Savage Surrender

by Natasha Peters

  "You don't like the way a man kisses?" he asked in a breathless whisper.

  "I hate you!" I sobbed. "Let me go, damn you! Let me go!"

  I could feel his heart pounding against my breast. The hard weight on my thighs made me tremble. I went limp for a moment and closed my eyes. I felt him relax his hold on my arms and I seized the chance to free my hands. I raked my fingernails down his cheeks, and nearly cried aloud with joy as he yelped with pain and pulled back. But my satisfaction was short-lived. He slapped me hard across the mouth and for a moment the world went black. I could hear a sighing sound in my ears, and I wondered if he had killed me.

  When I opened my eyes I saw that his mouth was set in a grim line. His eyes were burning dangerously and I felt afraid, really afraid. I began to scream mindlessly, hysterically. He clapped his hand over my mouth and threw his whole weight down on top of me. He parted my legs with his knee, and then he drove into me. I felt my body splitting apart as the steel knife of his aroused manhood slashed me so fiercely that I swore I could feel my flesh ripping and tearing.

  "Oh, God," I whispered. "God help me."

  He framed my face with his strong hands and looked into my eyes. "Well, I am honored. How kind of you to have saved your virginity for me, little hellion. You have doubtless murdered a whole slew of stable boys in order to bring me this fine gift."

  I was convulsed with pain and crying hysterically. He held me fast until I lay quiet in his arms. My fear and pain began to subside and I was consumed by a burning hatred. Then he began to move against me, slowly at first, almost gently. I bit my lips to keep from screaming. His movements became more violent, and finally, after what seemed like an eternity, it was over. He shuddered slightly and lay still.

  He eased himself off me and stood up. I was shaking with shock and hatred, and I rolled over on my side and drew my legs up.

  "You'll pay for this," I said thickly through my tears. "I swear by all that is holy you will pay for this with your life. I—I could kill you!"

  "I'm sure you could," he said briskly. "I could cheerfully have murdered you, little Hellcat. I am astonished someone hasn't taught you to behave. How does your master tolerate your impudence? Farewell. The afternoon hasn't been entirely enjoyable, but at least I feel rested and refreshed." He gave a low laugh. I saw a glint of gold and I heard something fall in the dust near my face. A golden louis. I had sold my virginity for a single golden louis.

  I leaped to my feet and hurled it after him, but he had already mounted his horse and was trotting towards the edge of the clearing.

  "Fiend! Filthy scum!" I shouted after him. "I hate you! I hate you!"

  The sound of his laughter drifted towards me but he did not turn his head. Then the forest enveloped him and I saw him no more. A wave of nausea swept over me. I fell on my knees, sobbing and retching. When I was calm I walked to the stream and bathed away the blood and dirt from my face and legs, then I retrieved my dress and shoes and stockings and put them on. I moved mechanically, without thinking. I felt no sorrow, no pain, no anger, nothing at all. I was lifeless and hollow, and I knew that the Elise who walked away from this place would not be the same one who had come here earlier. I left the clearing without even a backward glance at the crushed grass on the spot where he had violated me, and I went through the deepening shadows towards home.

  Chapter 2

  The Wedding

  I reached the Chateau after dark. I wanted to get to my room without being seen; I felt sick and I knew how dirty and disheveled I looked. I managed to sneak up a back staircase and I was halfway down the hall when Honoré came bursting out of his room.

  He stopped abruptly when he saw me. "My God, Elise, where have you been? We've been frantic. I was just about to go—"

  His worried eyes took in my loose tangle of hair and soiled gown and tear-streaked cheeks. He grabbed my arm and looked into my face. "Are you all right, Elise?" I felt too numb to answer him. He gave me a little shake and demanded in a cracked voice, "Are you all right? For God's sake, say something!"

  Tears came to my eyes. Honoré did love me after all. He had been genuinely concerned about me. "I—I'm fine, Honoré, really I am," I whispered. Then I started to cry softly.

  "You're lying," he said grimly. "You say you're fine when you look like you've been dragged a mile through the dirt and muck. Why are you crying, Elise? Tell me what has happened."

