Innocence and Carnality

by J. Alan Veerkamp

  “Good morning, everyone.”

  A series of return greetings floated to me through the room. Alexandra looked stunning as usual in a casual gown, the teal fabric a perfect complement against her dusky skin. Everyone was present in various states of dress except Vivian, which made me glad. The sight didn’t bother me any more than Blythe’s cursing in the hall. Perhaps there was hope for me after all. I hadn’t rounded the table before the kitchen door burst open.

  “Good morning, Mister Nathan!”

  “Dahvra! If I’d known you were going to wait, I would have hurried. Next time, don’t. No one should ever be without your amazing cooking skills.” I dropped a kiss on her cheek, making sure not to upset her food-laden hands.

  She blushed and huffed. “Oh, you sit down, flatterer.”

  Rother pulled out my chair, allowing me to sit as Dahvra set the trays on the side table and began the rehearsed ballet of serving everyone present. I imagined the military could take notes on her exacting precision.

  Blythe leaned forward at me, sneering. “Ass kisser.” Dahvra’s slap to the back of his head nearly put his face in his plate. “Ow! Fucking hell!”

  “Leave Mister Nathan alone. He is good boy.”

  Half the staff were trying not to spit food or coffee across the table with their snickering. Alexandra sat poised yet smirking. Those sitting next to Blythe were unresponsive and stoic in self-preservation. I was thankful my mouth was empty.

  “I’d be careful, Blythe. At this rate, one word from me and your diet will consist of leafy greens and dishwater.”

  Blythe didn’t say a word. He pointed at me in a threatening way, complete with snarling expression, but the twist of his scar turned it comical for me. He gave up trying to intimidate me when Dahvra walked by and slapped his hand.

  “Eat or it gets cold. You boys will be death of me.”

  No one wasted time starting once every platter was in place. Good-natured banter drifted around the table. It reminded me of home, back when my brothers and I were children, too young to sit still and playtime was a singular pursuit. The air was lighter in those days before duty and lessons dominated our lives. The latter years were strained, so I held on to those lighter moments when our brotherhood was intact and we didn’t understand how to belittle people or see each other as rivals.

  I smiled as I sipped from my cup. Coffee was the staple in this country, yet Dahvra filled mine with tea because I preferred its subtler flavors. Small kindnesses warmed me. More sense of family sat at this table of whores and vice dealers than existed in the Valencus manor. The irony of how they would condescend this setting was not lost on me. Once, I would have joined them.

  But not now.

  Rother leaned closer. “Did you sleep well?” His soft speech was deliberately intimate, much like the swarthy man who’d entranced me at the start. His satisfied glance at the mark on my neck reminded me to forget the illusion of the polite man. What kind of person he might have been given the right conditions didn’t matter.

  Ignoring the look, I held on to the happy aura surrounding the table. “Not really. I had a lot on my mind from last night.”

  “Should I be concerned?”

  “No. Just running through all the possibilities. I believe it will all work out in the end.”

  “Amen to that.”

  “You, succumbing to prayer? The situation must be dire indeed.”

  “Eat, you scamp.” Rother’s sensual chuckle washed over me as he stroked my back and neck. Holding tight to my happy thoughts kept me from flinching. Whether direct or not, I knew everyone was watching, Alexandra more obviously than the rest. The staff’s morale was linked with my response. Delaga House could not survive another uprising, and my role as the content spouse was paramount. Without it, I had no chance. I leaned back into his touch with a gentle purr.

  Blythe’s chair scraping backward jarred me out of my head. Dropping his silverware, he stood. “I need to go. I have shit to do.”

  Without another word, he left, his meal barely touched.

  “What was that about?” Rother asked.

  I shook my head and returned to my plate, pretending Blythe’s exit didn’t disturb me. “I’ve no idea.”

  Brunch continued, and I waited for everyone to be deep into their feast. I set my napkin on the table and leaned my shoulder into Rother.

  “Excuse me. I’ll be back shortly.”

