Reuben only needed about half an hour of being back in the castle to notice that everyone's behavior towards him had changed dramatically. Before his little capture-and-torture escapade, everyone had treated him as if he might kill them at any moment. Now, they acted as if they knew he'd kill them at any moment and steal their souls while he was at it.

He thought it was a magnificent improvement. It was about time people started showing him some respect. Only the habit of some of the peasants of making the sign of the cross whenever he walked past was starting to irritate him. As if that would avail them against him!

"You there!"

He stuck his head into one of the barracks where the soldiers slept and passed their leisure hours—or at least they used to do the latter, before Reuben saw to it that they didn't have any.

Two soldiers, who were just gearing up for duty, looked around and stiffened at the sight of him.

"Yes, Sir?

"The chest I mentioned to you earlier? Bring it. Now. I will await you in the great hall of the keep. See to it that you are not late."

"Yessir!"

Without waiting around to see if they fulfilled his orders, Reuben turned and marched towards the keep. He made a few detours on the way, stopping to talk to the castle smith and a number of carpenters that resided here ever since the village had been destroyed. They were most amenable to his requests. Most amenable indeed. And they didn't even ask money for their services—imagine that.

Finally, Reuben entered the keep and, shortly afterwards, reached the doors to the great hall. He didn't knock. Who was there who would dare deny him entry? Besides, he had long ago formed the opinion that you got to see a lot of interesting things you would otherwise have missed if you always barged into rooms without asking for permission.

Once more, his opinion was confirmed. He pushed open the door, and, in the far left corner of the room, saw Ayla standing at one of the windows that granted a view of the Lunt Valley and beyond.

She didn't know he was watching her. Her face was soft, relaxed, even happy. And the fact that it was a happiness touched by a tiny spark of sadness, a glowing ember of worry, made her only look all the more beautiful. Her eyes, gazing into the distance, sparkled like the most beautiful sapphires he had ever seen, and the sunlight dancing on her hair made the golden strands shine like the gates of heaven.

Slowly, his eyes travelled down her form, over her gentle curves, over her stomach and to that area that area between her legs that held a particular interest for him. A grin tugged at the corners of his mouth. He'd be definitely inclined to compare that area to the gates of heaven. And he couldn't wait for them to open up.

Ayla squirmed, and looked around—although Reuben would swear he hadn't made a sound.

"Reuben! You're here."

"Yes, Milady."

"Why are you looking at me like that? Why are you smiling?"

"Oh, I'm just contemplating battle strategy." Sauntering over to the only table left in the hall, he placed the parchment in his hand on the table top and unrolled it. Placing candle holders at either end to fix it in place, he looked down at the map of Luntberg—the castle he would have to save. And for free, at that.

He gave a nostalgic shake of his head, remembering his good, old mercenary days. The hoards of gold he had amassed back then... And now he was reduced to a "thank you, Sir Knight" and a pat on a back! What a man would for love...

He peeked over at Ayla's gates of heaven once more. Well, maybe ha'd get more out of it than a thank you, eventually...

"This is a strategic meeting, after all," he continued, looking up at Ayla's face before she noticed where his eyes had been fixed earlier. "That is why I called you here."

Ayla scowled.

"I know, Reuben. That's what the messag boy you sent to me said. But it doesn't make any sense to have a meeting right now."

"We're at war, and it makes no sense to have a strategic meeting?"

"You know what I mean, Reuben! You still aren't well enough for something like that," she told him, sternly. Oh, she was adorable when she was concerned for him—and even more so when it made her angry. "You should be recovering, not traipsing around the castle in full armor. You heard the Margrave's herald. He said they're going to start building siege fortifications. We have all the time in the world."

He cocked his head. "You believe something simply because the Margrave's herald told you?"

"Yes— I mean, no, of course not, but..."

She hesitated.

"What reason would he have to lie?"

Reuben nodded. "That's the question. Where are the others I sent for? Sir Rudolphus, Sir Waldar, Captain Linhart?"

Color rose to Ayla's face.

"Let me guess." Reuben smirked, feeling very pleased with himself. "They were too afraid of the big bad blood-red devil."

"It's just silly," Ayla mumbled, casting her eyes down. "You're not evil."

"Oh, actually I am," he corrected her. "Deeply and passionately."

"Don't say something like that!"

"Why not? It's fun to watch the way you blush when I do."

"Stop it!" Suddenly, she was in front of him, her arms clutching him to her as if she were a boat in a storm and he the rock to which she was safely tied. "Don't you dare say you're evil! I love you, and you're a good man!"

His arms went around her, pulling her even closer. Now he wasn't sure anymore who was the boat, and who the safe rock.

"And if I'm not," he growled into her ear, "you'll badger me until I am?"

"Exactly!"

"I knew there's a reason why I love you, Milady."

