Dark Secret Chapter 12, a wrestling fanfic

Katie Lea

That first midnight tryst with the family footman turned out to be only the first of many. Often nights when my husband was laid in his own quarters, apart from his wife and his duties, or when he was flouncing about town with his asinine colleagues, I would go to Adam.

I spent many nights in his arms, full of passion as I had never before experienced, all my deepest needs and desires sated again and again by his consuming fire. I have never felt such pleasure, and I had never felt such kisses as his lips melding to mine, the touches seeming to contain the lightening of a summer storm. The only time I had ever touched Christopher in such a way, I had felt nothing but cold, clumsy, slow-witted lips. It was as though my husband knew not what to do with them, but now it did not matter.

Christopher had come to mean nothing more to me than a cumbersome annoyance. I have his name, his wealth, everything he owns is also mine and I can do with it as I wish because my hand is stronger than his. Few times he has tried to speak against me, but his impressive vocabulary is knocked from his lips with one snap of my hand. He is tamed, really--not that there was much left untamed to begin with. He is simply as soft as the jam I spread over my roll, and I am the knife that scrapes him over the burnt pieces when he needs to be. Only yesterday I had to put him in his place, and he's only been lurking about with extra powder on his pretty face, and his hair around it, in attempts to cover the nasty bruise I dealt him. He deserved it. Ah, but right now I need not think of such things. My mind best be occupied with other sordid thoughts. I smiled over the yard as this day's sun crept high in the sky, ushering in the shadows of evening. Soon, I would be in the arms of my lover again.

It seemed as if the night would never truly fall, the pinks and oranges of the dying sun held onto the precious sky like a miser would his last shilling. I stomped through my home, watching with a keen eye as the servants finished their last chores of the day and bid each other farewell with smiles plastered on their equally simple faces. Then, there came a noise in the kitchen and I moved into the room, watching as that alley cat Jezebel and her cohort Darla finished putting away the silver--I'm going to have to check later to make sure that it's all still there--and chatting amiably. The red head trollop's ill-bred voice twittered asininely as she giggled about going over to the mortician's abode and spending the eve with one of their help.

With a roll of my eyes I left them to their idiocy, far be it from me to care what they do on their free time; besides it was all over the local gentry that the younger brother of the mortician--a more ghastly man I have never seen--was the one taking the little harlot to his bed every darkening night and not releasing her until the faint rays of morning stretched their weak fingers upon the ground.

Those two were soon dismissed from my mind when I spied the object of my affection leaning against one of the entry way arches. His livery finery looked splendid on him; the taut fabric hugged his body and showed off his wealth of muscles. I stopped and took a couple of deep breaths; my eyes smoldering as his flicked from my well coifed hair to my kid slippered feet. There were naught but illicit intentions in the fiery green depths of his eyes, and just the mere thought turned my knees to jelly.

I wrapped myself around him, hotly pressing my lips to him, and melting into that familiar embrace. For moment our lips dueled, words falling between them. At last, he forced them apart, as I whined at the loss of them.

"M'Lady, we must take our dalliances elsewhere, less…public." He said, darting his eyes around the empty kitchen. Although my husband was out, there was a chance that we could be discovered by someone wandering back in. I pressed myself too him, eagerly feeling the hard excitement splendidly erect between us. His eyes dazzled me, and his mischievous smirk was so daring and bold.

"I have the perfect nest for us." I laughed, and pulled him after me, as we seemed to dance and flit towards the stairs rather than simply walk.

I led him through my husband's solar and towards my own, and giggled as he leaned down to nip at my neck, and his fingers grabbed and tickled at my waist. I pressed my hand to the door of my solar, ready to tumble over my bed, when he pressed his hand over mind.

"Wait." He said simply, his voice breathy and hot against my ear. I shivered, the marvelous tingles spreading throughout my heated body. I looked up at him, to see why it was he had stopped. He was looking towards a specific place, a wolfish grin on his face, that I soon mimicked as I realized the brilliance and defiant fun of what he was thinking.

"Oh, oh yes!" I slapped my knees, cackling with laughter. He swept me into his arms as I giggled still, and laid me out on my husbands bed. "Yes, Adam…take me where our Master sleeps." I growled, as he leaned over me, his fingers trailing under my gown.

I gripped the headboard and arched into him, obscenely rubbing and moving against him. He grinned, and moved down my body, hoisting my legs up on his strong shoulders. He ducked his head under my gown to use his mouth in that way that no gentleman would do—it was improper and beastly, and it set me to burning like nothing else. Our night was fire on fire, our flames melding together in one delicious, raging, heat—embers popping and crackling, smoke rising from the ashes.

