The Murderer's Key (Traveler & jaceyboo)

He held her for a long time. Too long, actually, feeling her breath against his neck and the heaving of his chest. He had felt the way her hands held him, gripping his jacket and then pulling his body into hers, and he felt a small satisfying feeling of triumph. The rogue had rested his forehead against hers for a moment as the heat passed. He had taken what he wanted, and now he wanted to sleep, but she was still his prisoner.

And he still had no rope.

He reached down to tuck himself back into his pants and refasten his trousers, then he pulled her skirts down to cover her bared legs. Slowly he eased over to her right and off of her legs, thinking that he did not need to pin her down, at least for the moment. His hands absent-mindedly pulled her bodice over her breasts, covering them from the cold night air. As he laid down beside her, one arm sliding under her head and bringing her body closer to his, he glanced down at her face to see the questioning look she as giving him.

"You're still my prisoner," he said quietly, his free hand reaching across her waist to draw him against the heat of his body. "Run away and I'll kill you." He wrapped a leg around her legs and held her down with them lest she get any ideas. "You have two more days. Don't be stupid, and I'll let you go once we're far enough away." His voice was quiet and tired, fully content after the fulfilling intimacy he had just forced upon her.

He was about to drift off when he opened his eyes, smiling slightly as he looked at her. "I thought you were a whore," he admitted, "you should have told me you were a virgin." The man made a small gesture, like a shrug. "I probably wouldn't have believed you though." He chuckled, almost to himself, and closed his eyes.

Amelia hoped the moment would last, not wanting to have to truly face the reality of what had just happened. For then, she was content simply laying there, not thinking about much of anything. All too soon, he spoke.

He was right, she was his prisoner, yet his threat to kill her if she ran seemed to shock her. It was almost as though she had allowed herself to foolishly believe that somehow, what had just happened would change the circumstances. He had still kidnapped her, she was still his prisoner, and he was still a murderer. The thought made her shiver, the guilt and regret slowly beginning to creep up on her. Closing her eyes, she tried to push it aside. The feelings could wait until the morning.

It seemed as though she had begun to fall asleep in just a matter of seconds, her eyes only fluttering back open as he spoke. 'Of course..' she thought, honestly not surprised by his admission. People like her didn't belong in places like the tavern he had found her in, but then again, she had never lived up to the standards set for her. Now, she wouldn't even have the chance. She was ruined.

"Two days." she said simply, letting out a short, bitter laugh. He could let her go, but she wouldn't be any better off. She could hear her father now, undoubtedly knowing that the man would find a way to blame her for getting herself kidnapped. She wouldn't receive sympathy.

"You've ruined my life." she whispered in a tired tone, her eyes drifting back shut as her breathing slowed. "May as well just kill me anyway." she mumbled, her words barely coherent as she drifted to sleep in her captor's arms.

Her last few words made his eyes flutter open. He watched her for a long time afterwards, studying her face as she slept. What kind of life did a girl who hung out in taverns expect to have? If it hadn't been him it would have been someone else; no one dallied in a place like that without being marred. Taverns in the ground, little dives that stunk of urine and vomit outside their doors, they for people like him. Not for virgins in white dresses sitting at the bar as if they visited there every day. Proper people were not seen in places like that.

During the night the chill hit and he found himself cradling her into his arms more closely, her head nestled on his chest. He felt the shift in the air as the sun began to crest the horizon, and gently he laid her on the grass as he extracted himself from her arms. After going to take care of his constitutionals he tended the horse, wiping off the dew and quietly saddling the creature. They had a great deal of ground to cover, and if he wanted her to be comfortable on the trip he'd have to find the girl something other than that ridiculous white dress to wear.

He turned to look at her, wondering what her full story was. They had enough time in the day; he'd find out more about her, he was sure, and why someone who could fetch almost any husband she wanted based merely on her looks alone would deem that her life was ruined simply because she had been raped.

Despite the fact that she slept outside, on the ground with the man that had kidnapped her, Amelia slept better that night than most. Normally, she tossed and turned, waking several times and taking longer each time to fall back asleep. That night, in his arms, she slept all the way until morning. She seemed a bit disoriented when she awoke, a hint of confusion in her eyes as she opened them to find the outdoors and not her bedchamber.

