Maiden and the Monster

by Michelle M. Pillow

  “I can walk myself, m’lord,” she said. “This gown is too long and you make me trip on my own feet with your undue haste.”

  He turned away with a careless lift of his hand to climb the stairs without waiting to see if she followed. The servants watched her expectantly. Taking a deep breath, she hastened after her husband.

  Eden caught up to him and slowed her pace. Trailing behind him, she took the opportunity to study his figure in the darkened stairwell. His back was stiff and straight. He carried himself with an arrogant air of strength and his body was well made, moving with great purpose. She doubted anything could penetrate the hard core of his emotions. The thought tore at her heart.

  Her eyes lingered on his firm butt as it moved just above her face. She swallowed as she wickedly thought of touching it. Although she knew that she would never dare to try such a wanton thing. Surely, her new husband wouldn’t take her curiosity kindly.

  When they reached the top of the stairs he turned to her. Eden’s body quivered in innocent excitement. She still felt the press of his lips against hers, though they had held none of the passions she did in her chest. Now that they were alone, she wondered if he would really kiss her, like he had the first time. Would he press his tight body to hers? Would he move against her, stirring her?

  “Yea, m’lord?” she asked, breathless. She looked away from him, choosing instead to fuss with the drying herb she carried. She pulled at it, watching the stem spring back from her finger. She prayed she hadn’t angered him again with her staring, but she couldn’t seem to keep her eyes off of him.

  “Do you regret your rash actions in marrying me?” he asked quietly. The stone composure lifted from his features briefly as he spoke and his eyes softened.

  “Nay, m’lord,” Eden said, overtaken by the concern that reflected in his eyes. Even though she was now his wife she was held even more so his prisoner. She thought of his revenge. “I wouldn’t call them rash. ‘Twas the most logical of decisions to marry. You were right. I have no desire to live as a nun. You have proven to me that ‘tis not to my temperament, for when I’m around you I speak too boldly, and what man beside you would want me after what was most likely done to me?”

  “Come, let us go to bed.” His words gave little doubt as to his intent. Back was the cold nature he’d cultivated.

  “But…?” Eden faltered. “You mean now?”

  “Yea, m’lady. If we don’t consummate this marriage, your father could have it annulled. You could still be forced to marry Luther and all this would’ve been for naught.”

  She didn’t answer, save for the shaking of her shoulders. Confused, she pushed the strand of hair he’d abandoned over her shoulder.

  “Would you rather spend many nights with Luther and his friends than one night with me?”

  “Nay, m’lord.”

  “Nay, what?”

  “Nay, I’d prefer to bed with you than him—them.” She again flicked the chamomile stem in her fingertips.

  He nodded once and turned once more to go to his bedchamber. As he strode to the room, he took a lit torch out of its holder on the wall of the passageway. Walking into his chamber, he threw the torch into the fireplace to light it with one powerfully swift movement. The flames ignited and sparked only to settle to a more pleasant temperament.

  Eden entered the room behind him. All tenderness was gone from him and she was suddenly unsure as to what he’d expect of her. She chastised herself for forgetting why she agreed to marry him in the first place—protection. This wasn’t a love match, never would be.

  She shivered at the power he exuded. Even the stone of the castle seemed to fall beneath his command. If he so ordered it the stones would most likely crumble away beneath his feet. If anything, this man could protect her.

  “Your speech,” Eden began, trying to think of anything to say. Coming into the chamber, she lingered just in front of the door, desperate to take his mind from his task. She didn’t know what to expect this night, but the thought of finding out brought a strangely erotic sensation to her naïve body. If only he would look at her with affection, with any emotions for that matter. Did he want her as a woman? Was he attracted to her? Did he want to bed her? Or was it only revenge that brought him here before her? As she looked at his blank face, she was afraid she had her answer. It stung, almost as bad as the feeling in her gut.

  “What of it?” Vladamir walked to the door and loudly shut it behind her, giving her a start. Going back to the fireplace, he turned, keeping his distance.

