Victoria’s Demon Lover

by Alia Bess

  “I can’t,” she sobbed. “I have to stay. Even if…”

  Jasper sighed. “I knew you would say that. I was told to force you.” The way he said it made it sound like he might not obey the command. She looked up and wiped her nose. Outside she heard the clank of hammer on metal. Jack had started his work.

  “How can you force me? And who told you?”

  “I can take you back against your will,” Jasper admitted, “and Jack told me. He told me. Marcus and Torgal too.”

  She sat up, trying to make sense of this. “They want me back at the lake house?”

  Jasper wrinkled his nose. “You are doing it wrong,” he said. “They need your help to do what they are trying to do, but you are not cooperating.”

  “Spell it out, then,” she snapped. “I’m tired of hearing this from everyone. Am I just stupid?”

  She was surprised to see tears glisten in Jasper’s eyes. “You are not stupid, Victoria,” he said gently. “You are stubborn, and determined. This is good. But it means you resist with the same intensity that you do the things you like doing.” Japer sighed. “You don’t want to do what Jack needs you to do.”

  “What does he need me to do? Tell me and I will do it.”

  “He needs you to go back to the lake house.”

  “I won’t.”

  Jasper covered his eyes with a little hand. “See?” he murmured, and she wondered if he was talking to her or to an unseen master.

  She heard hoofbeats approaching. She gave Jasper a fierce warning look and he disappeared. She tied her apron on tighter, checked her shoes and smoothed her braid under a little white cap. She pushed open the door and marched out into the yard. No one was going to kill Jack without going through her first.

  The hammer paused in mid-air as she approached. “Is something wrong?” he asked.

  Of course something was wrong, and she was sorry it was so obvious on her face. “I hear horses on the road. I came out to tell you. I know you can’t hear anything over the sounds of the metal and the fire.”

  He set the hammer down and stepped away from the bellows and the flames. They both heard the rhythmic beat through the trees. He nodded. “I need you to stay inside when they get here.” He looked at her and she saw he was deadly serious.

  “Can I not greet them?” she resisted.

  “No. They shall not see you.”

  She pretended to pout, but that did not work. He looked exasperated. “Maggie, if they see you he will want you and I cannot say no.”

  “Cannot say ‘no’?” She put her hands on her hips and was about to argue when she remembered she was not in America in the twenty-first century. What kind of fucked up place and time was this where a man’s wife was not his own? She grit her teeth and the monkey’s warning made more sense to her.

  She turned and stomped back into the cottage. She snapped all the shutters shut again and slammed the crockery on the sideboards. She leaned on the shelf that served as a counter top and seethed. Maybe not. Maybe I cannot live in such a time. Even for a man. This thought made her stomach turn. She wanted Jack. And Marcus and Torgal.

  Hoof beats stopped in front of the cottage. She heard the jangle of the bits and saddle harness as the men dismounted. She heard their hearty greetings. Jack would have to come in to get the sword he had made for Lord Brigayne. She backed away into the corner. No one would see her.

  He came in and gave her a warning glance before turning to the wooden chest under the bed. He knelt on the floor and pulled the chest out so he could lift the lid. Victoria saw him gently lift something long wrapped in cloth. He unwrapped the sword and discarded the cloth which fell to the flagstones. He tilted the sword against the light from the open door and sighted along its length.

  Victoria knew the sword was finished, and that it was perfect. This inspection was more a ritual than anything else. She knew it was his way of saying goodbye to his artwork. She puffed up with pride. He was the best smith for miles around. A hundred miles. With the completion of this sword he would be considered a Master, though he had not finished his seven years as journeyman yet. He got to his feet and walked out the door without closing it. His hands were full. She crept along the wall until she reached the threshold and peeked out.

  The men were gathered in a tight circle to look at the shining sword. Their horses stood patiently by, their heads lowered, chewing on their bits and whipping their tails against the flies. Jack stood straight and proud, the muscles of his chest and shoulders bore witness to the strength that had gone into the hammering of this fine sword.

