Chapter 9 #4
Of course I acknowledge that there are things beyond human comprehension.
I accept that there’s an energy called “magic,” which can be harnessed by gifted people using spellcraft.
And I know that many people in this kingdom believe in faeries or demons, malevolent entities that exist to counterbalance the gods.
That’s why they call the creatures I summon “demons,” because they’re inexplicable and abnormal, so of course they must be evil somehow.
But is anything truly evil, or is “evil” merely a matter of perspective?
A large hand sweeps my place setting aside, interrupting my thoughts. A dish clunks down in front of me—thin slices of roast pork with crispy edges, apricot jelly, and steaming dumplings so stuffed with seasoned vegetables that they’re nearly bursting.
I’ve got a dumpling in my fingers before Beresford even sits down. “Thank you,” I tell him through a mouthful. “Best thing I’ve ever tasted. Husbands are so useful.”
He laughs. “You’re far too easy to please.”
“Oh, I plan to be more demanding tonight.”
Fire leaps into his eyes. “I’m looking forward to it.
” His hand grasps my inner thigh, and I suck in a quick breath, warmth blooming between my legs.
His lip arches, a feral hiss issuing between his teeth as his fingers push toward my center.
The table, cloaked in white linen, hides what he’s doing, but I can’t let this go any farther, or I’ll lose my mind.
The wagons are coming into view. We have to behave ourselves.
“The guests are arriving,” I whisper. “You can’t touch me here.”
He leans close and says in an undertone, “I’d like to clear this end of the table, lay you down, and put my cock into that slick little cunt. Let our guests watch me fuck my wife senseless and boneless. The perfect feast.” His fingers cup me through the layers of the wedding dress.
“Beresford,” I whisper.
“You can call me Theron, you know.” He rubs my pussy firmly.
“I like your last name. I’m used to it. Oh gods…
please…” It’s either a plea for him to stop or keep going—I’m honestly not sure which.
His hold on me is such that if he really wanted to fuck me publicly, I might let him.
I don’t understand how a few touches can bring me to the edge of madness like this, but I can’t help fervently rejoicing that his hands are now mine, his mouth is mine, that beautiful broad chest is mine.
His tongue won’t ever taste anyone else.
His cock belongs inside me, and me alone.
Anne and Mama are approaching, ready to take their places of honor beside us. Beresford casually places both his hands on the table, and I rearrange my skirts to hide the dent he made between my legs. Before my family reaches us, I whisper, “I fucking adore you, do you know that?”
“The feeling is utterly mutual.” His tone is low, fierce, almost vicious. When I glance between his legs, I spot the telltale bulge of his desire for me. He clears his throat and readjusts a fold of his coat to hide it better as a servant advances to pour drinks for us.
As delicious as the food tastes, as congratulatory as everyone claims to be, and as delightful as the music is after the meal, I can barely keep my mind off Beresford’s body.
I haven’t seen him naked in far too long.
There are experiments I need to conduct, explorations to complete, sensitive spots to find.
Not to mention how eager I am to finally see the house I’m going to call home.
Anne keeps stealing looks at me, and when Beresford steps away to greet some of our guests, she finally leans over and hisses, “Just go. I know you want to.”
“But the dancing has barely started.”
“Your ankle might be better, but you still shouldn’t dance. Go home with your husband. Explore your house. Get some good rest, after…” She raises her brows significantly.
I’ve been immeasurably lucky today. I didn’t trip, didn’t twist my ankle, and didn’t summon anything. I only had to deal with a few barbed comments that were honestly milder than I expected. Theron and I should leave now, while our luck holds.
“Should we make a speech, or just slip away?” I whisper to Anne.
Mama, who is sitting between me and my sister, gives me a quizzical look over her cup of wine. “Go on, you two. Keep pretending I’m not here.”
I laugh and kiss her cheek. “Sorry, Mama. What do you advise? Should we declare our departure, or simply escape?”
“If I were you, I’d run off quietly with my new husband.” She gives me a sad smile. “I’m going to miss you.”
“Valenkirk is only a short ride away from home by horse or by carriage,” I remind her.
“For you, home is Beresford’s mansion.” Her gaze flicks to him as he stands nearby, conversing with a pair of guests. “I want you to know that if anything happens, if anything troubles you, if he ever—” She cuts herself off and grimaces. “I want you to know that you can always come home.”
