Maiden by Decree
Chapter Seven
 By Maggie Finson
 
False Smiles

or, That dirty, double dealing, two faced, four flushing…

 

False Smiles

Or: That dirty, double dealing, two faced, four flushing…

“OWW!!! That was my leg!”

“If you’d hold still and stop fidgeting…” Katrina muttered through a mouthfull of pins. “You wouldn’t get stuck while I get this hem pinned up. I’ll never get this Gown properly fitted if you insist on jumping around like that.”

“I’m not jumping around!” Deirdre shot back. “I itch all over. You try holding perfectly still while invisible ants gleefully play tag on every inch of skin you have!”

“I’d noticed some development in certain places.” The dressmaker nodded. “Did Harald give you something to enhance your feminine appearance? That would explain the itching.”

“No. Not that he didn’t try a few things, though.” The other grumbled. “He told me that my body was changing all by itself.”

“Really? I wonder how that could be?” The dressmaker mused while giving her former apprentice a longer looking over then shrugging. “But I’m no physician, or mage to make any attempt at figuring that one out. Have you seen the court physicians about it?”

“Two of them, yesterday.” Deirdre shuddered at memory of standing naked in front of two men who poked, prodded, and squeezed a lot more than she’d really thought necessary and in places that were extremely embarrassing. “They can’t figure it out either. All they could tell me was that there have been rare cases of boys developing like girls and the other way around. They believe that I’m one of those.”

“Well, you always were more delicate and feminine in appearance than was really good for you, or any boy.” Katrina sighed and gave the apparent young woman in front of her a little smile. “That may be what it is, after all. Now again, stop fidgeting while I finish these alterations, all girls put up with itching up there when they develop. There are salves and lotions to ease that. I could get you some.”

“Got some of that, thanks.” Deirdre answered with a grimace. “Harald and the physicians all gave me some. Damned prophecy, anyway.”

“What?”

“Never mind.” Concentrating on holding still, Sir Garret’s new lady snorted. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

“Whatever, dear.” Mumbling through a mouthful of pins, Katrina waved one of her other apprentices — female, and who had been conspicuously absent up until recently, to hold out part of the skirts on the gown Deirdre was being fitted for.

“I can’t believe I’m standing her getting fitted for a gown to wear to the Royal Grand Ball.” Closing her eyes and grimacing, Deirdre shook her head, careful not to move the lower part of her body. “If anyone had even teased me about that a few weeks ago I would have…”

“What’s that, dear?” Katrina questioned.

“Nothing, just muttering.”

“Well get that scowl off your face.” The dressmaker ordered. “This isn’t that much of an ordeal, after all. Women go through this all the time.”

“So I’ve been told. Repeatedly. And about a lot of things besides a dress fitting.” The raven tressed beauty grumbled. “At least I don’t have to deal with ‘that time of the month’. At least not yet.”

“The way you’re already developing,” Katrina answered absently. “I wouldn’t get my hopes up about avoiding that particular joy of womanhood, either if I were you.”

“You are not helping here.” Deirdre shot back with widened eyes and a look of horror on her face.

“Well, dear.” Katrina lightly patted the former boy’s bottom then slid her hand over one of the lady’s hips and gestured at the growing breasts encased in the satins and silks of the gown and its underpinnings. “You’re expanding in those places and shrinking in others already.”

“You mean my waist?” Deirdre questioned with another grimace. “It’s the corsets. I can’t eat a decent amount of food with those devilish things squeezing my stomach like a blacksmith’s vise!”

“Yes, dear, I know all about corsets.” The dressmaker nodded then sighed. “No I meant you seem to be shrinking in another place a bit lower than your waist. Hadn’t you noticed?”

“Noticed?” Deirdre squeaked in dismay. “How was I going to check when the only times I’m completely undressed, there are maids around? I have to keep those things carefully hidden away.”

“Oh, well it may just be your wider hips and bigger bottom making them seem smaller.” Katrina offered consolingly.

“The way things have been going for me recently? I really doubt that.” Deirdre almost screeched. “And how can you be so, so — calm about it?!! That’s my manhood we’re discussing here and it’s getting smaller?”