  Lord Brigayne was pleased. He weighed the sword in his hand and felt for the balance. He lifted it and sighted along its length as Jack had done. He smiled broadly and said something she couldn’t hear. The other men laughed low and one of them thumped Jack on his shoulder with a gloved hand. They knew what they had. The best smith for miles around. One of the men handed Jack a heavy purse. Victoria’s eyes widened. She blinked. A few more swords and they could own a Mercedes, she smiled to herself. Here that probably meant another cow or two. Maybe a fine dress. The pleasures of life were simple here. Enough food and drink, a warm fire in winter, perhaps a paid servant to do the heavy work. She rubbed her hands together. She could feel yesterday’s work in her muscles and joints already.

  The sword was sheathed and fastened to Lord Brigayne’s belt and the men mounted their bored horses. As they swung up, one of them saw her in the doorway. She had carelessly moved into sight as she watched them.

  “Oh ho,” he said and they all turned. She ducked back into the house and leaned against the door frame. She could hear them outside. “I see you finally got married, John,” one of them said.

  The men laughed licentiously and she twitched. “Let us see little Maggie, John.”

  She cringed against the wall, knowing he would be furious. This is exactly what he had warned her would happen. She listened for his boots and there he was, darkening the doorway. His eyes were angry and the set of his mouth told her she had better not speak.

  She told him how miserably sorry she was with her eyes and let him grab her by her upper arm and steer her toward the visitors.

  She stumbled up to them and kept her eyes on her feet. Jack still had his hand on her.

  “Let’s see her pretty eyes, John. Big eyes the color of violets.”

  Jack shook her arm a little and she raised her eyes to look at their landlord. He was average height and about thirty five years old. His body was still strong from riding and hunting, though he had begun to broaden a bit in the belly from too much rich food. His eyes and hair were a soft brown and he wore elaborate velvets and polished leather. Lord Brigayne raised his eyebrows. “Remarkable. Such a deep blue with that coal black hair. Good job, man, good job.” He nodded to Jack, then waved his riding crop. His horse moved away obediently. His men followed him. When they were a polite distance away so they would not raise too much dust, the horses broke into canters and soon they disappeared around the bend of the road.

  “Oh God, Maggie. What have you done?” He sounded desolate. She had planned to fuss at him for being a brute, but those imagined words never materialized. He dropped his arm.

  Instead she apologized. “I’m sorry. I wanted to see you give him the sword.”

  “And now he has seen you.”

  “This is a bad thing?” She wondered aloud.

  He looked at her sharply. “What do you mean by that? You have lived in this county your whole life. You know what this means.”

  Maggie probably did but Victoria was lost. It was possible that Lord Brigayne might want to fuck her, but even a lord of a manor would not dishonor such a man as Jack, his smith and an important townsman. Or would he? She tried to call up some of Maggie’s memories.

  “You are not safe now until he has taken you. One of his men will come when I am gone and drag you to the manor. A few days later another servant will return you to me. He is not gentle. You will be bruised and sore. You may never li
ke it again. Don’t tell me the girls and the women never told you these stories. Why are you playing me, Maggie?”

  Victoria opened her mouth and inhaled deeply. These stories were now coming back to her through Maggie’s memories. Many stories. For years, ever since he got his cock to stand for the first time, Lord Brigayne had plagued the village women with his lust. His father, the previous lord, had only stepped in when Brigayne had started to eye the vicar’s wife.

  She nodded. Now she understood. Why hadn’t Jasper just told her? She would have crawled under the bed and stayed there. She made a face. “I’m sorry.”

  Jack sighed. “Well. It was bound to happen sometime. You are famous for your beauty, Maggs. It was just a matter of time. I had hoped to have you swell with my child before he saw you. He has the sense to leave a woman full of babe alone.” He pulled her to him and kissed her. “Perhaps he will be delayed by business and you will have a huge belly before he comes back.” She felt him harden under his breeches as he said this. He pressed it against her belly for emphasis. “I will plant the child now.” He looked over his shoulder at the dust settling on the road, then put his hand on her arm again and steered her back into the cottage.

