Goneril stepped over, holding her hands near the flames. "It's very private," she agreed, also amused. "I don't think we have to worry about disturbing anyone."

"What were you planning on doing that might disturb someone?" he asked innocently.

Goneril reached for his shirt, tugging him forward to kiss him.

While he'd been expecting such a response, he hadn't expected it quite so quickly, and nearly lost his balance. He almost grabbed the metal screen for support, but snatched his hand back as violently as if he'd nearly stuck it in the fire itself. He dug his fingers into her shoulder and dragged her toward him.

"Ah--" Goneril let out a little yelp of protest that was very quickly silenced. She kissed him, hard. "I thought we were coming up here to talk," she teased, as she got a handhold on his arms.

"I thought we were too." He stroked both hands down the backs of her arms. "We can still talk when we're a little closer than this, can't we?"

She smiled at that, a conspiratorial glint in her eye. "Of course we can," she replied. "It might change the nature of the conversation a little bit."

He curled up tailor-style before the fire, then tugged at her again, sitting her between the curve of his knees, and slid his arms around her waist. "Better. And it's an excuse to stay warm until the fire builds some." He pushed aside her hair and nuzzled the side of her neck.

She slipped her feet to either side of him, sliding off her wet slippers. "For someone who didn't want to encourage us, it seems like the Countess might have done us a favor," she mused. "This is lovely.'

"Don't tell her, she might renege." He readjusted his arms around her. "Will you make me a promise?" he said, seriously. "You know we must leave tomorrow. Don't shut yourself in your room again."