her once more in his arms, savoring these precious few moments. He had deliberately left off his armor this morning for this very purpose, as he had found last night that he vastly preferred being able to feel her form as something more than general pressure against metal and leather. He sniffed deeply at her hair. No, he hadn’t been mistaken before; Tisha did possess a subtle scent all her own, a clean smell that he couldn’t quite identify.

“My lady, what perfume is this?” he asked.

She moved her head away from his chest and blinked up at him. “I didn’t put any cologne on this morning,” she said, “I rarely do. It must be my soap or hair rinse. They’re apple-scented. I don’t like anything strong.”

He smiled to himself. He should have known. She was far too practical to wear something that would make her easier for orcs and other scent-hunters to find, and apple was a common enough natural smell. Kitchen camouflage, he thought with amusement.

“We’ve got to go soon,” Patricia reminded him in a muffled voice. “Much as I don’t want to move from here.”

“All right, then, if we must,” he agreed. He gently tilted her head back until he could see her face. Her eyes glistened suspiciously, and a song he had heard last night rose unbidden to his mind. When he’d heard Winthrop translate it, it had seemed to be written for Patricia; if only he could remember the words exactly! He was no poet himself. But there were more important things to do right now, starting with a kiss….

They were mounting Delon on the spare pony when Patricia said, “Oh, Anomen, I’ve just remembered. When I went back to the Coronet this morning, Winthrop handed me a package for you. Let me get it out of my saddlebag before we move on again.” She returned in a moment with a flat parcel that felt like a book. He stuffed it into his pack until they were well outside of town, but when they stopped to let the horses drink he opened it curiously. It was indeed a book, bound in plain black, and when he opened it a scrap of paper fell into his lap.

Sir Anomen--- Knowing something of the difficulties you are about to face, I think you may find this little volume as useful as I did in a similar situation some thirty years ago. Patricia does not find it easy to confide in anyone, even us, and I hope you appreciate the honor you have earned. Delaine and I trust her judgement--- we have always worried more about her sister in that regard--- but I shall still take this opportunity to play the heavy parent. Ahem: if you hurt Patricia in any way, you will die painfully. I hope that is clear enough.

		Sincerely,
		F. Winthrop Delacroix

Curiosity aroused, Anomen began to flip through the pages, some of which had been dog-eared at one time or another. It was a book of poetry and music, and about a third of the way through his eyes lit upon the very words he had vainly struggled to recall this morning. He began to be very grateful to Winthrop; he didn’t think he could stand such a complete repression of his feelings as Patricia had implied might be necessary, and he now saw a use for this little journal. Now that they had been fully awakened, how could he possibly subdue such emotions? And more importantly, why should Patricia want him to, if she truly returned his regard?

He puzzled over the conundrum a while longer after they remounted, but finally gave it up as a bad job. He was back in his armor now, of course, riding at the head of the group. Absently he fingered Ashideena, now hanging at his belt. He had this token of her esteem, at least; and what a gift! He would wield it with pride, as Dergat had, in defense of his chosen lady. But… he had nothing to give Patricia in return. He felt subtly ashamed of his relative poverty, though at least now his Order pay would be more than doubled with his increase in rank.

His train of thought was interrupted by Nalia, who had pulled up just behind him.

“Hey, Anomen, don’t forget to take the next fork.”

“I can remember how to get to your keep, Nalia,” he replied evenly, telling himself that she was just trying to be helpful, not irritating.

“Just didn’t want you to forget,” the mage said cheerfully. “You were looking pretty lost in thought there for a bit, almost as out of it as that Sir Cadril was at lunch yesterday!”

Anomen was startled. Irlana had mentioned that Cadril had started to come with them to the Mithrest, but had been invited elsewhere at the last moment. He’d been glad to hear it, as he was sure the other would have found some way of ruining the occasion, but why would Delcia have had him to lunch?

“I didn’t know Lady Delcia knew Sir Cadril,” he said.

“Oh, she didn’t, Tisha brought him,” Nalia said, “but Auntie and he between them seemed to know every single member of the whole nobility. They had a great gossip. I was surprised; they really took to each other.”

His hands froze reflexively on the reins, and Cedar obediently pulled up. Vainly he tried to master his welling rage. Patricia had actually invited Cadril to lunch, with her parents and great-aunt, no less? Done so behind his back, while she knew he was occupied elsewhere? Was that why she had been so anxious to leave after their all-too-brief conversation yesterday morning? Cadril, the one man he disliked most, and with good reason, as she well knew? Helm, could the man leave him nothing? For the first time he realized how his father must feel about Saerk.

“Why’re you stopping, Anomen?” Nalia asked innocently.

“To make sure we’re all together before we make the turn,” he said grimly. “I wouldn’t want to mislay anyone.” The Watcher made a massive effort to control himself. He had given his word to Patricia that he would wait until this evening, and wait he would, though his stomach churned at the thought of what she might have to reveal.

*) Carmina Burana, Carl Orff