  Chapter Fourteen

  He could have planted the child. Victoria squirmed on the mattress. It certainly felt like she was being plowed. He was not gentle this time and the determined look on his face as he heaved his cock inside her at her made her suppose he was thinking of Lord Brigayne instead of sweet nothings. His hands had held her down with possession and his arms had pinned her with ownership. His hard cock pressed in and out with a fierce purpose instead of casual pleasure. His face hardened with his last thrust and his eyes glittered instead of closing in ecstasy when he shot his seed into her. He didn’t make love to her this time. He fucked her. Hard. She saw a bit of the demon in them as he grimaced in his release. He clenched his teeth together hard and his hot cum like the demon’s.

  “A child, Maggs. Grow a child,” he said with a ragged breath.

  Victoria nodded as Maggie but she did not want a child. Yet, anyway. She understood that was her purpose in this place and time, and she understood his desperate need to keep her away from Brigayne. She wondered if he really believed she had a choice in the matter. If it meant sex every night, she could see the advantages to his desire for progeny. But Victoria was more reticent. Childbirth in this century was not pretty. There was little jov in the birthing process, no shining Mylar balloons and gift bags. There would be no heavenly sedatives or Demerol dreams. There would be no emergency caesareans or clean instruments and antibiotics. She wrinkled her nose. She did not want a child. Not here. Maggie’s mind gave her images of a witnessed childbirth, all blood and pain and tears. She shuddered.

  He thrust one more time and this time closed his eyes with a sharp intake of his breath and a long groan. “Please, God,” she heard him whisper.

  Chapter Fifteen

  When she woke she was again in the Shrewsbury cottage, not the lake house. Victoria felt same way you feel when you are on vacation in a foreign country and you go to put your hand on your passport…and it’s gone. This had happened to her in Venezuela once when she was on a business trip with her supervisor. She had that fleeting panic attack until she found it in a pocket of her luggage.

  There was no passport for this place. Or was there? She slid from the bed, careful not to wake Jack and set her feet to the floor. It was colder, and she felt different. Her center of gravity was wrong. She lost her balance a little and steadied herself on the edge of the table. She would not forget the porridge this morning.

  She knelt to stir the fire and get the pot boiling with water from the wooden bucket next to the hearth. When she braced herself to get up again she felt the difference again. She stopped. The fire flickered in front of her, but she felt a chill that had nothing to do with the weather. She pushed open the shutters and looked out at the fresh morning. When she had gone to bed last night it had been high summer. Now the leaves were all the colors of autumn. Some were on the ground and the moon was low and big as it set on the horizon.

  She put her hand over her belly again. I am pregnant. The bulge was small enough that only she would notice it. She lifted her nightdress and pressed her hands all around her belly button. Her uterus felt firm, like there was a softball inside her. She dropped the nightdress. If she went back to her old life, would she be pregnant there? Am I trapped here until the baby comes?

  She glanced at Jack stretched out in the bed, still snoring. Does he know?

  Victoria frowned. She needed answers. Until now it seemed she had been playing a role, enjoying herself with Jack, exploring the nether realms. This was different. She put her hand over her belly again. Three months? Four? She didn’t know. She could not think of this as a game anymore.

  Later, Jack grinned as he ate his porridge, his eggs and his toast. He knew. He went out to the forge whistling and swinging his hammer. Victoria watched him walk away from the door way, drying her hands on a cloth. He had a long striding gait because he was so tall, and his shoulders moved side to side because he was carrying the heavy hammer. She sighed. This would be heaven. This could be everything I ever wanted.

  But something was wrong. It had been wrong from the first day she came here. Jasper had warned her. Now the oppressive feeling was stronger. Her day was set out for her. Every day was. There were more tasks than could be done by one woman.

  “Mam?”

  Victoria jumped. A girl stood in the doorway wearing an apron and smiling shyly.

  “I’m here. What do you want me to start on?”

