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"All ye 'ave to do is get through tha' window and we'll end up on the second floor, which is perfect because then we'll get to make an entrance down the balustrade."  Iain said to me as we came to what I considered the 'scene of the crime'.  

I looked at him, disbelievingly.  "You just thrive on breaking all the rules, don't you?" I asked him.  "You just break them and shrug your shoulders like it was no trouble at all."

He grinned mischievously.  "Ah, so ye've learned.  Now I'll go in first, then I'll help ye inside.  Understand?"

"Mhmm" I said, smirking.  "And if the ass of my dress rips, you are personally getting down on your hands and knees and fixing it."

He grinned even wider.  "Now tha'," he said as he hopped up into the window sill and pushed it open, "would be my pleasure."  Then he disappeared, before he could catch the glare I shot towards him.  A moment later, I saw his sturdy hand appear in the window, and I hopped up into the window sill and grasped it.  I swung my legs over the side of the sill, and then fell awkwardly into his arms.  He grunted as I landed, and I snorted with laughter. 

"Easy" he said, "isna it?"

"Famous last words" I muttered jokingly.

He looked down on me, our faces glowing in the moon-ray that shone down on us like a spotlight from outside the window.  "You are so beautiful, Ellen" he told me as he placed his palm on my cheek, and then ran his hand through my hair.  My eyes jerked up to his.  Since it was one of the few sincere things I'd ever remembered him saying to me, and since it was completely unprecedented and unexpected given that we'd been fighting for nearly the past hour, I stood immobilized with shock, eyes wide as a doe's.  

I looked back up at him, confused at his near reverent behavior, but internally shaken at his quiet complement.  It was the second time he had said that I was beautiful in one night.  He was different just now.  Something had affected his normal pompousness.  It had occured earlier too, but I thought I mayhap had imagined it.  When he had come to pick me up, looking unsurprisingly handsome in his black tuxedo suit and green vest, he had taken one look at me, and not only had his jaw become loose, but it had been a good number of seconds before he had been able to speak.  I had hoped for such a reaction from a man some day, but I hadn't imagined that I would ever actually get it. 

I was always surprised if someone ever told me I was beautiful.  In high school I was tall and awkwardly shaped, had braces, and all the boys ignored me.  My mother told me it was because they were intimidated by me, but I always seriously doubted it.  In college, I studied too much to be noticed, wore sweats to class, and, realizing that all most men wanted in college was sex, forgot about them altogether.  Well, I forgot about the real ones, that is.  I always created imaginary men in their stead that, in my own deprived mind, would tell me every wonderful thing I always wanted to hear.  I suppose it wasn't until I came to St. Andrews and decided to dress my professional part that I realized I had really grown into myself, especially physically.  My figure was an hourglass now, my cheekbones were more pronounced, and I had filled out in ways that I never imagined I would have.  

The dress I wore was simple red satin, square-necked and skin-tight to  my knees, hugging my upper and lower assets and making them grace the fabric just where they should have.  It was quite scandalous, truth be told, and I had never worn anything quite like it.  But I had a feeling I'd never wear anything less appealing from now on.  My shoes were a matching red satin stiletto with peep toes, and I had curled my hair so that the longest layers fell in chestnut waves all the way down to my midsection.  My own jaw had dropped earlier when Rachel had finished preparing me, and I had finally looked to see my reflection in the mirror.  It was a wonder what a good dress and make-up job could do to a woman's appearance.  

However changed I may have seemed, I still managed to keep an ounce of my unorthodoxy.  My neck and ears I left bare, and I had refused to take off the black pearl bracelet that my dad had given me.  It still rested upon my wrist, the only black accessory amidst all the red apparel.  The antique silver ring I wore on my left ring finger in place of a wedding ring stood for strength and purity.  Vines were carved into the silver, and the stone was a chalcedony.  I had bought the ring many years before for two express reasons.  The first was that it was merely an archaeological artifact, and I had an obsession with all things outdated.  The second was the Revelations of the Bible claimed that chalcedony stones were used to construct the walls of heaven.  The ring symbolized my belief in God, and my desire to honor him with my life choices.  Wearing jewelry, for me, was something one did only when the items had meaning behind them.  I had heard in a country music song once, "ain't no luggage rack on the back of a hearse." and it had struck a dissonant yet memorable soul-string.  I figured the only riches I could take with me when I left this world were intangible.  So to me, if tangible possessions did not have intangible meaning behind them, they were not worth possessing.

