Tempting Fate ((Miles!))

[Lady Liselle]

The horse she had been handed up to by the Castle’s head groom was absolutely impossible! She had thought upon first seeing the spirited, sinuous creature that her usual morning ride would be exhilarating. When the stubborn mare had steadfastly refused to submit to Liselle’s will and taken off in a direction that would only lead her astray, however, Lady Bassen had quickly begun to lose her temper. No matter which way she tugged on the reins or how harshly she applied her riding crop the mare would have her way, and thus is was not long before Liselle found herself wandering along a meandering dirt road in the heart of Sherwood Forest.

For all her bravado in the battlefields of love, politics and other mischief Liselle was at a loss as to how to protect her person. Her morning ride was on e of the few times she was alone during the day but now she lamented in her solitude and wished fervently that her Steward Brock had accompanied her for protection. She knew that this part of the Forest was renowned territory of Robin Hood and his gang of miscreants and every rustling of leaves or snapping of twigs whipped Liselle’s widened eyes in a different direction. She reined in the mare from her shambling walk, standing and swivelling on her side-saddle as though trying to make out her surroundings. Giving it up as a lost hope she settled bodily back into her seat, an eyebrow arched in malcontent at the bay mare who tossed her head defiantly.

“If anything should happen to me out here,” Liselle told the mare resolutely, ”Brock shall have you made into dog meat.” The mare let out a shrill whinny in reply. Liselle, frightened that vagabonds might hear her horse and descend at any moment touched the velvet flank of the mare and the pair were off again at a determined trot. If she hadn’t been so frightened at the prospect of being in the Forest alone Liselle might have enjoyed the scenery immensely. Lush green foliage stretched hungry organic fingers as far as the eyes could see and a young doe with her fawn scrambled across the road ahead, startled from her hiding spot.

[miles]

The gift he had received upon returning home from the Holy Land (and after his family was certain that he would be able to ride) had never had the rebellious streak that seemed to be plaguing the blonde. Poised atop Ivy as if he were better off as one of those centaur creatures, he scouted the path he went down. He had refused any sort of escort as well. He found the idea of him having a body guard to be downright silly. He was a former soldier in the King’s Army, why on Earth would he need someone to protect him? He openly scoffed at his sister’s concern and mounted Ivy for a lazy day meandering about the roads.

It was his addiction to cheap thrills that brought him to the forests rather than on the safe patrolled areas of Nottingham. His sword itched to dispatch an outlaw and it had broken out to a rather nasty rash over the month that he had been there. The only lotion that seemed to sooth that was the opportunity for a decent card game and the bounty of wenches he managed to scrounge up. It barely provided enough to wet his hunger for something exciting. He was back to being under the influence of the law and not the chaos of war. To be honest, the law was absolutely boring. Taxes were boring, politics were boring; money (when not being spent but being counted) was boring. Even his morning ride provided no thrill as he once more road through the forest without the hint of an outlaw. Bugger.

He dismounted Ivy by a nearby creek, granting the mare permission to drink if it so pleased and Miles the chance to allow feeling in his bad leg. He lamely walked in the small perimeter of where he had set up his horse to rest, occasionally idling back to stroke along the slick coat while his other hand remained on the hilt of his sword. Upon hearing the sounds of a nearby rider, Lord Miles Kemp’s interest was trapped. He quickly mounted Ivy, much to her protest, and they started in a healthy gallop towards where Miles assumed to hear an intruder. Upon reaching the path, it seemed that the thrill had been lost. It was just a woman. His maple toned eyes narrowed a bit to catch a more focused look.

The morning ride wouldn’t be a total loss, he supposed as he slowed Ivy to trot in the other horse’s wake. A smirk hit his features. ”Shame, I thought you to be an outlaw, he boldly stated from his position behind.

[Lady Liselle]

The hoof-beats behind her were softened by the inches of leaves that blanketed the forest floor, but they still managed to alarm the haughty noblewoman. Sitting primly side-saddle on a mare that kept pulling on the bit Liselle looked to either side of the road to assess the possibility of escape should it come to that. With her options open she then swivelled to look at her pursuer and her panic came to rest in the pit of her stomach as though it had never risen above a nonsensical whisper. She recognised the man, almost, but she had not had the opportunity to make him out as yet.