She groaned a bit as she stretched out and sat up, not yet realizing that her captor was watching her. When she turned and met his gaze a moment later, she stiffened. She had conflicted feelings towards him, her mind unsure of which side to lean towards. There was the man who had kidnapped her, and then there was the man that had given her immense pleasure. It was almost too difficult to believe that they were the same person. For a moment, it made her wonder about him, a hundred different questions appearing in her mind as she watched him. She quickly pushed them aside though, telling herself that it wasn't her place to care.

"You're a fugitive, don't you have something more important to do than sit here and stare at me?" she asked, trying to sound bitter as she tore her eyes away from him. There were so many other things she wanted to say, questions she wanted to ask, but she held her tongue.

"Yes, I do," he answered. beginning to walk towards her. His body, unlike hers, was used to sleeping in different situations every night. Sometimes a bed, sometimes a floor, many nights sitting up with his back to a wall - so he walked smoothly and with a tiger's grace. His eyes never left her face as he moved closer. "But I find it pleasant to stare at you. Why shouldn't I?"

He stood above her and offered her a hand, curling his fingers upwards and making a come-hither motion. He waited until she stood up, either helping her if she put her hand in his, or watching her struggle to her feet on her own. Once she was upright he put his hands on her bodice, buttoning her from the waist upwards, working the tiny pearls in his clever fingers as he continued to study her face. She wasn't what he had assumed she had been. At first he thought she was a high priced whore or some wealthy man's mistress, but whores and mistresses were not virgins. So the mystery now became one of who she was, what she was doing there, and whether or not it would serve his purpose to keep her longer than the three days.

But he had said three, and saying something was the same as swearing it. The rogue pressed his lips together as he thought over his dilemma. "Who gave you this dress?" The question was out of the blue, perhaps, but he thought that the answer would fill in most of the blanks. His fingers brushed her neck as he finished fastening her dress. He then cupped her cheek and used a thumb to wipe a smudge off her cheek, as if he was inspecting his property and found a blemish that needed to be cleansed.

"You're not a whore or someone's mistress Amelia. What are you? A bride run away from her fiancee? Some kind of religious paradox?" He squinted slightly as he considered her. His hand closed over her jaw as he took her cheeks into his hand and turned her face to and fro. "You'd fetch a fine price in the East. Pity I can't keep you that long."

She kept her eyes cast down as he walked towards her, not responding to him as he spoke. It wasn't until he stretched his hand out in front of her that she finally looked up, hesitating for a moment before placing her hand in his. She remained quiet as he dressed her, just as her chambermaid did most mornings. It was a bit of an ironic thought.

It wasn't until he asked about her dress that she finally broke her silence, laughing at the question. Her eyes met his as he held her face in her hands, a tiny smirk forming on her lips. "The man that wants to marry me." she answered truthfully. She had met him twice before, and he had been the only suitor to come back more than once. Normally, she scared them off the first time she met them. He had sent her the dress after their second meeting, and her mother had insisted she wore it when he came to see her for the third time. The meeting had never occurred though, the girl slipping off to the tavern instead to try and avoid him. And now, there she was.

Pushing his hand away, she shot a quick glare in his direction before continuing. "My father is on the king's council. So what does that make me?" she asked, repeating his question. "I don't know. A political pawn I suppose. Someone that my father gets to marry off for his own benefit." she added, pausing for a moment. "I suppose we've ruined that though."

So, she had run away from a perspective fiancee. Or perhaps she had not run away. Perhaps she was on the verge of a marriage. The man might have been old, or fat, or ugly, or any of a number of things, but she had been in his dress in a dive of a tavern, and that did not bode well for a marriage. She was pretty, obviously educated, and feisty. He liked that combination. It made a woman interesting.

He was about to ask her if she wanted to marry her fiancee when she stated that she was a political pawn, useful to her father to be married off for his own benefit. "Well, I suppose that option's out of the water now." The man grinned as if it was the most natural thing to have happened. "You can't be a pawn. You should be thanking me." His cocky grin and the way he arched an eyebrow might have been charming had his words not been twinged with arrogance.

"Don't worry. You'll be back to masquerade balls and fine gentlemen dressed in frilly frocks before too long. With your looks and breeding I'm sure you'll find some sop to marry you. Perhaps someone who you'll outlive, hm? And then you can spend his money on lotions and powders to keep your looks a few years longer."

He motioned to the nearby trees. "Go, take care of your morning needs there. We'll be riding a long time this morning and it will be midday before I stop. If I stop." He directed her with a soft pull of her hand, then used the same hand he guided her with to smack her bottom as she was forced to take a step in that direction. "Maybe if you're a good girl we'll get to sleep in a bed tonight."

