Chapter 3

Chris

Arranged marriages, what rubbish. I sniffed as I got out of bed, my back a bit sore from the rough night with Matthew. I had to see Lady Katherine today despite the fact that I had no attraction to her whatsoever. I would have liked to say different, but I cannot. I have never noted anything worth having in the opposite sex, a trait that has been the bane of my existence. But it is proper to have a woman and father one child at least to continue my blood line and good name. It seemed then that I must for all practical purposes live my life as a charade with the hope that I can stomach her enough to appear believable.

Grumbling to myself, I dressed in my finest—a favorite silk embroidered costume—it was tailored in Paris and very costly, taking nearly a year to craft to my satisfaction. I studied my reflection in the mirror as Christian slipped the precious coat over my shoulders and fumbled with the buttons. So clumsy and mindless, these people seem to me. I shooed him away with a flick of my wrist and he dutifully retreated to a corner where he stood with his hands clasped. He is a good boy, my Christian, even when he cannot seem to button my coat properly.

I turned towards the mirror and smoothed my hands over the rich fabric, flouncing the wide, extravagantly embellished cufDS3fs. The finely embroidered, flowery, accents were laced with silver and gold and glittered handsomely against the rich, blue, brocade. I considered changing it. It seemed nearly too much pomp for that shrew of a woman. Christian watched from the corner of my room.

"What say you, Christian, is it too much for that--" I did not finish my sentence with a word but with and indignant sniff.

"It is quite handsome m'lord." He replied.

"Very well."

"Christian inform the cooks that I'll be down momentarily."

"Yes m'lord." He said with a bow before he scurried from the room.

Yes there was certainly no better help in the land than that of my Christian. I adjusted the cuffs on my wrists, trying to think up some way to make this complete sham of a marriage work. Of course there shall have to be separate rooms, there is no way I shall be able to abide with that harpy in my personal solar.

I turned from the mirror and wandered over to the window and was ready to draw the curtains when my eyes fell upon Matthew conversing with my Coachman Adam out in the yard. They stood awfully close and my lips pulled into a scowl. As I watched though, Matthew lashed out, striking Adams' cheek and then taking him to the ground where they started to tussle. The curtain was gripped tightly in my hands as I watched, my breeches once more seeming a tight confinement. All too soon for my liking, Big Paul came shuffling from the stable and yanked them apart by the scruffs of their necks. They were alike two snarling dogs as they stared each other down, Matthew's shirt ripped open and his chest shining in the early morning sun.

Matt

I jerked from Paul's grip and snarled at Adam's retreating back. How dare he pry into situations that certainly are no concern of his? He knew nothing of my situation, knew nothing of my background. I turned and headed into the stable to do the one thing that calms me; currying the horses. Towards the back was the one animal that seemed to have taken a shine to me, a Chestnut gelding with a white blaze up his muzzle. He saw me and nickered softly as I pulled the stall door opened. I could not help the smile that spread across my face, and I patted his strong neck before running my hand over his smooth coat and muscled back. His brushes were hung on the wall and I took the small hand brush and started gently stroking the bristles down the animals back and sides.

My mind wandered back to the night before. Without realizing it my strokes became harder and the horse sidled away from me, rolling one eloquent brown eye in my direction. I offered it a shoulder shrug and an apology then started to brush again. This time my mind wandered in a different direction, back to the blonde irritant called Copeland. What business of his was it if I hadn't come back to the servant quarters until the early morning? Or what nerve has he to watch me, most likely wondering why I'm walking rather funnily? Most likely I move as though I've ridden a fortnight without stop. More like been ridden. I growled and pitched the brush at the wall. The horse was startled, and snorted, pawing at the straw irritably. I petted his nose and let myself out of the stall, my day completely ruined already.

My thoughts still thundered with images from the night, and I growled as I stalked across the fields not having the mind to care where I was going. The thought crossed my mind to wander off but I shoved it aside. I had nowhere to go. My family was gone, my brother and father killed in raid on our village when I had seen a little more than 12 summers. My steps faltered and I stood for a moment and wiped the tears from my eyes as fuzzy memories of my family flooded my senses. My father had been the village cobbler and had raised my brother and I after our mother died of consumption.