As soon as my memories ceased, my thoughts went back to Iain, and the strangeness of his behavior on this night.  He had been arrogant, overly bold, and now he was humbling himself before me.  Was it all an endless drill for him?  Was he working me just like he had worked all females before me?  The thought of this not only comfused me completely, but it also shamelessly boosted my ego.  Maybe, I thought to myself with a quirk of my lips, and without looking at my chalcedony stone for graceful guidance, if he looks at me or complements me enough, I could gain an ego as large as his.  

"Why are ye smiling like tha'?" he asked.  "Dinna ye know tha' you are beautiful?"

I looked up at him and raised my left brow.  I would not eat the cheese.  I would not be trapped into his suddenly oh-so-sweet-talking tendencies.  So I stayed cool in my response.  

"If I didn't know it before tonight, then you have certainly reassured me, sir" I answered, hoping to remind him not only about the first time he'd complemented me earlier that evening, but also about the kiss we'd shared earlier.  

He released a huff of laughter, probably surprised that I did not act as most women would have and blush at his response.  But instead of acting offended, he appreciated my un-wooed state, realizing that I was not easily captured, and put his arm around my waist and pulled me against him, as if to show how highly he esteemed my aura of "unattainability".  For a moment, alarm bells sounded in my body, and I stiffened slightly in his arms.  This is okay, I finally reassured myself, I'm trying to let myself trust him, remember?  I melted against him then, and sighed outwardly as I cringed inwardly.  When I felt his chin against my hair, as if he was, unbelievably, leaning his head against me in unspoken affection, I was moved to look up into his eyes.  His eyes opened to look down at me.  The fact that he had closed them, making me the sole focus of his attention, was already enough to make me slightly breathless.  But the look I saw in his eyes after he had opened them, a look so unlike the Iain I knew, left me entirely speechless.  I trusted him then, when he had such genuine expression in his eyes.  But my trust was fleeting.

There was a sound somewhere in the distance, and Iain suddenly broke eye contact to look ahead.  We didn't breathe for a moment, but noise was of no difference to us as our hearts were already drumming heavy sounds in our ears.  I looked up at Iain in a panic, and my mouth fell agape at him, for he was smiling.  Was he insane?  He we stood, thieves and burglars, with great chances of being discovered, and all he could think of to do was grin.  His gaze returned to me, and when it did, the old Iain returned with it.  He smiled down at me impishly, "'Twas a close call, me wee accomplice" he joked, and I nearly slapped him.  It would not have been a convincing slap, as I was too busy trying not to laugh at his adopted Irish lingo.

Then he sobered again, but his charming smile and bold eyes never wavered.  "Take my hand and I'll lead ye to the balustrade."  Cold air met my belly as his body left mine.  Confusion invaded my thoughts.  I started to follow him, but then I remembered our bargain.  

"Hey" I called after him accusingly, "where is my compact?"  I placed my hands on my hips and raised my chin and left brow a bit.  

He turned around and smiled casually, "Och tha', how could I 'ave forgotten?"  Then he reached into his pocket and reproduced the valuable little device.

I pulled a tissue from my purse, wiped the unwanted gloss clear, and re-applied it so that it would appear fresh.  Satisfied with my new appearance, I handed the tissue and compact to him so that he could wipe the gloss from his lips as well.  

"Keep it" he said simply, with a smile on his face, as it usually was.  

My brows furrowed, not understanding his intent.

"I'd rather everyone see the evidence of my conquests on my lips" he said with a touch of overconfidence in his voice.  

"You wouldn't" I threatened, and he laughed.

"Och, I would.  And I will" he said, with as much certainty as the oncoming tornado spinning from a distance.  

"You bastard" I said hatefully, disbelievingly.

"But clearnly...your...bastard" he replied, smile on his face too wide to be completely genuine.  

"My opinion of the women who date you just dropped considerably.  You are a nasty man, Iain Ross, nasty, and I feel damn sorry for the woman you end up with.  Too bad I didn't realize how despicable you were before tonight or else I wouldn't have agreed to come with you!"  The last was spoken on a fervent whisper, with clenced teeth.

"Can we go to the balustrade now?" he asked me, pretending to be bored with my outburst.  I knew he was pretending because his jaw-line sharpened at my retort and his actions became forceful.  He took my hand and walked me cogently forward towards the lighted hallway, and I smiled smugly to myself, knowing that I had gotten to him.  It was a mean-spirited satisfaction, and not one that correlated with my beliefs that wrathful feelings were a sin, but then again, it was merely ephemeral, and therefore I allowed it.  It is human nature to validate our own acts of misconduct is it not?  

***

Iain led me inside, and when I beheld the beauty of the place, a reverent appreciation on my face, I forgot completely about the fact that I was peeved with him.

