It had been a week or so since she'd gone riding with the Heaton heir. When her father had caught word of it, he had been furious, promising to do the worse thing she could think of. Granted, he had been so angry that he couldn't even splutter out whether or not he knew what frightened her, but she did have to give the man credit for trying.

At first he had thought of locking her in her room but then, after hearing that she had people to meet and speak to, he rethought that notion completely. There was no use in completely demolishing her growing support base at the Keep, not when he had no idea whether or not it coul benefit him at this point. Instead, he did the worse thing he could think of: take away Siobhan.

And Niamh did the worse thing she could think of back: pretend like she didn't care.

Oh, she had been acting. Her best acting yet, in fact, and it had done marvelously. For the first few days, she could see her father staring at her, perplexed. Was her horse no longer her favorite thing in the whole world? Why did she not seem crushed?

He couldn't figure it out and, finally, he relinquished Siobhan to her. Even though Niamh had been acting for weeks and had become quite good at it, she couldn't stop the look of pure joy that came on her face when he said it. Almost instantly, she was out of the room before he realized that she had been pretending not to care the whole time. Infuriated once more, Anrai decided to plan ahead his next step and crash his daughter's spirit once and for all.

However, the young Niamh McNamara was unaware of this at the moment. She was blissful, riding on clouds rather than a horse. Her body and soul felt weightless. Her hair bounced beneath the simple confine of a pin in her hair made of silver and a few emeralds. It was possibly the most expensive thing her father had gotten her and he had insisted she wear it that morning though, for the life of her, she couldn't figure out why. For the moment, however, it was doing quite a good job of keeping her hair back and so she allowed it for the time being.

There was a pause of the thudding of her horse's hooves as Siobhan made a petite jump over a crack in the ground. Niamh laughed, clearly enjoying herself and releasing all her pent up energy from being kept inside for too long. Ambitious and focused as she was, Niamh also needed time to unwind and Siobhan gave her that. It was something her father realized and had been besieging for the past week: her patience and stress level. Whether or not he realized it, he lost and she had prevailed to gain what she wanted.

Again.

Nothing could stop her. Ever.

James groaned as he turned over in his bed, causing the silk sheets to bunch up around his legs. The exposure allowed the chill in the air to wash over him, another absent reminder of his lonely status. There was no one there beside him to take away the reality of life, if only for a few select hours. Oh how grand it would be to have a shield such as that. He longed to have another to grab onto, but one that would always remain. Having person after person, night after night, was not for James. His loyalty and sense of romance clouded that taste of life for him. He was what one would call ‘the marrying kind’. The thought of ‘one person-one-lifetime’ greatly appealed to his sensibilities. The only problem was the image of the one standing beside him, or in the very least the representation of his true desires.

Sitting up, James scrubbed a hand over his face, lighting rubbing at his sleep-filled eyes. The room slowly came into focus; every piece in view was a visual reminder of the fruits of his labor. It had taken quite some time to decorate the manor, as James was a very fussy person by nature. Not to say that he did not know what he wanted, for he knew that quite well. The true problem was finding a proper object to fit what he saw in his mind’s eye. Was it such a crime that he wanted a state of higher awareness that slid into perfection? The main downfall was that reality never measured up to the fantasies of the mind. Always a hitch prevented the ascension.

With one last sigh, James climbed from the bed, still trying to unleash the remnants of the saucy dream from his mind. Every night that week there had been only one star of his fantasies. By now, he knew of the person’s presence quite well, but not of their actual face. He could only imagine the response he would have earned had he told Georgie. Likely, she would have said that the person in the dream was his ‘soon-to-be’, or other such nonsense as that. His dear sister was one that entertained the notion of dreams being signals of the future. James did not believe in this one bit. Dreams were just dreams, nothing less and certainly nothing more.

