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Chapter 7

Chris

The weeks passed by quicker than I liked. The images of Katie Lea in various extravagant ball gowns blurred into one spinning dream--perhaps more a nightmare. The closer the date loomed the worse my nerves became and poor Christian became the object of my snippy words. Thrice I had called Matthew to me in hopes that a night with him would help ease my troubled mind. I found myself wishing he would stay after our rounds, lay next to me under the covers for a bit, even if no words were spoken, but he was always up and away as soon as my physical needs were met. I did not need this new confusion piled atop my wedding nerves, or perhaps the strain of the upcoming marriage was only making what was between Matthew and I seem more complex than it really was. He was merely to be a means to end my sexual frustrations, not an investment of my feelings or the object of my affections.

All of these things passed through my mind and drew me away from the moment at hand, in which I was supposed to be setting my mind on my soon to be wife and our future of bliss. It was a hard future to look to, when even as I had arrived at the cathedral this morning the sky had been a smudgy, foreboding sort of gray. Against it the tall, gothic spires of the looming stone cathedral seemed like long, spiky, nails which awaited my crucifixion. In the enormous, circle of stained glace which was set into the face, crows perched, their heads jerkily moving, preening their blue-black feathers in what was surely a damning omen. After being led in by Christian, to a smaller alcove, he began to fuss over me and so I had lost myself to my anxieties. I was suddenly aware of Matthew speaking, his voice loud, devoid of its usual new-found respect and instead tinted with a bit of annoyance.

"Sir, it would be well to know your thoughts—if this flamboyant ensemble piques your fancy." I blinked to see the dark one close to my face. Christian pushed him back a bit and stepped between us. He fiddled with the ruffles of my shirt.

"Does it suit you, m'lord?" Christian asked as he straightened my cuffs. I glanced in the mirror, taken aback at the lack of color in my face and the sheen of sweat that made my reflection look ill. I closed my eyes and Christian mopped at my brow with a silk cloth. When I answered him my voice was dull.

"Yes Christian, t'is fine." His eyes moved over me, markedly concerned.

"M'lord, perhaps you should sit." He touched my elbow and I nodded, as it suddenly dawned on me just how badly I was trembling. He helped me into a chair and cast a worried glance towards Matthew whose arms were crossed over his chest, his face hard and uncaring.

The sounds from the cathedrals sanctuary filtered into the room and sent my heart thundering in my chest and my breathing into panicked wheezing. Christian waved a hand at Matthew and barked at him to go and get some water and a cloth. With a growl that was scarcely concealed he was gone from the room and I found myself wishing to follow suit and vacate my doom. I wished to curl up in dark corner and hide until the dreaded ceremony was finished.

However I was not awarded that luxury. When I glanced up, Matthew was back with the items Christian had demanded of him. They were handed off and in my altered state of mind I barely noticed the black looks that passed between my two men. Christian dipped the corner of the the terrycloth into the cool liquid and dabbed at my face and around my neck, taking care not to drip any on my wedding attire. Matthew let out a breath and I noted a flash of pain that crossed his dark features as he leaned against the wall. A bit of remorse tightened my chest even moreso than my panicking. I had been brutal, verily so, with him last night as I tried to drive that damned harpy from my mind. I stood to my feet though they were less than steady, and moved about the room with attempts seem casual and fluid but knowing my steps were unsure.

"It shan't take so long sir, and then the two of you will be hid away from prying eyes." Christian said soothingly, as he trailed me and dabbed again at my hot cheeks when I turned to him, and held still long enough. His words made me near to tears. He was a good man, but his assurances were not easing my mind.

"What be there to fret about?" Matthew bit out. "If she does not tickle your fancy I'm sure you would ne'er hesitate to take your pleasure from another." He spat, his eyes blazing.

"Matthew!" Christian shouted. It was a strange sound to me. I could never remember hearing my blond valet with his voice raised.

