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Her Awakening
(A working title - Novel in progress)
© H. Cooper
Chapter Two
Bale Hall was no small feat. Built in 1602 by ancestors
of Bella's, the castle, and that's what it was, stood four stories
high and was spread over five acres of land alone. Built of dove grey
stone it was mammoth. Intimidating. Bella was instantly captivated.
Here was a place where imagination could run wild,
and daydreams of long ago or futuristic adventures could take flight
in the windows of her mind.
Her aunt explained to her that once a great fire had
broken out and an entire wing of the castle had to be rebuilt. It
had taken a dozen years to accomplish just that. She advised Bella
to never travel to far into the castle alone as she would find herself
quite lost in the twist and turns of lavish maze like hallways. This
only served to pique Bella's natural propensity towards exploring
especially after hearing of "secret" rooms that had also been built
deep within the castle walls.
But not today.
She stretched out in the luxury of the huge feather
bed they had prepared for her arrival, the entire room opulent. The
bed was four poster and wide enough to fit several other large bodies
if need be, the drapes hung twelve feet from top to bottom, the hems
just hovering above the stone floor and were made of the heaviest,
finest brocades in midnight blue; There were sheer white panels beneath
should she want to pull the curtains open to enjoy the sunlight. There
was an armoire carved from beautiful Italian wood, desks with ink
pot and pens and beautiful thick cream paper, perfumes and flowers,
and thick candles that lit the room with an ethereal golden glow.
Fit for one of her station her aunt had announced with an imperious
wave of slender hand.
This was somewhat disconcerting. She had not often
thought about the fact her father had been a titled member of the
peerage and somehow the idea of being referred to as "Countess Willmont"
made her break out into a titter of laughter. Thankfully, though not
of the same adventuresome nature such as her sister or brother-in-law
had been, her Aunt Christina was lively, funny, and somewhat ribald,
both surprising and amusing Bella to no end.
But for all of her lively nature Aunt Christina, whom
was only thirty-five years old herself, was also the Dowager Duchess
of Bale, and kept up with the rigors and requirements that befell
someone of such title. She thrived on the power and money and the
prestige that her good fortune of birth and marriage had afforded
her, and made no claims otherwise as she spoke to Bella late into
her first night at the castle. She regaled Bella with tales of soirees
and dinners and Balls past and the ones that would come while she
were "home".
It was this bent of conversation that became somewhat
disconcerting to Bella, who had never been to many "soiree's" up to
this point in her life. This also was disconcerting to her Aunt, whom
could hardly believe how "ill prepared" Bella was for a life among
the Ton. She commented that Bella was in severe need of "training
and tutoring in the finer arts of social graces". Bella could only
somewhat balk quietly at this, not sure she at all wanted to be coiffed
and fitted, restrained, and carved into another fashionable "husband
hunter". But, the at the end of the night when Bella had finally been
allowed to fall into this huge feather bed, she had remembered how
Aunt Christina was now her only living relative and it would not be
to any advantage to be at odd ends with her.
So coiffed and carved she would be.
********************
"This is not how I imagined I would be welcoming my
sister home" mused Christina. The two stood on a hill less than a
mile from Bale Hall. Over looking the meadow where her parents had
met as children and spent countless hours together, exploring, learning,
falling in love. Small bushels of heather blanketed the rolling hills
in hues of purple and white, a scattering of pink. Not to far away,
stood a tree where her father had carved his and Bella's mothers name
when they were all of nine and six years old. It choked Bella up every
time she thought of how her father could have known that a bubbly
six year old Vanessa Bale was and would always be the love of his
life.
Christina smile gently at her, a tall woman herself,
she had only to raise her eyes to speak with her niece. "They used
to bring you out here a lot, you took your first steps on this grass."
Her blue eyed gaze swept the meadow; Taking a deep breath she lifted
the urn she carried close to her chest. "Shall we?"
Bella, who held her fathers urn, leaned to press a
kiss to the fuller part of the vase shaped pot that held her mothers
remains.. "Until in heaven we meet mother mine" she whispered before
lifting pooling eyes to her aunt. "Ready"
A soft nod from her Aunt, who lifted the lid from the
urn as Bella did with her father's. A silent count of three and the
two, whom had come alone and slipped off their shoes and stockings
minutes before, began to run. They raced against the wind, lifting
the urns in both hands over their heads tipping them just enough that
the ashes spilled free creating a shower behind them. Bella's tears
streamed, happy that her parents souls were released back to the fields
that had been such a large part of their lives.
Moments later, both panting, Aunt and niece clasped
hands and collapsed to the soft cushion of flower dotted grasses and
sobbed into each others arms.
**********************
"Ugggg!!"
The gasp broke from her lips loudly, causing a faint
titter of laughter from the seamstress and her Aunt.
