Fair Maiden

by Cheri Schmidt

  As she righted herself, a deep voice said, “Where do you think you’re going?”

  Emitting a shriek, her breath seized and her heart stopped. Contessa turned to face Dominic, who was looking at her with a what-have-we-here look on his face. She said nothing in reply for it was quite clear what she was doing.

  “Do you have any idea how far away from anything you are?”

  She really did not care, and ran for it. Instead of chasing after her, Dominic called for his mount with a low whistle. Tessa looked back and saw him saddle the beast with magic, and then mount…at leisure. She didn’t give up and darted, breathing heavily, to a gap in the hedges surrounding the garden. She could hear the horse’s feet pounding the earth behind her. She thought of one of Christian’s curses, ducked between the foliage and struggled through the thick plant life in the woods.

  Branches clawed at her sleeves, skin, and skirt. But she kept going, cursing the flimsy slippers hindering her flight as she trudged forward in a gown too heavy for running.

  Sparing another look, whilst struggling past long grass and brambles, Contessa saw his horse leap over the hedge.

  She could hear the hoof beats coming closer and closer until she was finally captured and hauled onto the horse in front of Dominic.

  “I was awakened when I felt you suddenly vanish from the castle,” he mumbled against her hair. “I left my chamber to search for you when you reappeared just as suddenly in the drawing room. What happened, Contessa? Care to explain?”

  She could not explain, for she was just as confounded by this. Perhaps that is why he had not bothered to check on her all this time. He could feel her presence, except for when she was dead. Why could she not die again? She would never escape otherwise.

  He stopped his horse near the door leading inside from the gardens, stepped down from the saddle, lowered her down along with him, and then passed his eyes over her moonlit form. “This cannot be!” He gathered fabric of her gown into his fingers. “This is your wedding gown! How—?”

  She remained silent.

  Scowling with wrath, Dominic grasped her arm and forced her inside. When they reached the entrance to her chamber the guard nearly fainted at the sight of her.

  “How did she get past you?” demanded the prince—or rather the king.

  The guard reached for the door handle and tugged. “It is still locked, Sire.”

  Dominic tested and thrust a hand out for the key when it did not budge. He opened it, shoved her inside, and followed. “Tell me, Contessa, how did you get out?”

  Still unwilling to answer, Contessa backed away. He stalked toward her, a dangerous gleam in his eyes. His hands lifted, but he did not touch her...physically. A bit of twisting magic came from his palms and gathered around her chest. She tried to push it away, but could not. “Confess it, Tessa, or Christian will die this very night.”

  Her eyes rounded, for she knew he meant his threat. “It was one of Tabitha’s spells,” she lied, hoping he would believe that because she didn’t know how to explain turning into a ghost.

  “The witch?”

  She nodded.

  He released her and swore in French. “I should have known.”

  She collapsed onto the bed with relief.

  Dominic swung around and hit her with another spell, stripping her mind of Tabitha’s words for magic. In her mind she recognized the words for a simple disarming incantation spoken in fey. But with his sorcery already upon the chamber, she was utterly helpless to do anything to stop him.

  “It won’t happen again,” he said before leaving her alone.

  The wedding. Today was the day. She’d been locked in this chamber ever since her failed attempt to escape. Whilst she had been well fed, and been allowed a hot bath, she was weary and depressed. And not ready to marry Dominic.

  She had tried to remember Tabitha’s incantations. She had prayed to turn back into a spirit, but nothing had changed. She had not gained another chance for escape.

  Staring out the window she wept for a miracle, but it seemed none would come. She reached out to feel the breeze that swept past her high chamber. Dominic had not blocked the window with magic for it was just too high up for an escape. She peered down...the height was utterly dizzying. Unless she were a butterfly, she pondered as a small yellow and black one alighted upon the stone ledge she leaned against. Contessa tried to touch it, but apparently sensing the movement of her hand, the insect fluttered away. She watched the winking splotch of color descend until she could not see it any longer.

  Her door opened and the maids entered, carrying a white wedding gown.

  “We’re here to dress you, Your Royal Highness.”

  Speaking not a word, she turned back to the view beyond her chamber, searching the sky for another creature blessed with wings.

  Silence ensued until the older maid, whose name she still did not know, said, “You will don this gown.”

  “How long will I live after I marry him?” she asked.

  A couple of soft snickers were her reply. Chills crept up her neck and crawled along her scalp.

  “What happened to his other wives?” she asked. She’d had a great deal of time alone to think over the past several hours, and she remembered Dominic had already been married before even she’d met him. Besides never having liked the man, the fact that his past wives were all deceased by some peculiar mishap or another was the reason she had refused him in the first place.

  “The punishment could be severe if you do not put on the dress,” warned the younger maid.

  Contessa may have wondered before, but now she knew and understood the ugly truth. It would not matter whether she married him or not. She would remain in danger, and so would her parents and Christian. “I’ve decided I will not marry him,” she finally said as she brushed a tear from her cheek.

  The older maid took her arm and forced her away from the window. “You will.”

  “Ouch!” she yelped as both women began pinching her arms.