The two rivals circled one another as Matthew snarled and grimaced, and Christian's hands twitched at his sides. In my fragile mind frame there was simply no way I could handle the stimulus. Just seeing Matthew's chest heave and his eyes flash had me thinking back to the night before and nearly panting.

"Enough!" I commanded and prayed that my voice sounded firmer than my wobbly knees felt. Both men stared at me. Two sets of smoldering eyes sent hot flames in my direction and they seemed to consume my body.

Thankfully there was a knock upon the door and I turned my back on the two incensed men. I pushed their heavy breathing and guttural growls to the back of my mind, in hopes they would vacate my person entirely.

At the door stood the priest, his round face pleasant and his eyes bright, his form shrouded in a simple black robe which seemed more suited to a funeral than a ceremony of marriage—perhaps they were one in the same. He nodded to me and lowly mentioned t'was time. Those words, so very much like the ones spoken before a hanging or beheading, hung in the air and pressed down on me with all the unease of an iron vice.

In the chapel, I stood in wait, and hoped I was not trembling too badly. I could only pray that it would soon be done with. But why would The Almighty or His saints turn ears to hear a disgusting sinner such as I? I chewed my lip and glanced upwards at the vast, vaulted, ceilings delicately painted with murals and scenes, above me Mother Mary looked down, her eyes seeming cold as a spikes of ice. I pulled my eyes away and shuffled my feet as I fought the urge to retch onto the toes of my ornate shoes. Even in such expanse of a room, with high stone arches and tall ceilings, I felt as though I was stuffed into a tight box. The wide, marble columns that lined the sides of the sanctuary seemed to bear down upon me, as though weighty sentinels observing my last breath before the close. Terror welled, stronger and stronger, until I feared I must have looked as spooked as a horse in the dark and just as ready to bolt.

A gasp rose from the guests who lined the pews. They all rose as one unit, and my bride was led through the double doors on the arm of Lord Regal, too late it was now to flee, and as it were my feet seemed made of iron and affixed to the floor. Lord Regal looked down at Katherine and his stony blue eyes glittered proudly as some of his mousey hair fell over his forehead. Katie seemed to smirk at me, the smile on her face less than innocent. Her dark hair was swept up from her severe face. Her jewelry and gown were both lavish, and the massive skirt rustled about as the two of them made their way towards me at a pace that seemed maddeningly slow.

After what seemed like an eternity she stood by my side and looked into my eyes as she worried her lip. I bit back a grimace and turned my attention to the priest, trying to tune into his voice, to listen to his words as he spoke so that I did not make a fool of myself. Yet the words all blurred together into one big swell of noise that nothing could penetrate. I suppose I must have said the right thing at the right time because before I knew what was happening she had pulled me towards her, her lips puckered and pressed to mine as the guests flew up in a chorus of yells and cat calls. I tried, I really did, to get into the kiss but it was akin to pressing my lips against those of a fish; cold and slimy, not at all desirable.

After a moment or two she pulled away, her eyes narrowed at me but then widened and as she turned to those around her and laughed. I swallowed hard as my back was thumped heartily; first by Lord Regal, then Layfield, Jacobs, Calaway, McMahon, and some others who by that point in time I could not recall. We here herded--for lack of a better term—out of the cathedral and into the awaiting carriage. Katie Lea called her goodbyes with flutters of her hand as we started away, my heart racing as I thought about what was to come later this night.

Next we arrived at the reception which was at the Lord Regals' estate. There was not a lot to it, dancing, congratulations, and champagne. It was beautiful and fine, but my mind was still elsewhere, throbbing with a headache that felt like an ax splitting against my skull. During our last dance, Katie pulled me closer, and whispered against my ear.

"Christopher, you look ghastly, and your hands shake. Are you ill?" Her eyes narrowed at me, hard and seemingly annoyed.

"No, my love. I...I am well, I assure you." She rolled her eyes, an action I knew I would very quickly grow to despise.

I forced myself to press a kiss to her cheek and smile before I pushed her towards the dance floor again.