"Masquerade balls and fine gentlemen.." she mumbled, shaking her head lightly. "My absolute favorite." she added with a small smile on her face, though there was a hint of sadness in her face. She hadn't been permitted to attend a public event in months, since was 'too much of an embarrassment'. According to her father anyways.

"It won't be that simple." she spoke in a soft tone, the words more directed to herself as she turned and walked towards the trees. She tried to imagine it, what would happen when she arrived back home. Her father would blame her, no doubt. He would tell her that if she hadn't have disobeyed him and ran off to the tavern, this wouldn't have happened. She wouldn't even have to tell him that she was no longer a virgin, he would just simply know. He always knew.

It would be quite the scandal, she thought to herself as she took care of her morning needs. She had already found herself to be the topic of discussion in her father's social circle more than once. This would certainly top it. Everyone would talk about poor Amelia, but in hushed tones they would say the same thing her father had, that she had done this to herself. No one would marry her, and her parents would probably wish the man had killed her or never returned her in the first place. They had always resented her for not being a son, something that they never were able to achieve. The only good thing she could do for them was get married.

There were tears in her eyes, but she honestly didn't know how she should feel. She had never wanted to appease her parents, so on that note, she was happy, but what would she do now? Burying her face into her hands, she took a moment to simply let her emotions flow.

A few minutes later, she emerged from the trees, her eyes staring down towards the ground as she walked back to where the two had set up the night before. Her eyes were red from crying, though she hoped he wouldn't say anything about it. "Are we going to sit around here or were you planning to leave anytime soon?" she asked, trying to sound annoyed as she waited for him to help her onto the horse.

He eyed her angrily. Her tone and the way she talked to him should have earned her another smack, but her red rimmed eyes gave him pause. "I can't leave without my favorite prisoner," he answered, allowing himself to soften in his reaction to her. "Come here." He acted kind and gentle towards her in hopes of luring her over without suspicion.

Once he got her near enough he pinned her to the horse with a hand around her neck, the restrained power in his fingers squeezing enough to demonstrate that he could cut off her breath if he chose. "If you ever talk to me with that kind of disrespect in front of others I'll beat you until you can't sit down," he threatened. "You might be the daughter of a king's councilman, but I'm the man who holds your life in his hand. Understand, woman? Until I set you free you live and breath to serve me and to obey me."

He released her throat and kept his gaze on her hard. Once he had her agreement he'd put her on the horse and mount behind her, but not before. If he softened his manner with her she might try to run away. He had enough to burden his schedule without a flighty woman on his hands, especially one who had proven to be exactly the opposite of what she appeared to be. That mistake had upset him more greatly than he thought it had; now he had a conundrum on his hands, and he liked things to be straightforward.

Black and white. Greys were not allowed in his world, and her vibrant colors that were showing through were definitely not something that he preferred.

Amelia looked hesitant as he beckoned for her, but after a moment, she went to him. She immediately regretted the decision as he pressed her against the horse, her eyes wide as her hands pulled at the one that gripped her throat. She looked terrified as she stared up at him, but in the same moment, his words seemed to spark anger within her.

Her lips drew in a deep breath as he released her, her jaw clenched as she took a step away from him. "I don't owe you any-" she started to say, her words cutting off abruptly. She'd never had much of a filter, always saying exactly what she wanted. Of course, it didn't always work out for her, but this was the one time she truly feared what might happen if she allowed herself to speak her mind.

Sighing, she shook her head lightly, looking defeated as she tore her gaze away. "I understand." she finally muttered, her body stiff as he helped her up onto the horse. She remained that way as they began to ride, unmoving and rigid.

It wasn't until her mind began to reflect on what had happened that her body finally relaxed, the action occurring subconsciously. She found herself wondering about the man that had taken her, what he had done. She knew nothing of him, yet she felt as though she had already seen a glimpse of him that no one else had. Even if it had just been for a moment, he had been gentle with her. He had allowed her to feel pleasure, held her through the night. The thought made her blush, though he wouldn't be able to see it.

"Whats your name?" she finally asked, breaking the silence as she tried to take her focus away from her thoughts.

He almost had a need to correct her again, but like a good student she caught her mistake and submitted. Either she had been trained well or she knew what a good beating was. Or both. Whichever it was, he was thankful that they were able to get back on the road and hopefully make their, no his, next destination.