“Manhood?” Katrina gave the young beauty in front of her an exasperated look that changed to one of sympathy. “Deirdre, in case you haven’t been paying attention to things recently, there really isn’t much of that left to you, far as that goes anyway.”

“Like I hadn’t noticed already.” She shot back almost defensively then let out a long sigh of near frustration. “Not that anyone around me is doing anything to salvage even a little of that lately. Oh, noooo. All I hear is ladies don’t do this, or a lady always does it this way, or…”

“Are you just catching your breath, or have you run out of tirade?” Katrina asked with a tilt of her head and a small smile. “Do feel free to rant and rave all you like here, but try and remember that there isn’t much to be done about that right now, is there?”

“Uh, I think I’m finished now.” Deirdre blushed down to her neck. “Sorry.”

“That’s all right dear.” Katrina gave the other’s shoulder a gentle squeeze. “This has to be rather unnerving for you, and something that’s taking a lot of adjustments. I shouldn’t tease you about it, or berate you for letting out your frustrations among friends.”

“Unnerving…” Deirdre played with a strand of thick, dark hair that had fallen into her face. “Well, I hadn’t really called it that. A lot of my descriptions fall into that ‘ladies don’t say that kind of things’ category to be honest.”

“Understandable dear.” Katrina chuckled, then waved her new apprentice forward. “I think the fireworks are over, Raella. Come help me hold this part while I sew it.”

“I'm done fussing, Raella.” Deirdre assured the girl then rolled her eyes. “I think.”

“How is life at the palace?” Katrina changed the subject with a warning look to her former apprentice.

“Uh, interesting is a word that comes to mind.” Deirdre answered with a shrug. “Different than I’m used to, if that helps.”

“Well, you’ve been there two weeks.” Katrina answered then asked. “Are you getting used to it yet?”

“I still shout in my bedroom, bed chambers — sorry — to hear the echoes, if that tells you anything. I know I amuse my maids and major domo when I do that. Garret thinks it’s hilarious.”

“Just don’t yodel.” Katrina advised. “People tend to throw things when someone does that indoors.”

“Yodeling.” Deirdre got a thoughtful look on her face. “I never thought of that one.”

“You wouldn’t!?” Katrina gasped then hid a giggle behind her hand.

“I might.” Deirdre shrugged then winced as a pin found her leg. “I know, I know, hold very, very still. And if that was a warning about yodeling, I get the hint already.”

“Good.” Katrina nodded in satisfaction then gave Raella an exasperated look. “Oh, come on girl. Don’t goggle and gasp at everything we say here. Deirdre is a most unconventional lady, and for some reason I don’t see that rather endearing trait as one that will fade with time. Probably why Sir Garret loves her.”

“I — I had noticed, Katrina, M’lady.” The girl responded timidly.

“Raella, trust me on this one.” Deirdre stage whispered. “You should have heard the dressing downs I got when I was her apprentice. For that matter, I still get them from her. You aren’t alone there, dear girl.”

“Oh, she’ll get used to me.” Katrina assured them both.

“I never did, and I’ve known you all my life.” Deirdre countered.

“It isn’t nice, frightening your dressmaker’s apprentice. I could ‘accidentally’ leave a pin or two in some sensitive areas once this gown is finished, you know.”

“Ouch.” Deirdre winced. “All right. How’s this then? Raella, you will get used to Katrina, and maybe even me. If you live to be about two-hundred and three…”

The girl laughed at that one, and started to relax. “Thank you, M’lady.”

“It’s Deirdre. At least when we’re in private.” The lady admonished then let out another sigh. “You know, I’m actually getting used to people calling me that, and calling myself that? Wonder if Harald has been feeding me something extra?”

“If he has been, it certainly hasn’t calmed your temperament in the least, dear.” Katrina deadpanned. “If anything it’s made you worse.”

“Hormones.” Deirdre nodded decisively. “I blame the hormones. And puberty coming late.”

“Don’t pay attention to her, Raella.” Katrina sighed. “She’s incorrigible and will no doubt ruin you for a normal life if you listen to anything she says.”

“I take my fun where I find it.” Deirdre regally returned, then ruined that with a laugh that got Raella started.

