The Baron's Cold Proposal

The gilded hallways and ornate rooms of Haddon Hall were silent. All of Lord Lupton's family and servants were attending the garden celebrations on the terrace. There was nobody to stop his thunderous pace as he stormed out of the bedroom suite cursing under his breath.

"Where do you think you're going?" a shrill female voice cried after him. He spun around, slapped his broad hand against the wall loudly and exclaimed.

"Damn you, Octavia, I have just proclaimed my love and been told I'm of no consequence to you!"

Lady Octavia Lupton, a mid-twenties delicate blonde waif of a woman, leaned against the door as she adjusted the bodice of her dress instinctively. Her floor-length lilac gown covered a multitude of sins, including the fact her undergarments were no longer there. 

"I was very clear about what I wanted Craig."

Her voice was as crisp as cut glass. When she'd been panting his name twenty minutes earlier it had been the sweetest sound on earth. Now it was cold, aloof and Craig Thornfield knew he would never see beneath that veneer again. 

"I apologise for misunderstanding...given the purity of your reputation I had thought that our...relations meant something more than the physical."

He had been enraptured with those blonde curls and ice-blue eyes. Her gaze across the various dinner parties and gatherings had tormented him with lust and longing. 

The joy he had felt at being able to twirl that blonde hair, to secretly kiss her perfectly soft lips had elevated him skywards. When she'd invited him into her chamber, clawing at him and demanding he take her, he had felt reborn. 

Naive fool. Embarrassment raced through him as he remembered assuming he was her first physical encounter. He thought back to encounters such as when, at her insistence, had raised her petticoats and entered her roughly from behind, causing her to scream in pleasure just a few walls away from an ongoing dinner party. Craig had believed she was in love with him.

The pain that seared through him as those very same eyes coolly appraised his muscular figure in disdain was almost paralysing.

"I wanted to experience...the roughness of a man like you before I settle down."

There it was. He was a piece of rough pleasure. Lady Octavia Lupton had rolled around with some filth before she cleaned herself up and pretended to be a shocked virgin to whichever snivelling wretch with money she deemed worthy. 

Tipping his head upwards to the ceiling he felt disgusted at the dizzying wealth on display. Just because everything in sight was covered in gold leaf didn't mean they were decent people. 

Slowly, he walked back towards her, and Octavia's breath caught in her throat as she took in that strong figure once more. Sandy blonde hair piercing green eyes and a tan as deep as summer hay. 

He wore rough workers boots and heavy linen trousers. Working outdoors, directing his team of labourers, he wore a simple thick white shirt, open in a v-shape. In his haste to leave, he had not fully fastened it and she could see his sweat-dampened chest hair. 

Involuntarily she licked her cherry lips and selfishly wondered if she could pull this situation around to have another taste of that intoxicating masculinity. Vanity took over and reminded her of her station and that passion should not overrule sense.

Craig reached the doorway and towered silently over Octavia. She could smell the outdoors and her perfume combined on his skin. Just being that close made her core tingle with longing. Craig lowered his voice and muttered gruffly as his hand gently stroked her cheek.

"I would wager the wealthy fool who wins your hand won't be able to make you scream and beg as you did for me. Farewell Octavia, I would call you Lady but I can't consider you as such at this present moment."

The gentle pant that had escaped her at his teasing touch was swiftly swallowed back in anger at his insult. 

He quickly turned on his heel and stomped away from her suite with determination, heading outdoors and back to where he felt himself. Octavia slammed her door angrily and resolved to forget the ignorant oaf immediately.

I must find Athena, he muttered inwardly, we have to leave here before I ruin everything. 

As Craig headed down the corridor he failed to notice the trail of dirt his boots had left. Later that day the servants would certainly notice and ironically lament how such muddy trails only ever found their way to the young Lady Octavia’s doorway.