He laid next to me, in my husbands place. I pressed my lips once more gently to his, and smoothed away a few strands of his sweaty hair, the blonde made darker and dirty. I just wrapped myself around him and we stayed quiet, sharing the still content that ebbs and flows lazily after our love making. I daren't fall asleep, for these moments we had together were stolen, and precious to me. At last, his fingers tipped my chin up from my chest, and my sleepy eyes looked blearily upon his handsome face. The pale moonlight crept grayly in through the pulled curtains, seeming to give my lover a halo, though we both knew he was no angel.

"I must go, Lady Katherine. The day comes soon, and Master Irvine may be home at any moment."

He was right, I knew it as well. I leaned back on the pillows as I watched him dress, my lips curling into a smirk as I teased him by fondling my breasts. He laughed, and held his hand out for mine.

"Come, see me to the door."

I followed him through the house, not bothering to dress myself. I simply love to be the tease, and Adam did not mind the way my naked bosom bounced as I followed him down the grand staircase. At last, we were at his exit. He slid his fingers from mine, and stepped outside.

"Wait, Adam!" I hurried after him, and pulled him to me for one last, passionate kiss. He broke away, leering, and his hand caught the cheek of my ass, making me yelp. What nerve he has to be so bold as to strike me—and it has me aroused all over again.

"Get inside with you, you shall take ill from frolicking about without a stitch to cover you."

I stepped back into the kitchen, watching him as he disappeared into the shadows that spilled over the yard. A shiver coursed through me, as I felt the eerie sensation of eyes upon me. Surely, t'was nothing. Who would be awake at this hour? Verily, it was only my mind playing tricks, as I had yet to lay down that night and give it proper rest. I might stay in bed this day, and feign some illness so I may be left unbothered by that feeble husband of mine—who I now heard making a noise as he entered through the front way. I hid myself in shadows, and watched as he stumbled and tumbled his way around things, threatening to break my most treasured vase as he careened into the table that held it. I growled lowly, wanting to throttle him for his stupidity. At last, he was out of my sight, disappeared upstairs.

After a few moments, I came out of the shadows and wandered slowly through the downstairs, my hands touching on all the changes I had wrought, righting the vase he had knocked from its place. I couldn't be fully enraged at him, for the bliss of my tryst still made me smile as I ascended the stairs at a leisurely pace. I peeked into my husbands solar when I reached it. No doubt he hadn't even noticed the messy bed in his sloshed state. In fact, he had fallen from the bed, partly wrapped in one of the sheets, and was snoring loudly; his face mashed against the hideously bright rug that he insisted stay.

I choked back the sneering denunciation and moved through the 'Masters' solar, plucking up my clothes from the floor as I went. I ducked into my own chamber, shutting the door, and pulling on a thin nightgown. The sudden sound of movement through the door caught my attention and I hurried tossed my rumpled dress and under skirting into the corner of the room and sat down at the vanity; yawning widely when I heard the door click and swing open. With a steely-eyed glare I turned and watched as my soused fool of a husband blinked dumbly at me. He opened his mouth to say something but have thought better of it and turned around, leaving me snorting at his mindless antics.

Chris

I was awoken from my deep sleep, somehow the vibrations of footfalls against the flooring came through to me even in the state I was in. I thought perhaps it was my wife moving around in early morning, but when I ducked in to check on her, my blurry eyes saw her sat at the vanity. I knew not why I bothered, as if I should care what she was doing or why. I suppose there is only still some small part of me that remembers my upbringing, and urges me to stay true to it, such as the way it is taught for a man to treat a woman. Yet even so, I had also come to the conclusion that I had not married myself to a woman, but to a devil.

My feet were heavy from another night of trying to drown myself, as I dragged them back to my bed and sat, my head aching in my hands. As I ran one of my palms over the bed linens I could only note how cold they felt, mirroring the emptiness I often felt in my own home, and the loneliness my confused soul brought upon me for not being able to take up properly with my wife.

I closed my eyes against the slow coming dawn, and dizzy visions of that one bright star in my life did make me smile. I longed to be in a dirty barn, rather than the fineness of my own home, as long as he was there as well. I must be a fool, or perhaps I am in love--or it may just be one in the same. While thinking these things, I hardly realized that my feet were moving me again, and I nearly took a nasty tumble down the staircase. No doubt my darling wife would have stood at the top looking down, laughing. That is her usual stance on things.

