Maiden and the Monster

by Michelle M. Pillow

  He doesn’t want me because I’m soiled.

  She delicately sniffed back the tears that threatened her eyes.

  “You may remain my prisoner for now,” he stated with a dead ring in his voice. Eden gasped. When she didn’t acknowledge the decree, he turned to leave her.

  “Wait,” she called lightly to stop him from storming away. “Please, don’t be angry with me. Are you always so quick to temper?”

  “Your answer is nay. ‘Tis fine. You won’t be punished for it,” he said coldly. His back stiffened to her. “I believe it a most logical decision on your part.”

  “I didn’t say that.”

  “You didn’t say anything.” Vladamir breathed hard.

  Eden studied him for a moment. Just like every time she was close to him, her body stayed wet between her thighs and she couldn’t stop trembling. She quickly bent down to retrieve the discarded herb from the dirt. Pressing the stem to her breast, she went to him. She lifted her hand to lightly touch the strong contours of his back, hoping to draw him around to her. He stiffened and didn’t move. His heat jumped along her fingertips, down her arm to make her insides quake with the desire to hold him. It was an unfamiliar sensation and Eden quickly drew her hand away.

  “I was overwhelmed by your proposal, is all. ‘Tis not every day one receives such a generous offer of marriage. ‘Tis not an easy decision to make.” She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. When again she opened them, she still didn’t move to look at him. Instead she looked at the dark stone of Lakeshire Castle.

  Vladamir didn’t answer.

  “Why is this place called Lakeshire, if ‘tis not on a lake?” she wondered aloud. Then drawing her thoughts back she moved to stand piously before him. Seeing his hand, she lifted it into hers. He didn’t resist her. In fact he didn’t move at all. Staring at the black onyx that rested on his finger, she said, “Illogical as you might think it, m’lord, my answer is…”

  Vladamir watched her expectantly, not moving his hand in hers. She let go of him, watching his arm drop to his side. It seemed an eternity passed before she could again speak.

  “Yea,” Eden murmured, lifting the chamomile shyly to her nose. She bit her lip and met his steady gaze with her uncertain one. Her heart lurched in her chest as she quietly answered, “I will marry you, m’lord.”

  Chapter Six

  “M’lady, you cannot bind yerself with the devil.” Lizbeth pulled frantically on Eden’s arm, trying to stop the noblewoman from adjusting the white veil on her head. The maidservant stood in Eden’s bedchamber and was supposed to be helping her to prepare for her wedding, but the woman was more of a hindrance than help. “Yer soul will be condemned to hell. At least give it some time, m’lady, afore you throw yer life away with the monster. Wait the proper—”

  “Lizbeth, I’ve warned you about saying such things about the duke. I won’t warn you again for ‘tis my future husband you speak of.” Eden rearranged the flimsy veil on her hair and tried not to visibly shiver as she said the word “husband”. It was all so new to her.

  As soon as they concluded their agreement, Vladamir hastily dragged her about the manor to make the brief announcements of their intentions three times in three different areas. The announcements served, albeit loosely, to replace the posting of the banns as recently ordained by the church. She remembered the stunned faces of the stable boys as their master came rushing in, made his speech and just as quickly left, dragging his pale bride behind him. He then led her to the kitchen and then to the main hall. By the third decree to the knights, she realized that he meant to marry her that very night. He’d even dispatched Raulf to rouse a priest from a nearby settlement, as one wasn’t yet residing at Lakeshire.

  For her dowry, she’d given the duke the promise of what little money she’d inherited from her mother’s estate. She wasn’t sure of the exact amount, but Vladamir didn’t seem to care. It was more of a formality really. Her father would no doubt keep her inheritance after news of her nuptials reached him. She had little hope that the earl and the duke would become friends.

  Eden had no idea what Vladamir would give her for her brudhkaup, her bride price. She sort of assumed that the piece of chamomile would do nicely. Since there was no time or inclination to alert her father to the marriage, Vladamir suggested that when the earl found out he would make arrangement for the handgeld, a gift of money to her father for the control of legal guardianship of her. Eden didn’t care what Vladamir paid her father. The earl had made plenty from his arrangement with Lord Luther. She smiled as she thought of her father giving the coin back to her former intended.

