Chapter 2
This chapter may contain violence and some sexual material.
*To the readers: I apologize for spelling our dear Adhemar's name incorrectly. It was only just brought to my attention and I am a total fool. Sorry! J *
He roughly jerked her ahead of him and forced her to walk, keeping a tight grip on her elbow and never once loosening it. He could tell that she was searching for some way to escape, but he had confidence that she would not get out of his sight even she did manage to break free.
"So tell me, why thieving for a child like yourself? Surely such an attractive girl could think of less unlawful ways to earn money…" he derided bitingly.
She tensed even more under his grip and this time he sensed a feeling of not only insult, but rejoinder in her stillness. It angered him that she would try to make a stand with her sullen silence. He spun her around and cupped her chin in his hand so she was forced to confront him and peered directly into her face, his eyes burning dangerously.
"Now you listen to me, rag girl, when I deign to speak to you, I expect an answer. Understand?" he demanded, his teeth clenched.
"Certainly… Count Adhemar," she murmured, as though the name itself was an insult.
He was alarmed to find that color rushed to his cheeks and he almost forced her away from him but knew she would run, so he tightened his grip to one of steel and she whimpered in pain and those beautiful eyes closed. When they did he felt he could breathe again.
"C- call me that in that particular tone of voice ever again and I'll make you long for a quick death," he whispered, somehow the softness of his voice sounding infinitely more dangerous than if he had yelled.
It had been as though she knew everything. About his humiliation, his anger, his doubt… he shook the thought away. She was certainly not a mind reader. Perhaps she had been in London for the joust. His name was known throughout the country, after all. He would not let himself become so rattled again.
They rejoined the caravan, some of his servants throwing their master and the urchin girl strange looks, others giving each other knowing ones. Adhemar ignored them and kept his grip on the girl in front of him. His eyes traveled over the strands of auburn hair that had fallen loose of a messy braid that traveled half way down her back. With a good washing, it could actually be quite beautiful. She was lucky, usually a life of destitution made it hard for a woman to have any attractive features. However, she had many of them even if they were buried beneath layers of dirt and grime at the moment. She did not have the customary primitive look of a peasant.
"What is your name?" he demanded without grace.
She was silent for a beat and then answered, "My name is Adriana," her voice barely above a whisper.
Adhemar considered this for a moment with mild surprise.
"You obviously had presumptuous parents… or overly optimistic ones. Did they think that perhaps they could marry you off to a handsome noble desperate for a wife because you've been blessed with that angelic face? Hmm?" he scorned, catching her chin between his thumb and forefinger.
She jerked away, her eyes igniting like a bonfire before they turned away from him. He was, for the first time since his defeat, amused. He gave a small chuckle and kept her moving forward. He scanned the vast expanse of countryside they had yet to cover. He was quickly growing weary of holding her, and would have paid a fortune for a horse at that point.
"Donal, be on watch for an inn. I don't relish the idea of sleeping beside the road tonight," he called to his servant.
"Yes m'lord," Donal called back.
"I know of an inn, m'lord," Adriana piped softly without any tone that would indicate the hellcat temper he had seen in her eyes a moment ago.
"Where is this inn?" he questioned, only half believingly.
She stopped and looked about, getting her bearings.
"Five miles west, I should think," she commented, shielding her eyes from the dying sun.
Adhemar looked to where she pointed. It didn't seem as though there should be an inn anywhere that close. They were in the middle of the countryside. However, he was inclined to believe her. She didn't seem to be lying and for some reason he didn't think she was the type to lie, even if she was angry.
"All right, Adriana. Lead the way," he said in a polished tone, still grasping her arm, even though it had lost the tenseness and was pliant in his large hand.
She moved on, heading down the mild hill, remaining silent and only occasionally giving a short hiss of breath as her bare feet would catch a sharp stone or splinter of wood.
Almost an hour later they came to a small farm house with a sign hanging over the door.
"Black Water Inn. I'm pleased, Adriana. You may have just earned yourself a bit of amnesty," Adhemar murmured, letting his gaze travel over her inquisitively, scanning for any damage his cruelty may have inflicted.
She didn't reply, but those haunting eyes turned to gaze at him. They angered and excited him simultaneously. Their knowledge and obvious scorn for him made him itch to slap her, yet their was something else… that burning strength that was swirling about within made part of yearn to lean down and kiss her. He wanted to taste that power he felt so depleted of. He had had that once, he had been powerful. But it had been dashed away in a moment's time. So how did this filthy urchin thief manage to hold her head so high? And especially after begging so piteously.