  “Is something wrong?”

  I lowered my voice to an embarrassed whisper. “No. I was running late and in a rush getting down here. I need the privy.”

  “Don’t let me stop you.” Rother gestured as if granting me permission.

  Five years of having to ask my father for the privilege of performing bodily functions and having Harston witness the act to prevent any “inappropriate activity” had smothered any actual shame I felt. But I wasn’t about to educate him, and Rother didn’t need to know that I didn’t need the facilities.

  As soon as I was out of sight, I hurried down the hall to Rother’s office. My excuse was legitimate enough, but it didn’t afford me much time. With everyone dining, I had a window of privacy, but it wasn’t a guarantee. A quick listen and peek behind myself convinced me no one was near. I made every effort to open and close the unlocked door without a sound.

  Not requiring a key spoke of Rother’s arrogance or his thoroughness. The prominently displayed wall safe boasted that no sensitive material would be found roaming about. As I expected. Hopefully what I needed wouldn’t be hidden inside the vault.

  Knowing my time was limited, I started simple. The tidy office had no random stacks of papers to rifle through, so I would be forced to search through the drawers. A short upright stack of three ledgers stood on the shelf over the desk. Initially I expected it to contain financial records or customer accounts, but the first contained his personal schedule. Meetings and other appointments were marked with clear dates and times. This would be useful for future reference.

  Flipping through the second book’s pages, I recognized the names and addresses of Gabriel Marquis, Dr. Anthony Perrin, and Zachary Saux in alphabetical order. The vast majority inscribed were strangers to me, but most certainly beholden to Rother.

  The third was a book of poetry. I didn’t have time to read much, but what little I saw was riddled with dirty limericks and vulgar descriptions of sexual acts. No doubt a source of inspiration for my husband.

  Making sure all three books resumed their posts appearing untouched, I moved on. The dustbin underneath had a few crumpled sheets of parchment inside. I reached in and unfolded the largest. In Rother’s handwriting was a request for supplies that went unfinished due to a splotch of spilled ink spoiling the order.

  Regarding the document presented me with a new idea. I’d spent the better part of my sleepless evening formulating an idea, but left myself open to improvisation. Folding it up tight, I pocketed the letter. Rother had no need of it.

  I moved on to the desk drawers, thankful they too were unlocked. Nothing damning was found inside, so my search lay elsewhere.

  The hunt must have slowed as I worked to maintain the exact location of every article. So intent, I didn’t hear the footsteps and was at the back of the bottom drawer when Rother burst through the door.

  “What are you doing in here?”

  While I had partially rehearsed being caught, now that the act was underway, I hoped I could remember all my excuses. I didn’t look up and continued my search into the next drawer as if ransacking his office was nothing out of the ordinary. The key part of success required a speedy ramble, which proved easy given my sudden nerves. The trick would be not going too far and spoiling the ruse.

  “I’m searching for a spare pen and inkwell.” I only glanced up for a moment to confirm Rother stood tall with his arms crossing his chest. His dominant stance was in full force.

  “Why?”

  I barely breathed between sentences, not giving him a chance to think. “Because my family didn�
��t pack mine in my shipment. I had this marvelous idea in the privy. Don’t all great ideas begin that way?”

  “You’re talking awfully fast. Are you under the influence of anything?”

  “No. I’m just excited. Do you have personal stationery? Preferably with the Delaga House crest embossed or printed at the head.”

  “Of course I do, but what for?”

  I closed the drawer, acting full of disbelief. “To write a letter, of course. Or possibly a few, once I get started.”

  “You want to send out a letter? To where?”

  “To Deilia.”

  Rother’s eyes narrowed, and I could hear the doubt. “You want to write to your family?”

  “You must be joking. I don’t want contact with any of them. Well, I’d be willing to speak with my mother, but she sided with them, so that’s not an option. I want to send letters to their friends. Well, other noble houses. I’m sure they have all sorts of questions on how I’m faring in my new life. I can only imagine the stories my father has told them all.”