“See what I mean?” The dressmaker rolled her eyes then joined in the laughter.

A knock on the doorframe interrupted that and a male voice came through the curtains that closed off the fitting room from the front of the shop. “I see, or rather hear, that you ladies are enjoying yourselves. Is it safe to come in”

“Yes, Garret.” Deirdre called back then found herself smiling without thinking about it when the knight carefully moved the curtains and entered the room. Raella and Katrina curtsied, but Deirdre simply stood there with a smile on her face and lifted one shoulder in a careful shrug. “I’d honor my love with a curtsey as well, but with all the pins in this thing at the moment I’d probably die from blood loss before you could find a healer if I tried.”

Garret didn’t answer, just stood there and stared for a moment before bowing. “Ladies. Deirdre, you are absolutely stunning in that gown. Every lady at court is going to be insanely jealous, and every man is going to be in instant lust. But you’re mine! All mine!”

“They’re a matched set.” Katrina whispered to Raella with a smirk.

“No!” The girl replied with wide eyes.

“Another one.” Katrina closed her eyes and winced. “Why is it that all my apprentices are smart asses?”

“Probably because they have similar temperaments to you, Katrina?” Deirdre offered.

“You haven’t married Garret yet, girl.” The dressmaker glowered in mock anger. “I can still put you over my knee if it’s needed, and remember those pins.”

“I’ll concede the contest to you, lady dressmaker.” Deirdre answered, lowering her head and trying to appear meek. “Just to avoid the pins, you understand.”

“Smart girl.” Katrina approved, the waved to Raella. “You’ve been corrupted enough for one day. Take Sir Garret to the viewing room and get him some chilled wine while I get his lady out of her new gown.”

* * * *

“You were breathtaking in that gown, my love.” Garret told her as they rode — in a coach this time — back to the palace.

“If you had dared to say something like that to me a few weeks ago I might have tried to hurt you, sirrah.” Deirdre lifted her chin and tried to appear affronted.

“And now?”

“I’m flattered that you like it, though I wish you hadn’t seen it just yet. Early viewings by the man meant to be snared by such things really ruins the surprise, you know.”

“Oh should I act surprised when I see you the night of the ball?” He questioned.

“That would be nice.” Deirdre nodded then grinned. “But it still loses some of the impact, so I’m told.”

“Oh, I’m sure with your hair done, and with jewelry, that you’ll still surprise me, dearest.” He reassured her.

“Oh, I’m just full of surprises.” She grinned.

“So I’m learning.” Garret grinned back. “I understand that you keep your staff entertained.”

“Well it’s like this.” Deirdre gave him an evil little smirk. “When no one is saying anything, or moving furniture around in my bedchamber or receiving room, if I yell just right, I can hear an echo! I love it!”

“And this, dear gods.” Garret sighed, though he was suppressing a chuckle. “Is my future wife. Get to know her well, I’m sure she’ll be attracting your attention often enough in the future that familiarity at this early stage could be an advantage you would lose if it
wasn’t taken immediately.”

“That wife thing isn’t set in stone yet, you know.” She reminded him.

“I have time.” Garret smugly answered. “I’m quite certain that my overwhelming charm will win you over, my lovely lady.”

“Is there a chamber pot in this coach?” Deirdre questioned innocently, or as innocently as a question like that could be put.

“Of course, do you require it right away? We’re nearly at the palace, after all.”

“Well if I don’t use that, I’ll just stick my head out the window and throw up on the street and innocent bystanders. Your choice, dear.”
Deirdre winked then giggled.

“Then the chamber pot, by all means!” He responded, reaching under the seat and producing a rather ornate one. “Will this do, my love?”

“Is it heavy enough to bruise you if I hit you on the head with it?”

“Probably.”

“Then hand it over, darling.” She purred

“I love you, too, dear lady.”

* * * *

“I didn’t think you’d really hit me with the thing!” Garret rubbed his head and winced.

“Oh, don’t be such a baby.” Deirdre snickered. “I only tapped you with it and the silver didn’t even dent a little, so I couldn’t have hit you that hard.”

“Next time, you sit there in trusting love and let me hit you with it.” He suggested.