  She tried to push them away, but they remained determined to inflict a great deal of pain. When she continued to struggle and began striking back, the older woman raised a hand to slap her face.

  But the other maid stopped her. “We cannot bruise her...visibly. The guests will see.”

  The older maid lowered her hand. “He will force you into the gown if you do not put it on,” she threatened.

  Knowing it was true, and tired of being physically brutalized, she jerked free and gathered the dress from the bed. “Fine, I’ll wear it,” but I will not marry him, she finished in her head.

  The cruel servants began stripping her current dress from her body, and she mused quietly to herself. So there were guests there? How many? she wondered. Did the guest list include her mother and father? Perhaps if she would not speak the words during the ceremony, the others would help rescue her.

  Contessa remained in brooding silence as the two maids tugged the wedding gown over her head, forced her hands into the sleeves, and fastened the pearl buttons up the front of the bodice. She was shoved into a chair after that so they could reach her head. They then styled her hair in many braids that twisted into a high bun, securing it with pins. They placed a crown upon her head and attached a long white veil to the back of it with a pearl-encrusted comb.

  Hinges creaked as the door reopened. Again, Contessa stood at the window; a cool breeze stirred tendrils of her hair and rippled like a wave over her gown and veil. She did not need to turn around to know it was him. She could hear his boots clomping across the stone floor; the sound was distinctly Dominic.... Unwilling to face the horrible wretch, Tessa kept her gaze focused on the scene beyond her window.

  “We’ll be married soon.” Warm air from his breath brushed the shell of her ear. Reflexively, her shoulder lifted in revulsion.

  “No, we will not. I’ve decided I will not marry you,” she said, disappointed in the way her voice quivered on the last word. Her brow furrowed.

  She gasped when
she was forced around to face him. “Our guests will be disappointed.”

  “I do not care!” A whimper was pushed from her lungs when he lifted her arm and jerked back her wrist at an uncomfortable angle. “If you think this will motivate me, you’re quite wrong,” she muttered between clenched teeth, trying to not cry out in agony.

  “Really?” One sable brow lifted and he smiled as he added force against the bone, which, she feared, was threatening to break.

  And she couldn’t help the cry that escaped. “Ah!”

  A low chuckle rumbled from his throat, and he twisted her wrist to intensify the pain. Contessa sank to her knees.

  “What will they think if your bride has a broken wrist?” she managed on another gasp of pain.

  A muscle in his jaw flickered and it seemed her words had reached him because he released her. She bent forward, cradling her bruised joint against her breast.

  “Get up. You’ll soil your gown,” growled Dominic.

  When she failed at accomplishing the task whilst only using her good hand, he groaned with frustration, hooked hands beneath her arms and hauled her to her feet.

  “Everything is set for a lovely wedding,” he said evenly, apparently attempting to keep a rein on his fury.

  Her speech came out nowhere near that even. “Are my parents here?”

  His jaw tightened at that and she took his lack of response for a no.

  Whilst caressing her arm, he kissed her cheek. She scowled at his attempt to act the doting groom, and pulled away.

  Remembering his nature...and his past actions, she said, “If I marry you, Dominic, how long will I live afterward?”

  He laughed. “Silly girl. You’ll live.”

  It was impossible to miss the fact that he failed to say how long. “I will not say the words.”

  She could see he was losing control over his anger now, but what had she expected? Contessa knew she was defying him in outright rebellion, and she knew it would not go over well with one as selfish as he. Her situation did not look good. She was again dressed as a bride, unable to escape. Her will was all she had left and she clung to it with frantic desperation.

  “You will speak your vows to me, Tessa, or pain will be all you know.”

  His words clarified something she’d wondered about, but now knew for certain. Apparently he could not force the words from her lips with magic. The major details of her life remained in a fog, right along with many fey powers she might have had. And what she did recall, she could not touch because of the spell writhing upon the walls. But his threats no longer mattered for she knew her life was forfeit whether she became his wife or not, so why give him the satisfaction of gaining her inheritance too? She shook her head.

  “Contessa, you have no choice.”

  “I do, and I will not do it.”

  “You put Christian’s life at risk with this.”

  “You’ll hurt him anyway, right after you’re done with me.”

  Something flickered within his gaze, and she knew he was lying with his next words, “I won’t hurt him or your parents if only you’ll consent.”

  “No!” And she slapped him.

  If the twisting of his features were any indication, she could safely assume he was enraged now. Dominic seized her jaw and slammed her against the tall bedpost at the end of the canopy. The intricate carvings upon the surface bit into the back of her skull and shoulders. She gasped.

  Holding her in place with one forearm held against her collarbone he said, “If you do not marry me, Tessa, let me tell you this....” His lips moved against her cheek, his breath feathered against the fine hairs growing on her skin as words spewed from his mouth. In the gentle resonating tones of a lover, Dominic promised to inflict intense pain to her body, deep humiliation to her soul, and then ending it all with a long torturous death.

  Streaks of salty wetness chilled Contessa’s face because he went on to describe in graphic detail all of the nightmarish ways he would accomplish those things.

  Tessa sobbed against the terrifying images that assailed her mind.

  He finally pulled away, rubbing his thumb over her mouth, again touching her as a sweetheart would. “You’re wasting energy defying me,” he whispered gently.

