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9: Mr and Mrs Archer
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Promised to the father, married to the son 10: A little monkey
*Ben* So I haven’t been able to whisk my bride up to my bedchamber after the ceremony because the cook had prepared a feast that would spoil if not served immediately. At the table in the small dining room, I sit across from my father, with my wife … My wife ! … To my left near my cold heart, and the priest to his right. As I sip my wine, I consider the possibility that my mercenary wife apparently is in possession of a conscience. It had surprised me beyond all measure when she had questioned accepting the ring. I had expected her to take one look at the sparkling jewels and salivate. But she hadn’t. She isn’t comfortable with it. Even now in between courses, she fiddles with it, rotating it as though she wishes she could remove it. I don’t think it is because it symbolizes that she is married. It is because it symbolizes love and between us there is none, not even a glimmer. Nor will there ever be. We both know it. “Where does your family come from, Lady Mrs Archer ?” Brown as
Promised to the father, married to the son 11: After dinner
*Skye* After the dinner is finished me and my new husband retreats to the library, where he pours us both a glass of port. Outside his father is sending off the priest, thanking him for his work. We sit down in front of the fireplace, the silence creeping in on us like fog, the only sound in the room being the cracking of the burning logs. But for some reason, even here in front of the roaring flames I feel oddly cold. My husband has been watching me every second of the evening, like he expects me to sneak off and steal the family jewels or something else nefarious. He still thinks of me as nothing but a gold digger, but it is nothing about his money and all about the protection his name and status provides. I realise he might be undressing me in his mind, but why should he bother when he can drag me off to the bedroom and simply do it for real ? From the heated kisses we shared earlier I will expect our intimacy to be rather rough and quick … not to mention repeated often. I ha
Promised to the father, married to the son 12: A ghost on the moore
*Skye* He sweeps me up into his arms as though I weigh little more than a cloud in the sky. Never before has a man carried me. I don’t want to admit how safe and secure he makes me feel as he strides from the room with purpose, but then if I have learned anything at all about him today it is that he does everything with determination.I know beyond any doubt that I am on the verge of becoming his wife in truth. There will be no turning back once he claims me. As he takes the stairs two steps at a time, guilt pricks my conscience. I should confess everything before it is too late. Our marriage can be annulled. I can slink away in shame and mortification, find a way to survive, to protect all that needs protecting. As though a miraculous answer will suddenly reveal itself when it hadn’t before. We pass the closed door to the master’s bedchamber … his fathers room. His strides quickly eat up the distance to the corner room at the far end of the hallway. He wants me. I can sense it in t
Promised to the father, married to the son 13: At her grave
*Ben* I don’t know why I bother to run. I know exactly where I will find my father, where I always find him eventually. At my mother’s grave. Until tonight, I had never understood why my father had insisted on burying my mother near a tree on our property instead of in the graveyard beside the church in the village where all our previous ancestors are resting. But after hearing the tale at supper, I am left to wonder if it is that tree in which my father had first met the girl who would eventually become the love of his life. When I see my father nearing the grave, knowing he is going straight there and isn’t planning to wander about the moors, I slow to a walk. The moon is bright enough that I haven’t bothered with a lantern. I fight not to be irritated with the interruption. I had certainly not wanted to abandon my bride, although I suspect curiosity has gotten the better of her and she has glanced out the window to see father and son darting across the moors as though the hounds o
Promised to the father, married to the son 14: Getting a bath ready
*Ben* “Hello, my dear”. My father says. “I wanted to make sure you were all right”. Her gaze darts between me and my father so I am not quite certain upon whom she is checking. She has changed into her nightdress. With her gown gone and only the thin fabric covering her, I can see that she is a bit more slender than I had realized, that she seems a bit more vulnerable. I shake off that thought. There is absolutely nothing vulnerable about the woman who had challenged me this afternoon. “Fine, my dear. Just tired”. My father waves a hand. “Go on, Ben. See to your bride. I’ll wait here for your mother”. Closing my eyes, I sigh as I shake my head. When I open them, I am not pleased to see thepity reflected in Sky’s expression. “Sleep well”. She says before stepping into the hallway. Joining her there, I close the door and twist the key. “Is it safe to lock him in ?” She asks. “Safer than not. the butler will unlock it before the sun comes up”. I am taken aback by the concern in
Promised to the father, married to the son 15: Next morning
*Skye* I can’t remember the last time I slept so deeply, so soundly. Feeling completely rested is almost enough to make me believe I am safe. With a low moan and a languorous stretch I slowly open my eyes to a room bathed in faint light and my husband at the mirror, slowly guiding a straight razor up his neck and over his chin. He is wearing only trousers. My mouth goes dry as I take in the sight of his broad shoulders and muscled back. I had seen and felt the evidence that he doesn’t spend his days lounging about, but still the perfection of his tanned physique is a bit unsettling. Not an ounce of excess fat on him. He is all corded muscle, ropy sinews, and strength. I am quite mesmerized observing the play of his muscles as he shaves. “You’re awake, I see”. His warm voice slices through the quiet. My gaze slams into his, reflected in the oval mirror hanging above the washstand, and I wonder how long he might have been watching me. My cheeks warm up. “You didn’t wake me for my ba
Promised to the father, married to the son 16: Awkward breakfast
*Ben* When she had awoken with that soft moan, it had taken everything within me not to pounce on the bed and take her then and there. It didn't matter that my face was lathered in showing foam or that she had distracted me to such an extent that I very nearly sliced open his jugular. I can think of worse ways to go than with that luscious sound ringing in my ears. How can a woman be so gloriously sensual upon awakening ? Standing at the window in the library, watching as the fog begins to dissipate, I have to admit that I don’t have any paperwork I need to see to. I just wanted to give her time to bathe and perhaps join me for breakfast. I could have also delayed going to the mines, but being within reach of her without touching her would have tested my sanity. While she had offered herself during the day, we made a bargain I intend to keep. The day is hers; the night is mine. One exception would place us on a slippery slope, and she might decide I shouldn’t have all the nights
Promised to the father, married to the son 17: Testing his restraint
*Skye* I have to take such care in answering his questions that it is trying beyond measure. There has never been a husband. I am not a widow. But there had been a love, what I thought was a grand love. What a fool I had been. I am not going to make the mistake of falling in love again. He has no interest in it and neither do I. Which should have made us perfect for each other. Instead it serves to tie my stomach into knots. I could have compelled the old man into caring for me. I do not stand a chance of doing that with his obstinate son. Yet I feel this insane urge to be as honest as I can with him. If he ever discovers the full truth, he will at least see that I had limited my deception as much as I was able to. Of course, if he discovers the full truth, it would all be moot, as he is likely to kill me anyway. Put those strong hands of his about my neck and choke the very life from me. But I can’t worry about the future. I have to concentrate on the present. And presently he is
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