As they road together he felt her stiffened posture relax, after about five miles threading through the forest on deer trails. He had to keep them off the main road or risk being caught by any of her pursuers. When he had kidnapped her he had seriously doubted that anyone would be after them, but now that he knew who she was he had to take precautions. Or... or who she thought she was. He frowned to himself. Was it possible that a pretty face and a fancy dress had outsmarted him?

"What's your name?" Her voice was unexpected.

He let out a small breath and cleared his throat. "Why do you - " but realizing that any answer he received would not be satisfactory he sighed.

"Richter. You can call me Richter." He put the accent after the 'ch' and rolled the 't', making the name sound more like a title. "What is your full name, Amelia?" His grip on her waist tightened slightly. He guided the horse to the right, across a small stream, and then onto a narrow country road. This was not a path likely to be taken by the king's guards or foot soldiers.

His horse quickened his steps as if he knew where they were headed. A few minutes later a small village came into view. It looked like a farming community, but a large building in the center square indicated that it saw it's fair share of merchants and travelers. As they entered the streets of the city the man's body softened against hers as if he felt more comfortable there, and soon he was directing them towards the building, which she could see was quite clearly a well-visited tavern. Above the door hung a picture of a red rooster, and from the doorway the smell of fresh baked bread, stew, and something sweet wafted in their direction.

"But not here," he added, as if there had been no time between his last statement and now. "Don't call me that here. Here I'm Reis." This was a short, hard sounding name that came off sounding like 'rice', though she could tell that it was another title of sorts. "And you're not Amelia. Pick another name."

"Richter." she repeated, almost as though she believed speaking his name out loud would somehow allow her to know more about him. It didn't help her gain anything, but in a way, it did make him seem more like a person, as though she could somehow relate to him.

"Amelia Howard." she answered, her eyes darting down at the hand that gripped her waist. There was a part of her that wanted to push it away, but at the same time, his touch was oddly pleasant. The thought sent her mind to wandering once more, trying to make sense of everything. She quickly determined that her goal was to understand Richter. All she knew was that he was supposedly a murderer, that he was dangerous, and that he had stolen her. Given the circumstances, she shouldn't have wanted to know more, but there was something that was driving her to dig further.

Her thoughts gradually became less focused as the horse made its way into the village, her eyes taking in their surroundings. She had gone out of her home town on many occasions, but never to any place that looked quite like this. It was simple, and she liked that. They didn't appear to pass by anyone important as they rode through the town, all those around them simply going about their business without worrying about much of anything. They seemed...normal.

It didn't seem as though she was paying attention to him when he spoke, not really reacting or responding. She was quiet, her eyes continuing to gaze over those around them.

"Rose." she finally answered after a moment of silence, not offering an explanation to go with the name. She chose it after her favorite flower, not that she honestly believed he would care or be curious enough to ask.

His hand flattened against her stomach as their horse covered the last few yards to the stable next to the Red Rooster Inn. "Rose." His mouth worked the word, feeling the roundness of the vowel as it left his lips. "A rose by any other name," he said quietly into her ear, "is still my Amelia Howard." He smiled. "Rose and Reis; sounds believable."

The stable was more of a three-sided shelter next to the tavern for those staying overnight to board their animals. At the present a donkey was tied to the a post, his long ears twitching to listen to the world around him as the beast lazily chewed at the grass hay bundled in a net nearby. The young lad tending the stable looked bored and sleepy; a testimony to the warm noon hour and the slow season that brought few travelers through town.

At the entrance Richter slid off the horse and held his hands up to help Amelia dismount. Anyone caring to glance in their direction might have mistaken them for a young couple off on a journey, though their lack of bags or proper riding gear did make them look slightly out of place.

Richter tossed a brass coin to the boy, who seemed to snap out of his sleepy posture quickly and snatch the tip out of the sky swift as snake. "Bed her down, son. We're staying the night." He glanced at Amelia. "You don't mind, do you Rose? You could use a change of clothes." He shook his head as if considering her outfit as he extended her hand to him. "But first, we have a meal, rent a room, and then we'll see about that dress of yours."

He curled his fingers rapidly several times, a 'come one' motion that he seemed quite fond of using. "Try not to garner too much attention while we're here," he added softly as he began to lead her to the tavern, "I do so hate killing people I'm not being paid to kill."

Inside the cool walls of the tavern there were several small tables and two long ones, flanked by wooden benches. The fireplace was cold at the moment but it was evident that it received a lot of use in the cooler hours of the evening. A few woodcutters were sitting together enjoying a meal, and a merchant and his wife seemed to be taking a break from the heat of the day over a glass of wine. The proprietor was a lean man with an equally narrow face who smiled wildly when the two of them walked in.