A blonde manicured eyebrow slipped up before she could wrangle it otherwise and she managed to look slightly affronted. Did he honestly think her the sort of woman to outlaw herself against the crown? She, who was dressed lavishly in heavy suede overskirts and petticoats in the snowiest of linens? Whose crisp white shirt was trimmed at the bodice and cuffs with lace of the most expensive kind? The very idea, the very notion was laughable. As her keen green gaze passed him over upon his approach she couldn’t help but think (even knowing vaguely that he was noble himself) that her outfit was worth more than his income would be per annum.

“I beg your pardon?” she asked, her voice betraying the acid that had crept into her mouth at the insinuation that she could be any less perfect than she really was. He was handsome, certainly, with the squared bearing of a soldier. Her lips had formed a sultry pout out of habit; an expression that was not unduly attractive on the girlish-looking noblewoman who seemed more innocent than she really was. “I am merely out for my daily ride, Sir. If anyone could make assumptions about which of us might be outlawed, I would wager that the onus would be on you to uphold the title.” Liselle tilted her head artfully to one side, exposing the creamy expanse of her neck as her eyes watched the newcomer anxiously, ready to kick her horse into a gallop at a moment’s notice.

[miles]

Miles let out a loud, hearty laugh at what he took as an accusation to his loyalty. Certainly his clothes could be percieved as a tad more rugged than the Lady before him, thus nearly fitting the description. While the apparel was not of the fancy sort, the vest a very thick-set black leather with silver fastens that kept the clothing over his broad chest and shoulders, there was far more quality to them than that of some filthy outlaw. The tan colored pants and high-set black boots, while well worn from the constant use, did not hint at being unhygenic or even possessing the slightest scratch. He was too well polished to give off the impression of an outlaw. The arming sword at his side and buckler slung across his back probably did not help the appearance much: but considering the times and the territory he had ventured in to, carrying protection was somewhat of an obvious necessity.

His laugh finally slowed as he shook hi head. "I came from the stream, all I heard was noise on the road and came to evaluate the situation in hopes of a more exciting ride," he shook his head; scoffing slightly. "In stead of outlaws, I find you. Though considering you seem to be lacking an escort or security, I'm sure an outlaw is sure to come soon," he added in a more serious tone. "Especially when a woman stunning as yourself is on her own, Your Ladyship."

His black gloved hand snapped at the reigns for Ivy to pick up the pace a bit more so he could ride along side his new company (whether she wanted to be or not was an entirely different story). His brown eyes briefly assessed the young lady. Slightly recognizing her from Nottingham's castle. Obviously of a higher brith considering the clothing. Apparently she wasn't gifted with the noble skill of intelligence if she willingly ventured into the Forest where outlaws were abundant. She was attractive enough, Miles observed. He very much liked the idea of laying her down in the satins of his bed. That thought alone brought down the playfulness of his smirk. He remembered seeing her with some man following her around like a lost hound. Surely he would have gone with her.

"Though," he flashed a smile, "I suppose my routinely ride did bring me something more thrilling than meandering on the roads."

[Lady Liselle]

Liselle had been wholly disposed to an argument when the rogue’s compliments disarmed her as neatly as a parried stroke. Shee did not know whether to be annoyed by the interruption or flattered by his charms and so in the way only she probably could, Liselle settled on a delicate balance of the two. ”You, Sir,” she began in a serious tone that was completely undermined by the sultry gleam in her eyes, ”Are a menace. What do you mean by accosting ladies in their leisure? I confess I had not thought such insolence possible until you were the means of contradiction.”

With a small smirk playing about her lips, Liselle clucked to her horse to walk on. She chanced a sly, sideways look at her new companion. My, wasn’t he handsome! Those eyes, that smile! Such a physique! He must be a soldier, she thought, and that discounted him from the running for her hand almost immediately (unless his father was rich enough to have purchased him a commission). His clothes certainly showed promise now that she had leave to observe, and she was well pleased that he seemed to show a modest sort of taste in his apparel. Lord Mannering, for example, was tragically over-dressed for every occasion in her good opinion, and Sir Guy definitely needed some form of garment that wasn’t fashioned from thick black leather.