I did not stop my wobbling legs from taking the steps down, or leading me out of my home, towards a place I knew I shouldn't be at a time when all of those in my service would be rising and beginning their daily routines. But there was still too much drink in me, and I only wanted his touch to remind me that I was cared for--I had no delusions of his love that was certain--but at least even he cared for me more than my own wife and her cruel words, and striking hands.

As I drew near I could hear the horses moving about in their stalls; their hoofs pounding against the hay and making the dull pounding in my head become a more than a roar. I had to stop and press the palm of my hand into my dry and gritty eyes; willing the pain away so that I might be able to see only one copy of the dark haired treasure that for the time being was the only incentive driving me from my bed any more.

The creak of a door sounded loudly; making me groan before taking my hands away and seeing what caused the ruckus. Of course once my double vision cleared somewhat, I smiled. Matthew was standing in the doorway, his rough linen trousers clinging to his waist just low enough that I could see the indents of his hips and his chest bare as soft sun light filtered through the cracks in the barn ceiling and dappled the tan skin. He was staring at me with some sort of confusion on his pretty face; his plump lips pulled up into an expression that was caught somewhere between a wary smile and concern.

I opened my mouth to ask what had vexed him, but instead the spinning in my head increased tenfold, and I had to shove my hand to my mouth to save him from being covered in the return of my ale. I grabbed blindly for something to hold onto and felt my fingers trail against the rough wood and prick splinters as I sank hard to my knees and coughed everything onto the barn floor. Now I had not only made a mess of myself but also a fool--although I could barely bring myself to care about either of those over the pounding in my head, akin to the shrill, steady, crashes of the blacksmiths hammer against his anvil. Shakily, I wiped my mouth and nose against my sleeve, grimacing at the sour taste against my tongue. I felt hands on my shoulders; their rough calluses seemingly resting against my skin rather than the fine silk shirt I wore.

"Wa-water, please." I croaked, the taste in my mouth so horrible that it was threatening my stomach to put on an encore performance.

Moments later a glass was pushed into my hand and fingers other than my own curled around the cool offering. He helped guide it to my lips and steadied it as I drank down the clear water greedily; the icy bite washing away the foul curdled ale. Some leaked from the corner of my lips and when he pulled the glass away I flicked my tongue out to catch them before they splashed onto the hay covered floor and were lost.

Somewhere in the back of my mind I knew that I was far from the picture of nobility that was associated with my family's name but right at that moment I cared not. Matthew's warm hands went back to my shoulders, this time helping me up and turning me so that I was leaning against one of the rough hewed plank walls. His silence startled me, Matthew never held his tongue. After making sure that I would not be covering his bare feet with the remnants of my twilight follies, and the water that now sat upon it, I raised my head and looked at him.

"D-dearest Matthew," I winced at the term of endearment but barreled on; wanting to know what had his smooth brow drawn up in worried lines. "What causes you to be distraught at this hour? Surely the night didn't pass so horribly that you must burden the new day with it."

He worried his lip for a moment, and I watched it intently, remembering fondly the softness of its kiss.

"There is nothing so troubling that you must keep it from me, Matthew. Now come, pray tell."

His fingers brushed against my cheek, batting a piece of my sweaty hair. He was about to speak, but he snapped his mouth shut and his scowl deepened. His thumb rubbed at the ticklish skin of my cheek and I nuzzled against the tender touch, cherishing it deeply.

"What's this?" He tipped my chin up. "Did someone strike you at the club, or the pub?"

It took me a moment to understand what he spoke of. He had found the violet smear that my wife had left there, and not for the first time. I dropped my eyes from him, not wanting to lie, yet confessing to another man that a woman had struck me would make me feel so much smaller than I already did, if that was even possible. I searched for something to stay, stuck between the truth and the lie, neither of which I wanted. After a moment of nothing but my silence and shameful, downcast gaze, he gently touched that mark of dishonor again.

"Never mind, you must have only fallen against something whilst the ale worked too hard last night." By the tension in his words, I knew that he had figured the truth without me needing to speak it, and I was grateful for his attempt to lessen my humiliation. I nodded weakly, agreeing with his farce.

"Yes, must have." I echoed. "But still, you have not told me what had upset you when you stood at the door."

Those soulful eyes that I had come to rely on to get me through the torturous days darted everywhere, avoiding my face until I shakily raised my hands and placed them on his cheeks, tilting his head down until he had no choice but to look at me.

"Matthew, there is nothing you need to fear, no repercussions. Now please indulge me as to what has you vexed this early in the day." He sighed, his breath fanning my face and fluttering the flyaway pieces of hair about my face.

