Free Reads!! Wednesday Briefs – Innocence & Carnality Part 18
Welcome to the next part in my Wednesday Briefs flash fiction serial, Innocence & Carnality! Each chapter has to be between 500 and 1,000 words and this week I chose the prompt, use “When were you going to tell me that?”
How long has the honeymoon gone on for?
Click here to start from the beginning
Part 18
Poets described the act of lovemaking in endless sonnets, yet never quite do it justice. Hidden behind these four walls, I finally indulged in pleasures I’d been denied in my young life, and others I’d never fathomed. Rother’s appetites were unquenchable and his approach unapologetic. Unused muscles ached in unspeakable places, making me wince with every movement, yet I smiled wondering when he’d come for me again.
“What time is it?” I asked. The shutters continued to block out the daylight, leaving the passage of time marked only by a soft knock at the door. No one would be standing on the other side, only a tray full of food and drink left behind for us. I’d lost track of how many times this occurred.
“I haven’t the faintest idea. My best guess is late afternoon.” Rother gave a languid stretch on the bed until he rested his hands behind his head, looking completely at home in the nude. “The last meal they delivered appeared to be lunch.”
The clock over the mantle read nine. “The clock is wrong.”
“The clock is broken.”
“You haven’t hired a machinist to repair it?”
“It didn’t seem that critical. I had other priorities at the time. I was making plans to acquire a husband.”
Carefully, I lifted the timepiece away from the fireplace, testing its weight. I marveled at the grain pattern of the veneer. The elegant wood has been polished to satin luster begging to be touched. Details of crafted brass gave a gorgeous finish to the item. It was sacrilege such a fine piece wasn’t functional. I opened the back and explored the insides as best I could by the fire light. Even so, I saw the problem right away.
“It doesn’t appear to be damaged. I should be able to correct this fairly easily.”
“You know how to fix a clock?”
I could hear the doubt. “Yes. I made friends with the local clocksmith a long time ago. Father wasn’t pleased I was learning a trade skill, but it gave me something to do so he didn’t have to interact with me as often. As long as I kept it quiet, he didn’t stop me.”
“When were you going to tell me that?”
Was that a touch of annoyance I heard? “I assumed you knew.”
“Hmm… I never would have guessed.”
Disappointment pricked at my bubble of contentment. “You don’t really know much about me, do you?”
“Your personal skills were not on my list of requirements.”
Rother’s words were meant as a joke—I hoped—but the dismissive undertone still stung. I wondered if my mother felt the same as she navigated her marriage. It was likely a common symptom of an arranged marriage; the bitter drawback of a noble’s privilege. In truth, I knew as little about the man I’d given myself to over and over, as he knew of me. I shook off the sensation and sought to find the positive side of my union.
“My tools were in my luggage. I wasn’t about to leave them behind for my father dispose of. Where would they be?”
“Since we’ve locked ourselves in here, they’re likely resting in the hallway. The staff were under strict orders not to disturb us beyond providing meals until we emerged.”
I hunted down my breeches and jacket and started dressing. I debated on finding my undergarments, but took the leap and decided they weren’t required. Rother continued to lay back on the expansive bed, a decadent example of temptation. His stare refused to waver as he smirked like the devil.
“What?”
Rother chuckled. “I’m amused by how worried you are someone might see you undressed.”
“And I find it disturbing how indifferent you are on the subject. I have no intention of stepping outside wrapped in a bed sheet.”
“No one in this house would be upset by it.”
I glared at Rother with a look of utter disbelief. “I would.” As if two days of communal hibernation with my husband would erase my manners. Two days was my best guess. Rother refused to allow me to cover myself between sessions which left me exhilarated. However, it was one thing to be bare during intimacy, quite another to walk down the halls in my birthday suit. One simply didn’t act like a heathen in front of the help.
Rother climbed out of bed, his unclothed, powerful movements made my heart race for more reasons than one. “Well hurry along and get your tools. I feel another urge to have my way with you coming on.”
My face heated at his frank remark, but I continued to watch his glorious backside as he strode into the ensuite. Fresh arousal and air filled my lungs. I’d never dressed so quickly without Harston’s aid.
Opening the door, I glanced in each direction, looking for my luggage and witnesses. At the end of the hall sat my suitcase, and I made a point to close the door as I headed after it. Perhaps my husband was disaffected by the stares of others, but I didn’t want to encourage any passersby.
As soon as I stepped out, the protection of the room collapsed and a wave of contrition descended on me. I understood our activities were proper between a married couple, but anyone who saw me would know what we’d been up to and I wasn’t ready to face it. Not publicly. I could only imagine what crude jibe Blythe would make at my expense.
With an anxious step I hurried, kneeling before my luggage to inspect it. My case’s buckles were still closed, and I was relieved to see no sign of tampering. I hadn’t been in Francine long enough to trust the staff beyond my own.
So focused on gathering my belongings, I didn’t hear the footsteps until they were virtually on top of me.
“I’m amazed you can walk upright without help.”
Cringing, I struggled to find a polite tone.
“Good afternoon, Vivian.”
Check back next Wednesday for the next installation… Be sure to take a read at the other briefers free reads this week here: Wednesday Briefs