"Donal, go pay the fee. Whatever they ask, just have them draw a bath and ready a room," Adhemar ordered.
Donal did as he was told, knowing full well where the girl was to sleep that night by the look his lord was giving her.
Adriana did not resist when Adhemar pulled her into the inn and lead her up the stairs to the room. It was small, but quaint and well kept. She tried not to think too much on the fact that there was but one bed. She would sleep on the floor, she continued to tell herself.
Several servants entered the room after them, hauling in an enormous wooden barrel. Adriana watched them, as did Adhemar, only one of them knowing what the itinerary for that night was going to be. A few minutes later, when they had heated two pots of water, the servants began to fill the barrel, the water's steam traveling through the air eerily like ghosts. Adriana shivered as she watched the very last servant turn and leave when they had finished. He shut the door behind him with a desolate sound that echoed through the room and gave her goose bumps.
Adhemar finally released his grip on her and she slipped away quickly, wondering how on earth she could defend herself against him. He was pleased to find that she could not bring herself to look him directly in the eyes this time.
"I'll leave if m'lord would like to bathe," she muttered, a shivery tone running under the feigned tranquility.
Adhemar almost smiled.
"The bath is for you, dear," he interjected coolly.
Adriana's head snapped up and he was surprised to see a gleaming ferocity in her glare. She remained quiet, obviously biting her tongue with some restraint.
"That's kind of my Lord, but I don't wish to bathe," she declined.
Adhemar simply continued to stare at her with a look of ennui.
"Bathe," he growled, leaving no room for argument.
"No thank you," she spat back, losing her own temper.
"That's not a request, it is an order. I didn't bid that the bath be filled for your pleasure, I ordered it because I have no intention of sharing my bed with you in the state you're in," he barked harshly.
Adriana's eyes widened with disbelief and horror.
"I've no intention of sharing a bed with you!" she shouted, her voice quivering on the edge of hysteria.
Adhemar was suddenly coming at her and snatched her by the shoulders, tossing her with ease onto the straw mattress of the bed and pinning her with a knee.
"Perhaps in your former life you weren't familiar with respect and all that the word encompasses, but you'll have to learn because I own you. Or are you unclear about what ownership is as well? You being a thief and what not--"
She suddenly slapped him. The sound of her palm striking his swarthy cheek wasn't nearly as loud as the silence that followed. For a moment he simply gazed at her, the fire visibly building in the other's eyes. He suddenly lost all control and snatched her arms, stretching them behind her head and pinning them against the bed. He forced his mouth onto hers then, driving his tongue past her teeth so viciously it seemed he was stabbing her. He heard the muffled sound of her whimper. He didn't know if it was because she was frightened, disgusted or in pain. He didn't care, all he cared about was mastering those young lips.
She almost marveled in awe-struck horror at his brutality and misconduct. He was a gentleman of the upper class, even if he did not behave as such with her, he should not have known how to kiss in such a way. In such a hungry way. It felt as though he were trying to steal the air from her lungs, the very life from her body. He wanted to break her spirit. Where would a gentleman learn to do such a thing? Why would he feel the need to be so cruel? Ah, he was also a soldier. She had heard the tales that proceeded the successful knight. He committed atrocities that made men wince and women swoon to hear of. He had probably taken many women in far off places in such a way, breaking them to his ferocious will.
Well she would not let him break her in such a way. She was not like the rest.
He suddenly broke sway with her and stared down, expecting to see tears or fear, or any emotion that satisfy the burning need for mastery that seared him from inside. But he got no satisfaction. She gazed back, her eyes cloudy and distant, the fire secreted away to some remote spot in her heart. He almost growled at her like an animal. His rage was as hot as a black smith's fire, yet she seemed unafraid of his weapon growing dangerously hot there by the second. He jerked her to her feet, tossing her toward the barrel.
When she made no move to remove the rags that covered her slim frame, he stepped forward and gripped the collar of her shredded cloak and tore it from her body as though it were nothing. She winced, suddenly feeling the chill of the room and a sliver of fear overtook her. She stood nude before him as he gazed at her like a caged animal that had just been released for the purpose of hunting…
This chapter may contain violence and some sexual material.