"Sire, I know not how to speak of this..." He pressed his full lips into a tight line and his confused orbs stared into mine; holding me captive with their beauty. "But upon the predawn's light I seen, or rather I thought I seen the Lady Katherine out on the stoop…with…uh…"

The ale still sloshing around my brain had me shaking my head and looking at Matthew as if I had never seen him before. He couldn't have seen Katherine here this morn, she was in her solar when I checked on her, just having risen from a nights sleep.

"Pray tell Matthew, what gave you reason to believe that you had seen the Lady? Perhaps I was not the only one partaking in copious cups of ale last evening tide." His eyes which had glittered with concern only mere moments before were now as cold and hard as the ground in the winter.

"She...Christopher..." He was battling his words again. Just as Matthew had been able to decipher my truths without me speaking them, so I could sense what his meaning was now. In my minds eye, I could easily imagine her standing under the starlight, wrapped around another. It would have been foolish for me to not consider it, as I knew that I could not provide her that which every woman needs from a man. A real man. My lips pulled up into a saddened half-smile, and I pulled him close into warm embrace, leaning my chin against his shoulder.

"Matthew, t'would not shock me to discover my wife stepping out. Just as there are desires in me that she cannot fulfill, so there are fires in her that I cannot begin to quench. It is of no concern to me if she finds a better lover elsewhere."

Matthew stood slack in my embrace, neither welcoming nor denying me the small warmth that it provided. Gently I felt his arms circle my waist; loosely holding me and a molten tear escaped from my eyes; sliding down my cheek and gliding between Matthew and I's skin, bonding it together for a small moment in time. I cleared my throat and pulled away, the pounding in my head starting to thunder back to life as the light crept into the dark area we had been hide in and assaulted my eyes.

"M'lord perhaps you should return to the manor and get back abed." Matthew suggested softly; his fingers once more moving my hair away from my face and tucking it behind my ear. Only if I can get you to join me, just to be near. The thought took up residence and I had to fight hard to keep my liquored tongue from spilling the indecent proposal, not that it would ever amount to anything.

"I do believe you are right Matthew." My lips quirked up at the corner and before I could stop myself I leaned in and briefly touched them to his, the fleeting caress of their softness making me blush when I pulled away and turned my back to him. "Get thee to thine work Matthew erfore you find yourself residing in my lady wife's ire as well."

Matt

I watched Duke Irvine moving wobbly across the lawn and fought hard to tamp down on the impulse to go and help him. It wasn't the first time he had stumbled thus, and I was certain that it wouldn't be the last. Still, the way the weak sun made his hair shine was enthralling and I couldn't help but wonder why I cared whether or not he fell or twisted his ankle again.

You care because no one has ever been as gentle with you as he has.

The seductive voice brought up images of their encounters and I felt like phantom hands were crawling over my skin; dipping into my trousers and teasing my rapidly hardening flesh. With a growl I shook my head and turned to go on about my business, trying to push all thoughts of the golden haired; soft skinned distraction out of my mind.

A noise snort from one of the stalls reminded me that I was supposed to be pitching the horses hay, and hand out rations of oats, but within moments I was lost once more to the thoughts that were roiling about my mind.

Perhaps he's not all you make him out to be? The dark satiny voice purred.

The wicked image I wanted badly to hold onto and keep attached to him, I had to admit, seemed to be ebbing away more and more each day. He was supposed to be higher than I, a noble man in this society, yet I saw him far too often drunk as any common man, crying with common heartaches, and marked with common colors, just as I myself have been marked times over by hard hands. Perhaps these tiers of status that we were dealt into meant very little, at the basest levels. Perhaps titles are only titles, and perhaps well-bred blood flows the same shade as that of a mongrel. But those things I did not want to consider, because if he were on my level, I could care for him as one of my own.

Do you not already?

That voice spoke up again, and I growled, stabbing the pitch fork into the soft ground. It wobbled back and forth, reminding me of Christopher's trek across the uneven ground and I could not help but wonder if mayhap I should have installed him in my own bed until he slept off his excess ale. After all, I suppose it would not look so good on him to be seen tripping over his own feet and tumbling down the stairs, or to be seen once more emptying the poisoned brew from his belly.

Is that the only reason you want him in your bed? Is it not the thrill of being able to run your hands over his silken skin and know that you'll not be pushed away? That your questing touches will be welcomed and urged on as his pleading whimpers fall like the most beautiful melody on your ears? Or perhaps you enjoy being the one to look over him, and care for him in a way others do not?

Of course not! T'is merely for his own safety and self image.

Keep telling yourself that pretty lie Matthew and mayhap one day you shall believe it.