“Mama.” I place my hand on her cheek. “I will be fine. He’ll take good care of me.”
“He fucking better,” says Anne. “When can we come visit your new house?”
“We might want a few days to ourselves.” I feel the blush rising to my cheeks. “I’ll send word when we’re ready for visitors. And you’ll send word if you hear about any other disappearances, won’t you?”
“Of course,” Anne assures me.
“Don’t go into Wormsloe,” I warn. “Neither of you should have any reason to follow that path. Let whatever lives there exist quietly without interference. It’s safer for everyone.”
They both nod, and we fall silent for a moment. I know they’re thinking of Grandmother Riquet.
“If she is dead, I wish they could have found her body,” I murmur. “So we could give her a memorial rite and a burial.”
Anne nods, and Mama says, “I wish the same. We owe her more than we could ever repay.”
I’m still curious about what Mama’s arrangement was with Grandmother Riquet, how they met, and what kind of influence she wielded over the forest, but this is neither the time nor the place for those questions.
Beresford returns to the table, but instead of sitting down in his chair, he leans over the back of mine and bends close to my ear. “What if we took a stroll, you and I?”
“A stroll?” Anne gives him a bland stare. “Just say you can’t keep your hands off her any longer.”
Beresford chuckles. “Fine. I need her. May I carry her off to my house?”
“Only if you promise to love her as she deserves.” Mama keeps her tone light, but there’s an edge to it.
“I already promised that during the ceremony,” he answers.
“Yes, but now you’re promising it to me.
” Mama rises from her place. She’s much shorter than him, but there’s a keenness to her gaze, a fearless dominance in every line of her body, a challenge in the set of her mouth.
“Some women have fathers to protect them. My girl has no father, but she has a mother. And trust me, I am far more formidable than her father ever was. You hurt her, and I will not only take your life—I will destroy your soul.”
Stunned by the ferocity in her tone, I look from my mother to my husband and back again.
“Mama.” Anne lays a hand on her arm. “This is their wedding.”
“I am fucking aware,” my mother says. “I support the union, and I rejoice in your happiness. But I will also make it clear to my son-in-law where I stand.”
Beresford gives her a half-bow, his face sober. “I respect you for it. You may not believe that I value Sybil’s happiness and health above all else, but I hope that over the years, my actions will prove it to you.”
“That’s all I ask.” Mama nods to him, then kisses my cheek. “Enjoy yourselves. I’m going to find Iserac and dance.”
She strides away. Anne shakes her head, looking after her.
“Well… that’s over. I think you got off easy.
I will simply add my congratulations.” She kisses me as well, her lips trembling a little.
“Dearest sister. Don’t make us wait too long for an invitation to come and see you, or I may be tempted to run up to your door unasked. ”
“Three days,” I tell her. “Only three, and then you’ll come visit.”
She smiles and moves away, going only a half-dozen steps before Henry Partridge claims her for a dance.
“The way is clear,” Beresford murmurs to me. “Shall we make our escape before any more well-wishers approach us?”
“Yes, let’s.” I take his hand, and we sidle toward the edge of the pavilion slowly, so as not to arouse suspicion. We duck through an archway, descend a few steps, and emerge onto one of the pathways leading back toward the temple.
“I think we have gotten away clean.” Beresford gives me a wink. “Let’s find my carriage.”
His driver is nowhere to be seen, but Beresford tells me the man can get a ride back to the estate with the other staff.
He takes the small driver’s perch behind the horse, while I climb into the coach.
I wish we could ride together, but this horse apparently doesn’t know the way to the mansion instinctively, like the horse that picked me up for the first orgy.
I doze off during the drive to the estate. When the carriage jolts over the threshold of the gate at Valenkirk, I have just enough time to wipe a bit of drool from the corner of my mouth and smooth my hair before we come to a stop.
“The servants and stable hands are still at the wedding,” Beresford informs me as he helps me out of the carriage.
“That’s as it should be. I want them to have a good time.
But I’ll have to put the horse away myself.
Go ahead and step inside, but don’t go past the foyer.
I don’t want to miss your reaction to anything. ”
He closes the carriage door and turns his attention to the horse. Clutching the skirts of my scarlet wedding gown, I walk toward the entrance of my new home.