"Go on love, I would have a few words with your Uncle before this eve has slipped away." She studied me hard for a moment, but then moved back out onto the floor, no doubt making up some tale or another as to why I was suddenly missing. I weaved through the crowds, stopping every so often for some one to clap me on the back or make some lewd remark about what was going to be happening once they all left. I acted the part, leering back and making ribald comments, but inside I was shaking, my nerves pulled tight and knotted up all at the same time. Once I was free of the ballroom I all but sprinted towards the door and out into the cool night air, relieved at the cool kiss of it against my hot face and into my tight chest.

I leaned against the stone, mopping my brow and looking out over the fading evening, glancing upwards at the pale moon that began to peak through a gauzy film of cloud. I fear I stayed away from my bride to the point of rudeness, but if I was to return so soon I knew the meal I had forced myself to partake not long ago would be not remaining in my stomach, I felt so horribly sick, and wondered how long I would survive this union.

I finally urged my feet to take me back inside, and was relieved to see that the ballroom had began to clear, and at last we were left a lone with only our help scurrying about to tidy the place. Katie Lea was ordering about my servants and her own, and none to gently at that. I could already see a munity coming from my staff. Ms. Piper and Ms. Hughes had been back handed when Katie Lea came in on them in the kitchen talking to Matthew and her man Kingston as they scraped plates and flirted simultaneously. While I was grateful that she had broken up the display, I was not pleased at her heavy handedness with my help. I wanted to call her up for it, to demand that she stop but I was not looking to fight on our first night of wedded bliss.

Instead I waited until she had gone before I went and made amends for her, stating that the stress of the wedding and the reception afterwards had made her moody. Whether or not my people believed it I never knew, for Katie Lea and I left mere minutes later and headed back for the country estate to consummate our marriage. With every mile we covered and every rut we bounced through I felt my stomach tightening until I felt not for the first time that night as if I would be ill.

We pulled up to my prized and beloved country estate. I went to take her hand and lead her in, but she pulled it away and her lip twitched in an attempt perhaps to cover a grimace.

"There are no needs for formalities here, and besides--your hands are slimy." She stalked off towards the house as I raked my palms against my breeches, taken aback at her bluntness.

I went after her grudgingly and we went inside. I stood in the hall, fingers clumsily trying to pull buttons, so I could shed this damn overcoat that was burning me up. She was already sweeping about. Her dress swooshed against the floor as she inspected and frowned at my furniture and decor. They were all fine pieces I had painstakingly picked by hand, having many of them custom made, to suit this place perfectly. I suddenly had the sinking feeling that my life was about to be overhauled and taken hostage by this Lady Katherine. I hung my coat over the back of a straight chair and gasped, fumbling with my shirt collar as it seemed to have become tight and restricting; the stranglehold of cold woman.

Said woman made her way to the elaborate, carved, mantle, and swept her gaze once more over my empty home. For tonight we had it all to ourselves. Copeland and the few others here would be retired to their quarters and the rest of my servants would come in the morning, as I had left some of them to assist Lord Regals' staff in putting his home back to rights.

Now, Katie Lea moved towards the marble staircase and I followed wanly behind, watching as she scowled and prodded at the various pieces of furniture along the way. I moved to her side and she turned, her eyes glittering as she moved close, and pressed her chest against mine, running her hands over my arms.

"I've waited all night for this." She purred as she batted her lashes at me. "Take me my Duke."

I swallowed hard, nearly gagging on my tongue as she tilted her face towards mine, her lips puckered once more; glistening wet in the low lamp light. I screwed my eyes closed and pressed my lips to hers, ready to make the kiss short. Her lips prodded on however, never shy, and urged mine to part as her tongue slipped inside, disgusting and writhing like an invading worm. I entertained it for as long as I could bear to and then parted our mouths. Before she could try again, I hoisted her into my arms and began to carry her up the winding staircase as I minded not to trip over her long, silky, skirt. Each step seemed tremendously labored, as I forced my feet to go into a direction they wanted to run from. I was afraid my trembling legs would send us both to the floor as I moved down the hallway towards my solar, but we made it inside and I sat her back upon her feet. She grinned cheekily and presented her back to me.