*To the readers: I apologize for spelling our dear Adhemar's name incorrectly. It was only just brought to my attention and I am a total fool. Sorry! J *
He roughly jerked her ahead of him and forced her to walk, keeping a tight grip on her elbow and never once loosening it. He could tell that she was searching for some way to escape, but he had confidence that she would not get out of his sight even she did manage to break free.
"So tell me, why thieving for a child like yourself? Surely such an attractive girl could think of less unlawful ways to earn money…" he derided bitingly.
She tensed even more under his grip and this time he sensed a feeling of not only insult, but rejoinder in her stillness. It angered him that she would try to make a stand with her sullen silence. He spun her around and cupped her chin in his hand so she was forced to confront him and peered directly into her face, his eyes burning dangerously.
"Now you listen to me, rag girl, when I deign to speak to you, I expect an answer. Understand?" he demanded, his teeth clenched.
"Certainly… Count Adhemar," she murmured, as though the name itself was an insult.
He was alarmed to find that color rushed to his cheeks and he almost forced her away from him but knew she would run, so he tightened his grip to one of steel and she whimpered in pain and those beautiful eyes closed. When they did he felt he could breathe again.
"C- call me that in that particular tone of voice ever again and I'll make you long for a quick death," he whispered, somehow the softness of his voice sounding infinitely more dangerous than if he had yelled.
It had been as though she knew everything. About his humiliation, his anger, his doubt… he shook the thought away. She was certainly not a mind reader. Perhaps she had been in London for the joust. His name was known throughout the country, after all. He would not let himself become so rattled again.
They rejoined the caravan, some of his servants throwing their master and the urchin girl strange looks, others giving each other knowing ones. Adhemar ignored them and kept his grip on the girl in front of him. His eyes traveled over the strands of auburn hair that had fallen loose of a messy braid that traveled half way down her back. With a good washing, it could actually be quite beautiful. She was lucky, usually a life of destitution made it hard for a woman to have any attractive features. However, she had many of them even if they were buried beneath layers of dirt and grime at the moment. She did not have the customary primitive look of a peasant.
"What is your name?" he demanded without grace.
She was silent for a beat and then answered, "My name is Adriana," her voice barely above a whisper.
Adhemar considered this for a moment with mild surprise.
"You obviously had presumptuous parents… or overly optimistic ones. Did they think that perhaps they could marry you off to a handsome noble desperate for a wife because you've been blessed with that angelic face? Hmm?" he scorned, catching her chin between his thumb and forefinger.
She jerked away, her eyes igniting like a bonfire before they turned away from him. He was, for the first time since his defeat, amused. He gave a small chuckle and kept her moving forward. He scanned the vast expanse of countryside they had yet to cover. He was quickly growing weary of holding her, and would have paid a fortune for a horse at that point.
"Donal, be on watch for an inn. I don't relish the idea of sleeping beside the road tonight," he called to his servant.
"Yes m'lord," Donal called back.
"I know of an inn, m'lord," Adriana piped softly without any tone that would indicate the hellcat temper he had seen in her eyes a moment ago.
"Where is this inn?" he questioned, only half believingly.
She stopped and looked about, getting her bearings.
"Five miles west, I should think," she commented, shielding her eyes from the dying sun.
Adhemar looked to where she pointed. It didn't seem as though there should be an inn anywhere that close. They were in the middle of the countryside. However, he was inclined to believe her. She didn't seem to be lying and for some reason he didn't think she was the type to lie, even if she was angry.
"All right, Adriana. Lead the way," he said in a polished tone, still grasping her arm, even though it had lost the tenseness and was pliant in his large hand.
She moved on, heading down the mild hill, remaining silent and only occasionally giving a short hiss of breath as her bare feet would catch a sharp stone or splinter of wood.
Almost an hour later they came to a small farm house with a sign hanging over the door.
"Black Water Inn. I'm pleased, Adriana. You may have just earned yourself a bit of amnesty," Adhemar murmured, letting his gaze travel over her inquisitively, scanning for any damage his cruelty may have inflicted.
She didn't reply, but those haunting eyes turned to gaze at him. They angered and excited him simultaneously. Their knowledge and obvious scorn for him made him itch to slap her, yet their was something else… that burning strength that was swirling about within made part of yearn to lean down and kiss her. He wanted to taste that power he felt so depleted of. He had had that once, he had been powerful. But it had been dashed away in a moment's time. So how did this filthy urchin thief manage to hold her head so high? And especially after begging so piteously.