  “I have not heard it spoken.” Eden glanced at him through her lashes. In the firelight the blackness of his hair was haloed by the eerie orange glow. He seemed to be ever changing. She pulled the wimple and veil from her head, suddenly feeling too constrained by the clothing. “Where were you born?”

  “Northumbria,” he answered shortly. His accent was hard, just like the rest of him. He rested his arm on the stone hearth in a lazy motion. Her eyes followed his every movement. Just looking at him made her knees weak and her lips tingle with need.

  Why wouldn’t he just kiss her again? Why wouldn’t he smile at her? Touch her? Press his body into hers?

  “Northumbria?” she gasped, trying to cover the odd silence as she indulged her wicked thoughts. “None from there sound like you. My father was an ambassador for the late King Aethelred. He brought me with him on his travels to northern Northumbria. In fact, he took me on his travels to a lot of places, though he didn’t allow me to mingle with the people who lived where we journeyed. Perchance were you raised elsewhere?”

  She snapped her mouth shut when he lifted an eyebrow in amusement. It arched handsomely on his forbidding face. With a self-demeaning grimace, she realized that she babbled like a witless maid. Something about this man disarmed her and made every intelligent thought in her head evaporate. She frowned and studied the stone of the black floor.

  “My mother and her people were the dark kin to the Vikings. They were a Baltic tribe that came from the east. My sire kidnapped her and enslaved many with her. ‘Tis said my mother captured my father’s heart with her heathen beauty. She used to dance naked under the stars for him and became his mistress. Eventually they were married. However, my sire was killed afore I was born. My mother freed my father’s slaves and they raised me when he died. The accent I learned from them. I didn’t know ‘twas different until I was much older, but by then ‘twas too late.” His lips curled into a mistrusting frown.

  “And your mother? Will she object to this marriage?” Eden asked in fascination. The lines on his face softened at bit when he talked of the woman who gave life to him, and in truth, her new mother-by-marriage did sound like a fascinating woman. There was hope in her voice as she asked, “Where is she? Will I meet her?”

  “Dead,” he stated flatly. His expression closed to her once more.

  “And the others? What happened to them?”

  “Dead also. I have no family, save my daughter. She you will meet in a few sennights’ time. I have already sent for her.”

  “I’m sorry to hear about your mother.” Eden gave him a look of compassion. It didn’t seem to affect him. “I myself never knew my mother.”

  Vladamir nodded but didn’t inquire. Sitting upon the bed, he shrugged off his shoes and tossed them to the floor. Eden watched the lazy movements of his apt hands with fascination. The dark strands of his hair fell over his eyes as he looked to her. His elbows rested on his knees and his back hunched over them like a waiting beast.

  Eden took a deep breath and concentrated on keeping her gaze averted. She resisted the urge to go to him. She wanted to pull his head to her breast and stroke his hair as she held him. She wanted to feel his hands about her waist, wrapping her in his strength.

  Assuredly, he wouldn’t welcome my attentions.

  “What is your daughter’s name? How old is she?” Eden wondered aloud, desperate to keep the talk between them. She felt him pulling away again.

  “Gwendolyn. She i
s about six years.” His voice softened as he said the girl’s name. A cloud formed over his eyes and for a moment he was lost in a memory of his daughter. “It has been a year since I have seen her. I couldn’t have brought her here with me for ‘twas too uncertain of a journey. But, now with our marriage, I have you to look after her.”

  Vladamir frowned and studied her intently.

  “What?” Eden was flustered at the deliberate silence. She saw the piercing gaze through the corner of her eyes and trembled.

  “Do you like children?” He pushed the waist-length hair from his eyes to better study her.

  “Yea, m’lord,” she answered in surprise. She fingered the wimple and veil in her hands, turning them nervously. Fixing her most earnest expression on him, she sighed. “I’m most anxious to meet Gwendolyn. I’m sure she is a beautiful—”

  Vladamir’s frown broke off her words. His eyes narrowed into fine slits as he studied her. “I’d expect you to care for her as your own, to never give her a moment’s doubt of her place in my home.”