“Well, I suppose fair is fair.” Deirdre sighed theatrically. “I’m marrying a beast, a girl beater! Help me o merciful gods.”

“The gods are probably rolling on the floor of their hall at your antics, dearest.” Garret chuckled. “But at least you admitted that you are going to marry me, which could be considered as progress.”

“Provisionally.” She cautioned. “Don’t get your hopes up just yet.”

“Hope wells eternal, my love.” Garret smirked in his turn.

“Better hope you have a really big bucket in that well, then.” She advised.

“Huge.” He assured her then added. “Positively huge. Takes a dozen strong men to haul it up.”

“Is that supposed to impress me?” She gave him a skeptical look.

“One can hope.” He answered almost innocently.

“Hope again.” Deirdre grumbled. “Okay, let’s change the subject here before we make my maids so ill they won’t be able to help me get dressed for dinner. Though that would be a sight, wouldn’t it? Me appearing for the evening meal in nothing but my modesty…”

“Subject change, coming right up!” He assured then leered at her. “Though that isn’t such a bad idea for a private supper…”

“I have a chamber pot in here somewhere.” She warned while looking around the receiving room.

“I surrender!” Garret threw his hands up in mock terror. “Not another word about it today, I swear on my honor!”

“You’re worse than Katrina says I am.” Deirdre laughed and gave the man a hug. “I guess we are well matched in that way, at least.”

“Oh, in more ways than that, my love.” He seriously told her while enfolding her in a hug of his own.

“Well!” Gently extricating herself from his hug, but keeping one of his arms around her shoulder, Deirdre smiled. “About that change of subject…”

* * * *

“Needlepoint, gossip.” Deirdre sighed in resignation. “Maybe someone will actually have something based in real fact this time around. Probably not, but one can hope…”

As she came up to the curtained door leading into the atrium where the local ladies gathered, she heard a familiar voice rising above the silence in the rest of the room. The Lady Bridgette of Velcum was holding forth, and loudly.

“I tell you this Deirdre is a poser! Why she had to beg Garret’s sister for enough decent clothing to be able to show her face at court! I mean, what does that tell you about the peasant girl who pretends to be one of us?”

Deirdre halted with one hand on the curtain with a feeling of her stomach dropping to the floor in front of her. Bridgette had been one of the friendliest of the ladies in the palace to her.

“And I hear that she’s really a pretty boy that Garret snagged with some kind of threat to play his paramour. After all, everyone knows that Garret is a boy lover.”

“Oh, is that so?” Deirdre whispered while holding herself back for the moment. “Girlie, you can say what you like about me, but don’t disparage Garret!”

“Oh, come on, ladies!” Bridgette went on. “The Lady Deirdre is so awkward, not even a peasant girl would be that miserably out of place in ‘her’ position. And that is just what Garret wants. A willing, compliant little catamite!”

“That’s it!” Deirdre growled, moving the curtains aside and gracefully moving into the atrium until she stood in front of her supposed friend. “Bridget. I hear you have some doubts about my right to the title of Lady?”

The woman hesitated, seeing the obvious anger in her target’s eyes and the potential for mayhem that implied. The others gathered moved quietly away from the pair.

“Tell, me, dear friend.” Deirdre quietly questioned then abruptly pulled her bodice so it slid down to reveal smallish, but well formed and definitely feminine breasts. “Would a boy have these?”

“Magic, or simple leatherwork could give you those.” Bridgette answered, regaining her arrogance. “The true test is what you have under those skirts, my boy.”

Having said that, she lunged forward before Deirdre could react and yanked the voluminous skirts over the dark haired beauty’s head, then pulled down the remaining undergarments to expose Deirdre’s crotch. “There! This will prove it…”

“Prove what?” Deirdre’s answer was muffled by the skirts covering her face and she was secretly glad of Haldur’s magical enhancement for the device Katrina had contrived to hide Deirdre’s real sex from view and make it appear to be what any girl or woman possessed between her legs. She got out of Bridgettes grip on her skirts by the simple expedient of kicking the other with one court shoe clad foot, with the pointed hard leather toe sinking gratifyingly into yielding flesh.