  As far as the morgen-gifu, the morning-after gift, Eden told Vladamir that it wasn’t necessary. Theirs wasn’t a conventional marriage after all. She hardly thought it fitting to make him give her anything for her part in it. Freedom from her father and Lord Luther was morgen-gifu enough.

  She went to the bed and picked up the drying chamomile that Vladamir picked for her from the garden. She smiled, gingerly fingering the plant. It would seem her new fiancé had given the matter of their marriage a lot of thought. She would only be technically engaged to him for about an hour before they wed. Though there had been much debate amongst the prelates with the Witan, luckily secret marriages were still legal according to the church, so long as they were presided over by a priest.

  Eden tried to breathe but couldn’t. The elaborate tunic gown Vladamir sent to her chamber was too binding along the bodice. The undertunic was constructed of the finest of linen, soft and well sewn. The lightweight cream material had light gold embroidery on the edges, which was rare in an undergarment, for usually such extravagance would never be seen. It only confirmed her conclusion that the tunic gown was expensive. She wondered where he’d gotten it.

  The rounded neck of the overtunic pulled high on her chest, with a strip of gold embroidery. It was the same kind of cream-colored linen as the undergarment, only it was a bit thicker. The gown tapered to fit snugly at her waist, showing it off to perfection. A cord of gold braid wrapped about her hips for effect more than function. The cuffs and the hem had matching designs of gold thread and braid, and the sleeves of the overtunic were fairly wide and only reached to mid forearm on the top, so that the undertunic’s embroidery showed as it hugged her wrists. The underside of the sleeve hung low to about her waist, sweeping around her arms in grand design.

  Eden knew that gown wasn’t made for her, for the chest proportions were all wrong and it was too long, but the constriction of her breasts was only partly to blame for her uneasiness. When Vladamir proposed marriage to her, she hadn’t imagined that he meant to wed her so quickly.

  “Yea, m’lady,” Lizbeth said quietly, finally consenting to Eden’s scolding. She swiped her hand on the back of her mistress’ gown, unnecessarily straightening it with the rough gesture.

  “Lord Kessen is not a devil. He is a man and men are capable of both good and evil. ‘Tis our duty as women to encourage the good,” Eden explained, though she didn’t completely believe her own words. She looked in the piece of polished metal that Lizbeth brought with her to the chamber and pulled at a few strands of her hair, forcing the tresses into place on the crown of her head. She was nervous and wanted desperately to make her future husband proud of her, though the reason why she wished to please the duke still eluded her. Even though revenge was a powerful emotion, theirs wasn’t to be a match of love. As a matter of fact, it was far from it.

  “Yea, m’lady.” Lizbeth nodded, though her tone was disagreeable. She kept her mouth shut as she helped to arrange the last bit of ribbon in her ladyship’s upswept hair. Then leaning back she nodded her head in grim approval of her work.

  “I’m ready,” Eden stated with false bravado. Her hands trembled as she attached the plain cream wimple to her veil. Holding the chamomile tightly in her fist, she took a deep breath and said, “Let us go down afore he changes his mind.”

  Or lest I change mine.

  * * * * *
>
  “What is taking her so long? I told her to be belowstairs in fifteen minutes.” Vladamir raged under his breath. The servants who gathered in the main hall turned their heads at his unpleasant growl and moved to whisper to one another in fright. Vladamir ignored them as he glared over their heads to the stairwell, impatiently waiting for his bride.

  “M’lord, these things take time,” Ulric answered logically, busying himself by dusting the sleeves of his tunic. “You cannot expect to propose and marry quickly within the same night.”

  “Can I not?” Vladamir cursed as he turned on the man, his foul temperament hiding the nervous beating of his heart. It was quite possible Eden might have changed her mind and decided she couldn’t force herself to wed with him. He narrowed his eyes, glancing back to the stairwell with a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. His lips curled into a snarl, as he began softly, “I…”

  His words trailed off in bewilderment, as Vladamir gazed across the main hall. A murmur rose over the crowd like a wave as curious eyes followed his and then all went silent. Eden stood at the bottom of the steps. At the rapt attention of the hall, her face colored to a becoming shade of maidenly pink. She tried to smile and failed.