  Victoria was flooded with information. The payment for the sword had gone for many things. A servant girl from the village was one of them. She smiled. The girl’s name was Katy. Victoria even knew what their tasks were for the day. “First the cow and chickens, Katy. Then we bake today.” Katy dipped a little curtsy and moved away to get a bucket from the drying board outside in the yard by the well.

  Well then. Victoria picked up her own bucket and went to the well for more water. She heard the first ringing sounds of the hammer on metal and the low roar of the fire. She realized that every day she listened for those sounds. Every morning she waited until she heard them before her own tasks could be started. There was something comforting in the regular pounding that told her that Jack was here and that he was doing what he loved to do, and that she could stop what she was doing at any time and go watch him make something useful out of a lump of metal.

  He liked it when she was there, but she could not use her time in idleness often. She might hurry today, though. While the last loaves were baking she might have an hour to sit near the forge. She nodded, planning that moment as she set her bucket down and reached for the well handle.

  She had not heard him behind her. As she leaned forward to steady the rope someone grabbed her around her waist and jerked her back, off her feet. A gloved hand was pressed over her mouth and both her air and her scream were cut off in a muffled squeak. She was dragged backwards; her shoes were ripped off by her dragging heels. She could see over the hand that Katy was still in the barn. Jack and his forge were hidden by the bulk of the cottage, and as ever, the sounds from the fire and the hammer would mask any sounds softer than a cannon shot.

  Victoria kicked as hard as she could, but the man who had her had arms like steel. She was turned and handed up to another man on a horse, hands changed places over her mouth and the horse leaped to the road. As she was repositioned on the saddle by her captor, her eyes spun around to see Katy staring open-mouthed between the barn doors. The ringing of the hammer faded and became the pounding hoof beats of the horse beneath her. Her mouth was free now and she screamed, but knew her voice would not be heard.

  She was sick and sore when she was finally taken down from the saddle. She bent and puked her breakfast in the grass. The two men waited for her to finish, then strapped her wrists and ankles with leather thongs. After she was trussed they pi
cked her up and carried her to a two wheeled cart filled with straw hidden among the shrubs near the road. One of them tied a gag over her mouth and buried her in the straw while the other hitched one of the horses.

  This ride was not as painful as flopping over the back of a galloping horse, but the straw made her sneeze and the bindings were too tight. Now she was angry. She knew better than to kick or struggle, as this would only exhaust her and tighten the bindings. She waited, thinking. Her greatest weapon of defense was her mind. After all, unlike the people of these times, she had read hundreds of books and watches scores of movies. She would be able to anticipate what was happening to her and come up with any number of scenarios that might get her free.

  She guessed she was being taken to Lord Brigayne. That was easy. The time slip was not. She woke up this morning months later. Would she wake up tomorrow even further in time? Could time advance when she was not asleep? She thought about this. She had been shown her wedding night, and experienced it. She had been shown the first few days of her married life, enough to be used to it and realize how much she loved Jack. She had been warned about Brigayne. Now this. The segments of her life with Jack seemed to be selected for particular events.

  Obviously this abduction was an important event in the history of their marriage. She waited. The sun was passed midday when the cart stopped and she was carried into a great dark house and up several flights of stairs. She was deposited on a bed and the gag removed. One man bent to unfasten her wrists and ankles while the other stood at the door fumbling with a ring of heavy iron keys. They were gone and the door locked before Victoria could moisten her mouth and inhale to respond. Her hands and feet were numb.

  She stumbled as she made her way to the single window set high in stone walls and barred with thick iron rods. She looked out some three stories up in an impressive house. Not the manor, though. This was a country house alone in the middle of a great forest. This was probably what the lord referred to as his hunting lodge. Yes. She was certain of it. Below her she could see two more low stone buildings and heard the baying of hounds. The stable and the kennel. This was his hunting lodge. He was probably out there now shooting helpless animals, and tonight after he ate them she would be the sweet pudding. Jack had warned her. Jasper had warned her.