James eventually decided to wear green that day, a color that looked appealing on him, and would perhaps help him look his actual age. He was constantly mistaken for someone of a much younger nature, often the age of seventeen or nineteen at the eldest. Normally, it did not bother him but there were times it was frustrating. Mostly, the color James paraded around in was black, the very hue of sleekness and sophistication. He liked to believe those two terms fit him but that could be hopeful thinking on his part. However, an emotion he did overflow with was determination. The determination greatly stemming from the fear of the desires burning holes within him, the maybes ate away at him and he wondered at times, what would be left behind if he did not act soon. There had to be someone that could fill the void, chasing away the loneliness and returning the notion that true love did exist. Yes, James felt soul mates were possible for those who sought for them. The sad truth was that people often settled for the one in front of them, or they had their choice completely stripped away by the arrangement of a marriage. The latter was something that James dreaded above all else, well; besides enlisting to fight, but that was a whole other story. All of it was like the kiss of death and James needed more than just duty-filled honor. He needed passion, he needed intrigue, and he needed to feel.

James had only taken a step to grab his shoes when the fantasy took a hold of him full-force. Flashes of ivory skin filled his mind, blocking out everything else. Anticipation, fire and need. In the scene, his body would slam up against a wall, roughly pressed back by a firm and solid body. Lips would crash together, while clothes dropped to the floor, seen as nothing more than useless rags. Rough, raw and boundless. It was in the air that a symphony of grunts, groans and gasps sounded. Passion, pain and utter bliss. James would reach up and ---

“Master Amherst,” a timid voice from the doorway said.

The fantasy broken, James turned his heated face to see Madge standing there. “Y-yes,” he managed to choke out, trembling slightly as if caught in the worst of all deeds.

“Your father is here, sir.”

Just wonderful, this day was destined for agony and arguments, and that would only be the first hour of their joined company. “Very well, thank you.” James replied, already heading out to where his father would be waiting for him.

There in the dead center of the room stood Charles Amherst, the very picture of pride and haughtiness. Two traits James had never quite pulled off correctly. However, he did achieve the perfect level of unapproachable. It lessened the occurrence of small talk, which was something he greatly dreaded. Why anyone wanted to discuss the weather was beyond his understanding.

“Father,” James greeted, forcing a somewhat smile onto his face. It was far too early in the morning for all of this and James needed his coffee to function properly. A coffee-less James was never a pleasant one to deal with. He needed it completely black and without anything added in it. Often, he did not even speak until he had consumed his routine coffee, but he had awoken too late and now there would not be any time. It meant scowls and snapping was in the future.

His father replied with a curt nod before leading the way out of the manor and to the awaiting carriage. The urge to groan returned ten-fold to James but he held it in just in time. A lecture would certainly make all of this more hellish than it already was. Silence stretched between the two as the carriage tumbled along, each bump rattling James’s already fragile nerves. All too soon, the pair arrived at their destination and Charles left James alone for the time being.

Racking a hand through his wavy hair, James began to walk around the grounds until he stopped close to the stables. He was about to continue on his way when he caught sight of a horse, but it was the rider that made him stand his ground and not move. The lady’s hair color was familiar, disturbing in its familiarity. He wanted to make a quick exit but it seemed the fair lady had caught sight of him.

“Good morning,’ James said, in what he hoped was a cheerful tone. Cheer was not often apart of his morning routine and for now he had no reason to be unfriendly. Here was hoping for that to change.

[[Hope this is okay!]]

Well, she thought, she should amend that. Only one thing could stop her and that was a masculine voice suddenly breaking into her personal heaven and a body seemed to be right in front of her. Any trace of happiness was written off her face as suddenly reality crashed with all the force of a wave into her dreams. She pulled tightly on the reins in her sudden fright (who stood in the middle of the way like that?) and was nearly thrown for the second time in her life. Siobhan, caught unawares, tossed her head wildly and bucked, leaving Niamh to fend for herself on Siobhan's back.

The lady's only way of staying on was quite humiliating in front of someone she didn't know. Hooking her leg firmly around the pommel and grabbing the horn of her saddle with both hands, Niamh shouted, "Down! Down! No! No! Wrong! Very wrong! Stop now! STOP! STOP!"

Her face turned red with both embarrassment and anger that Siobhan was proving hard headed once more. Remarkably, Niamh managed to stay on and, once she managed that, looked at the man who had broken her reverie.