"I am expected to actually eat and breathe in this
contraption?" She growled, slender hands falling into the very narrow
curve of waist that stiff white corset had just created, blushing
furiously as the tops of creamy globes were forced up over the edge
of the thing.
"Of course!" Her Aunt practically cackled her amusement.
"All women are reared in corsets darling, you are the odd duckling
here. Besides, you have a fabulous figure, quite luscious and that
corset only serves to ah..enhance it".
Bella's head whipped around, a wide eyed look at her
Aunt. "I suppose so men might want to squeeze and test "the goods"
for freshness?"
She followed this question with a wrinkle of nose and
shifted restlessly as the bindings on the corset were drawn even tighter.
The thing was absolutely stifling and it felt as if her heart were
going to be forced right up out of her mouth. She had never felt so..squeezed.
It was that thought that brought back the picture of a very masculine
hand sliding around the curve of the petite woman's hip, a flash of
his eyes as he leaned in so very close to her, that broad chest............
"Ugggg...just get it over with". She blurted, shaking
her head soundly to clear the visions and refocus upon what was coming
up sooner than later to further torture her.
For two days she had been measured and had color swatches
held to her skin and hair to test for "agreeability". Her Aunt was
planning a most lavish affair to welcome her sisters only child home
to Bale. She informed Bella she would be gowned like a princess and
would learn to conduct herself just as regally, though secretly she
truly enjoyed finding her niece barefoot in the library with wild
hair and her nose in a book.
"I'm looking forward to introducing you into my circle,
darling. There will be many an eye drawn to you I'm quite certain"
Her Aunt smiled, gaze smiling and somewhat calculating.
"Dearest Aunt..must I tell you again that I am not
on the market for a husband?" Bella winced as a pin went astray and
pricked at her thigh, the sensation sending a shudder racing down
spine. "Gods Teeth, Margaret, watch those pins!" She snapped, instantly
recalcitrant.
"I'm sorry Lady Bella!" Margaret crowed, wincing at
the lovely girl's distressed tone before glancing towards her employer
with a frightened gaze.
Bella missed the glance from seamstress to her Aunt
Christina, her voice softer as she spoke again. "It isn't your fault
Margaret, forgive me, Aunt just has me on edge with her grand scheme
for finding poor old me a husband extra ordinaire"
Her Aunt chuckled and much to the relief of both young
women set about discussing who would be on the Guest list and what
she was planning for the feasts.
***************************************
She had gone off without so much as a warning, saddling
a gorgeous chocolate stallion, galloping off onto the English countryside
at a hellish speed. She rode like she were born to do so, her bottom
just touching the saddle with each shift of the horses body beneath
her, knees pressed lightly to it's sides. She bent forward slightly,
and before long her very modest bonnet had flown back to bounce in
the air, letting loose a thick stream of vibrant red gold curls to
become a beacon in the dim gray light of the day.
The weather fit her mood perfectly, a light drizzle
misted the cool air, the sky gray and heavy lent an ominous feel.
It had been three full weeks now since she had arrived at her Aunts,
during which she had met very few people, but was instead constantly
being poked and prodded and "taught" the ways of being a lady. Even
now, the corset wrapped tight around her body was stifling and she
longed to rip it away. She wanted to run! Explore! Have fun, experience
life! Mother and father would be so aghast at the way she was now
kept in tow from rise till' bed.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
She rode the stallion until he was well lathered,
finally sliding from him near a thatch of heavy trees, murmuring into
his ear and smiling as they twitched and his head swung round to nudge
her shoulder, delighting in the smell of clean outdoors, mist and
grass, horse and the faintest perfume of the heather that sprinkled
the rolling hills.
She reached to tug at the stiff collar of the dress
she wore, nimble fingers easing pearl buttons from tiny loops until
a smooth column of neck was exposed. "Ah better..."She murmured, sighing
the tiniest bit.
"Better than what?" The voice, dark and low, send a
shaft of surprised fright racing down her spine as she spun around
the horse, panting fear as her back pressed back into the neck of
the stallion.
How had she not heard someone coming up? Her gaze skittered
around, searching for anything that would provide defense.
"If I wanted to ravage you, I'd already have had you
down on the ground." He mocked.
Something about his voice lifted eyes that were dilated
with dread. Gaze sweeping over a large body, hidden by black cape,
but so obviously broad and strong. A drift of black hair that framed
his face and fell to meld against the inky dark of his cloak. Emerald
eyes, glittering. Faint laughter.
God. It was him.
"Mmm, I recognize you too, little girl.......though,
not so little as once I thought" His lips curved into a smirk as that
glittering gaze roamed unchecked over her body, so perfectly molded
in the tight cinch of corset and snug gown, lingering on the pale
line of throat recently exposed, the flare of nostrils, luminous gaze,
trembling mouth that begged a touch.
"Well I never....."