  “I wouldn’t dare,” Eden wondered at the pain in his voice. Were the rumors true? Was the child also marked by fire? Suddenly, she understood his meaning. He was afraid she would reject the child because of her disfigurement. How bad were the child’s scars?

  “M’lord,” Eden paused, nervously, “if I may be so bold?”

  He nodded. Turning back to his task, he pulled at the wool stockings to also discard them on the floor. He flexed his toes as his bared feet fell against the stone. Eden absently watched his strong feet.

  “Methinks I’d love the child, if she’ll let me. I’d like to be thought of as her mother, if that is all right with you.” Eden blushed as his head snapped up to study her. She bit her lip. Somehow being near him drew the truth from her without regard to propriety. “Though, I don’t pretend to replace her own mother and I don’t pretend to know all that much about children, but I’m sure I can learn.”

  “Eden,” he drawled out, not looking up, “such an unusual name.”

  “‘Tis derived from the ancient lands to the south. My father said he met a young child who was named Eden a month before I was born. He said it was a lucky sign.”

  Vladamir lifted his foot to his knee and rubbed the arch of it gently. The length of his hair once again fell over his features to hide his face from view. A strange, unfamiliar sensation continued to grow in her stomach at the sound of his voice. Her own name had never sounded so pleasant to her ears as when it rolled from his tongue.

  Suddenly, Vladamir stood and stalked over to her. He didn’t stop until he was a hairbreadth away from her body. Eden paled at the swift way he stalked her. He took her hand that held the chamomile and pulled it up. Watching her palm with an intensity rarely seen, he took the nail of his smallest finger and ran it across the taut flesh of her wrist. Eden quivered. Her skin was still red from scouring his hall.

  Vladamir sighed. “I don’t wish for you to scrub my hall. Have the servants tend to it from now on.”

  Eden gasped as the weightless caress moved over the palm of her hand to lightly pass over each of her fingers. Her palm was sore, but it looked worse than it felt. Their skin glowed orange in the firelight, hers lighter than his naturally tanned fingers. Her hold on the headpiece loosened and the wimple fell to the floor, the veil fluttering behind it.

  She glanced up to gaze into his eyes, but he didn’t look directly at her face. This time she couldn’t look away from him. Her fingers shuddered in his grasp. He was so close. She saw the rise of his broad chest underneath the black linen of his overtunic and could smell the strong fragrance of his masculinity. The heady scent intoxicated her like a poison, making her his slave.

  You told me that I wasn’t to be a slave, but I am. You said that I wasn’t to be a prisoner, but I remain as such. I’m more a prisoner to you now than before for I cannot even think of defying you and I’m a slave for my will belongs to you.

  Eden was frightened by her own thoughts. They were so unlike her. It was as if they were put into her head. Never had she felt so strongly for a man. Never had she dreamt of relinquishing her total control over to one. She stared spellbound into his eyes, frightened by the depths of her unreturned feelings.

  And then, Eden felt him press something into her palm. She glanced down as he let go of her. It was a vial, the kind often used by alchemists. It rolled in her hand to lie next to the dried flower. Staring at it, she froze, not daring to move her fingers.

  “What is it?” she wondered aloud. Her whole body shook. Did he mean to kill her now? “Poison?”

  “Blood,” he corrected in his low resonant voice. He took another deliberate step back from her. His chin lowered so that he looked at her through the animalistic narrowing of his eyes.

  “Blood?” Her hand jolted and she almost dropped the vial.

  Blood! What kind of…?

  “Tell me,” he broke into her thoughts. “Do you know what happens between a man and woman?”

  Eden gulped but didn’t move. His query demanded an answer she knew not how to voice. She knew her body wanted to be next to his, knew that when he kissed her she couldn’t think, and afterwards she could think of nothing else but begging him to do it again. He studied her with an enchanting tilt of his head.

  The duke blinked slowly. When she didn’t move, he smiled, softening his face. “Do you know about consummation?”

  “A little.” Eden licked her dry lips. “Some of my father’s maids used to talk about it when they didn’t know I was listening.”

  “What have you been told?”