Furious, she dropped down off of Siobhan, shaking off any offer of help from the anxious stableboys. "Excuse me, sir," she said, her tone holding a bit of iron in it, "Do you realize that you almost got me killed? My neck could have broken! My back could have been snapped! Why on earth were you just standing there?"

Her dark, black eyes were filled with the fires of passion and anger as she spoke. Clearly, she was shaken up and more shaken than actually angry. Whether or not the man in front of her would know that was a different matter entirely. "I could have run you down! I...I could have killed you!" Saying it seemed to pierce any veil of anger she could claim as she choked on her words. Her dreams, were she to murder a man even in accident, would be crushed if such a thing happened. "Good morning indeed," she choked out once more and then turned to her horse, her face regaining its customary snow white paleness once more.

She calmed Siobhan once more by stroking the horse's nose. The action seemed to calm her down as well. Soon enough, she trusted herself to look over at the man and she asked, "May I have your name please? I'd like to know who I was about to kill. It seems only proper, after all." There was a trace of humor in her tone. Always strange and morbid with her sense of humor, there was no doubt that later, Niamh would laugh about this with the other ladies while they looked at her horrified. They couldn't see the humor in almost killing a man and being knocked off the horse. Niamh would find the whole affair humorous in an hour or so, after the last remenants of her nerves had been shaken off and calmed completely.

"Why are you at court?" she asked. Her eyes seemed to hold the additional question of: And standing in the middle of my path with a strange expression on your face?

She had a feeling then and there that his name would provide the reasons for him being at court and, furthermore, provide her with a clue of how to handle him. She had a knack, already it seemed, for making friends at court. Her support base was growing steadily and she wanted to make sure that this was someone she should befriend and use to her advantage rather than completely demolish for being a fool.

Some part of her at that moment was demanding that she take pity on the poor man. After all, he did look tired and he had almost been run over by a horse. That alone would qualify any day of the year for a bad day. Obviously, there was something wrong. He had given her a strange look and she was curious as to what that was about. Had they met before? Was her father friends with him or his parents?

Suddenly, she was suspicious of her father. Had he invited this boy here? On purpose? For some secret reason? He had threatened to do his worst to Niamh and, at the moment, she could only think that that could be marriage. That alone would slay part of her ease in making friends. Half of the men at court liked her because there was a possibility of marriage and elevation through marrying her. Taking away that advantage would kill at least a quarter of her support base.

Eyes wide, James watched the scene unfold before him, one that was slightly his fault. Horses had never caught his fancy and riding them was as far from his desires as anything could be. The one time he had gotten up on a horse, the demon had thrown him off, yes, actually thrown off and unto the ground! Therefore, he did not understand why anyone wanted to ride for the pure ‘enjoyment’ of it. Did they not realize they could die at any moment? Shaking away the thoughts, James tried to think of something to do. Should he try to help? Well, he could end up making it worse as was his habit in physical cases. Debates were still swirling through his mind when he caught notice of the lady steadying the horse and taking matters into her own hands. He continued silently watching as she came over to him, more like marched over to him, actually.

“I assure you, I did not mean for any of that to happen. I believed I was far enough away that you could handle that, that thing,” James replied, slightly shrugging his shoulders. He couldn’t see what the big deal was now that the danger had passed. The demon hadn’t killed her, so, she should just let it go. Move along and talk about something else, save for the weather, which was just maddening. The hatred he felt for his father was growing steadily by the minute. This woman was a terror already and he had only been in her company for a few short moments! She was far too loud and it was much too early. Where was her hushed morning voice that everyone else seemed to employ? Perhaps, she didn’t know of the voice and James would have to inform her. He would do anything of that sort to cease the shrieking.

Most people would not see any humor in this sort of situation but James was not most people. He found humor in just about every situation since being serious was not on his daily agenda. Chuckling, James shook his head, causing hair to fall into his eyes, which he did nothing to move. “Nay, I would have moved just in time before you could have killed me as you so delicately put it.” Again, he did not understand why they still had to harp upon this matter. No one had been hurt and it was sure one way to jostle one awake. James could safely say he was not as sleepy as he had once been. Eyes glittering, James humored, “It was never a good morning. It would only be a good morning if I was still in bed with my coffee and with far less shrieking occurring around me.”