"Reis!" He said, coming around the table. The man's eyes were focused on Amelia, though. "You've never brought a guest with you before," his last word was tilted upwards, almost like a question. He was eyeing the pair eagerly and wiping his hands dry on the apron that almost doubled around his slim waist. "Business or pleasure this time around?"

"Ask too many questions and I won't darken your tavern's stoop again, Humphrey." Though Richter's words were sharp he still maintained the easy smile that seemed to appear out of nowhere on his face. "For tonight I'll require a room. Number three if it's available, and lunch for my friend and I."

"Of course!" The innkeep's bright eyes looked over Amelia as if he was checking out a prospective filly. "Of course, my friend. And wine?"

"Later. For now cooled tea. And stop staring at her. She's not for sale." He shook his head as he guided Amelia away from the other man's presence. It seemed like they had some kind of bartering relationship in the past, at least enough to make the proprietor think that the murderer was also a slave trader.

The look of disappointment on the innkeep's face was evident as he hurried to fetch them food and drink. Richter chose a table near the far wall, away from windows and where he could sit with his back towards a solid surface. He paused near the chair, though, and put a hand on it's back as he drew it away from the table for Amelia. "Don't worry my dear; a promise is a promise. Three days and you're free." He eyed the doorway though; she was someone who would be missed. It was possible that the city guards were sending people out to check nearby towns for the missing lady.

Amelia seemed to be lost within her own world as Richter helped her from the horse, paying little attention to him as her eyes continued to take in all that was around her. In a way, she was amused by how fascinated she was. Her surroundings were so simple, yet it was different than what she was used to, and that made the dull atmosphere seem strangely exciting.

She seemed to have forgotten the predicament she had landed herself in, not acting like a woman who was essentially being held hostage. If anything, that would work to Richter's advantage.

"Mhmm." she hummed lightly in response to him, though she honestly hadn't been paying much attention to what he had said. It wasn't until the word kill left his mouth that he seemed to have her full attention, her eyes gazing at him curiously. Paid to kill, she repeated in her mind, wondering just exactly what that meant. She would ask him later, forcing herself to push the thought aside for the time being as he led her inside the inn.

It was surprising to see that the man inside seemed to know Richter, or Reis rather. She didn't take long to focus on the thought, looking a bit disgusted as the man stared at her like she was an animal he was planning to purchase. There was an obvious look of discomfort on her face, gripping Richter's arm rather tightly as he led her off to a table.

It wasn't until he pulled the chair out for her that she realized she had been touching him, quickly pulling her hand away. He had kidnapped her, yet she had just clung to him for safety. The thought made her cheeks flush lightly.

Thankfully, his voice pulled her from her thoughts, a hint of a blush still plastered on her face as she gazed up at him. "Three days." she repeated, though she didn't sound happy about it. It wasn't that she sounded upset either, but rather indifferent. For one, she didn't even know if she could believe that he would let her go, but at the same time, she didn't have a strong desire to be set free. It was a conflicting feeling, not fully understanding why she wouldn't be anxious to be returned, to be safe.

"Yeah," Richter agreed. "Three. And one has already arrived." He saw the innkeep glancing at them occasionally as the man prepared their meal, and knowing that there had been interest in Amelia he leaned towards her. In a quiet voice he spoke as he reached for her hand to draw her nearer. "He doesn't believe that you're not for sale. Kiss me. Make it believable, so he'll stop trying to figure out how much I want for you."

His jaw twitched under the short beard he wore. Whether it was a beard or simply a few forgotten shaves was still to be determined, but during their brief time together it seemed as if gentlemanly hygiene wasn't something high on his list of priorities. To help her, since he thought she seemed rather hesitant, he placed a hand on her cheek and drew her nearer. "Like tasting a ripe peach," he whispered. His eyes, now that she could look straight at them in the light, were actually green. Right now they seemed to smile at her as he stole a kiss, brushing his lips across hers before taking control and teaching her something about the pleasant way a man's lips and tongue could feel.

When the kiss ended he held her gaze for a short moment. "There, that wasn't so bad, was it?"

Tea, soup, and a half loaf of bread was laid on the table. Richter glanced over at Humphrey. "Thank you." A few coins left his deft fingers and found their way to the lean proprietor's pockets.

As the murderer eased away from Amelia he caught the merchant's wife giving him a mean look, as if she was disgusted by their display of affection in a public local. Reis winked at her, evoking a gasp from the woman before she turned her burning cheeks away and hid behind a hand.

