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4: A house tour
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2022-05-09 18:27:00*Ben*
My body's reaction as she places her hand on my arm startles me. She might as Well have rubbed her naked body against mine. Seriously, what is wrong with me ? Why do I react so strongly to having her near ?
Fuck this, I need to get to town, if not New York then the nearest bar or something, and tonight. The idea of going to bed in my room, imagining her naked form spread on my fathers bed … I close my eyes shortly, no I refuse to think about that.
As we walk into the hallway I am trying to hold my breath as every single one has my nose filled with a seductive scent of jasmine flowers. No common scent that half the Young women wear for her. Actually everything about her seems far from common, why would she marry my father ? I am sure she could easily get a young handsome man.
“I have to say that I am truly sorry for being insensitive about your fertility. Sorry, I didn't mean to bring back painful memories”. The pain in her eyes as she had answered me hit me like a fist to the guts. I had wished to turn back time and rip out my own tongue before asking her those things.
“I still think of him every day, Mr Archer. His death colors my actions to this day. You should see this as a good thing as it makes me understand your actions. I realise you just want to protect your father from being taken advantage of. I promise you that I wish him no harm”.
I look at her. “It is still a conundrum to me Mrs Sinclair, why are you willing to marry a man who can almost be your grandfather ? there has to be something behind it”.
“I have known love … love does not give you security, a roof over your head or food. I am in need of security”.
“So how long were you married ?”
She sighs softly. “We were together for two years”.
“And how did you lose him, if I may ask ?”
Another sigh as she looks out the window. “Sickness”.
“My condolences, truly. How long ago was this ?”
“Six months”. After a small pause she glances up at me. “Why don't you just ask your father to see our correspondence ? It’s fine with me and it will answer all your questions”.
I don’t believe that, at all. I have a nagging feeling I could spend the rest of my life asking questions and not have all the answers I wish for about her.
“Is there a reason none of the clocks are working ?” She looks at a tall clock in the hallway as we pass it.
I lead her up the stairs. “Oh they work. They were just all stopped at the day of my birth, the moment my mother passed”. Half an hour was the amount of motherly I got, all the time she had been given to hold me.
“How did your mother die ?”
“I killed her”. At the top of the stairs, I turn and face her, not surprised to see horror painted on her finely formed features. Apparently my father's messages to her don't answer all the questions. “When she gave birth to me. Why do you think my father named me Killian?”
Her eyes go wide. “No, that has to be … a coincidence. No one would be that mean towards their own kid”.
“I am not sure he was striving to be mean. It was more a reminder to himself and to me. I want you to truly understand what your life here will be like. So let's start here”. I find the right key, unlocking the door. As I open it I have to remove cobwebs from the opening before we can enter. I make a sweeping motion with my arm towards the massive and once upon a time elaborate room. “This is the ballroom. The last party here was hosted at Christmas, shortly before my mom passed away”.
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Promised to the father, married to the son 5: Crossing a line
*Skye* I have to admit that I hesitated just a moment before walking into the room. We are standing on the landing, looking over the musty room and the two grand staircase leading down to it. The look of things makes me seriously fear that the floor might give away under us. Had the railing not been covered in years of dust I would have probably grabbed onto it for dear life. Unable to hold back a small half sneeze I look at the powder layer covering everything. The windows are covered in grime and the draperies faded, the sun that does get through shimmers in cobwebs and reveals brains of dust dancing, like ghosts of guests long gone. A couple of vases still holds flowers, or their whitered remains “Those other rooms we passed on the way here, the ones with closed doors. Are they all like this one ? Neglected and … sad”. I ask him softly, this place seems to demand hushed speaking. “Unfortunately yes. My father has allowed no one to touch or change anything since my mother die
Последнее обновление : 2022-05-09Promised to the father, married to the son 6: An agreement
*Skye* In horror, still trying to recover from Ben’s proclamation, I watch as he turns to his father. “I assume you have no objections”. The elderly man smiles. “None whatsoever. I was rather hoping for this outcome when all was said and done”. Ben turns back to me. “What do you say, Skye ? Much better to be my wife than my mother, don't you think ?” “No !” The word comes out harsh, abrupt, but inside I am screaming, No, no, no, no, no ! I can not marry Ben. Absolutely can not do that. I am here to marry his father. An old man who believes he needs an heir when he already has one. Not his sexy son, who causes my insides to flutter every time he looks at me, my body to warm when he touches me and my entire being to dissolve into a heated puddle when he kisses me. I can not, will not, marry him. "No !" I repeat with the authority of my conviction. With a cheeky grin, he tosses the papers onto my lap and settles against the sofa in an insolent lounge, his arm resting along the ba
Последнее обновление : 2022-05-11Promised to the father, married to the son 7: Our room ?
