Vengeful Lord, Defiant Lady.

by Maggie Pritchard

  ‘I have never given you reason to accuse me of treating you as anything but my wife. You dishonor us both and the vows we took, when you speak like this and you will cease in this defiance now. Do you understand me lady?’

  ‘I hate you.’

  ‘Hate I can deal with, it turns to passion with ease, now answer me.’

  Her imperceptible nod angered him, he wanted more, wanted capitulation, so he took her mouth with a hard demanding kiss, slaking his thirst for the taste of her until he felt the wetness of her tears.

  She’d lost, he’d turned her one final act of defiance around and regained control. Catherine fought but the tears won, slipping in silence down her cheeks as he ravaged her mouth. She thought he’d stop then, once he tasted the salt of her lost battle, but he didn’t and as he softened the kiss she knew with certainty he meant, not only to take her, but to make her want him to do so. She’d resist as long as she could but he had won and they both knew it.

  He moved his mouth to run soft little caresses along her jaw line and back, he kissed the corners of her mouth before sliding his tongue between her lips, probing, testing, knowing she’d weaken soon and grant him entry. It was heaven and hell in one, she struggled to focus on her anger, on maintaining indifference when every nerve in her body was screaming for more.

  ‘Stop fighting me Kate, kiss me, touch me, sweet Kate, it’s hopeless to resist, you know it is.’

  His words were like honey dripping into her brain numbing her senses, and in some way it became easier to lay still, feigning indifference. Then he began to move his hands over body, fingertip little caresses that set her skin tingling with glorious sensation. She felt her resolve melt into nothing, and she let her arms slide up and around his neck, fingers tangling in the crisp curls at the nape of his neck as he moved to cover her mouth again with his. He gave a murmur of appreciation as she relaxed and opened for him, lifting her off the bed and into his arms. For long minutes there was nothing except the heat of his kiss and the warm softness of dark blue velvet, until he pressed her back onto the bed pinning her firmly down as the tempo of his kisses changed raising a matching fire in her. She felt him smile against her mouth as if in triumph, before he began to kiss, nip and taste a determined trail from her mouth down the slender column of her throat while he cupped one breast letting his thumb circle the already taut nipple sending rivulets of fire coursing. Catherine was wild with wanting now, moving under his hands, seeking more, needing to be closer to him, but he pressed her down onto the bed, keeping her pinned there, keeping control, not letting her close the gap between them.

  ‘Alex please...’

  Ignoring her plea he turned his attention to the plump breast he cupped, kissing the silken skin, before drawing the rosy nipple deep into his mouth. As her cries rang out he suckled hard and at the same time kept her firmly pressed onto the bed.

  Catherine was beyond thought, her whole being driven to the point of madness by his knowing hands and his hot demanding mouth. Her body was trying to arch upwards in an instinctive reaction to his ministrations but Alex kept one hand on her shoulder and the other splayed on her belly, denying her the freedom to move, the enforced restriction intensifying all sensation beyond bearing. Only then, when he’d rendered her incapable of doing anything more than lie trembling, struggling to draw breath, did he slip one hand between her thighs. She was so aroused, his first gentle exploration shattered her world with the most intense climax he’d ever elicited from her and expertly he drew it on and on, watching, drinking in every erotic moment, storing it in his memory forever. Then just as she began to return to coherent thought, he scooped her up off the bed, marched through the connecting door to her chamber and dumped her in a bemused heap on the bed.

  ‘I find myself quite chilled my lady, let us hope that you perform the rest of your wifely duties with more success, for you have surely failed to warm my bed tonight and I would hate to have my household similarly lacking in comfort.’

  Then he turned on his heels and left, the closing of the connecting door an eloquent full stop.