  "A man," I said shakily. "In the forest near the stream where we used to swim. You know the place."

  Honoré dropped my arm. "Oh, my God," he said harshly. "This is all my fault. Did—did he hurt you?"

  I knew what he meant. I looked at the floor. "Yes," I mumbled.

  "Who was he?" he demanded, grabbing me by the shoulders. "I swear I'll kill him! Who was he?"

  "I don't know, Honoré. I never saw him before."

  "Oh, this is an outrage!" Honoré clutched at his hair. "I'll find him and kill him, Elise. I swear it!"

  "Yes!" I gripped Honoré's hands tightly. "Yes, Honoré, find him and kill him for me! He was—it was so—" I collapsed in my brother's arms, and he picked me up and carried me to my room.

  He placed me gently on my bed and said, "I'll send Françoise at once, and then I'll tell Uncle Theo."

  "Oh, no, Honoré!" I looked at him beseechingly. I didn't want anyone to know my shame. Bad enough that I had encountered Honoré, but once he told Uncle Theo—why, the world would know what had happened to me!

  "I must, Elise. You can't possibly marry the Baron now, surely you can see that. I shall tell Uncle Theo, and we will make every effort to find the dog who did this to you and execute him. I'll cut his heart out myself, I swear it."

  The hatred that welled up inside me nearly choked me. "Yes, yes, Honoré," I said eagerly. "Find him, and cut his heart out!"

  Uncle Theo was worried and upset by the incident, but to our astonishment he was adamant about not searching for my assailant. Under no circumstances would he permit a whisper of scandal to ruin the match with the Baron. Honoré pleaded for my honor, but Uncle Theo stood firm. The best way to salvage my honor was to marry me off as soon as possible to Baron Friederich and say a word of this to no one.

  "And how," asked Honoré sarcastically, "are we going to keep the Baron in the dark after the wedding night? I know the man's not very bright, but even he—"

  "The Baron," said Uncle Theo, "will have plenty of wine to drink at his wedding. I'll see to that. And the next day he will have no one but himself to blame for his poor memory."

  "Perhaps I can procure a vial of chicken blood," Honoré suggested, "to help the illusion."

  "That will do," Uncle Theo said sharply. "People like the Baron, who are good-hearted and without guile, see what they want to see and believe what they want to believe. We will need no help from you, Honoré, and I forbid you to make any attempt at all to find Elise's—ah, the man." He looked over at me. I felt my cheeks go crimson and I bit my lips to keep from crying. Uncle Theo said in a softer tone, "We are all to blame for this. You, me, and even Elise. I have warned her time and again not to go wandering off by herself."

  "But—"

  "I do not care to discuss the matter further." Uncle Theo pressed my hand and kissed my forehead. "Good night, child. I'm sorry this had to happen, but we cannot let it interfere with our plans, you can see that."

  When we were alone again Honoré said bitterly, "Well, our placid and amiable Uncle Theo is turning out to have a will of iron." He continued to chafe at our uncle's decision, however, and a couple of weeks later when Philippe came home for the wedding, looking splendid in his military uniform, Honoré tried vainly to enlist his aid.

  "Our sister's honor is at stake!" he argued passionately. "And our own!"

  Philippe shook his golden head. "You should have thought about our honor long ago, Honoré, then none of this would have happened."

  Honoré fumed. "You forget that we are half-Corsican, Brother, and honor means more to a Corsican than it does to a Fre
nchman. We cannot let this outrage go unavenged."

  I looked at my brothers. Like me, Honoré favored the Corsican side of the family. We were small and dark, with fiery tempers and passionate natures. Philippe, on the other hand, took after the Lesconflairs. He was tall and fair, and he managed to retain a cool head in a crisis.

  "But no Corsican," said Philippe calmly, "would be willing to sacrifice his sister's reputation for the sake of his own satisfaction. We don't have the slightest idea of who the fellow is, after all. If the two of us start making inquiries, armed only with Elise's description of him and the date and place he was seen, then everyone will know what's afoot. I assure you, Honoré, that if I ever meet the fellow I will run him through without a second thought and throw his carcass to the dogs. I am no coward, and I would give my life for Elise. But she would be better served by our love and discretion now than by our thirst for revenge."