"Untie me?" It was said in a little girls tone of voice and any sexual urges I might have been able to muster had died. My stomach leaped into my throat, as I did as she wished. After much fumbling her dress slid to the floor in a great pool of lace and silk, revealing the hoop beneath, petticoat, and bone corset that cinched her waist. She smirked from over her shoulder at me and I could only imagine how pale and ridiculously afraid I looked.

So far, my plan to be suave about this whole to-do and fake it was not going as well as I had expected. I cleared my throat and tried to loosen up. I stepped closer to her and slipped my shaking hands around her small waist. My fingers found the laces to her corset and slowly began to loosen them, forcing myself to place light kisses along her neck and shoulders as I did so, hating the way her skin shuddered under the touch of my lips. It did not even smell right to my senses which had became enamored with the scent of the dark stallion who was in other quarters, his sticky sweaty skin, scented with the days labors, musky, tinted with hay and horses and raw, burning, manliness. My thoughts were beginning to run away with me, my fingers tangling in the corset strings, a soft moan ghosting from my lips. Of course, she mistook that as my longing for her, which was not at all correct, but well suited to keep up my struggling façade.

I freed her from the tight confines of her boned corset and let it fall to the floor, followed by the hoop, and last the petticoat. My eyes were tightly closed the entire time, and I felt increasingly absurd. It was worse when she turned around, and my eyes flew around trying to find a place that did not turn my stomach. It was not enough, seemingly, that I just did not find women attractive, but that I was rather disgusted by them. She advanced on me when I made no movement to touch her, and grabbed my hands from where they hung limp at my sides, and situated them around her ample breasts, to which I yelped in surprise.

She laughed, a throaty sound yet not the least bit on par to the deep sound that I'd rather be hearing. I forced my fingers to flex, hesitantly kneading the heavy globes and trying to shut down the part of me that wanted to gag. I must have been doing something right, she arched her back and let out a moan that sounded like a dying calf. Startled I moved back, my eyes wide as I worried rather I had hurt her or not.

"M-my lady..." I never got the sentence out.

She started to pick at the buttons on my clothing and I winced as I pictured her long nails pulling threads from their places and catching on the fine material. I wanted to push her hands away and do it myself so that my clothing would stay in one piece but I had the feeling that she would not be dissuaded so easily. It didn't take long for her to get past the barrier of my waistcoat and shirt and soon her cold, clammy hands were gliding over my chest; making me jump and whimper. Apparently intellect was not something that came to her family for the dumb chit thought that my whimper of discomfort was one of pleasure and licked at my throat; her tongue moving slowly across my skin and making me feel nauseated. As her tongue continued its sickening exploration her hands slid down my chest to my waist, dipping into my breeched and palming my flaccid length.

Her hands wrapped around my sadly unresponsive cock and began to stroke it. It was to say the least awkward. Her dainty hands against me were doing little to elicit a response. I needed the hands of a man to tease myself to arousal, and these hands were not at all that. I tried to imagine a different set moving against me—big, warm, work-worn hands that moved hard, the rough calluses scraping softly, oh—oh Matthew! I bit into my lips as my thoughts became explicit, as I forced her hands to become the hands of my Matthew. When the touch left me my eyes flew open, and I looked down, almost shocked to see myself fully erect.

"Christopher, ooh—touch me. Touch me!" She barked, harshly as my face burned red as though I did not know what to do. "For heavans sake!" She seemed annoyed, or maybe just in a hurry I really could not tell. She shoved me onto the bed and pulled my breeches from where they'd tangled around my feet and tossed them aside, followed by yanking off my court shoes. She straightened up. Her hands groped her own body as my heart thundered in my ears, making me dizzy. I gripped the coverlet, fearful that I was going to pass out and make myself into a complete fool. She climbed onto me and straddled my waist. I forced my eyes to stay open as she then began to touch herself, if I averted my gaze or if I let the inner grimace contort my face it would ruin everything. She was making soft, feminine noises that I hated. I wanted to hear Matthew and his hoarse moans as I took him, the primal panting, not this. She stopped writhing, thank goodness, but instead trailed her wet, sticky fingers up my body and to my lips. My skin crawled beneath their slimy ascent and my stomach threatened to leap to my throat.