  Catherine scrambled to sit up, grasping the coverlet to her breast. Her brain was bemused, disorientated by aftershocks of carnal pleasure, unable to function on any useful level. With the dynamism of treacle in winter she regained her senses and as she did so she was unable to stem the flood of shame and self-derision. It overwhelmed her, rendering her helpless unable to do more than weep. She wept for everything that had been spoilt by the day’s revelations, for lost innocence, for Emily, for the child, Emiliano, her brother, but most of all she wept for the loss of the girl she had once been.

  Alex leant on the door he’d just closed, every fiber of his body rebelling against this self-enforced abstinence, crying out for fulfillment. He moved to pour himself a glass of wine then dropped heavily into the seat he favoured for reading. Sipping with care he began to regain some semblance of control only to have it shatter as the first of her sobs reached his ears. Merely minutes later he swore and launched the still half full glass at the wall opposite before burying his head in his hands with a despairing groan.

  Catherine had cried herself to sleep, with the consequence that she woke the following morning feeling worse than she thought possible. At least until the memory of the preceding day’s events returned, flooding her with a renewed despair that was followed swiftly by an anger that surprised even her. All of a sudden she was seized by a flood of resentment at the callous treatment meted out by her husband. To set out as he had so clearly done, to win the argument by humiliating her in the most basic way, showed as nothing else had, how little respect he held for her. Yet he would demand that she play the dutiful wife. His perfect hostess and housekeeper, seeing to his comforts for the rest of her life, oh it was just so unfair! She felt an energy born of her resentment rush through her, making her agitated and nervous, so much so that Anwen, when she entered to prepare her mistress for the day ahead was inclined to send for the doctor.

  ‘No Anwen, I am quite well, merely a little overwrought at my sister’s leaving. I will bathe and breakfast and begin my day as I always do. Then later I will spend some time in my garden to restore my spirits.’

  ‘Very well my lady, though I feel sure his lordship would demand the doctor be sent for if he were to see how flushed and uneasy you are.’

  ‘Then I must see to regaining my composure, come help me.’

  An hour later, having breakfasted alone, for Alex it seemed had ridden out early, giving no indication of when he would return, Catherine busied herself with the morning’s tasks all the while his caustic words replayed in her mind, but it was not until she was engaged in a seemingly innocuous conversation with Evans regarding the housekeeping that ensured they lived in ease and comfort that she hit on a simple but perfect plan. Alex liked to live in the comfort of a well run household. Every decision that was made with regard to the running of the house was made with his preferences in mind. From the lighting of fires, to the meals that were cooked, everything was chosen and timed to perfection and with no other intention but to please him. As his wife it fell to her to ensure this remained the case and she had accepted that as her duty, until now.

  ‘Evans, I have decided that from now on there will be no need to light the fires so early. I find that by evening the heat is oppressive and gives me a headache. You will light the fires later in the day, early afternoon I think, except for the one in my small drawing room you may continue to light that early. Oh and the large fireplace in the west entrance hall, you may fill that with logs as we will not light that fire again before Christmas.’

  ‘But milady...’

  No Evans my mind is made up, now please send cook in, I need to make some changes to the menus.’

  Oh yes, let Lord Alex Tremayne take note, his wife she may be but having a wife did not guarantee comfort and a peaceful life. A tap at the door interrupted her thoughts and looking up expecting to see cook enter she was surprised to see Evans return.

/>   ‘Milady, there is a woman with a child arrived, apparently his lordship commanded the urchin be brought here this morning, they seem to have brought some small mongrel with them.’

  ‘Oh yes, his lordship did intervene in some matter, has he returned yet?’

  ‘No milady, shall I send them on their way?’

  ‘No Evans I’ll deal with it, bring them up will you?’

  Evans shuffled off muttering under his breath, the matter of the fires had not sat well with him she noted. It would be well to smooth his ruffled feathers over the boy, she did not want to make an enemy of the old butler, much better have him on her side.

  The three arrived, Evans doing his best, but failing, to keep an implacable expression of his countenance. The farmer’s wife, ill at ease but with a determination not to miss this opportunity apparent in her demeanor, and the boy, silent, scrubbed to a pink cheeked shine, grasping his runt puppy to his chest as his bright eyes darted nervously about the room.