“You bitch!” Bridgette screamed in mixed pain and rage, but she did release Deirdre’s skirts.

“Make up your mind.” Deirdre snarled back. “Either I’m a poser and a pretty boy in skirts, or I’m a bitch. Here, let me help you decide!”

Starting to clench a hand into a fist, Deirdre remembered the carefully shaped and tended nails on that hand and mentally sighed in frustration. Then gave the other a ringing slap to the side of the head with the flat of the same hand.

Bridgette staggered, and grabbed anything to hand to maintain her balance. Which just happened to be Deirdre’s hair.

“Oww!” Deirdre had a brief instant to be glad it was all her own hair then regretted that as her roots protested the rough treatment. “You like grabbing hair do you? Try this!”

Staggering, Deirdre managed to close one hand on Bridgette’s still nearly immaculate hair and gave a yank in response. To her shock, it came off in her hand, leaving Bridgette with much shorter, and a far from luxurious mane. “Hoy! Talk about a faker!”

“Your man is a boy lover!” Bridgette screamed, trying to haul Deirdre’s head off her shoulders by the hair.

“Say what you like about me, but to my face!” Deirdre shouted back. “But don’t, don’t ever, say such evil things about Garret!”

“So maybe you think you’ve cured him of hanging around the boys during apprenticeship trials?” The redhead screamed back. “You’ll be very disappointed if you do.”

“You need to put something in that mouth besides the filth it’s spewing.” Deirdre gritted, pushing the hairpiece towards the other’s face. “Here, try this, it’s yours anyway. You might as well have it back!”

“Mmmphhh!” Bridgette managed as Deirdre started trying to force the hair into her mouth.

The argument grew more lively then. The rolling, screaming, clawing, biting, and kicking pair rolled across the carpet, bounced into and away from the huge fireplace — thankfully not in use because it was late spring, then knocked over a number of chairs in their struggles to hurt each other.

“Ladies, ladies!” A male voice rose above the din of screams, curses, and falling furniture. “Show some decorum here! This is beneath both your dignities!”

“Shut up and stand back!” Deirdre snarled at the guardsman. “Let me kill the two faced bitch, and I’ll be good after that!”

“Women.” The guard sighed, gesturing to his companions. “Get these two separated.”

The other guards were hesitant. Think about it. What sane man would get into the middle of a screaming, clawing catfight even if they were bigger and stronger than the participants? Okay, a guardsman would have to do that simply to maintain the peace.

“Couldn’t we just let them wear each other out, sergeant?” One guard questioned hopefully.

“No.” That worthy responded. “Now come on boys, we aren’t going to let a couple of little ladies scare us are we?”

The group gave the rolling, squalling tangle of feminine limbs, hair, fingernails and teeth a dubious look then one actually nodded. “In this case, sir. Yes!”

Eventually, the pair was separated, with minimum damage to the guardsmen who managed to do that. Though it should be said that they were in armor at the time. Still one of them nursed a bleeding nose, and another was holding one hand to an eye by the time the fight was broken up.

“Ladies.” The sergeant informed both of them, loudly. “If you don’t calm down, I will toss you both into the fountain to cool you off!”

“Going to have a fine shiner there Borok.” One guard observed to the one holding his eye.

“Who’d have thought she could kick that high?” Borok morosely responded as the sergeant dragged both still screaming and spitting females towards the fountain at the center of the atrium.

“Now CALM down!” The sergeant roared.

Neither participant in the fracas paid the slightest attention, still hissing, screaming imprecations at the other, and trying to work free of the man’s grasp to reach the other.

“You were warned.” So saying, the sergeant gave a heave of each arm and sent the pair arcing into the center of the fountain to land with spectacular splashes.

Both emerged from the water, sputtering, and gasping for breath, but at least neither enraged female was trying to gut the other with her teeth by then.

“Better.” The sergeant nodded in satisfaction. “Now I won’t be fool enough to tell you two to kiss and make up, but I would suggest that each of you choose a corner of the atrium and stay there until you cool off to the point of not wanting to commit mayhem on the other.”

Deirdre glared at Bridgette, Bridgette glared at her. Then the redhead suddenly reached a hand to her head and gasped. “My hair!”