Then they had come, burning and killing anything that moved. I should have died, but no. In my cowardice I ran and hid in the stables under a pile of straw. I heard my brother crying out, he screamed for father and I, but I was too stricken with fear to move. Instead I peeked out and watched as my brother was cut down by a rider on a horse, his blood forming a small river in the cobblestoned street. I waited until I thought the riders had gone before I crawled from my hiding place. My brothers body was long since cold and I sobbed as I held him close, damning myself to the fiery pits of hell for doing nothing, nothing. The sound of hoofs striking against stone brought my head up and before I could make sense of the situation I was jerked up by my hair and thrown across the back of the horse. I don't remember much after that, something struck me in the back of the head and everything went back. When I awoke hours later I found myself in a small, dingy, room with nothing more than a thin woolen blanket to keep warm.

Hot tears coursed down my cheeks as I cried with the memories. I started moving again, my years spent in slavery blurred and became nothing more than one giant crack of the whip. I ran my hand over the scars on my shoulders and stomach. My mind told me that I deserved each and every one that I carried.

My wandering soon found me at a small pond. The water lapped serenely at the edges as a duck floated gracefully on the surface which shimmered silver as a looking-glass. Near one edge was a large, craggy, boulder and I dropped down on it, wincing as the movement sent waves of pain coursing through me. It was the physical reminder which drew me from the past and plunged me back into the present. I looked down at the water and growled. I could see my Masters smirking face: his eyes lust filled and his teeth bared as he panted. It was not the first time I had been used as a sex servant, but it was the first time for a man to force such an act. I tried to forget it and cast my gaze downwards.

There at the base of the boulder were pebbles and loose stones. I picked one up and skipped it across the water and startled the peaceful duck into a sudden flight. It did not scatter my thoughts however, they still came back to him and how he had defiled me. Just thinking about his hands on my body made my skin crawl, the way his warm breath ghosting across my neck as he ravaged me; my hands bound and of no use to me, I cannot understand his longings for me. On some deep level I feel pity, not a lot; but some. I can't fathom what it feels like to lust after the touch of another man, a great sin; to yearn one as I long for a warm willing woman; preferably one with a fair face and a nice rounded ass.

I shifted a bit on the rock, and winced again. He had drawn blood from me last night, both from biting and also from the tearing of his rough entry and even rougher usage. My black mood increased tri-fold, it never should have happened and I'll be thrice damned if it happens again. There will be no way that he'll get me back to his bed, lest it be over my dead body. I shall be on my way to hell already for the wrongs I have done in the past, but I will not have this abomination hung over my head again and again. Is that why you screamed into the bedding last night as your seed spilled forth four times over. My thoughts snarled at me, taunted me with the memory of that which I was trying to forget.

My face burned red with shame and my hands balled into fists in my lap. I hate that man, I loathe him with every fiber of my being. I hate that man for knowing what to do to make me cry out and writhe against my will. My trousers started to grow tight and I groaned. I will not let his man do this to me, I refuse it! I got up and headed back to the manor, intent on grabbing the nearest maid for a hard tumble in the hay. As I worked my way through the tall grass I smiled, I know perfect one. My steps sped up and soon I found myself back in the yard, breathing hard as I raced to the house and burst into the kitchen.

Chris

I went to the kitchen and tried to find my favorite maid, a dear woman and a fine cook. I did not see her in the kitchen and wondered where she had gone off to. No matter, at the moment I had more pressing concerns, such as needing to get to London. I scowled just thinking of the long carriage ride, my back was sore enough already without that making it worse. I smiled, the thought of Matthew once again invading my mind. I took my time at breakfast, still noting the maid was missing when I had finished. Perhaps she was off again with Copeland, but the intimate affairs of my house servants was certainly no business of mine. What those lower than myself do with their free time is their business, although when they are frittering away my time, I tend to get irritated. I shall find her later and reprimand her.