For a moment or two they remained like that, in peace, together. Then she slowly loosened her hold and looked up at him.

"So why this emergency meeting, Reuben? You should be resting, I mean it."

"Because of what the herald said," he answered without hesitation.

"I don't understand."

"Don't you think he was a little too insistent about the Margrave's seventy-seven day deadline?"

For a moment, Reuben saw a frown on Ayla's face, then it was chased away by understanding.

"You think that he was trying to lull us into a false sense of security? That the Margrave is going to do something before the whole seventy-seven days out?"

Reuben nodded grimly.

"Oh, he's most certainly going to do something. We've got a thirty days, at most."

"Thirty days?"

"Thirty days—and then he's going to try and storm the castle."

*~*~**~*~*

At first, Ayla thought she hadn't heard right.

"W-what?" she stammered. "A full-out attack? But why? The first army he sent just tried to starve us out. Why not try the same again? The situation is the same."

"Not quite." Reuben's lips were twitching. "Last time, we had about fifty warriors. Now we have three-hundred. I wouldn't call that the same."

"Most of those men are peasants!"

"Peasants trained by me are better than knights."

Ayla had to work hard to resist rolling her eyes. He sounded so absolutely sure of himself, the arrogant villain! Even more aggravating was that he actually might be right.

"Listen to me Ayla," he said intently. "The situation really is different. With only double our number, the Margrave's army can't both surround the castle and present a serious threat to us at any given point of the ring of walls. We could attack, leave a bloody mess behind, and retreat. By repeating this tactic, it would be relatively easy to slowly grind the Margrave's forces into extinction. He knows this. And that is why he is not going to sit back and try to starve us out. He is going to attack."

"Maybe I should make the others join this discussion after all," she mused, biting her lip. "If you're right, that's a pretty serious matter. They should be here too."

"Oh, I don't know," Reuben murmured, tightening his hold on her when she tried to slip away. "I'd prefer to conduct this strategical discussion on our own. It's much more intimate."

Ayla felt her face heat. Suddenly, Reuben's arms around her didn't feel as if they were there just for her comfort. Neither did his hands. They, she realized with sudden shock, were touching a curve of her form no man's hand should ever be touching!

"Since when are tactical discussions supposed to be intimate?" she asked, breaking away from him and hurrying over to the table on which a large map of Luntberg had been spread out.

His answer came prombply.

"Since they involve the most beautiful girl I have ever met in my life."

He started to stalk towards her, hiy eyes alight with gray fire. She tried to ignore him, tried to gaze down at the map and shut out everything else.

"Umm... what's this?" she hurriedly sked, in an effort to change the subject. "All those squiggly lines on the map, I mean?"

In a flash he was behind her, his body heat striking her like a hammerblow. Dear God! So much for the subject change...

"Those lines show where there the terrain is low and where it is high," he whispered into her ear, his voice rough, the weight of his body pressing into her from behind. "You see, for a soldier, the terrain and fortifications make all the difference."

In one swift move his arms came up around her, his hands sliding over her belly. She could feel his fingers, softly caressing the linen that was the only barrier between him and her skin.

"Reuben... we don't have time for this! If..."

"No time for me to explain the foundations of strategy to you? Of course we have time for this. Besides, I haven't gotten my hands on you in days! I've been a prisoner, cut off from the one I cannot live without, not knowing whether I'd ever return! I'm starving!"

His words sent a wave of heat through her. But she was a good virtuous Christian! This was sinful! She shouldn't! Allow this! She shouldn't!

But you want to, don't you? murmured a traitorous voice in her head.

"Reuben...!"

Her protest was only a whisper now. He continued, as if he hadn't heard her.

"You see..." He flexed his fingers on her belly in a way that made her gasp, "As a warrior, while you're in flat country, fighting is one thing. But once you get up into the hills—"

Suddenly, his hands moved upward, sliding over her stomach further up, coming to rest on her...

Oh dear sweet God!

"—once you get into the hills," he whispered into her ear, "it's an entirely different matter. Do you see what I mean?"

"R-Reuben, I..."

""Do you see what I mean, Ayla?"

Once again, he flexed his talented fingers.

"Y-yes!"

"Good. You see, for a soldier in the hills, fighting is very difficult. Particularly—"

His fingers stopped moving, both hands on hands resting on the same spot, left and right.

"—if on the very top of the hills, he finds a castle each."

"Reuben, please..."

"Shh. Can you blame the soldier if he stands still for a minute, awe-struck? Yes, he is a hard man, but the climb up into the hills was exhausting. And the castles on top are simply magnificent. They seem to rise higher and higher, the longer he is staring at them..."

An indistinct noise escaped Ayla's throat. She knew she should break away. She knew that was Reuben was doing was going much further than they had ever gone before—much further than any maiden should go with a man. Still, she couldn't find the strength to stop within her.