*Ben* I am utterly surprised by the wave of relief washing over me. I had not realised how badly I wanted to hear a yes from her. I mean it’s not that I really want a wife, right ? But oh how I want her in my bed, with that luscious mouth, her cheeky comebacks and those whiskey coloured eyes. The way she challenges me entices me, and I have a feeling she will be challenging me at every turn, especially at night. We can have fun together. It might not be the best reason to marry, but hey it’s also not the worst I have heard. Holding out my hand to her, I watch as she takes a deep breath, then crosses the floor to me, placing her hand in mine. I give her small hand a squeeze before tugging it into the crook of my elbow, sending her a bright smile. “It is not a nice thing to gloat”. She huffs slightly. “Admit you would be doing the same if you were in my shoes”. I arch my brow, grinning down at her. “We both know you would”. The little cheeky half smile she gives me makes me wish
Последнее обновление : 2022-05-14Promised to the father, married to the son 8: The plan revealed
*Ben* As I stride into the library, which I have a feeling has not been used for actually reading since my mother was alive, I hear the booming laughter of my father and the priest. I had expected a man of God to be more solemn, but reverend Brown is clearly enjoying the alcohol provided by my father. But men are sitting in front of the unlit fireplace, clutching a half empty glass of amber liquid. I go to the small bar and pot myself a glass, God knows I can use it, before walking over to lean against the mantle. My father seems very much too happy and pleased with himself when he lifts his glass. “Cheers to the lucky groom”. I take a slow glass of my glass. “Have you considered that there is paperwork and such needed for a wedding ?” “It’s all taken care of, I got everything we need right here”. My father pads the pocket of his jacket. I hold out his hand. “Can I just see that ?” My father nods as he reaches into his pocket and pulls out some folded papers that he hands to m
Последнее обновление : 2022-05-16Promised to the father, married to the son 9: Mr and Mrs Archer
*Skye* Run, run, run ! My mind plays the constant refrain as Mr Archer escorts me to the parlor. Feeling as though I am traversing through a nightmare, I fight to tamp down the trembling that threatens to erupt at any moment. Never in my life have I seen such unbridled hunger in a man's eyes. When Ben had taken my hand and pressed his lips against it, it didn't matter that it was such an innocent spot. The heat emanating from him is such that I feel scorched. As we enter the front hall, I know that if I am smart, I will head straight out the door. I am no novice to men when it comes to what they are capable of, but I suspect nothing in my experiences has prepared me for what Ben will deliver. I had thought being provocative would give me the upper hand, and all it had done is cause me to realize that I might be completely out of my element with him. Even now, I feel his gaze boring into the nape of my neck, traveling across my bare shoulders, sliding down to my hips, back up. Hi
Последнее обновление : 2022-06-13Promised to the father, married to the son 10: A little monkey
*Ben* So I haven’t been able to whisk my bride up to my bedchamber after the ceremony because the cook had prepared a feast that would spoil if not served immediately. At the table in the small dining room, I sit across from my father, with my wife … My wife ! … To my left near my cold heart, and the priest to his right. As I sip my wine, I consider the possibility that my mercenary wife apparently is in possession of a conscience. It had surprised me beyond all measure when she had questioned accepting the ring. I had expected her to take one look at the sparkling jewels and salivate. But she hadn’t. She isn’t comfortable with it. Even now in between courses, she fiddles with it, rotating it as though she wishes she could remove it. I don’t think it is because it symbolizes that she is married. It is because it symbolizes love and between us there is none, not even a glimmer. Nor will there ever be. We both know it. “Where does your family come from, Lady Mrs Archer ?” Brown as
Последнее обновление : 2022-06-22Promised to the father, married to the son 11: After dinner
*Skye* After the dinner is finished me and my new husband retreats to the library, where he pours us both a glass of port. Outside his father is sending off the priest, thanking him for his work. We sit down in front of the fireplace, the silence creeping in on us like fog, the only sound in the room being the cracking of the burning logs. But for some reason, even here in front of the roaring flames I feel oddly cold. My husband has been watching me every second of the evening, like he expects me to sneak off and steal the family jewels or something else nefarious. He still thinks of me as nothing but a gold digger, but it is nothing about his money and all about the protection his name and status provides. I realise he might be undressing me in his mind, but why should he bother when he can drag me off to the bedroom and simply do it for real ? From the heated kisses we shared earlier I will expect our intimacy to be rather rough and quick … not to mention repeated often. I ha
Последнее обновление : 2022-07-19Promised to the father, married to the son 12: A ghost on the moore
*Skye* He sweeps me up into his arms as though I weigh little more than a cloud in the sky. Never before has a man carried me. I don’t want to admit how safe and secure he makes me feel as he strides from the room with purpose, but then if I have learned anything at all about him today it is that he does everything with determination.I know beyond any doubt that I am on the verge of becoming his wife in truth. There will be no turning back once he claims me. As he takes the stairs two steps at a time, guilt pricks my conscience. I should confess everything before it is too late. Our marriage can be annulled. I can slink away in shame and mortification, find a way to survive, to protect all that needs protecting. As though a miraculous answer will suddenly reveal itself when it hadn’t before. We pass the closed door to the master’s bedchamber … his fathers room. His strides quickly eat up the distance to the corner room at the far end of the hallway. He wants me. I can sense it in t
Последнее обновление : 2022-07-20
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Promised to the father, married to the son Has he seen her?
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Promised to the father, married to the son Her whole story
*Skye* I lie on my side beneath the covers, staring at the pale moonlight filtering in through the windows. My life has been a series of escapes, of running away, each one leading to something worse than what had come before. Reading the gossip Magazines, I never considered the rich to be very noble. The men are womanizers; the ladies are silly chits who care only about gowns, money, and dance partners. None of them have real troubles or concerns. Through Montie, I havd learned they are a selfish lot concerned only with their own wants and needs. The other mistresses I have known saw the upper crust of society as a means to an end. Nice residence, fancy clothes, fine jewelry. And if it means giving up one's good name and reputation, they think it worth it for all they gain to be spoiled and pampered, even if it means indulging the whims of a specific gentleman anytime day or night. To be his bird in a gilded cage, to sing when prompted, to keep silent otherwise. Mistresses mistaken