He slid a bowl of soup over to Amelia and began to tear the bread into two pieces. "You don't mind wearing pants, do you?" he asked, looking at her as if he hadn't just kissed her in front of a group of strangers. "That hair though... you'll never pass for a boy even if we do cut it. You'll have to wear a hat." He was already planning their next move and how he might hide her from prying eyes. In her white dress she was looking much too much like a bride for his liking.

Staring down at the table, she appeared to be lost in thought. Truthfully, she wasn't thinking about anything, her mind having gone blank. Her eyes shot up as Richter's hand gripped hers, her mouth gaped open slightly as he told her to kiss her.

"I can't." she whispered hesitantly, shaking her head slightly as he pulled her face towards him. She was tense, but her body seemed to instantly relax as his lips brushed against hers. She could feel his tongue run along her bottom lip, the action causing her lips to involuntarily part for him.

She almost look disappointed when he pulled away, as though she had wanted to experience more of him. "I.." she started to say, feeling a bit flustered by her own, rather confusing feelings. "No, it wasn't." she admitted, biting her lip slightly as she sank back into her seat.

A part of her hoped he would say something, anything to pull her mind away from the simple, yet electrifying kiss she had just shared with him. His words brought a frown to her face though, her lips pursed as she stared up at him.

"If you cut my hair, I'll cut your throat." she said simply, dunking a piece of the bread into her soup. Amelia had never carefully considered her words before she spoke them. She had thrown empty threats around since she had first learned to form words into sentences. No one ever took her seriously, but she had scared off quite a few of her father's servants. Of course, she doubted Richter would be phased by her words.

"Can't we just...get me a different dress or something?" she asked shortly after, taking a bite of the bread as she stared up at him. "We could clearly pass as a couple." she added, her eyes quickly darting down. She wasn't sure why she had said that, but she hoped he wouldn't think anything of it.

Richter had felt the shock run though her, and then through him, as their lips met. She was truly an innocent, wasn't she? That had probably been her first kiss. It made him feel tight-throated to think that she had been raped before she had her first kiss. He glanced over at her as he tore the bread and wondered how much was truly 'rape' and how much as forceful seduction. Perhaps she should be thanking him; no lovely young woman wanted to experience such things for the first time with some old, wrinkled husband who she had been married to for convenience sake.

"If you cut my hair, I'll cut your throat."

Her words caught him by surprise and he grinned, his hand coming to his mouth as the humor of her words overtook him. His sideways look was full of amusement. It was obvious that he didn't take her threat seriously. "Oh Honey, I'm not going to cut that beautiful hair of yours. It would be a waste to discard it. Besides," he lowered his voice, "I'm the killer. You're the damsel in distress, remember?"

He began to dig into their meal, his manners befitting a godless rogue though his eyes constantly scanned the room. It was as if he thought that their meal might be interrupted at any time.

"You want to pass as my woman?" That, too, wasn't what he would have expected from a noblewoman. He leaned back in the chair as he chewed and scrutinized the young lady before him. Richter took a long moment to think, then extended it with another bite of soup-dipped bread as he considered her proposal for an excruciatingly long time.

Finally he took a drink of the tea and then gave her an answer. "Okay. But only because I don't want you to 'cut my throat'," he grinned at her cheekily. "But you have to wear pants. We'll be doing too much running for a dress, and if you're in one people will assume you're for sale." He shook his head. "No one's touching you while you're in my care but me. And I intend to touch you as much as possible before I have to give you back to that father of yours and the old man who wants to marry you."

Amelia couldn't help but smile at the sideways grin he gave her, the look making him seem more normal. He had been so gruff in the time she had been with him, so it was different to see him smiling. In that moment, he seemed like a regular man.

"Of course, how could I have forgotten how terribly distressed I feel." she responded with heavy sarcasm, though she went quiet afterwards. He was right, she was the so called damsel in distress. So why didn't she feel like it? She sighed, focusing her attention on her food rather than trying to interpret her inappropriate mindset on the situation she was in.

Her eyes raised back up to meet his as he contemplated what she had said, looking a bit anxious as she waited for him to respond. A sigh of relief unknowingly left her lips as he agreed, a small smile forming on her lips. She laughed softly, biting her lip as she gazed over at him. "Wise choice." she teased, her breath catching at his words.

For a moment, she seemed to forget to breathe, finally exhaling after a moment of simply staring at him. She wasn't surprised that he wanted to touch her, given what he had already done so far, but the thought of it stirred something inside of her, something she felt as though she shouldn't be feeling.