  The cream linen of her gown paled her face, until the bruising was hardly noticeable. It set off the fire in her hair and added a peculiar gleam to her lovely eyes. Finally taking a step down, she managed a tentative smile.

  Eden gazed over the crowd until her eyes found him waiting by the high table and she took a deep breath. Vladamir’s chest lurched as she looked at him. His body hummed with life and he couldn’t wait for the formality of the nuptials to be done with. Sensing her fear, even from across the hall, he likened her expression to that of a human sacrifice. It was as if he felt her heartbeat quicken with his own in a primal rhythm. He tried to penetrate her with his eyes as he silently bid her to come to him. She jutted her chin into the air and stepped bravely forward, even as her gaze turned down.

  Licking his lips, they were suddenly dry. He studied her in silence for a moment, wanting to touch her but not daring to be so bold. Surely his monstrous embrace wouldn’t be welcomed. He frowned.

  You cannot even bring yourself to look at me can you, pretty maiden? The scars of the monster repulse you, do they not?

  The bulk of her heavy locks were swept up on the crown of her head, held first by ribbon and then by the wimple and veil. Wispy tresses fell around her small delicate ears, drawing his eyes to her bare throat. He regretfully had no jewels to give her, yet her beauty held its own without the adornment. As she approached he saw that the overtunic hugged to her bodice tightly, pushing her breasts up and forward for his enjoyment.

  His shaft was hard, but that was nothing new. It was always hard—his cock full with desire ever since he met her. The embarrassing release in his braes had done nothing to stem his passions for her. He wanted her, wanted to sink his body deep inside hers and never leave.

  It was obvious she didn’t know the effect she had on his senses. The way she looked about her with hope and naiveté drove him mad with lust. He had the strangest urge to fold her in his chest and protect her from ever seeing the harsh realities of the world. He’d desired her since the moment he saw her awake. Then he’d been unable to see her full beauty, but only the fullness of her pleasing lips. Vladamir watched her mouth, growing entranced by its erotic movements. How he longed to feel them moving against his body, sucking him, kissing him, licking him.

  As the days passed, she recovered quickly, but her healing only revealed his worst fear. She was indeed a maiden with the potential to be a great enchantress. She had the power to be his ruination and he was marrying her willingly.

  It would appear I have not finished punishing myself. For in you, beautiful maiden, I have found my demise.

  Vladamir scowled, even as his shaft practically lurched from his pants. Thankfully, his tunic covered the almost constant erection. His eyes dipped over her. He longed to run his tongue over the silken prominence of her collarbone, kissing his way to a supple breast. Every fiber in his being wanted to devour her.

  Vladamir turned to the priest, motioning him to come forward, and didn’t look directly at his bride as she joined him. He couldn’t for she was too stunning and her beauty only served to torment him more. His first wife had been beautiful, though she held within her a darker prettiness. He foolishly thought he loved her for her mystic ways but soon found that the feelings he carried weren’t returned.

  “M’lady.” Ulric bowed gallantly over her hand. He shot the duke a disappointed grimace and lightly kissed her hand. Vladamir’s scowl deepened. Ulric ignored him. “You are a most enchanting vision.”

  Eden blushed at the compliment and turned a timid gaze toward Vladamir.

  “Speak,” the duke commanded the priest. His breath caught in his throat and he knew his tone was overly harsh, but he couldn’t help it. Eden took up his arm in hers, wrapping fingers firmly around him. He tensed. Tension worked its way over his body from her touch. The hall was quiet.

  “Yea, m’lord,” the priest consented doubtfully refusing to meet the couple’s eyes. His words stuttered in fear as he began, and it was clear he didn’t intend to stop speaking until the couple was quickly wed with little ceremony. It didn’t matter. The words fell on deaf ears.

  The priest held up a plain silver crucifix that hung about his neck and recited a brief prayer in Latin. The couple dutifully bowed their heads, but Vladamir kept his brooding eyes impiously on the priest, a scowl deeply imbedded on his features.