  “Let me go…please.”

  Dominic laughed at that, his breath puffing into her face with each blast of amusement. “The wedding starts in two hours. I’ll be back for you then. And remember, I’m not above bruising you where no one can see it, so I suggest you correct your attitude.”

  Dominic plundered her mouth with a punishing kiss and then left.

  She drew the back of her hand across her lips in disgust at having his mouth upon hers. Her knees gave out and she crumpled to the mattress. The flesh on the back of her head and shoulders throbbed and her fingers slid into her hair to find the ache and rub at it.

  His words twisted through her imagination like a legion of loathsome monsters. Tessa’s body jerked and shook with great wrenching sobs. Pinching her eyes shut, the tears were forced out from the corners, then over the bridge of her nose and down into her hair. One fist rose to her mouth trying feebly to control all the noise she was making.

  Contessa knew Dominic and also knew he would do those things whether she married him or not, had probably done them to his past wives. “Oh, those poor, poor souls!” Her heart broke for them over what they must have suffered at his hand.

  No one had ever spoken such things to her. Inside she was reeling and knew his words were meant to force her cooperation. And it was true, she was influenced by them, but not in the way he perceived she would be. They had the opposite effect, in fact. Contessa thought of the window and decided that flinging herself from it would be far preferable to ever submitting to him. She lunged upright as an idea struck her. “The window!”

  Her fingers curled into the elegant counterpane beneath her, and rising to unsteady feet, she yanked the material from the mattress, along with every other bit of fabric which adorned the bed: the sheets, the blanket beneath the coverlet, and the heavy velvet drapes.

  She scrubbed away her tears and with frantic urgency, Contessa fashioned a rope, even knowing she may not be able to make one long enough to stretch the length from her chamber to the hard ground below. But it was a risk she would take. She would rather die than wed that beast.

  Chapter 30

  Disquiet

  As Christian crept along the crumbling wall surrounding Dominic’s castle, he inched his way to the back. He’d noticed a gap in the hedges allowing him access to the gardens. He was lucky to find that the medieval outer walls of it had fallen into ruin, as it was no longer needed, for castles were never stormed in his day.

  A grin captured the line of his mouth. Dominic needed it today, because Christian was most definitely going to trespass and lay siege in a silent way. If he could manage it. His grin faltered with the thought.

  Adjusting the sword that slapped heavily against his leg, he edged closer until he reached the opening. Rocking forward, he surveyed the grounds beyond the hedge. They were empty. He took a moment longer to listen, and heard nothing. Christian pushed his way through and darted to the left where the plant life stood in shadow from several trees and shrubs. The sun was setting, and that helped hide his presence even further. But to be safe, he uttered the words of the masking spell he’d learned from Tabitha.

  Christian crouched down and again considered his surroundings. Through the large windows along the back he could see movement from within. Finely dressed men and women milled about inside a large chamber facing the gardens. They were backlit by torches hung along the walls on the opposite side of the room. Christian was surprised at how many people were here, and he feared that perhaps the wedding had already begun.

  Movement on the right side of the castle caught his attention, and he carefully made his way there. As he reached the base of the building at the turn of a tall turret something white went sailing past his head. Ducking, he twisted to see what it
was as the object bounced and tumbled across the grass.

  “What in the world?” he muttered to himself when he saw a woman’s shoe laying there. “Oof ,” he then grunted when something else caught him in the shoulder. Rubbing at his bruised flesh, he turned again. There upon the grass was yet another shoe. It was a lovely bit of footwear, covered in white satin and beaded with diamonds and pearls just like a.... When realization struck him, he gasped and twisted toward the structure behind him.

  With his gaze drawn upward, Christian saw a pair of ladies stockings tied to a chemise and then a gown and then, what appeared to be a sheet, followed by yet another dress, and was that a lacy petticoat? The ingeniously fashioned rope continued upward. But panic seized him. “No, Tessa. You can’t!” he whispered knowing she would never hear it.

  His line of sight followed the incredible length along the wall, his stomach flipping as it went on and on, until ending at a window which looked quite small from his vantage point. While she’d done a brilliant job of making this rope, adding extra knots for hand and footholds, and using every bit of fabric she could get her hands on, including a handful of colored gowns, nightgowns, two weddings gowns, and various undergarments, it was simply not long enough. If she managed to hang on long enough to reach the pair of flimsy stockings she would still be dangling over forty feet above the ground.

  Of course she probably could not see that miscalculation while looking down.

  “Contessa, I’m here. Don’t do this,” he said, though he truly wanted to shout it.

  A naked leg appeared over the windowsill and then another. Both limbs were followed by a bloomer-clad behind. Cursing under his breath, Christian knew he wouldn’t be able to stop her without making enough noise to alert everyone else to her desperate stunt. He thought through all of the incantations Tabitha had taught him, and none of them prepared him for this. With the others occupied, as it were, with a party of some sort, he could use what he’d learned to sneak inside and retrieve her safely from that room, but not if she were trying to escape on her own. Feeling immensely helpless, all he could do was watch, hope, and pray he could catch her when she fell. He knew she would fall.