His customary smirk shadowed onto his face as the young lady tended to the beast. He really wished he recalled her name; perhaps, it was something that began with an O or was it a P. James was dreadful with names, especially those of the peculiar nature and he believed hers fell into that category. Her name was certainly not Catharine or Elizabeth. He would have recalled those, maybe, depending on the circumstances. James opened his mouth to say something but the young lady beat him to the punch. He was fairly shocked by her use of the word ‘please’, as she seemed to be more of the demanding type than the cordially type. Running a hand through his hair, he bit at his lower lip. He really didn’t want to be here right now and this showed in his uncomfortable little habits, not that she would know of this. “My name is Sir James Amherst,” James replied, after a stretch of silence. He really did not care if she had heard of him or not. It made little difference to him either way; it did not change the outcome, after all. “May I ask the same question of you? I would like to know what name to scream shall you almost kill me again.”

The next question from her lips was the one James could not answer, at least not yet. Besides, he wasn’t really at court; he was simply passing through, in a way. When it came down to it, the proper answer to the question would be -- I haven’t a clue, because James really did not know why he was here. Oh yes, he knew the actual why but that did not assist his nerves in the least bit. What he wouldn’t give for some coffee right now. Even the kind that had foul additives floating in it. His head was already starting to pound and the quiet tone really wasn’t taking a hold with this lady. Her voice seemed to grow louder with each passing phrase spoken. She seemed to run on - loud, very loud, oh-gosh-I-can’t-hear-anymore.

Ignoring the question for now, James turned his head to the side, taking in what was surrounding them. He had never really looked at the grounds before, always too busy and on his way to another place to bother with such a thing. He had never really had time to ‘stop and smell the roses’ as some would quote. Deciding to ask his own question, James turned back to face her. “How long have you been riding?” He hoped the question would set her off on rattling stories that James could only half listen to her telling. It would give him time to plan and she would be none the wiser. He was skilled with pretending he gave a damn to what others were saying to him, when in actuality he was barely paying attention. His dark eyes took in more of her appearance and he had to admit she was not bad looking. Not as beautiful as some of the other ladies he had seen but she was a step above others he had witnessed too. Sadly, she did not seem to stir anything within him either. He was beginning to think there was something certainly wrong with him. Men were supposed to think lewd thoughts when in the company of a young lady. He always earned those thoughts when he was in the company of - no - he mustn’t think of any of that. It was all in the past now, not that it had ever actually been in his presence, but still. If he kept ignoring it, it would eventually go away. It had to it just had to.

She frowned. "This...thing, as you so wonderfully and eloquently put it, is my mare, Siobhan. She's quite a good friend. Better than most humans, in fact," she stated precisely, her eyes flashing. "And what on earth is...coffee?"

She would have heard of it if her father had further involved her in their trading business. As it was, Niamh only saw the ladylike items to sell: dresses, ribbons, petticoats, hoods, and, of course, jewelry. Her brothers might sell everything else that it was unseemly for a woman to manage but Niamh had learned plenty from watching what came in and out of the backroom. More than her brothers and father knew about, that was certain. "And I'm hardly shrieking. You must be hung over with drink if you think I am." She said, regaining her dignity quickly. Now that her nerves weren't frazzled, she spoke softly and with purpose.

She stopped patting Siobhan's nose when he mentioned his last name. "A...Amherst?" she asked, "As in, the Amherst family? The one with the trading company?" She stared at him further, more than a little surprised. She was very much aware of her father's rivals and his friends. Though the Amherst family was neither, she was well aware that they could become either in a split second. She was hoping that the son she was faced hadn't had such a bad experience meeting her that now he would inform his father and they would become rivals. Niamh wasn't stupid. She knew that in order for men higher up than a light lordling to take notice of her, her family's fortune would need to be considerate as bribery. Then, she could utilize that, gain their friendship and admiration, and build further and further up the foundations using her family's status and fortunes.

Knock just one of the pillars of her platforms off and she would fall quite quickly.