  “So you want to enlighten them.”

  “I want to tell them all about Delaga House and my father’s interests in it. Your stationery will make it nice and official.”

  Pausing, Rother look down at me. “Why now?”

  “My father wed me off to you to prevent a scandal because the Monarch doesn’t approve of men together. I bet he’s told a tale of some voluptuous heiress in the East who’s happily bearing my first child as we speak. The least I can do is make sure people are hearing the truth.”

  “And what truth will that be?”

  “That my wealthy husband owns and operates the most successful brothel in Marisol and how happy I am to be taught the family business. And how my father approved the marriage with open arms. Things of that nature. I want to take my time composing it.”

  “And are you happy?”

  I closed in and rested my hand on his wrist, urging him to uncross his arms until he gave in, dropping them both to his side. “I’m learning to be.”

  “And why couldn’t you simply ask for these things instead of rummaging through my office?”

  I dropped my volume and slowed my speech into the realm of penitent. “I’m sorry. You were still eating, and I didn’t want to ask you in front of everyone. The staff are only just starting to like me. I don’t want anything to change that, and this is hardly the most upstanding thing I’ve ever done.” Practicing in front of the mirror, I learned the easiest lie to utter was the one woven within threads of truth. From the first day, Rother wanted my innocence. He’d want to believe me. All I had to do was not give him cause to sift through the right and wrong.

  “You father will be livid.”

  “I imagine he’s not really our client anymore after his last visit, so his opinion isn’t terribly important. As far as I’m concerned, he can handle being slapped down once or twice.”

  Rother’s tone lightened. “I think you did that with the oversized dildo.”

  “But only a few of us saw that. This will spread like the plague in his social circles.”

  “Are you sure you want to do this? Once it’s done, you can’t take it back.”

  An undertone of misgiving from the selfish man? That was new. And unexpected. Was Rother worried I might regret my decision? Or was he questioning its validity?

  “Exactly. My loyalty to Deilia should have ended the day we married. I’m a man of Marisol now. These letters will act as my baptism.”

  “More like a manifesto. I wouldn’t have expected something so devious from you. Vengeful, yes. But not this premeditated.”

  Wrinkling my brow in a squint, I averted my eyes. “I don’t plan on making a habit of such things.”

  “Then why go through with it?”

  “Perhaps you’re rubbing off on me a bit.”

  “Really?”

  And without intentional prompting, Rother gave me the opening to deflect everything and rebuild his trust in one full sweep. I only had to follow through, whether I wanted it or not.

  “I don’t think anyone could be with you without being affected by you.”

  “And do I affect you?” Rother crowded me without touching.

  My voice quivered as I stepped off the ledge. “Enough to know how lonely the bedroom can be.”

  “Are you saying what I think you are?” The soft hope in his whisper bolstered me.

  I recalled how Delaga House staff coaxed the men into making a choice. “I hope so. I still have a—” I pressed my hip into his groin, feeling the quick response. “—hard time saying what I want.”

  Rother gave off a low groan. “I think you’re learning how to make a firm argument.”

  I said nothing, my face heated for so many reasons. Rother knew my limits hadn’t been thrown away and if I were any more forward, he’d become suspicious. The next move had to be his, to allow his assertive nature the upper hand.

  I shuddered as he cupped my jaw, caressing my lower lip with his thumb. The hunger in his eyes only accented the stiffening horn brushing against my hip.

  “You haven’t finished eating. Are you hungry?” Rother’s question was coarse with lust.

  “Not anymore.” It wasn’t a lie.

  My husband chuckled the way he always did before conquering me with pleasure. “If I provide you your writing supplies, will you be inviting me upstairs?”

  I smiled, trying to not be too eager. “I would call that a fair exchange.”

  AFTER TWO extended bouts in quick succession, my husband slept next to me, now no more useful than a corpse. Perhaps Rother really had done without.