"Donal, go pay the fee. Whatever they ask, just have them draw a bath and ready a room," Adhemar ordered.
Donal did as he was told, knowing full well where the girl was to sleep that night by the look his lord was giving her.
Adriana did not resist when Adhemar pulled her into the inn and lead her up the stairs to the room. It was small, but quaint and well kept. She tried not to think too much on the fact that there was but one bed. She would sleep on the floor, she continued to tell herself.
Several servants entered the room after them, hauling in an enormous wooden barrel. Adriana watched them, as did Adhemar, only one of them knowing what the itinerary for that night was going to be. A few minutes later, when they had heated two pots of water, the servants began to fill the barrel, the water's steam traveling through the air eerily like ghosts. Adriana shivered as she watched the very last servant turn and leave when they had finished. He shut the door behind him with a desolate sound that echoed through the room and gave her goose bumps.
Adhemar finally released his grip on her and she slipped away quickly, wondering how on earth she could defend herself against him. He was pleased to find that she could not bring herself to look him directly in the eyes this time.
"I'll leave if m'lord would like to bathe," she muttered, a shivery tone running under the feigned tranquility.
Adhemar almost smiled.
"The bath is for you, dear," he interjected coolly.
Adriana's head snapped up and he was surprised to see a gleaming ferocity in her glare. She remained quiet, obviously biting her tongue with some restraint.
"That's kind of my Lord, but I don't wish to bathe," she declined.
Adhemar simply continued to stare at her with a look of ennui.
"Bathe," he growled, leaving no room for argument.
"No thank you," she spat back, losing her own temper.
"That's not a request, it is an order. I didn't bid that the bath be filled for your pleasure, I ordered it because I have no intention of sharing my bed with you in the state you're in," he barked harshly.
Adriana's eyes widened with disbelief and horror.
"I've no intention of sharing a bed with you!" she shouted, her voice quivering on the edge of hysteria.
Adhemar was suddenly coming at her and snatched her by the shoulders, tossing her with ease onto the straw mattress of the bed and pinning her with a knee.
"Perhaps in your former life you weren't familiar with respect and all that the word encompasses, but you'll have to learn because I own you. Or are you unclear about what ownership is as well? You being a thief and what not--"
She suddenly slapped him. The sound of her palm striking his swarthy cheek wasn't nearly as loud as the silence that followed. For a moment he simply gazed at her, the fire visibly building in the other's eyes. He suddenly lost all control and snatched her arms, stretching them behind her head and pinning them against the bed. He forced his mouth onto hers then, driving his tongue past her teeth so viciously it seemed he was stabbing her. He heard the muffled sound of her whimper. He didn't know if it was because she was frightened, disgusted or in pain. He didn't care, all he cared about was mastering those young lips.
She almost marveled in awe-struck horror at his brutality and misconduct. He was a gentleman of the upper class, even if he did not behave as such with her, he should not have known how to kiss in such a way. In such a hungry way. It felt as though he were trying to steal the air from her lungs, the very life from her body. He wanted to break her spirit. Where would a gentleman learn to do such a thing? Why would he feel the need to be so cruel? Ah, he was also a soldier. She had heard the tales that proceeded the successful knight. He committed atrocities that made men wince and women swoon to hear of. He had probably taken many women in far off places in such a way, breaking them to his ferocious will.
Well she would not let him break her in such a way. She was not like the rest.
He suddenly broke sway with her and stared down, expecting to see tears or fear, or any emotion that satisfy the burning need for mastery that seared him from inside. But he got no satisfaction. She gazed back, her eyes cloudy and distant, the fire secreted away to some remote spot in her heart. He almost growled at her like an animal. His rage was as hot as a black smith's fire, yet she seemed unafraid of his weapon growing dangerously hot there by the second. He jerked her to her feet, tossing her toward the barrel.
When she made no move to remove the rags that covered her slim frame, he stepped forward and gripped the collar of her shredded cloak and tore it from her body as though it were nothing. She winced, suddenly feeling the chill of the room and a sliver of fear overtook her. She stood nude before him as he gazed at her like a caged animal that had just been released for the purpose of hunting…