"But however magnificently built the defenses might be," Reuben continued to speak low into her ear, his voice morphing into a growl, "a soldier has to do his duty. He must take the castle. And he can only do that by taking his ladder and lifting it..."

Reuben took a step forward. Suddenly, his muscled body was flush against her back. She could feel every one of his chest and abdominal muscles, hard as stone. And further down, she could feel something else that was hard.

Mary, Mother of God!

No, actually, considering the Immaculate Conception, Mary had probably be of very little help with what was going on here. Ayla had better find another saint to prey to, and quick!

"He must raise his ladder, up, and farther up, until it is fully erect. Then he has to find the right spot in which to put his ladder."

He leaned even closer, until his lips were tickling her ear.

"Where do you think would be the right spot, Milady? Here?"

He shifted. Ayla almost let out a groan.

"Or here?"

He shifted again. She bit down on her lip to suppress any reaction.

"Or maybe... here. Yes. That feels right. Don't you think so, Milady?"

Ayla wanted to tell him that it wasn't right, that it was just about the wrongest thing she had ever felt. But she couldn't. It would have been a lie.

A sigh escaped her lips.

"And then," Reuben growled, "The soldier has to man up. It's time to attack!"

He whirled her around, and then he was kissing her, rough, demanding, and not to be denied. Not that she wanted to deny him. She had fought this too long. Her defenses were crumbling under Reuben's masterful attack.

Can it really be so wrong? I love him!

His hands came up to cup her face, holding her as if she were the most precious jewel in the world. He broke their kiss for just a moment. Seeing his eyes open, she caught a glimpse of the gray fire within.

I love him, and... and he loves me. Something that feels this right can't possibly be wrong.

The next thing she knew, she was being hauled up into the air and deposited on the map desk, somewhere between the destroyed bridge and the western paddock. His hands came down on her and began unlacing her dress.

"I love you, Ayla," she heard his voice somewhere above her. "And now, I'm going to take you."

Blood was pounding in her ears, so loud that all she could hear was the rhythmic pounding and her own ragged breathing.

At least, until the nock from the door came.

Reuben uttered a word that Ayla had never heard before and hoped to God, for the sake of her soul, would never hear again. Pulling her up from the table in a single, swift movement he began to tie up her laces. Before she could even blink, her dress was closed and her hair swept back from her heated face.

The door opened. Ayla expected anything—a soldier crying "Attack!", Burchard coming to march Reuben off to his witch trial, a headless green rider with an axe over his shoulder—instead, Sir Rudolphus stuck his head into the room.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Reuben growled.

Sir Rudolphus looked puzzled. "Well... there's a strategic meeting, isn't there?"

"Y-yes," Ayla admitted, still a little breathless. Quickly, she tried to smooth her dress and threw a look at Reuben. "But I didn't think anyone would come."

"Why ever not, Milady?" Sir Rudolphus' puzzlement obviously increased.

Ayla took the time to look a little more closely at the gangly knight. He seemed perfectly calm and relaxed—not fazed by Reuben's presence at all. "Um... Sir Rudolphus? May I ask a question? Where you in up on the wall earlier today, when Sir Reuben made his escape from the enemy camp?"

"No, I was down in the cellars, double-checking our stocks of pickled onions, why?"

"Just curious." Ayla sighed, thoroughly reliefed. Reliefed because at least one person in the castle wasn't keen to burn Reuben to a cinder. And reliefed because the gangly knight's appearance had probably prevented her from committing a long list of mortal sins.

"I see." He nodded. Ayla saw him glance from her to Reuben and back again. Apparently, even Sir Rudolphus was not too lost in calculations of pickled onions to pick up on the tension in the room. "If I'm interrupting a, err... discussion between the two of you, if you'd like me to come back at some later time..."

"Yes," Reuben told him. "Piss off!"

"No!" Quickly, Ayla stepped forward and grasped Sir Rudolphus' arm. She didn't trust herself alone in a room with Reuben anymore. That man truly was an incubus!

And a darn good one, she heard a little voice in her head that she immediately tried to shut out.

"No," she repeated allowed. "You came just in time before we— I mean, you came just in time for the meeting. Please stay. We need you."

Or at least I do.

Reuben, for his part, looked ready to eviscerate the gangly knight. But then, Reuben looked ready to eviscerate people pretty much all the time.

"If you're sure," Sir Rudolphus mumbled.

"I'm sure." Ayla guided I'm into the room and gave Reuben a severe stare. "It's time to discuss strategy."

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My dear Lords and Ladies,

I hope you enjoyed Sir Reuben's version of battle strategy? ;-) I thought it was time to begin to take our hero's and heroine's relationship to the next level. What do you think of it so far?

Farewell for now

Sir Rob