  A sore and sticky mess, I couldn’t bring myself to pull the sheets off the floor and cover myself. I’d matched him each time. My body was exhausted yet I couldn’t sleep. I’d always known I’d have to give in at some point. Rother would never accept a marriage without relations, and I didn’t want to risk him taking me by force.

  I hadn’t planned to use my body to distract him.

  On the end table sat a stack of parchment and writing implements. Before we’d crossed the threshold, Rother had already kept his word. At court, I’d heard gossip of noble women plying their bodies to earn favors from their men. I’d found the practice unsavory, but being locked in a chastity belt might have colored my perception. Now in Marisol, I knew it happened between both genders. In Deilia, men weren’t supposed to have intimate knowledge of other men. However, if my father’s depravity was any lesson, desire made anything possible.

  I dragged myself up despite my body’s protest. The rumbling snore from Rother guaranteed I couldn’t disturb him for some time. I watched him sleep, passed out from satisfaction. The pompous fiend had earned his rest.

  My bare feet made no noise as I entered the en suite. With the door closed, I filled the washbasin with warm water and wet a clean cloth.

  Drying semen on my torso tugged at my skin. I cleaned my tender backside, thankful no blood stained the fluids leaking from me. The last time, Rother rutted me like a mad satyr. Heaving and sweating, he refused to stop thrusting until I came from the sheer force of his cock alone. As I washed away the sexual remnants, I couldn’t stop the anger at myself. He shouldn’t have been able to elicit that kind of reaction from me.

  Is that what really bothered me, my ability to survive? I feared and hated my husband, but when the situation presented itself, my body responded and responded well. Did being the only man to ever touch me give him exclusive control over me? Were my cravings for intimacy permanently tied to him? Or was I so desperate for any contact I would accept his… with vigor? Before Rother and Delaga House, I’d never known physical pleasure. And this place provided the experience in abundance for anyone willing to pay the price.

  Could I afford it?

  Without a shirt, my reflection couldn’t hide the healing scar on my neck. The permanent mark reminded me of why I cast aside my lessons and values, all of which placed me outside my surroundings. I had told myself I wouldn’
t be manipulating Rother with sexual acts. In retrospect, the concept was a lie. I knew eventually I’d take him to bed once again, as a means to protect myself from his unpredictable side. To guide him out of dangerous impulses through bliss. I bartered my body for a modicum of safety.

  In more ways than one, we were procurer and whore.

  It wasn’t a question of whether I could afford the price. I paid it regardless.

  So much in Delaga House had changed me. In the past, going through with this insane plan wouldn’t have entered my thoughts for a moment. But now it was a matter of long-term survival. Rother was content now, but I was borrowing time. I would do whatever needed to be done.

  I just hadn’t expected to hate myself so much for doing it.

  Chapter 18

  ROTHER AND I hadn’t left the bedroom all day and didn’t emerge until the next morning. A feat we hadn’t accomplished since the days after my arrival. We would have seen daylight sooner, but Rother’s insatiable appetites had to be appeased. He pounced as I attempted to clothe myself. His stamina astounded me.

  Each of my steps were sluggish and careful. I’d only slept from pure exhaustion and ached in ways I’d forgotten since our relationship was set aside. My grumbling stomach required fuel. Hopefully no one would be present at the dining table. I didn’t look forward to sitting down with witnesses.

  “You seem to be walking tenderly this morning.” Rother, on the other hand, looked refreshed. Chest out and on the verge of smiling, he radiated pride with each jubilant step.

  “We could reverse roles if you’d like to understand better.”

  “No, no. We were both born to these roles. I haven’t enjoyed myself so much in a long time.”

  Pasting on a polite front, I ignored his selfish focus. As usual, he believed if he was happy, I copied the emotion by default. I suppose the evening could have been worse. He hadn’t been violent, only vigorous.

  Yet I still practiced my facade.

  We passed and greeted various staff members in the first stages of the day’s chores. I kept my head down, unable to see myself worthy enough to face them, but made a point to exchange the basest pleasantries. I couldn’t risk upsetting my husband.