He cut off the start of her very indignant reply with
a laugh that rumbled deep from his throat. "No, I am most certain
you have.....Not."
She began to see and feel red, her pale flesh though
damp with the falling mist, became an enraged shade of flame. She
would not stand for this, arrogant Bas......
He caught her mid twirl as she sought to throw herself
up onto the stallion. His fingertips closing on the tip of a curl,
slowly winding it around the dark skin of his hand until she was forced
back, that yellow ribbon flashing in her mind. Oh God, he was going
to flay her!
"Please, my Aunt is a very Important woman in England,
she'll have your hide if I do not return home to her very soon!" She
tried for arrogant and succeeded with slightly shrill.
He stood silently just behind her for a moment, his
thumb sliding over captured lock, studying the way such a shade in
the dull greys of the hillside, shone with a life all its own. Rich
gilded flame. Then he laughed softly. "I know your Aunt little hellion,
and I have no doubt at all she would have my hide, any hide if you
were not to return."
She had no idea he ever released her hair, she was
frozen to the very spot as he stepped right up behind her, his voice
so dark to her, threatening even as he smiled the words. She gazed
straight ahead, not daring even a breath, though her body jerked violently
as he reached around her and the very fingertip that had held her
hair slid from just under her chin down the slender path of ivory
flesh she had revealed earlier.
"Little girl with the body of a woman, mmmm?" He spoke
so very low that she began to tremble as the weight of his voice sank
inside her.
"Please...." she whispered. His hand paused, just the
tips of his fingers pressing inside one side of the dress, his thumb
resting at the hollow of her neck and though he did not apply any
pressure, she thought for sure she was suffocating.
"Yes, please.............such a good little girl" His
hand slid away and he stepped back.
She nearly collapsed, turning slowly to see the dark
glitter in eyes that were surely jade. Her legs were unsteady and
she could feel the horrendous crash of her pulse in her throat where
his thumb had lain. She was acting like some kind of common street
girl. She could not move and it wasn't until he smiled slowly and
so surely she could read it, that she was sent into action.
Whirling and mounting the stallion in a flurry, not
daring to look down at him as she urged the stallion forward, galloping
as fast as she could away from the man.
**********
Her fingertips drifted against her neck, to the place
where His thumb had laid. She imagined she could feel it there again.
What was wrong with her? Why could she not get that dangerous gaze
out of her mind.
She turned in the huge bed, groaning softly as thin
nightgown pulled against curves and she flashed on a picture of His
hands holding her still, firm. God.
It wasn't as if she were such an innocent, she had
kissed men before, let them touch her. Tentative touches. Clumsy.
He wouldn't be clumsy. Her mind whispered. He would be sure, confident.
He would make her want his mouth more than air.
Stop! She didn't even realize she whimpered, that
her thighs slid together tightly, she could only feel that warm heavy
slide of pleasure in her center for long breaths.
So it was for days after that she could not shake
the image of him, the sound of him, that scalding touch of flesh to
her own. She stared out windows and hardly ate, stood silently for
endless fittings and didn't protest when her hair was subjected to
torturous curlers that she was forced to sleep in. She didn't yawn
when Aunt Christine listed the seemingly unending list of Guests she
would "have" to meet and remember the night of her party. She was
lost in the small memory of that touch.
It was making her crazy.
It was making her angry!
How could one man have such an effect, it just wasn't
right. And the type of man. She shivered, remembering those few glimpses,
very revealing glimpses, of him on the train. The girl bound and nude,
writhing for him, calling out for him.
How could she have.....enjoyed that?
**********************
Raven let booted feet drop from the ledge of the window
he had been staring out for quite some time, the chair groaning as
it took the full of his weight. Damned redhead. He had not been able
to shake the image of her for days when first he had seen her on the
train. Of course by the time he had come upon her in the fields, he
knew who she was. The thought made him smile.
She did not know him.
Nearly unconsciously his thumb and forefinger rubbed
together in a slow circle, feeling that length of redgold hair caught
between his flesh again. Silk. She was beautiful, excruciatingly so.
Certainly she didn't fit in with the newest rage for dark hair and
eyes, nor was she petite, or terribly ladylike. But he rather liked
all of that. She was luminous, even more so in her enraged shyness.
He laughed low to himself then. He liked that maybe
most of all, that taint of flame on her flesh when she was enraged.
Or aroused.
His smile came then. Slow. Confident. The smile faltered
soon after, she was also young and though her parents had been adventurers,
he knew through Christine that Bella was quite untutored in most things.
Bella. It was ...perfect. Ah, but she would never suit
him. She was the type born to be a man's wife, and he certainly was
not on the block for one, most assuredly not a wife who could not
suit to his particular needs. Needs Bella had already witnessed in
a roundabout way and run from.
But still there was something about her.. ********************
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