  “I know that a man goes inside a woman and then the woman loses her maidenhead and that the stomach aches deeply after,” Eden answered him with a guileless innocence. It didn’t occur to her not to be honest with him. They were married after all and would be consummating very soon. Her body ached, feeling very empty.

  “When a woman loses her maidenhead there oft is blood at the loss. That is why I give you this. For, if you’re not pure, none need to know about it. You’ll have no explaining to do.” Reaching up, he touched a lock of her hair and smiled slightly.

  Tears sprung to her eyes at the thoughtful gesture. Vladamir backed away from her.

  “I,” Eden began as she watched his hasty withdrawal through the corner of her eye. “Thank you.”

  Vladamir nodded and stopped his movement. His gaze pierced through the air with the concentration of a bird of prey circling its next meal, and his face was hard and emotionless. Eden couldn’t read the thoughts that swam in his eyes like a turbulent storm.

  “You cannot bring yourself to look at me. You think I’m a monster.” The statement was simple, although he didn’t mean to say the words aloud.

  “Nay,” she instantly denied. Her wide-eyed expression found him in amazement.

  “‘Tis all right.” He frowned. “Know this, for I’ll say it only once. You’ll never play me false and you’ll never lie to me, for those are the two gravest of offenses a wife can commit.”

  Had your first wife committed such an offense? What happened to her? Did you truly kill her? What happened to your face? How were you scarred? Why won’t you smile at me? Why won’t you kiss me? Truly kiss me?

  Eden couldn’t answer, so instead she nodded in understanding. Questions welled within her. He was such a contradiction, one she couldn’t begin to understand. Sometimes, it felt as if he liked her—just a little. Other times, it felt as if he merely tolerated her.

  She was touched by his kindness in giving her the vial. Tears crept to her eyes at the thoughtful gesture. He sought to save her the embarrassment of the manor discovering her shame, for the shame would be on her head and not her husband’s.

  “You’re scared of me,” Vladamir stated with confidence. His stiff mouth and hard stare dared her to deny it.

  Eden shivered, feeling as if he was all around her, confronting her, consuming her soul with his closeness. She managed to nod her head in agreement. “Yea, you do
frighten me and I’m afraid of what you will do to me.”

  “You think me a monster,” he continued, taking a single step forward. His eyes held her captive.

  “M’lord, I don’t know what you are. I don’t truly know you.” She paused, wondering how best to explain how she felt. “I cannot judge that which I don’t understand but I don’t feel that you’re monstrous. Mayhap you have done things in your past that you’re not proud of. Mayhap those acts are considered monstrous by most, but that is the past and the future is linked between us. So far, I have no reason to believe that you’re a monster. I can only hope that you’ll treat me with kindness and perchance a bit of caring in time.”

  “Mayhap monster wasn’t the right word. You don’t look at me. You’re repulsed by my appearance. You’re afraid of my scars.”

  Eden shivered, unsure how to respond.

  “‘Tis all right,” he put forth when she was silent. “But I’d have the truth of it from you.”

  How can you think me repulsed? I can hardly keep my eyes from you when you’re around and I cannot keep my thoughts from you when you’re not.

  She said nothing.

  “Are you repulsed?” His words were more like a confirmation than a question.

  “Nay, m’lord,” Eden gasped her denial.

  “I said never to lie to me.” Vladamir seethed, his voice rising by degrees with each word. He flew forward and grabbed her about the neck. “I won’t tolerate dishonesty.”

  Eden jumped in surprise at the power with which he moved. He always looked like a stalking beast ready to pounce, but to actually see it? It filled her with quivering excitement, made her eager to touch him, to be touched. She clawed frantically at his hand. He didn’t squeeze with much force, but still she felt the strength of his grip and for a moment her heels lifted from the ground as she stumbled to regain footing.

  “We will try again and this time mind your words, m’lady. I’ll see the lie in your face,” Vladamir’s voice echoed with deadly warning, so much that his eyes blazed with an eternal heat. He stated again, his words enunciated and clear, “You’re repulsed by me.”