  Just a moment longer and she will be mine.

  He cares not that he marries me. What am I doing? I don’t know this man. He doesn’t love me. I don’t know if he can love anyone. Mayhap he is truly a monster.

  Eden shook violently and her heart hammered in her chest as she peeked out the sides of her eyes to Vladamir. He didn’t pay any attention to her.

  “I will,” Eden whispered at the priest’s prompting, still looking at Vladamir for a sign of tenderness only to be disappointed. He didn’t turn to her and his face remained emotionlessly blank. The hard line of his lips pressed together and she thought that he might once again growl at her. Then, in surprise, Eden realized the ceremony was over.

  “You may seal-kiss-union,” the priest stuttered and didn’t finish. He patted a piece of his robe to his sweat-laden brow and dropped the crucifix from his hand to hang back around his neck. Continuing, he stated his last words like a curse more than a blessing. “You’re man and wife. ‘Tis done.”

  The priest hurried from the platform, almost tripping in his haste to get away from them. She looked to the gathered servants and soldiers. Their faces were solemn as if at a funeral. She felt her head spin as the reality of her actions came crashing about her—the reality that reflected in the fearful expressions of the witnesses’ faces.

  I have made a pact with the devil.

  She turned her head sharply back to her new husband. Tears swam in her eyes and she slowly shook her head in denial. Eden wanted to move, but couldn’t force herself to. Her lips parted and her breathing became heavy.

  She couldn’t take her eyes from Vladamir. He was foreboding, from the blackness of his tunic to the dark pits of his hard eyes. In a flash she saw what others did in him. He hadn’t dressed up, having chosen to look the same as he always did—nebulously evil. All of a sudden he frightened her.

  God save me. What have I done?

  Eden clutched at the stem of chamomile in her hands as he leaned toward her. Her eyes fluttered to his lips and then back to his gaze. His eyes never left hers as he lifted his long fingers to her neck. Her heartbeat sounded inside her ears, so loud that she thought he would surely hear it.

  Even as her heart stood in fear of him, her mouth longed for the taste of him. Would it be like when he kissed her in the hall? Would he press his rock-hard body to hers? She waited in sweet, breathless anticipation for the feel of his firm mouth. She leaned her head back to recei
ve her husband’s kiss. The wistful brush of his long nails worked over her neck and she shivered uncontrollably. Gazing up at him, she knew she would do anything he commanded of her. He owned her.

  Vladamir’s lips were hot and passionless as they pressed against her mouth. They didn’t move and he didn’t close his eyes. Instead, he stared boldly into her, daring her to scream. She wanted to scream—scream at him for being so distant from her, for trying to scare her—but she held quiet. With a delighted smirk his grip tightened on her and he pulled her from him in a boorish manner. The erratic pulse at her neck beat against his hand. Forcing her to turn with his hand on her neck, they faced the gathered crowd together.

  “Your duty is done this night. You can go,” Vladamir commanded the crowd. He dropped his hand from her neck as if satisfied that she wouldn’t run. There was no place she could hide. She was his—forever.

  Vladamir held out his hand to her. She glanced at his strong fingers, marred by the scars of a fire. Her own hand quaked with a violent force as she reached out to take it. She heard the shuffling feet of the servants. A path formed before them, growing to the stairwell. There were to be no festivities, no dancing, no formalities of any kind—just the harsh words of the duke as he commanded everyone out of his way. The servants kicked at the rushes in their haste to withdraw from the newlyweds.

  The warmth of his fingers worked up her arm, stirring her blood, as he led her in the direction of the stairs. His palm was calloused despite the scarring and she stared at the hard ridges of muscles he’d gotten from fighting. Nearing the stairs, he walked faster and she tripped in an effort to keep up with his longer stride.

  “Let go,” she pleaded quietly, ripping her fingers out of his grasp. She crushed the dying flower to her breast.

  The duke appeared overanxious and his eagerness made her shudder in response. She wondered if he intended on bedding her in the same unemotionally cold fashion. His face was blank with only the slight raising of his eyebrow showing his interest.