Ceremony

It was the most absurd ceremony ever performed in the northern part of England to date. The bride stood beside the groom, held in place by the groom himself with his arm wrapped around her waist holding her captive to his side. Her father had pulled her down the aisle, ignoring each of her pleas for him to be reasonable and shoved his only daughter, his only child into the arms of the rather large and mean looking Earl who simply raised his left eyebrow at her behavior before properly securing her next to him.

Her struggles had ceased the moment his arm looped underneath her arm and her face was nearly smashed by his chest when he gripped her tightly. She made a motion as if to protest to the vicar when her intended had casually leaned down to her hearing level and whispered a very viable threat. “Should you make any more of a scene, I shall throw up your skirts and thrash you like the spoiled brat you have shown yourself to be this day,”

The vicar could see the lady’s distress but was loathe to comment on it, given the fact that the Earl was glaring at him so intently. The vows were stated by each party, though she did receive a little squeeze from the Earl before she began her part, a warning no doubt.

She had no idea as to this man’s character, only what her father had told her that morning. He was in need of a wife and her father was in need of an heir. He would not see his lands be forfeited over to the king after his death and since her mother had not had the good sense to provide him with a son he would have marry her off to beget a proper heir.

Upon first glance at him she wondered how any woman would manage to stare at him for the rest of his days. His hair was raggedly long, his dark brooding eyes seemed to pierce the very soul of his victims. Her own chamber maids had told her of his deep voice and hard attitude, she needed to hear no more and had promptly gone to her father to beg him once more to reconsider the marriage.

The bride, all of 17 summers, drifted into a daze during the rest of the ceremony. She did not wish to hear anymore of the drivel the vicar was spouting, she needed to form a plan. She needed to find a way out of this marriage and head to London, surely the king would grant her an annulment. Her mother had been a lady in waiting for his wife when she was younger, surely they would remember her.

Before a plan could be formulated she heard the vicar finish his speech and felt her husband spin her around and plant his lips on top of hers. At first the kiss was crushing, hard and unrelenting, but then she felt his hand cup her chin and his thumb lightly trace the outline of her jaw. She found the sensation soothing and was able to relax a bit, the kiss then turned more intimate. He softened his lips and brought her closer to him, as if he were going to devour her very being. She heard a small moan escape from inside her and felt dazed when he pulled away from her, looking down at her with a very satisfied grin……