“This?” Deirdre smiled evilly while holding out the sodden red mass that had been on the others head earlier then threw it at Bridgette. “Here, you can have it back, it isn’t my color, anyway.”

Bridgette stared at the soggy lump of hair that splatted at her feet, screamed in rage and launched herself at Deirdre again.

The sergeant sighed. It was going to be a long day.

By the time the two were separated that time, Deirdre was industriously trying to return the hairpiece. By stuffing it down Bridgette’s throat. Again.

* * * *

Jessie and Garret stood and simply stared at a disheveled, but extremely satisfied Deirdre. Shaking her head, Jessie started. “Aren’t you a sight, little sister!”

Deirdre, hair hanging down in a tangle that Garret found quite fetching though he knew better than to say that just then, Gown torn with visible scratches showing through the tears in the material, and still dripping water from two trips into the fountain gave a weak grin in response. “You should have seen the other girl?”

“I did.” Jessica answered. “They were still picking sewing needles and pins out of her backside then. She’s saying you tried to kill her with those.”

“Oh, those.” Deirdre shrugged. “Someone dropped a pincushion while getting out of the way and we rolled over it in all the excitement. That Bi… Bridgette just happened to be on the bottom when we did.”

“One guardsman with a broken nose, another with a black eye that’s almost swollen shut right now.” Jessica continued ticking off the damages on the fingers of one hand.

“Those were accidents!” The dripping young lady in front of them protested. “I apologized to them both. Those kicks were supposed to hit Bridgette. But I don’t think they took my apologies seriously, both of them were snickering when I made them.”

“Dearest.” Garret drily put in. “You just gave the delicate ladies of the court and not nearly so delicate palace guards more entertainment up close than they’ve had in years. That’s probably why the guards were laughing when you apologized. Thankfully, guard duty here at the palace tends to be a bit boring.”

“Oh.” Pulling a strand of wet hair off one cheek with a dainty hand and carefully placing it on her equally wet shoulder, Deirdre sighed. “I hadn’t thought of that.”

“Also, it is most unbecoming for two ladies of the standing you two possess to be rolling around on the floor like a pair of tavern wenches fighting over a man.” Jessica managed to contain the grin that was trying to play at the corners of her mouth.

“She started it.” Deirdre muttered.

“I heard that you slapped her first.” Jessica countered.

“Well, yes but the bitch needed slapping. I was willing enough to leave it at that, but she grabbed my hair and started pulling.”

“Why did she need ‘slapping’?” Jessica questioned. “There are more decorous methods of handling disagreements, after all.”

“She insulted me, which I could take well enough.” Deirdre let out a sigh then got a fierce expression on her face. “But when she started insulting Garret I’d had enough. So I slapped her.”

“My brother is quite capable of defending his own honor.” Jessica shook her head then added. “As well as being the one who is supposed to defend yours.”

“That backbiting, false faced, little…” Deirdre stopped what she was going to say at a warning look from Jessica. “Well, she was saying such awful things about us, Garret, and she didn’t know I was around to hear them until I confronted her then things went kind of wild.”

“She pulled your hair after you slapped her, I know.” Garret’s sister sighed a little herself. “But did you have to pull off her hairpiece?”

“Well, when she grabbed mine, I just reacted and grabbed hers to keep from being thrown to the floor.” Deirdre answered in an injured tone. “How was I to know it would come off with a good yank? I tried giving it back when she demanded it.”

“Uh, dear.” Garret could barely hide his own amusement. “Trying to stuff a rather voluminous hairpiece down someone’s throat doesn’t really qualify as ‘trying to give it back’ no matter how you might try to slant the facts.”

“Well.” Deirdre tried to look crestfallen. “It doesn’t? She would have been in possession of the thing again if someone hadn’t stopped me, after all.”

Jessica gave Garret a look with rolled eyes, and he returned it as she leaned close to whisper. “Sure you want to go through with this marriage? You have yourself a little hellion here. She might hurt you if you get her angry enough.”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way, dear sister.” Garret whispered back with a grin. “It’s been a few generations since the Lady of Chalmnessa was a firebrand like Deirdre. She might actually get the lazier of our servants shaped up given the chance.”

