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In the midst of Charlotte’s near-somnambulant reverie, the snappish tone of this nobleman’s wife seemed like a bell tolling ominously. She should have no reason to fear the lady, but then, most fears are irrationally found in the human heart. Thankfully, this one disappeared, at least for the moment, swept away as Charlotte’s husband carried her off to bed.
Oh! The memories of that great big bed swam through Charlotte’s thoughts as she awakened the next day. The aroma of autumn flowers was in the air; and the new sun filtered though the trellis vines casting artful shadows across her nakedness.
“Husband, are you there?” she hummed.
“Yes, and you’re still alive?”
“I am, sir.”
“I wonder how you survived.”
“Are there brides of Ilusia who die before the wedding is over?” she asked.
His smirk was somewhat sweet. “Some don’t recover, though they hardly die.”
“And what happens when they don’t recover?”
“They become so lost in their carnal pursuits that they forget the rest of the world and become useless for anything but fucking.”
“I thought that would make a virtuous slave to be so mindless?” Charlotte replied.
“Perhaps, but I’d prefer a wife of some wit?”
“That is true?”
“Of course. You think of me only as a lecherous brute?”
“I cannot say, or I’d be indicting myself.” She tried not to giggle and he laughed with her.
“Truth is, I miss the spark of fire in your tongue.”
“No! Would you have me relinquish this submissive attitude now that my surrender has been won?”
“I’d have you be yourself—just as you declared you would be—so then, I may punish you for being ornery and shrill; so you can come back to this place of resignation when it pleases me to have you do my bidding.”
“You confuse me, milord.”
“I confuse myself,” he grinned. “You are my wife now, Lady Charlotte. And have earned the right to be. You will submit, you are my slave. Be advised of that. But be Charlotte above all and you will please me most.”
They lay together in their marriage bed—the grand one she’d seen her first day in Ilusia. How she’d loathed this life then, and now, how she treasured the luxury of her present surrender.
d
For some time—well over her first married year when the fragrance of the new marriage was most sweet—the delicate balance between surrender and freedom was well-guarded by this noble couple. Charlotte often spoke freely to her husband in matters of any concern to her. He would decide if she needed to be reigned in—and often she was. Though her punishments were severe, they were not unwelcome. And to maintain her status as a slave, she’d be collared and chained to the bed each night with her wrists often bound together. She came to expect bondage and relish the contentment found in her containment. It would seem they had the prescription for a life-long peace; but time does march along and circumstance and boredom and new pursuits do change the mind and even the heart.
Chapter Seven
Three years later …
“Ah! You anger me so!” Charlotte bellowed as she sprung from bed and stormed to take her bath.
She was closely followed by a furious Mountbane who grabbed her hair and pulled her with him into the hallway while she screamed. At midday, everyone was about. The first on the tempestuous scene, Sir Tristan, found the two in a physical fight and pulled them off each other.
“Cooler heads settle such differences,” he said evenly.
“I shall not settle this one with that man!” Charlotte declared. “I’d rather be sent back to the dungeon.”
“Which is exactly what I’ll do,” Mountbane’s eyes flared from their depths.