  And there the matter rested. Uncle Theo wrote to the Baron and told him that the date of the wedding had been advanced because "Elise is so anxious and eager to become your bride." Wedding preparations were accelerated: a half dozen seamstresses worked feverishly on my trousseau and my wedding gown, repairmen and gardeners crawled all over the Chateau, invitations went out and soon gifts began to pour in.

  Uncle Theo was enormously relieved by Françoise's assurance that I would not have the seducer's child, but plans continued to speed ahead. The sooner I was wed, the less chance there was of something else going wrong and ruining our chances for a baronial connection. Six weeks after I lost my virginity to a stranger I would become the Baroness von Meier.

  I spent my days reading or walking or riding occasionally with Honoré or Philippe. Most of the time I sat alone in the gardens or in my room, staring at nothing in particular. Uncle Theo had forbidden me to go out of sight of the Chateau unaccompanied, but he need not have worried. I felt too sick at heart to go anywhere or do anything. I hardly gave a thought to the Baron, and I took no interest at all in my approaching nuptials. More often than not I found myself thinking about that afternoon by the stream.

  I couldn't put him out of my mind. I told myself that I hated him and that if I ever saw him again I would kill him, and I was furious with myself for remembering vividly everything about him: his broad shoulders and fine carriage, the smile that rested on his face until he was provoked to anger or to laughter, his strong hands, his deep voice and startlingly pale eyes. When I closed my eyes I could feel his hands on my body and his fiery lips on my breasts, and I shook with loathing. Or at least I told myself it was loathing. Several times I lay awake at night, feeling the new stirrings in my body and wondering at the currents of desire that ran through me now and again, especially when I thought of—him. In a few minutes I had been transformed from a girl into a woman, and I was still feeling the shock of what had happened.

  I tried to picture the Baron as bridegroom. I was repulsed by his gross flesh, his oozing sweat and flabby face, his unattractive corpulence which I suspected was restrained during the day by bone corsets. The girls at school used to say, collapsing into giggles, that you could accurately guess the size of a man's Thing, as they called it, by looking at the length and shape of his fingers. I pictured the Baron's plump, formless digits and I shuddered.

  During those weeks that preceded the wedding my behavior was spoiled and sullen. Françoise guessed that the true reason was not so much my distaste for the Baron as my inability to forget the stranger.

  "You are no better than any other silly girl who falls in love with the very man who treats her badly and then runs off," she observed tartly. "I've never yet known a woman who would choose a good man over a bad one—if she could get him."

  "Love him!" I raged. "I hate him! I hate him so much that—that I'm almost sick with hatred. I promise you, Françoise, that if I ever lay eyes on him again I shall kill him!"

  "Well, I hope you never do find him. Men like that are nothing but trouble. My advice to you is to stop thinking about him. Forget him. When you get to be my age you'll care more about the roof over your head and food in your belly than you will about what a man puts between your legs, you'll see."

  "Stop talking like that, Françoise!" I said angrily. "I do not think about him. I don't care about him! I hate him! I hate him!" I balled my hands into fists. "Oh, why am I so unhappy?"

  I threw myself on my bed and wept bitterly. Françoise sat next to me and stroked my hair, and murmured words of consolation and assurance that went unheard and unheeded.

  A grand ball was to be held at the Chateau on the Friday evening before the wedding day, Sunday, to celebrate the signing of the marriage contract. Guests from all over France had been invited for the weekend. Whole wings of the house which had been closed were thrown open and cleaned vigorously. A bridal suite was sumptuously outfitted and decorated in gold and white. Uncle Theo ordered tons of food and whole casks of wine for the occasion. Everyone expected the wedding and ball to be the most exciting events held outside Paris since the days of the ancien régime, thanks to the Baron's generosity.

  On the afternoon of the ball I bathed and, at Françoise's insistence, powdered and perfumed myself generously. Then Françoise and her assistants labored for two hours, torturing my hair into thousands of tiny ringlets which they piled high, Grecian fashion, and fixed with diamond-studded gold combs, a gift from Uncle Theo. At eight o'clock I donned my ball gown. First I put on a sleeveless undergarment of the finest white silk which fitted tightly above the waist and then flared away to a hem that was just wide enough to dance in. Over the silk went a dress of the sheerest transparent gold gauze with flowing elbow-length sleeves. This was fastened under my bosom and hung open at the front to reveal the shimmering silk underneath.