She smiled at his original way of asking for her name. "Lady Niamh McNamara, at your service. Thus, two children of the two most prestigious traders in the land meet." Her smile was ironic in its humor. Startling as it was, when she smiled, she looked far more beautiful than most women. While usually she seemed on the brink of beauty, smiling tipped her over it's edge and added her to its ranks. It was one of her weapons that she was fully unaware of for she thought herself plain all the time.

After entertaining his question with her answer, she expected the same favor. To her surprise, she was treated much as she treated Prince Fergus a while back: with coy silence. For a moment, her eyebrows jumped from where they lay immobile. Her face looked surprised for but a moment that someone could play her game (perhaps he didn't know he was playing it with her?) that always managed to lend her an air of mystery. She realized then, as Fergus had long ago, that to get the answer, she would have to dance around the subject and summarize an answer from all the answers leading up to it.

"I see," she said, filling the silence. Upon his question that bounced back at her, she smiled, her cheeks flushing with joy and her eyes lighting with that inner fire again that came whenever someone mentioned her inner joys in life. "Since I was five or six. I tried to learn how to ride like a man first and I argued with my father until he let me but it was awkward and I didn't like it. So I came back to riding sidesaddle which is more enjoyable, I find. Men can't really relate since they've never ridden sidesaddle before but I find it much more relaxing and graceful. At first, it's quite hard to keep the balance but, with the passing of time, grace steps in and takes over. Once you have it, it's enthralling."

She looked over at him as she had been staring at Siobhan until then with affection and longing. "Do you not ride? I have yet to meet a nobleman who doesn't and if you don't, you will be a first and if you say you ride sidesaddle....it's even more of a first." She smiled, humoring herself. The idea of any man riding sidesaddle (sometimes she threw them in a dress too for good measure) was amusing to her. It was such a social more that she could just barely imagine it. "Unless you're like Eamonn. Poor brother of mine is frightened of horses. Hates them like nothing else. And now, he's a priest for the Catholic faith." There was a hint of iron in her tone. Something in her voice suggested she found Catholicism to be gruelling and hateful. She couldn't stand it.

James shook his head, humored by her bold declarations. He was not used to young ladies taking such tones and displaying such passion for anything other than fashion and the latest gossip. He cared little for the latter but the former was very close to his heart. One of his deepest desires was to dress the masses in fitting and dashing clothing. Most did not wear what was suitable for their frames; much of it was far too gaudy. “Could you explain if you will how an animal could be a proper friend? It cannot talk, cannot share anything with you. It is nothing more than a beast, hardly proper company to indulge in on a higher and deeper level,” James mused, shaking his head once more. He was starting to find the young lady amusing and this was a step up from the pervious feelings towards her. Amusing was something he could handle and deal with on a daily basis. It was not as if he had to love her, though he highly wished to find such a person to feel that way for.

How outrageous! The lady did not know of the glorious substance that was coffee. He could not go a day without it and encountering someone that did not know of its delights was shocking. “Coffee, my lady, is only the most indulgent and delightful beverage around. It is darkly intoxicating as it hits your tongue and the aroma fills the air around you. One sip and you will be hooked in its tantalizing taste.” James spoke of coffee as she spoke of her horses, with fondness and familiarity. Pushing hair from his eyes, James stared at her for a few minutes, thinking a few things over. “Does your family not import other things that do not relate to your trade?” If this was the case, James was quite shocked, as it seemed a highly influential family would want to import. Now, this was not the reason James imported items when he had the liberty of doing so. His importing was for pure enjoyment, although, his father would not want to hear of that point but this was nothing new, dear father did not want to hear much of what James had to say or think.

Chuckling, James fully smirked at her, feeling more at ease than he had earlier. “Aye, you are not shrieking now but I assure you that you were. One can hardly hear their shrieks when they are causing them. It sounds normal and in-tone to one’s own ears,” James explained as if he really did know all there was to know. Playing pompous was quite easy for James; he had spent enough company with his father to entertain the trait when needed. He acted this way now to see what reactions he would earn. He needed a lady that was strong-willed and could throw back what he put forth, anything less was an insult and he would not have it.