"Do you want to taste me?"

I must have looked completely horrified, I certainly felt it. Her expression changed to a frown.

"What's wrong?" She snapped.

"N-no-nothing my dear, I-I I'm just—excited." It sounded so very absurd, but it must have appeased her. "I…I want to taste you."

I forced my lips apart and she slid her fingers in, the taste against my tongue disgusting as I tried not to gag. Thankfully it did not lasts very long, she was much more eager than I, making noises again. On the other hand, I was fighting just to keep my arousal from wilting. I could feel my shame and embarrassment burning my face at how badly this was turning out. Surely she could sense my unease…but then again it was our wedding night, perhaps a bit of unease was not so out of place. She was certainly not uneasy, as she wrapped her legs around my waist, feeling not at all like the strong, sturdy ones I was used to. Her hands were touching me again, guiding into that place I did not want to be. My hands clutched desperately at the sheets, nails biting into my skin, my eyes closed so tight it was nearly painful as I tried to think of Matt, to spur myself on. It did not help. The moment I was sheathed inside, the worst possible outcome became a reality. Her eyes fluttered about, clearly confused, as I wished myself to disappear under a rock, and a heavy one at that.

"What's wrong?"

I do not find you attractive. I would much rather be rolling in the hay with my manservant! You bloody sodding bitch!

I started to stutter, what was I supposed to say?

"Tis merely a case of wedding night jitters." I said, hoping that my voice sounded firmer than I was at the moment.

With a disappointed sigh she slid off my waist and curled at my side, a devious smile back on her lips. She trailed her fingernails over my chest, circling each nipple before the fingertips slid downwards, tickling my stomach. She bit her lip as her roaming hands descended lower and lower. It took everything in my power not to snap at her that her playing was not helping, that her hands were the wrong size; that her breasts were too large, her hips too curvy, her neck too dainty and slender, to elicit the response she was looking for.

Once more her small, china-white hand was wrapped around me and stroked lightly. I tried to conjure Matthews' face again but it was as if my body had grown wise to the tricks of my mind. Her hand was not upon me long and I startled when she wrapped her lips around me, her small tongue darting around my shaft and head; taking tiny licks and leaving me slick. I leaned my head back on the pillows; grimacing as she continued to try and tease me to attention. Even her mouth was different, sloppily wet and luke-warm where as Matthews' was burning hot and just barely moist as his tongue lapped at the sides; bathing it all in one swipe instead of the hundreds of little ones that she seems to need to an amount of time that seemed painfully long, she had accomplished what I had thought would be impossible. I was stiff again, though I feared it would not last long.

"Christopher, take me." She demanded flatly, and rolled onto her back.

I tried to hide how awkward I felt and got into a better position. I lifted her legs and she wrapped them around my waist. I seemed to have frozen, looking down at her, knowing what needed to be done but unable to do it. She arched her hips up.

"Well, touch me--do something Christopher!" I chewed the insides of my mouth and touched her a little, hating the feel of her parts against my fingers. It was arousing her, but for myself doing the opposite. I stroked myself with my free hand, to save myself from failing her again. After I had pleasured her with my hands for nearly as long as I could bear, she began to grow agitated again. Her fingernails scrabbled at my neck, the tiny crescents biting the flesh.

"Christopher, now...bloody hell--do it!" She writhed beneath me, yowling, like a bitch in heat. I entered her quickly, for a moment still, terrified to move. When I finally did, it happened again. Her scream of frustration filled the room and her claws raked down my chest, she shoved me backwards and cuffed my face like a mad wildcat.