  Françoise and her helpers stood gaping for a full minute before they let loose with a chorus of rapturous sighs.

  "Oh, Mademoiselle!"

  "Ah, chérie!"

  "She is so beautiful that I could cry!"

  I twitched impatiently. "Well, let me see. Bring a mirror, somebody. It isn't every day that you get to see a lamb so gloriously arrayed for the slaughter."

  Françoise tut-tutted disapprovingly, and the two maids brought in a chunky, full-length oval mirror, a relic from the days of the Sun King.

  I lifted my chin, threw my shoulders back, and turned to inspect myself. I saw an Elise who was at once familiar and at the same time a stranger to me.

  Black curls framed my face and stood around my head in high, sooty clouds. Diamonds winked among the curls like stars in a midnight sky. My eyes were gleaming like polished coals under the strong arch of my brows, and although my skin was pale, nearly as white as the silk chemise and the long gloves one of the maids handed me, patches of pink stood out on my cheeks like roses on snow, as Françoise said. My full lips were red and slightly parted. The face that I had known as attractive and interesting was now arresting and truly beautiful, with a new maturity and seriousness in its expression. And with the yards of shining gold gauze draped over my slender hips and shapely bosom I looked powerful and somehow unreachable, like a fairy queen, like a proud and wrathful Titania.

  Tears welled up in my eyes, blurring the vision of the golden goddess I suddenly detested. I whirled and snatched up a weighty handmirror and hurled it at this new Elise with all my strength. Both mirrors shattered noisily. One of the maids screamed loudly and Françoise sucked in her breath.

  "I hate her, I hate her!" I cried. I buried my face in my gloved hands and sobbed.

  "Now you've done it," snapped Françoise, who was superstitious. "Not one mirror—oh, no, most people when they break a mirror would break only one—but not you! Two! Heaven only knows what will happen to you now."

  "Oh, be quiet, you silly old woman!" I shouted at her. "Can't you see that I hate it, all of it? I don't want to marry that fat German peasant, that gross ape! I don't want to marry anyone. All this folderol, all this foolishness! He'll gloat and slobber over me—oh, I can't bear it!"
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  A knock sounded at the door. Françoise came up to me and shook me.

  "You can bear it, child because you must. You're making yourself miserable for no good reason. You'll never be happy, Elise, because you can't see happiness when it's right under your nose. You never could. You keep waiting and wishing for something better, instead of being satisfied with what you have. Dry your eyes." The knock came again. "It's time to grow up, Elise. It's time to be a woman."

  She strode to the door and threw it open. My faithful bridegroom stood on the threshold with an anxious smile on his face.

  "It is permitted to pay my respects to Mademoiselle?" he asked in his formal way. "I have something to give, something it would give me great pleasure to—"

  "Come in, then," said Françoise brusquely. She stood aside to let him enter. "You girls, out." She tossed her head at the two maids who, still wide-eyed and open-mouthed from my tantrum, scurried into the hallway.

  The Baron bowed his way past the departing maids— Honoré and I giggled furiously over his pathetic eagerness to please and the way he bowed democratically to everyone from the lowest bootblack and the clergy to Uncle Theo's most noble friends—and padded across the room to me. I glared at him without smiling.

  "Ah, Mademoiselle, dearest Elise, may I say that you are truly radiant this evening?" he gushed, dropping to one fat knee and pressing my hand to his lips. "I can but kneel at your lovely feet, in humblest adoration—"

  "Did you wish to see me about something, Friederich?"

  "Ah! Yes! Indeed, yes." He struggled to his feet and proudly extended a large velvet coffer. He flipped open the lid. "A little something for you to wear tonight, my dearest." He was so pleased with himself that I wanted to kick him. Inside the coffer lay a necklace of huge diamonds in a grotesque Baroque setting of cupids and twirling ribbons, with matching earrings.