Picking at his sleeves, James stifled a groan, a feat barely achieved. He wanted to be back indoors, the great outdoors holding little appeal for him on most occasions. “Yes,” James replied, “The one with the trading business. I deal with silks, beautiful ones at that.” For James there was not another fabric in the world that could outrank silk. The fabric caressed the body with light kisses that was pure heaven. He could very well see the young lady before him dressed in silk, or in the very least trimmed in silk. He began to wonder what her feelings of the fabric were, not everyone felt the way he did, outlandish, as that was to believe. Some favored the fabrics that could ‘breathe’, such a foolish notion; fashion was for display not for comfort. If he wanted comfort, he would parade around in nothing but a tunic and a bright smile. He could only imagine the looks he would receive from that feat.

Yes, Niamh, he was quite correct; it was an unusual name, one he had not heard before. Here was hoping that he would commit it to his memory this time around. Smiling lightly, James said, “A beautiful name for a beautiful young lady.” Let the charm roll forth like honey, creating another trait to employ to see the reactions earned. Some ladies expected compliments at every corner, while others found them tiresome. It was hard to decipher which Niamh would favor but he would know soon. Nothing much had dazzled James until a smile broke out onto Niamh’s face. It was like the sunshine breaking to start a brand new day. The splendor of it made him take back what he had believed before concerning her beauty. It made him wonder why she did not have an engagement or why she was not married already. Perhaps other suitors had not gotten past the almost-deaths and shrieks.

It pleased him greatly that Niamh did not insist he answer her question, he so despised pushy ladies. The hidden wonders of life, made things even more interesting. The constant ‘what ifs’ hanging like a great cloud, ready to spill forth secrets and shocks. The joy that flushed her cheeks and the lights in her eyes made her even more appealing to James. Happiness looked well on her, far better than the indignation and fury. Although, the fury was a rather attractive trait, and would have been over the edge had she been more - dear no - he was not thinking that way. Once he learned more about her, he would find that attraction. With this in mind, he listened carefully as she spoke of riding, clearly taking in the way she spoke on the subject. He would have to remember how fond she was of horses; the knowledge could come to his favor sometime down the line. “Seems like a rather grand tale,” James commented after she had finished talking. He had learned quite a bit from her story, which was his intention in asking the question. People really did give a lot of their personality away when they talked, although, some did not seem to realize this, all the more beneficial for James.

Gazing at the beast, James shrugged his shoulders indifferently. He knew fully well that most noblemen rode and were proud of their skills. He was perfectly fine and capable on the ground, thank you very much. The sidesaddle comment almost made him bark out in laughter, the very idea was indeed preposterous! He could just imagine the looks a gentleman would receive should he participate in such a matter. It was almost enough for James to want to attempt, but he knew he could not. His father would have his head for sure and James was very fond of his hair, it would be a shame to lose. Knowing he had to say something, James cleared his throat, moving his eyes away from staring at the demon and back to Niamh. “I prefer to spend my time in other matters.” It was simple and to the point and did not really state how much he hated horses. “I am not afraid of horses!” James huffed, slightly pouting his lower lip. Fear did not fit into the equation of the issue he had with the beasts. He could get up on one if he wanted to, he just didn’t feel like it, ever.

A priest in the family, that was something of interest, peculiar tone as well from the fair lady. “I see. Does this mean that you are not happy your brother is a priest? May I inquire as to why this is?” Another question that would give him quite a bit of information. Oh how he loved to play the game, especially when the other person did not know he was playing.

"Animals," she replied in even tones, "can be far better than humans. For one, they are forever loyal, especially hounds. Try getting a man to be as loyal to his wife and you will find that the man, so cunning, so educated, and so civilized...will fail upon the arrival of a new, beautiful woman." She snapped him a look that begged him to differ. Considering the amount of affairs and scandals she heard going around the Keep, though, she was going to guess he was going to be hard put to find something to dissaude her from her own opinion. "Animals listen. I speak to Siobhan all the time. The best part is that she doesn't interrupt. She just...listens...And for women, that commodity is hard enough to come by that we can't complain where we get it from."