”And on top of all the degradation,” she continued to tease, ”Am I to be remiss in an introduc--!”

The bunching of her horse’s muscles beneath her cut the lady’s speech quite short, and there was only time for her to utter one surprised shriek as the creature bolted off down the road. Apparently walking sedately next to another of his kind was too boring for him! Whilst Liselle was an accomplished horsewoman the move had taken her so off guard (and while she was flirting none the less!) that she had almost lo9st her seat in the first instance and was now struggling to regain it.

”Help!” she squealed to the man left back in the dust kicked up from her horse’s hooves.

[miles]

Miles, unaware that he was being evaluated on whether or not he was fit to marry, smirked at the taunting words. His brown eyes took stock in the blonde in quite a similar fashion; first noticing her figure (while letting his womanizing imagination briefly wander on how accurately he could guess it looked beneath the layers of clothing) before he noticed the bone structure of her face and the casual hints of alluring jest in her eyes. He was impressed and was about to add another comment that stated as much before the Lady's horse had taken off.

At the plea for help that followed in the succession of the mystery blonde's sudden departure, Miles could not help but briefly roll his eyes at her. Unaccompanied in outlaw territory and unable to control her bleeding horse... women. With a sharp dig from his heels into Ivy's sides, Miles and his mare were galloping after the runaway steed. The animal beneath him moved her powerful legs to catch up; moving whichever way her rider jerked. Miles crouched in his position a bit more so as to create less resistance, which considering his larger form, was a bit more necessary if he intended to catch up.

As Ivy closed in, the Lord of Berkshire to a brief moment to admire the noblewoman's derrier. Not bad, he snickered to himself as he straightened his posture while Ivy veered up on a more elevated piece of land and picked up speed while her rider started to pay more mind towards the brush of the forest. With a graceful leap, the mare landed beside its renegade counter part. Miles reached a hand over, while Ivy remained in stride, to grasp the reigns and tugged towards him until the mare's head jerked and she came to a stop. The gloved hand stroked her mane before he looked over at her rider. "Miles Jackson Kemp, he introduced with a wide, almost playful smile. He briefly considered leaving his title out of his introduction. One never could be too careful with the likes of outlaws running about. Unfortunately, his need to brag got the better of him. "Lord Miles Jackson Kemp the fourth if you wish to be formal about it." With a gesture of his hand and slight bow of his head, an obvious sense of pride hinted in his disposition.

"Is there a particular name you wish me to address you as? Though I suppose the sound of myself losing my breath would be just as appropriate and recognizable when referrencing you, would it not?" he said smoothly with a smirk.

He was good.

[Lady Liselle]

Always adept at plaing the damsel in distress (or any other role she chose to aspire to, for that matter) Liselle let her reins loose when she could have gathered them, and gave her rampant mount his head when she might have cut his galloping short. The reassuring sounds of the man's horse closing in quickly behind her made her want to smile; the pathetically disobedient creature beneath her would get a fine juicy carrot if something should come of this meeting! Glad that the man had taken her bait Liselle quickly planned a contingency. If he was a Lord or similar noble, all was well. If, however, he was not (unlikely) then she would have him rewarded for maintaining her safety and pensioned off where he could keep his trap shut.

A lady in her situation could never be too careful!

Liselle had just been about to let out another pitiful, wailing cry for assistance when she noticed the horse and rider beside her on the high ground. Before she realised what he had even planned to do, he had landed his mare squarely net to her, and stopped her horse as effortlessly as she probably could have - if being rescued were not as much fun as it really was. His smile and introduction could not have been timed more perfectly, and Liselle artfully fluttered her eyelashes in a modest - yet stirred - manner. So he was a Lord! Hallelujah!

Returning his smile with a coy one of her own, Liselle mananged to allow her lips to form a small, perfect 'o' before she apparently caught herself. It was all a game, of course, but Lord Kemp needn't know that. Before two seconds had passed altogether, however, Liselle found himself wondering just where he was a Lord from. When he went on to ask of her own name, Liselle felt a slight flush barely tint her alabaster cheeks, and she smiled at him fully, her dimples exposed. She had not met a man yet who hadn't been fascinated by her dimples.