"Christian." I called, snapping my fingers and dabbing the corners of my mouth. "Find Copeland and have him ready the horses and carriage, I must be leaving soon."

"Yes Master Irvine." He went away obediently and left me to study the rich threads weaving a fine decor on the cuffs of my coat, wondering if I shouldn't have had the tailor re-do it a second time. It is dreadfully hard to find good service, I swear it.

I must have became lost in my thoughts because it seemed very soon that Christian had returned, alerting me that the coach was readied. Off to London, to meet my doom. I laughed as I settled into the carriage, what else could I do?

I had fallen asleep, but it seemed as though I'd only been sleeping for moments when I was awake again, noticing that the carriage had stopped. The door was pulled open and I sneered down at the footman, noticing that he seemed to be of moorish descent. He wore a smile on his face, his teeth startlingly white against his dark skin.

"M'lord." He said, his accent rather pleasing to my ears.

I only held his hand long enough to disembark from the carriage. I pulled it away the moment my shoes contacted the dirty street, their fine velvet and superior Italian craftsmanship too lofty for these streets.

"This way m'Lord. Lady Katherine and Lord William be awaitin' you in the parlor."

I nodded and followed behind him, noting that he seemed to have a regal bearing for someone in his position. Inside the foyer a buxom young red head took my traveling cloak and my silk gloves and curtsied low before scrambling away. With an annoyed sigh I followed the footman and took in the gaudy ornamentation of the couches that lined the long hall. At the end of the hall was a set of ornate double doors, heavy and dark with intricate carvings. Just before the footman led me through a shudder coursed through my being. I shook the feeling of dread away and stepped through the doors, inclining my head at the footman as he withdrew.

There seated on one of the most revolting pieces of furniture I had ever laid sight upon, was Katie Lea. I managed to keep my well-engrained manners and not wrinkle my nose at her in utter disgust. A grimace would have been appropriate to her appearance, and rather self-gratifying, but highly distasteful. Her hair was pulled severely from her face and it made her nearer akin to an old spinster than a young woman in quest of a suitor. In the corner with a sniffer of Brandy was Lord William looking quite dapper in a coat of velvet, colored a royal shade of violet and accented with gold detail. He broke into a grin and moved forwards in greeting, offering a drink.

I waved away the alcohol. I did not wish to dawdle here any longer than I had to this day. It was bad enough that in the coming weeks I shall have to be housed in London, away from my country estate, while the banns is posted. Lord William nodded his head and took a seat in a chair adjacent to the settee; another horrid looking piece that I wouldn't have let through the door if it were my home. The dowry was brought up, not a substantial amount but a nice tidy sum that I'd put in an account for her to spend as she seen fit.

As we conversed I oft caught Katie Lea staring openly and I had to hold my tongue, it just was not proper to admonish a lady in public; no matter if she was even your wife. The word wife sent a shudder through me. I could just call it off, state that there was some flaw that made her unsuitable for me. After all I am a Duke and I honestly have my choice as to who I want to marry. Problem was that even I wasn't that shallow, the poor girl would be ruined for life if I called it off. After all if a Duke finds fault with you then you carry that black mark against your family name for life. Even more importantly, I needed an heir, and the names 'Regal' and 'Burchill' were two very respectable houses. I would be wise to align myself with such names.

"We'll go put in for the banns on the morrow then." William said with a nod as he drained his glass and pushed a lock of hair away from his face.

"Then I'll be here in London by the end of the week." I said as I wondered if the family town home was still staffed. I stayed as long as courtesy permitted before bidding them goodbye, my mind already back at the house.

When I arrived home I went to find Matthew immediately. Traveling home my mind had replayed over and over the altercation I witnessed earlier from my window. I wondered what he and Adam could have possibly fought over. I was not going to have that pigheaded ruffian brawling with my trusted footman who had seen many days of exceptional service to myself and my family. I found Matthew in front of the barn, leaned on the weathered boards, as my best maidservant blushed up at him. She fixed her skirt with one hand and patted her hair with the other. As I got closer I noted Matthew looking quite disheveled as well and both of them were covered in straws of hay.