  ‘His lordship said I was to bring the boy and the dog missus and that I was to be paid for the bread that was ruined.’

  ‘Indeed he did and you shall be paid, Evans will see to it once we are done here. Now I seem to recall my husband also said that he would decide what should be done with the two of them, but as he is not here, then I will take it upon myself to do so. Come here boy, show me the pup.’

  The boy moved forward hesitant and keeping his eyes to the floor. Catherine had to reach forward and take the pup from his resisting hand. Now that it was washed she could see it was a spaniel of some description. Silky coated, it was almost completely white, sporting no more than two black ears and a black patch on its rump, but she noted with sadness it was not just its diminutive size that marked it as a runt. It was quite misshapen, its hindquarters were unnaturally narrow, its back legs were disproportionately long in comparison to its short front legs and solid little chest and it sported the longest, most unwieldy tail over which it seemed to exert no control at all. It was however, the most endearing little thing, with soft brown eyes that promised intelligence and long silky ears. It wriggled and licked, doing its best to clamber into her arms, and she could not help laughing at its antics.

  ‘And do you still want me to have your pup?’

  The boy nodded, silent but looking at her with dark eyes bright with trust.

  ‘Will you not be sad to lose him if you give him away?’

  ‘The boy understands we can’t keep it, and he will be working soon, what time will there be then for a useless dog?’

  Catherine held up one hand to silence the woman.

  ‘What is the boy’s name?’

  ‘Guto missus and he is a good strong boy, he will work hard for you. You will not often be needing to beat him.’

  Catherine looked up with a slight frown at the thought of anyone beating this skinny little chap.

  ‘Well Guto, will you not miss your pup if you give him away?’

  Shaking his head he mumbled a reply in Welsh, so Catherine had to interrupt.

  ‘In English now, and tell me his name too.’

  ‘He has no name lady, and I will miss him but if he is safe I will bear that.’

  ‘When he spoiled the bread you and your mother called him by a name, what was that?’

  ‘Oh no missus, the boy has not named the runt, him not being able to keep it, in the Welsh we call it potsyn but that is just a word for runt.’

  ‘Oh we must think of a better name than that, but what to call such a little scrap of a dog? Ah, scrap, now that could be it, a name that says exactly what he is but with a little more kindness than runt. I think it’ll do well enough, so Scrap it is and he shall be mine, though you must come to see him when time allows. Now what to do with you Guto, that is quite another question.’

  ‘He is a good boy missus and will work hard.’

  ‘Yes we have established that, but what work is he fit for? That is what we must determine, what do you think Evans, what use do you think his lordship could put this boy to?’

  ‘He is small milady, not strong enough for much.’

  ‘I agree he is not big but he is, I think, stronger than he looks, and I feel sure he will make up for his lack of stature with willingness What he needs is to learn and I can think of no-one better to teach him than you Evans. What do you think to using the lad, I’m sure he could fetch and carry for you, run messages and so on.’

  Catherine watched as the old butler seem to digest that and find it acceptable. When he replied his voice held a warmer note and she could see he was pleased enough to have the boy.

  ‘It’s not as if I need much fetching and carrying milady, though there are days when an extra pair of hands would be of use.’

  ‘That’s settled then and if you find there is not enough for him to do then you may send him to help the gardeners where he may learn usefully.’

  ‘Guto you are to go with Mr. Evans, when he has paid your mother, he will instruct you. You will have a place to sleep and food to eat and you will be paid for each day’s work. Some of that you will send home to your mother and the rest you may do as you please with.’

  ‘Thank you missus, Guto thank her ladyship.’

  Evans shepherded the pair out of the room, with the farmwife still babbling her thanks, hardly able to believe her good luck. One less mouth to feed, the lost bread paid for and the prospect of a wage coming in, and all thanks to a runt puppy she’d nearly drown at birth.