"What is wrong with you!" Her voice seemed akin to nails against glass, and her words reverberated in my ears, the same question I had demanded of myself for years upon years with no way to answer myself. I drew my knees to my chest and curled up into a sitting ball at the end of the bed. My face was afire with my shame, hot tears stung at my eyes and one slipped free, though I quickly palmed it away.

Katie

My mind whirled as I tried to think of something that would account for the Duke's failing. Surely it was nothing on my part so it must have lain with him. Perhaps he did not find me attractive... I pushed the thought to back of my mind, scoffing at it. What man would not find me highly desirable? I looked down at the foot of the bed. He was curled up like a child with a nightmare and it would not have surprised me to find that he was crying. Such a woman! I suppose I could have comforted him, but really what would it have accomplished? My wedding night was ruined because he was apparently not man enough to do what many others had offered me before my hands were tied in marriage. Fie! Let him stew in his failure! I rolled over onto my side and pulled the satin sheets up to my neck; wrapping myself as though I was freezing.

I felt the bed shift and I peeked over. He stood at the window now, his naked round backside like a pale moon, as he stared down with one hand on the glass. He looked like a love struck maiden watching her lover ride away. So, let him remain hurt if I was harsh with him, it is of no matter to me. I rolled my eyes in aggravation. Surely there had to be one man on this estate that could please me in such ways.

I did not remember drifting asleep, but next I knew I was waking. I rolled over and yawned. Christopher was not there, his side of the bed empty. My maidservant Melina came to my side with her dark hair coiled around her shoulders. Her eyes flashed and I knew the look of curiosity and what thoughts ran through her mind.

"Was the night well, love?" She asked as I raised my arms above my head, allowing her to lace my corset.

"It is too early to be prodded with ridiculous questions." I bit out at her.

She hunger her head and offered a soft apology as she drew the strings tight. Next came the hoops and petticoat and then a simple day dress. I sighed and followed her to the dining room where I found the Christopher sitting at the table scowling over a plate of breakfast which seemed to be untouched. Well, good for him then if his short comings haunt him so! After all, a woman has only one wedding night and mine was forever named a ruination of all my fantasies.

I swept past him without words and Melina moved a chair out for me, an ugly hideous thing. It would surely have to go, and after all he could not deny me such things after such poor performance. If he did become petty with such things I would make no qualms about using his poor attempt at lovemaking against him. I leaned my chin against my palm and watched him as he stared blankly, my blood boiling hotly through my veins. Not even a good morning from him? I ground my teeth together and was near snapping out at him when a short little troll of a cook left a plate in front of me. I picked at the food, it was simply horrid.

I mimicked my husbands movements and pushed the food back and forth with the silver; snarling when it stuck to the tines of the fork. The sound of knocking rang through the room and my husband excused himself quickly and fairly ran to the door. T'was probably no more than his book keeper coming to look over the ledgers or something equally as boring, yet I rose and followed him slowly. My brows knitted together when I seen naught but servants unpacking luggage; both mine and his. He was talking to Kingston—at least now there is one civilized person for me to talk to--and his valet Christian.

Like a shadow the dark man that had accompanied Christian on the errands to my Uncles' hung back. His eyes were ringed with fatigue but it did not take away from his raw, masculine beauty. I moved out to where my husband was standing and twined our arms and pretended to listen as he gave orders. My eyes however drifted over his help. The fair lot of them were rather handsome; strong backs and large hands. The coachman--Copeland I believe--noticed my attention and straightened up, puffing his chest out with a cocky grin. My lips kicked up in a smirk but it fell away when I spied the two female servants that I had reprimanded the night before. Once again they were hanging off of Matthew; batting their lashes at him and fawning. Matthew pulled each one close and whispered into their ears in turn. Whatever he had said had their faces turning red as they flounced away. Surely he was more skilled in the ways of the bedroom than my husband if he can handle two women at once. I might have to see, some night when my fumbling husband was sleeping, if the dark stallion could handle me.