The ballroom was at the bottom of a set of elegant, antiquated stairs, and garlands made of green pine, holly, and red ribbon graced the wide-set balustrades.  Warm lighting from the chandelier eradicated any blemishes or flaws that could have appeared on my pale skin, and added to the cheerful spirit of the holiday.  Wassail was wafting through the air, and laughter was resonating from all angles.  My spirits were brought to the fore, and a smile spread across my freshl red-glossed lips.

Iain's mouth quirked at my evident infatuation, and he linked my arm in his as he began to lead me down the stairs.  I scanned the crowd for familiar faces, and I spotted Vic in a short black dress by the cocktail bar.  I waved at her and smiled, and she beckoned me with hand motions.  Nodding and then facing forward again, I resumed my descent.  But as I neared the bottom I was suddenly seized in action by a set of very green eyes.   

I inhaled audibly and slowed my gate subconsciously, entranced by him and only him, blind and deaf to all things beyond our immediate conduit.  I thought I sensed Iain look down at me, confused by my reaction, and I thought I felt his arm tighten around me when he made his epiphany, as if to remind me whose date I was.  But I did not care, and I did not try to cover up my actions.  I couldn't.  I was imprisoned.  I was happily imprisoned.  

Kane was dressed completely in black, with a single red accessory - a rose in his lapel.  His whiskey glass was suspended halfway to his lips, as if my arrival had interrupted his actions, and he was staring up at me so darkly I felt as if he had seen my completely naked, so deeply that my heart broke through the fence surrounding it and landed in his hands, so longingly that I felt my soul being torn from my own body to join with his in some sort of a twine that would tie us together forever.  He was different tonight too.  He was as bold as Iain normally was, and his admission to me was in his eyes.  It made his lure more powerful than it had ever been.  My thoughts of trying to trust Iain and forget about having a relationship with Kane were immediately past-tense, as was the smile that had been on my lips, which now had become the intense lips-parted gaze of palpable wanting.  Walking had become secondary, and I didn't realize I had reached the bottom of the stairs until I was stanidng in front of Kane, and the whiskey on his lips and the woodsy smell of him swirled before me.  

"Ellen" was all he said, and he nodded his head curtly at me as he raised his glass further as a toast, and then took a sip of its contents.  That was all he was going to say?  I was prepared to be miffed at him.  We had just had a conversation in his office about how much I disliked his remoteness towards me, and here he was, treating me curtly and coldly again.  But as he finished his sip of whiskey, and I was able to study the expression in his eyes, I realized how wrong I was.  Kane's eyes had altered, yes, but they were not cold.  No, they were not distant or bitter or untrusting.  They were on fire, glowing hotly, and searing me directly.  

"Dr. MacAllister" I said on a whisper, though its sound was a choir of implications: question, desire, wonderment, and appreciation.

I felt Iain's hand grip me tightly at my waist, and my trance was broken when he pulled my harshly against him.  I looked up at him in surprise, and was surprised even further when I saw the look he was giving Kane.  His grey eyes were nearly black, and his jaw sharper as he stared threateningly at his competition.  My God, I thought, I've driven a wedge between them.  

"Iain" Kane said in greeting with a slight edge of mocking, his eyes suddenly lackadaisical as his grinned widely at Iain, and not genuinely.  "Looks like ye've just come from a battle with a hellcat" he said in regards to Iain's flushed lips and the small patch of dried blood that rested on the corner of them.  He knows, I thought.  My stomach turned in panic, thinking that Kane would be angry that Iain had kissed me, and that he would blame me for letting it happen.  I searched his eyes, and he was angry, but not with me.  When he looked at me again, his gaze changed from molten kryptonite to something less poisonous and more desirous.  Maybe he understood.  Perhaps he knew Iain so well that he wouldn't put an action like this behind him.  And perhaps the fact that I was staring back at him with such wanted encouraged him to believe I hadn't enjoyed Iain's intrepid act.  Maybe he was trusting me.  

"Keep to your own" Iain said with gritted teeth, and in a voice that reminded me of a rattlesnake slithering easily through sand.  

A muscle danced in Kane's jaw as he bit back the scathing comment I knew he was worthy of giving.  He took at drink of his whiskey instead, eyes never leaving Iain.  Then Iain turned away, practically dragging me with him.  I suppose I only willingly followed because I was in a state of disbelief and interrupted passion.  Otherwise I would have jerked away and slapped Iain square in the face.  I do not take well to being hauled away like a load of fire wood, and he had already tested me further than could be imagined.  

***