“There is that.” Jessica admitted with a giggle. “Dad is going to adore her.”

“That’s because she’ll remind him of the grandmother who terrorized him as a child.” Garret chuckled.

“So what are we going to do with her right now?” Jessica questioned. “True enough, she was justified in delivering that slap to that self important, lying bitch, but we really need to try breaking her of that habit. Otherwise no one will be willing to visit us at home.”

“Tell her this.” Garret answered then spoke more loudly to a curious and impatient Deirdre. “My love, though you were goaded into this unfortunate — umm — altercation…”

“Fight.” She offered helpfully to clarify things.

“Whatever.” Garret waved that off along with the laughter he was fighting to hold in. “You were acting more like a boy than the lady you promised to be for me. Do you understand that?”

“Not fair.” Deirdre pouted, then accused. “You’re laughing at me, both of you!”

“Not at you, dear.” Jessica didn’t bother hiding her mirth that time. “But at the situation. That bitch Bridgette has been in need of a good ass kicking since she started growing breasts. You delivered that quite admirably, but the timing could have been just a bit better. As I said there are more decorous methods of ironing out a disagreement.”

“Meaning.” A mollified Deirdre sighed. “No scratching, biting, kicking, screaming, hair pulling and choking?”

“Exactly.” Jessica nodded in agreement then gave the other a long look. “Choking?”

“Never mind.” The dark haired beauty and hellion hastily responded. “Those bruises around Bridgette’s delicate, lying throat were probably from all the rolling around anyway.”

“I see.” Jessica nodded. “You and I are going to have a long, long talk about the kind of claws that don’t do physical damage. Soon.”

“Fine.” The young lady agreed then gave both Jessica and Garret a plaintive look. “Now, could I please go get out of these wet things, dry off, and toss the goldfish I seem to have somehow collected into the pond by the patio?”

With another shared look and a dual sigh, both brother and sister nodded. Jessica did throw one request at Deirdre’s quickly retreating back. “Just please put on a robe before you return those fish to their proper element.”

“What?” The response floated back. “You think I’m a barbarian or something?”

“Got yourself a handful there brother.” Jessica told Garret once the object of her watching had disappeared behind her bed chamber doors.

“I noticed.” Garret laughed. “I knew it when I heard what those poor maids were screaming the first time Derek was becoming Deirdre. She’ll be a fine addition to the family, don’t you think?”

“You two deserve each other.” She slapped his shoulder and laughed. “Gods, my children are going to have an aunt to use as a bad example.”

“She’ll spoil your children unmercifully.” Garret promised.

“As if you wouldn’t, you soft touch.”

“A warrior can like children too, you know.” He returned.

“I know, dear.” Jessica smiled and placed a hand on his cheek. “I just wonder how the future Lady of Chalmnessa is going to react when she discovers she’s bearing a nephew or niece for me to spoil in return.”

“We’ll deal with that once it happens.” He winked then turned serious. “If it happens.”

“Oh it will.” Jessica assured him. “Deirdre is more woman than boy already, both physically and emotionally. That prophecy is being rather cruel to the boy she once was, you know. But she is quite obviously in love with you, though how she could be that with a crude lunk like you, I haven’t the slightest idea.”

“I’m charming and fun to be around?” He answered, the turned serious. “Jess, that prophecy would have seen Derek becoming Deirdre or whatever name she chose once the change finished whether she accepted my attentions or not. Our family’s prophecies do tend to be rather inflexible.”

“True enough, brother.” Jessica nodded with a sigh. “I only hope I can teach her to be a lady while you teach her to be a woman.”

“Between the two of us we’ll manage.” He told her.

“You hope.”

“True enough.” Garret grinned. “Gods! What a woman she is going to be!”

“A fit mate for the kingdom’s foremost warrior?” His sister grinned.

“I knew that the moment I set eyes on Derek.” He sighed. “Though I hated the idea of him losing his manhood, I joyed in the life companion I had found.”

“I understand, dear.” Jessica patted his hand. “Truthfully, I’m rather looking forward to having that fire brand as a sister-in-law. Maybe she’ll be the one to mellow you out a bit!”