"Ms. Hughes." I cleared my throat and they both noticed I was there her blush deepened to the fiery color of her hair. "You are needed in the kitchen." I bit out, scowling at her. She curtsied and with a quick 'yes m'lord' she was off towards the house leaving me alone with the dark stallion.

He on the other hand, showed no respect to me and I was wary to expect it. He was not yet properly tamed and I wondered how severe my hand would have to strike him to set him in his place. His molten eyes narrowed at me, ever suspicious, and he stepped back into a stance as though ready to fight at a moments notice.

"Please, calm yourself. You are mistaken to think I wish to spend all of my waking hours tussling with you I--"

"I'm sure you have much more pressing matters, such as powdering your nose or straightening your hair."

I stiffened, how dare he interrupt me? And out of habit my hands went to my hair gently touching it and he snorted, as though he had surely proven his point.

"Disrespectful, insolent, dog!" I shouted and stepped towards him, my hands fisted and my face twisted into an unhappy scowl. "When I speak to you, your lips are to be as if buttoned together. If I do not tell you to speak, then you do not!" I huffed and straightened my coat, then continued on with what I had come for, all the while hating the smirk that played on his lips as though my threats were no more than empty words to him. "Now, you will tell me what I want to know of you. Why did I look this morn out of yonder window to see you fighting with my footman, Copeland? I assure you that such behavior is not tolerated in this house."

"Well then M'lord," It was said in a high pitched parody of the maidservants voice. "You need to tell your other slaves not to question me when I have no say over how long I'm kept at night sometimes." He bit out. I stiffly nodded my head, he had a point but I was not going to give him the satisfaction of knowing it.

"The reason why is a moot point. There is to be no fighting amongst those in my service. As of now not only are you regulated to Stable duty but you are to assist Christian in his valet duties." My eyes lit from within as a thought flashed through my mind. "In fact when I go on holiday to London you are to accompany me as my valet."

His face started to turn a dark shade of crimson and he pushed away from the barn. His hands clenched and unclenched at his sides. A momentary flash of desire coursed through me, but now was not the time to give in to it. I forced my countenance to hold a scowl as I continued.

"I will not speak to you again on this matter. If I happen to see or hear about any more altercations between you and anyone on my staff, I'll be forced to take more drastic measures. Do I make myself clear?" He remained quiet, his eyes flashing with fire as they locked with mine. "Straighten your clothes and come with me. You are to help Christian pack up my things for London."

I flicked my wrist at him and swaggered away towards the manor. He followed a few paces behind, I could tell by the grumbling. I walked through the kitchen and stopped, a group of my female servants were huddled around the stove fussing and giggling and one of them looked up at Matthew as he walked past, the intention of her gaze very clear. I found myself growling lowly in my throat, and snapping at them all I demanded them to disperse and get on with their tasks or they would all face my wrath.

I stormed up the marble stairs to the library and paced in front of the tall, arched windows. Down below in the yard I could see Big Paul as he hoisted an axe and chopped a stump, his wide back bare and dirty. I pulled my eyes away, too upset and angry to think of anything else but the flock of women who had been gathered in my kitchen, all of them talking of my Matthew and lusting after him, wondering which of them would be next to tumble down with him in the hay. I wanted to throttle the next woman to lay with him. I knew it was inevitable, but I did not want him touched. He was mine, and I wanted him for myself alone. Jealousy. Why should I feel jealousy over that beast, he is no more than an animal.

My eyes roamed over the rows of bound books lining the walls of my library, my eye fell onto a gleam of gold embossing against a thick spine: Holy Bible. I swallowed hard, knowing that inside that book lay eternal damnation for my feelings and desires. My eyes filled with tears and with a cry I sank into a wing backed chair and brought my fists down on my thighs. Maybe I elevate myself to too high a status. After all, I have undoubtedly disgraced my family name again and again by lying with another man, even though it be in secret. Perhaps I too, am no more than an animal.