"He isn't that old." she spoke after a moment, trying to divert her mind from the thought of his hands on her body. "But he won't have me after this. Not that I'm terribly upset about it." she admitted, focusing her attention back on her food as she took another bite of the bread.

Was that disappointment and longing he heard in her voice? Richter watched her eating. "Did you want to marry him? I mean, did you like him?" He hadn't thought so, considering that she was in a tavern, alone, wearing his dress, but there were always those girls who desired a man's wealth or prestige or... whatever. "Who was this lucky man of yours?"

Why did he ask her that? He took another long drink as he pondered that question. This woman was causing him all sorts of conundrums, things that were bound to make life more difficult the longer he stayed around her.

"So." He punctuated his words with another bite of food.

"Let's say that this 'not so old' suitor doesn't want you. What then? Will daddy Lord Viscount Howard let you pick out your next prospect or will you go to the richest man who will have you? That is, if your father even allows you back within his gilded walls?"

He shrugged. "And if he doesn't then what are you going to do about it?" What he didn't realize, or perhaps he did, was that he revealed that he knew who her father was by speaking his title. Her father was well known in the right circles but there was no reason a common thug should know that he was Lord Viscount and not simply 'Lord' Howard.

Richter leaned on one elbow and watched her as she answered him. Why should he even care what happened to her? If she hadn't been slumming in the gutter side taverns he would have never met her in the first place. What did she expect would come from hanging around the rougher side of the city?

A soft laugh left Amelia's lips in response to his question, shaking her head lightly. "No." she told him, her lips pursed as she considered the question for another moment. "Well, I don't know.." she added. "I suppose I should want to. I've already ruined six potential marriages, so at this point I don't exactly have men lining up at the door anymore." she told him, watching him for a moment before continuing.

"People talk, they know that I'm not exactly an ideal wife, based on the experiences of those who attempted to pursue me." she continued. "My father was going to send me away, told me I was useless." she added with a laugh, though she looked a bit sad. "But then Jameson came along. He was different, not easily disturbed by my 'antics', as my father calls them."

She paused again, taking in a spoonful of the soup. "It was refreshing at first, but it wasn't that he was alright with my supposedly horrid behavior. He see's me as a challenge, someone that he wants to breakdown and conquer.." Her voice trailed off.

"They'll know...what happened. So I don't know what happens after that. I suppose he'll finally send me off like he's been threatening."

Her eyes were cast down at that point, staring at her unfinished soup. She looked a bit unsettled, the reality of her situation sinking in. With a sigh, she shook her head slightly, staring back up at him before speaking again.

"You know of my father?" she asked, tilting her head slightly.

He chuckled at her comment about idea wives. "There is no such thing as an ideal wife or an ideal husband. You might as well search for unicorns. But if this Jameson is someone you want to marry perhaps he'll accept an increased dowry in lieu of your virginity. He's old enough to have had his fair share of virgins in his bed."

Richter listened as she talked about her father and what he might do. Then she asked him if he knew of her family, and he thought to lie but then remembered that he had called the man by his proper title. He supposed lying about that was out of the question.

"Of course I know 'of' him," he said, scoffing as if it was a stupid question. "Who doesn't know all the important pawns in the kingdom if they wish to survive? You, though, I've never heard of. I didn't even know that he had children, let alone marriageable daughters." He was almost finished with his share of their meal and kept glancing towards the front and side doors. "It's good though; I usually only learn of your type if I'm hired to dispose of you. A nuisance mistress, a pesky debtor, that kind of thing."

"Not knowing you means that you don't have any enemies who want you dead. Or at least, any who want you dead and can afford my services." He used the back of his sleeve to wipe across his lips after his last bite of bread. Then he smiled at her and reached out to touch her hand. "Don't worry. Now that I know you, I'd give you a chance to outbid your would-be murderer if anyone commissioned me to take care of you."

He finished his drink and then sighed, his stomach full and his mind at peace. "Almost done? I want to spend some of the money I just earned, and you need some different clothing."

Amelia's lips were pursed as she spoke, biting her tongue to keep herself from interrupting him with her own opinions on the matter.

"If there wasn't such thing as an ideal wife, then why has my entire life been spent prepping me to be just that?" she asked, speaking again before giving him the chance to answer. "And I don't want to marry him." Truthfully, she didn't want to hear his response to the question, even if he did have one.