((OOC: *sporfle!*))

"Lady Liselle Bassen of Doncastor," she returned every bit as cheekily as he had began, holding her hand out so that he may kiss it. "You perhaps have heard of my father - The Duke of Doncastor?" A smirk teased the corner of her peach-colored smile, threatening to turn into something less wholesome. "Although if you wish to address me by the sound of a gasp, My Lord, you are entirely welcome."

He was good, Liselle conceded. But she definitely thought she was better.

[miles]

If Miles had known that the rather brief moment of peril for Lady Liselle had been clever theatrics, he probably would have to drop down on one knee and propose right on the spot. Not to mention begrudge admitting that not all women were as foolish as he so callously stereotyped. While the former soldier to the King’s army was by no means a genius or a fool, he did have the appreciation for those, very few, who could impress him with wit alone. Give him a blade and a shield and wit accounted for near nothing unless applied properly by the young Lord’s standard. Without engaging in battle, Miles Jackson Kemp IV would have gladly been in slight awe of the rather convincing charade.

”I would prefer to address you that way,” he said as he brought the offered hand to his lips so he could politely brush them against her knuckle, “But I think it would be quite distracting in conversation and a bit inconvenient to those I describe you to later considering they are not here to understand why I’m so inclined to be robbed of breath.” A roguish smile accompanied his flattery (which was probably only to last this encounter unless given a damned good reason to prolong it). He looked at her the way a hunter would approach a doe before the kill. He evaluated while in a slight wondrous awe of the creature before letting the bow snap and the arrow hit its intended target. “I’m certain words wouldn’t do you the right justice and then there would be soldiers out for you, thinking that you were a bandit that made off with my lungs.” Miles would later cackle at his own smooth wording, thinking his father would be livid that he wasted this sort of flattery on a woman as opposed to kissing up to the Sheriff. His smile haughtily taunted the corner of his lips as if to say ‘Bam’ while he released her hand.

“I have heard of your father in passing, I believe. My father would most likely have had the actual benefit of having his acquaintance when he comes North every so often from Berkshire. He sent me in his place instead out of convenience,” he informed, a feeling of importance still in his voice.

“Now, Lady Lisell, I feel the inclination to wonder why exactly you’re here in Nottingham considering the rather temperamental political state it’s in. What with outlaws running about,” his grinned turned wolfish. “Surely it’s no place for a Lady.” His light comment, on some level, rang a bit more genuine. While he was unaware of any sort of resourcefulness on Lady Liselle’s part or bitingly sharp wit (she couldn’t control her bloody horse for Heaven’s Sake), he still thought that sending a young woman to a place where lawbreakers ran so rampant to be nothing short of foolish.

((sorry for taking an eternity doll))

[Lady Liselle]

Oh… my… goodness. It was increasingly difficult for Liselle to remain cunning and aloof as Lord Kemp turned on his considerable charm. He was handsome, rich, landed, titled and cut like a chunk of granite; all of which were qualities Liselle enjoyed thoroughly in men. If he had been inclined to propose to her on the spot the Lady would have no doubt found herself in real trouble, but luckily for her no such offer was forthcoming. When she had time to reflect upon the meeting she would concede that flattery was infinitely more pleasing than flattering, and being admired was so much better than admiring that Sheriff Vaysey and Sir Guy were almost entirely forgotten as she minutely observed the broadness of Lord Kemp’s shoulders and the easy arrogance of his smiles.

Foolishness however was well avoided by the manipulative young lady and though she was very impressed she was hardly going to allow her heart (or other organs) rule her head in matters so very important as which suitors were more suitable. In a class all of her own Liselle rewarded Miles’ pretty turns of phrase with dimpled smiles of her own, every now and then pressing a delicate hand to her lips in a bid to appear coy. ”I fear that both of our patriarchs have sent us on fool’s errands, then, My Lord,” she responded easily and without any hint of embarrassment. ”I am come to keep a cordial eye over a cousin who has grown wild with the surroundings. Of course there is also the matter of my father believing I burden him.” She raised her eyebrows emphatically.

”A daughter is never of much consequence to a father unless she has a husband to increase her market value, it would seem. But I am sure you are well versed in those matters, My Lord. Your wife must be missing you terribly from your home estate while you dally here in the North.”