  ‘Oh and Evans can you ask cook to come up now please, and ask her to bring a basket of some sort for Scrap and two dishes, one with water and the other with some food?’

  ‘Yes milady, I’ll see to it at once.’

  Alone again for a few minutes Catherine sat and took stock, the pup that had been the focus of all this activity was asleep now, curled up on her lap as if he belonged there. She fondled his ears, they were soft as velvet and she felt a surge of affection, Scrap, she loved him already. What Alex would say was another thing, she was not sure if he’d made his mind up that she could have the dog. Still it was done now, and soon her husband would have so much more to concern himself with, so very much more. She would see to it that the last thing on his mind would be this little creature.

  A knock at the door heralded Mrs. Morgan the castle’s portly cook, her pleasant round countenance for once marred by a slight frown at the unexpected summons to her mistress’s presence. The menus for the day were already in place, set days ago as usual, she was at a loss to know what more the mistress could want. She was followed by a maid carrying a wicker basket, a piece of flannel blanket and two small earthenware dishes with food and water. As the maid set these items down on the carpet beside her mistress, cook stood looking with undisguised contempt at the sleeping pup.

  ‘Right, now then cook,’ Catherine began once the maid had left, ‘I have a few changes to the menus, and I thought you might want time to prepare.’

  ‘Changes milady?’

  ‘Yes, I have been reading about the effect of one’s diet on the digestion and the liver, and find that palatable though it is, too much red meat, and the rich sauces that are served with it are reputed to put a strain upon the body. So much so that I have decided we will be making some changes.’

  ‘What kind of changes, milady?’

  ‘There is no need to worry unduly cook, I merely propose that we endeavor to serve a little less beef and lamb and more fowl and fish, and when we do serve beef and lamb we cook then in a fashion reputed to render them more digestible. Now what have we on the menu for today?’

  ‘For luncheon we decided on a veal pie milady served with fried artichokes, then for dinner, a pheasant soup, followed by buttered fried trout, roast ribs of beef with my red wine sauce and cheeses to finish. Oh and I’ve made those small almond puddings you liked so much milady, knowing you do like something sweet.’

  ‘Very nice Cook, and I think we can make just a few changes to make today’s fare a little easier on the digestion. To begin
with can we serve the veal pie with boiled cauliflower? Then pheasant soup must remain as you will have begun to prepare. The trout is easily dealt with if you poach it in milk and serve it with a white sauce. The beef however will be boiled instead...’

  ‘Boiled milady, a rib of beef?’

  ‘Yes boiled, and well boiled, for two hours at least, that will render it soft and easily digestible, and with it you may serve a béchamel sauce and boiled carrots. Now cheese is notoriously difficult and heavy on the digestion, what can we serve instead?’

  ‘Well his lordship does like to end his meal with a good cheese milady, I can’t think of anything I could offer as a replacement.’

  ‘Very well, cheese it will have to be, but do not offer more than two and be sure to make them as light as possible, what is that white cheese you sometimes serve with the apple pie?..’

  ‘Caerphilly milady, it is not his lordships favourite, it being a bit bland, though I can find some of course, and what of the menus for the rest of the week?’

  ‘We will review them each day, for I am determined to make sure his lordship stays in the best of health so we may have to find new recipes.’

  ‘Very well milady, I will see to the changes you’ve asked for today, though I can’t see the master being at all pleased, he does like a good bit of beef.’

  The cook left, muttering to herself about ribs of beef boiled and mild cheeses. Catherine smiled, it was true she herself did not find the new menu at all appealing, but not having anywhere near the appetite Alex did she would be content enough for now with a little of the new and plainer fare. He on the other hand would eat it or go hungry, and this was only the beginning she vowed.

  ‘Well now little man,’ she said to the stirring pup, ‘a good morning’s work and soon we can go and enjoy my garden, I just need to speak to Evans and then make one short visit.’