She was able to let the thought slip away as Richter spoke, talking more about himself. His words sparked her curiosity, which would show in her eyes. "You get paid to kill people?" she asked, sounding more interested than bothered. It was something she had never heard of, but then again, she had lived a sheltered life. That seemed to show when he mentioned he hadn't heard of her.

A soft laugh left her lips, her eyes staring into his. "My father isn't exactly proud of me, he tries to keep my existence hushed." she admitted, seeming amused by the thought. "But not that that matters, and yes I'm done." she told him, having finished most of her soup.

She knew that the money he earned had to have come from whomever he had killed before he had taken her. She wanted to ask him about it, though she refrained. She had her own money with her, a small coin purse tucked away in her dress. It was something she didn't plan to mention though, not unless she needed to.

"We should get a green dress." she told him as she stood from the chair. "Its my favorite color." she added, talking to him as though he was a companion, and not her kidnapper.

"Dress," he said as if it was a bad word, almost spitting the sound on the ground. "My god, woman. Dress. Why don't you strap a mattress to your back while you're at it?" He stood up and took her hand with one hand while picking up his hat with the other. "Alright, you can buy one green dress, but I want you in pants for traveling. And boots. You can't run worth a three legged pig in those shoes and that dress." He tipped his hat at the proprietor and snatched a key for room number three as they walked out the tavern.

The sun was still high outside. The darkness of the tavern made them squint against the bright sky, but Richter put his hat on and seemed to know exactly where he wanted to take her. As they walked he thought about her remark concerning the color green. "Why is that your favorite color?" He gave her a quick look. "Green. That's not a color I'd associate with ladies of the court. I'd think 'lavender' or 'pink', maybe 'gold'... but green?" He looked at her again and his eyes flashed in the sunlight, green and gold and very crisp.

The shop they were heading to was neat and tidy, with white painted wooden steps leading up to the main floor. Samples of the clothing hung outside the store, which the sign identified as Unicorn Clothing. Inside several women with a few young children in tow were shopping, and then three who were running the shop seemed busy either helping people try things on, tailoring the items to fit or ringing up orders.

"Here, let's see if that lady can take care of us," he said, pointing to a portly woman with a large smile. "She looks like the type eager to make a few coin."

The woman saw the look Richter was giving them and nodded, raising a hand to indicate that she'd be right over.

"Remember Rose," Richter said to Amelia, "don't give me any reason to ply my trade without pay."

There was a bit of a frown on her face as he spoke, though it turned to a smile as he agreed. "Yes, you want me in pants while we travel. I heard you all seven times you said it." she responded teasingly, her arm brushing against him as she walked past and towards the door.

She seemed to be in a cheerful mood as they walked outside, humming softly to herself. She only stopped when Richter spoke to her, laughing at his question.

"All of the girls always had the same favorites, as you mentioned. No one liked green, so I chose it." she told him simply. "Of course, after that I actually learned to appreciate the color. My mother would never let me wear it though. She told me it wasn't a becoming color for a lady. So that's why I want a green dress."

The dress shop, like most other buildings in the small town, seemed simple but pleasing to Amelia's eye. She had never really done much shopping, most of her dresses having been made specifically for her by her families seamstress.

The girl rolled her eyes at Richter's words, her eyes focused on the shop rather than on him as she responded. "I'm nearly certain that you won't be killing anyone in the middle of a crowded dress shop." she said quietly enough so that only he would hear her. "But of course Reis, I'll be on my best behavior."

The assassin smiled down at her. "Good girl," he said quietly, both at her remembrance of his code name and her agreement to be on her best behavior. He placed a hand on the small of her back and guided her in, obviously used to accompanying a woman into such a store.

"What can I help you fine folk with today?" The portly woman tucked a long greying strand of hair behind an ear and fixed her eyes on Amelia. Her clever gaze took in both the girl's dirty appearance and her fine clothing; a contrast that left many questions unanswered. "I'm here to help with anything you need." Her eyes darted to the side several times to indicate Richter, as if she thought that he might be the one thing that Amelia needed help with the most.

"A green dress for my new wife," Richter interrupted. "And traveling clothes. Trousers. Boots. A night shift, and whatever else she wants that will fit on a horse." He looked at Amelia. "Don't make me totally broke on our honeymoon, Darling. There's only so much money left over from the festivities."

The saleslady rubbed her hands together nervously. "Oh! You're... newly married?" Then she smiled, the 'whatever else she wants' sinking in. They had money. "Oh! Well then, what shall we look at first?"