She sighed and touched her forehead to the height of Siobhan's nose. The horse snorted, obviously pleased, and then Niamh said, "And animals, far above people, do not demand much of you at all. They are happy enough with a stroke of reassurance, a sugar cube hidden in the pocket. They are pleased with you even if you can see them only once a week. A human demands your attention...all...the...time. There is no break with a human. There is no way to really satisfy them. Humans are greedy, ambitious, arrogant. Animals don't understand ambition. They don't understand greed. They take what they give you and if they want more, well, they understand if you don't give them anything else. They're satisfied with what they get. Nothing more, nothing less."

Her eyes, which had been closed, looked at him sharply. "Do you understand now? Do you understand why a dog is called man's best friend instead of a woman or another man? Or why Siobhan is my companion rather than my pet?"

She listened to his ideas of coffee and then smiled at his way of explaining it. He sounded, for a moment, like Eamonn when her brother was little and trying to explain the things he saw that day. How he might stumble over the words a bit, use his hands to illustrate. Eamonn had, looking back on it now as a young woman, been adorable as a child and if she ever had a son like him, she would never complain for Eamonn had been a good boy.

Until he joined the clergy, of course.

"Oh, we do," she explained when he asked his question, returning her attention to her horse who was nuzzling her shoulder as if searching for a treat, "But I never really got to handle them. They only let me handle things that were...good...for a woman to handle. Cloth, veils, ribbons, embroidery. Nothing that might actually fall in the categorey of something exotic like this coffee you speak of. That's not to say I never saw anything. I knew that we sold weapons as well. Sometimes, when no one was around, I might go down and look at all the different things we had just to see exactly what we were selling and decide what I would sell them at."

She didn't tell him about the way she would listen in on her father's conversations with other merchants and then, later, on her father's conversation with her older brother and his workers. Her father was a mastermind at cutting down the other competitors. The prices he sold his goods at were enough to make a profit but also low enough that the competitors couldn't go any lower without making themselves lose money rather than gain it. Once the competitor was out of business, Anrai would raise the price again to a normal level. Thus, he had gained the family's fortune and substantial dowries for his two daughters.

Niamh had learned from him though he never knew it and sometimes used his teachings in conversation and friendships. Some of her greatest supporters were because she had offered more for less than other women or men. The result: she could raise the stakes when she would on them and they couldn't stop her because they had agreed to it.

At the moment, she was thinking of how to get James on board as one of her supporters. As the son and heir of the another trading empire, it was important to have the merchants back her. It was just as important to simply make friends at court. All the better to use when she fired her desire at the king and bargained with him for what she wanted.

"In any case, we import but only to sell. The most expensive things that my sister and I have gotten are our dresses and ribbons for our hair. Sometimes, if my father feels generous, he will give me cosmetics too, bought from the East. However, these I give to my sister. I have no desire to paint my face like a clown as she does," she said with a trace of scorn. There was no doubt that with the proper amount of cosmetics and the right flair, Niamh could look beautiful. Could but she wouldn't.

Instead, she laughed when he mentioned that she was beautiful. "No flattery," she said, laughing, "I know I'm not that. My sister is the beauty. I'm simply the stubborn mule of a daughter that refuses to be wedded and bedded like every other woman. If you saw Aoife, you would know that beauty might have been in the cards for me before my birth, but once the deal was done and finished, I was born as plain as any common woman and that is that. Quite frankly, I'd rather have brains than beauty anyday," she declared and then summoned a stable boy to take her horse.

Normally, Niamh would do it herself. However, since she was in the middle of a conversation, she decided that she would let the stableboy do his job for once. "Ah, now you're pouting like a small child," she teased, noting how he stuck his lower lip out just so. "You do indeed remind me of Eamonn with that look on your face, though he was five the last time he did it." She smiled at him until he brought up the subject of Eamonn.

"I...I believe that the priesthood is not for one such as he. Eamonn was raised to be a merchant or a knight, not a sweet-tempered, kindly old priest. He never explained to me why he did it and I can only speculate. But either way, I don't think it was the road for him to take," she said, careful to keep her tone neutral. If word got out that Niamh was against the church, she could pay for it with her head. At this point in time, so near the very beginning of her dream, it was something she was trying to avoid at all costs.