Olivia's rejection of the offered hand made Paul's lips widen a bit.  [i]She's a brave, head strong lass,[/i] he thought, his mind adding, [i]Who will end up in a tower with guards and a chastity belt when her father one day catches her out and about unescorted.[/i]

She turned to leave, finishing, [color=tan]"...I will take my leave."[/color]

"No, m'lady," Paul said quickly taking a couple of big steps that put him not quite directly in her path but enough so to make it clear that he wasn't letting her leave.  When she stopped to look up into his face, he glanced over to the two wanna-be brawlers who were now quite comically trying to get the deeply sunk knife out of the table.  They failed, and the pinned drunkard's coat sleeve ripped all the way to the wrist, causing him to blurt out several slurred obscenities before he and his friend stood to leave.  Paul looked back to Olivia and, with the slight bow typical of less formal situations, explained, "I could not in all good conscience allow you out into the night without escort."

He looked past Olivia to the big man who was one dagger short now, calling, "[i]Winston![/i]"

Paul looked back to Olivia again, offering, "My man will get you where you need to be, m'lady."  He leaned in a bit closer, smiling, "And you may as well take me up on my offer ... because if you do not allow him to escort you, he will follow you like a love sick puppy until you are all cuddled back in your bed where your [i]father[/i] believes you to already be."

As he awaited her response, Paul wished he could be the one following Olivia through the dark of night.  But his Scouts had been casually walking about Portston all day doing a number of tasks: weapon and armor repair, caring for the horses which included new shoes, carousing with loose women (or, as was the case for one of his less [i]traditional[/i] men, loose [i]men[/i]), and other such things.  And while Count Barker had done nothing to formally approach Paul as of yet, Paul's men had spied figures in the shadows occasionally who Paul knew were certainly the Regent's spies ... and possibly assassins as well.

"I must remain here to take a meeting," he made his excuse, "otherwise I would beg permission to walk by your side under the stars this eve'."  He reached out, taking Olivia's hand and lifting it in a way that she would know what was coming.  "I would beg of the Lady to see her again, however ... [i]soon[/i] ... perhaps tomorrow ... for a lunch by the water."  

He stood tall again, nearly a full foot taller than her, and -- still holding her hand upon upturned fingers such that she could retrieved it at any moment -- simply gave her a wide, polite smile.  Paul's actions, words, and expressions could have been read as anything from simple Noble courtesy to veiled lust and want: it all depended upon what was going through Olivia's mind ... and body.  

To his right, her left, Winston -- another half a foot taller than even Paul -- stood there eying the two with a gently shaking head.  He'd been at Paul's side since before the [i]boy[/i] learned for what a cock was intended, so to have watched him grow into the [i]man[/i] before him now -- the charismatic knight who could sweep any woman off her feet and into the nearest bed or hay stack after just moments of [i]sweet speak[/i] marveled the big warrior.  Winston didn't know who Olivia was -- Paul's sister's daughter -- but he was sure that the young Lady would be parting her thighs for his Lord before the now-nearly full moon was soon flooding the land with the illumination of its filled face...