Book 1- His Medieval Obsession— Chapter 1
HARRIET
“The first time he kissed me, the candles blew out…And I forgot every name but his”
”Hurry up, Harriet! Too sluggish…you might anger our in-laws”
My stepmother burst into the room, the double doors groaning apart with a heavy bang.
I stood unmoving like a porcelain doll in front of the chamber mirror as the servants finished off by tightening my gown’s bodice to cinch my waist to give off the perfect figure that would show how fit I was to carry children.
The more they drew the bodice lacing, the more I sucked in a breath, stars bursting behind my eyes. My stomach walls clenched from the intense hunger that threatened to stretch out my intestines. I had only green tea and celery to avoid getting bloated for this big day.
Not that I cared—my stepmother wouldn't stop rambling on about how ‘pertinent’ it was to keep a slender figure.
“Let me have that!” she snapped at the servants, snatching the lace and without warning, she tugged forcefully at the bodice. My stomach walls closed in as a gasp escaped my lips and I reached out to grab the edge of a table beside me to keep steady.
My breasts pumped out higher from the square neckline and she fastened the strings in earnest, a satisfied smile on her face at what seemed to be a beautiful Job she had done on me.
I was dying. I could barely release a breath. My expression went pale with beads of sweat pooling at my temples as the servants hurriedly grabbed hand fans and began flapping them over my face.
Mother stood behind me. She kept a firm hold on both sides of my arms as we stared into each other’s eyes from the mirror’s reflection.
She leaned in and whispered in her sultry voice “We do not need them thinking you are a frail thing, Harriet”
“You are ripe and ready, mm? Go out there and let them see the promise in your figures before they ask if your womb works!”
I moved away from her in that instant, picking up my dainty silk gloves and slipping my fingers into them.
“I do not need to prove anything, mother. I am the duke’s betrothed” I reminded her, my lips pulsing in a frown as I tried to adjust in my gown's bodice.
Today was the day my marriage rite was to be held at the High Court chapel. By dusk, I would officially be married to Richard Bridgman the Duke of Barbington.
This marriage was not born out of love but for my father’s selfish gain to climb up the societal ladder and also settle a twenty-year-old land dispute that should not have anything to do with me.
I was just a sacrificial lamb in all this.
“Make haste now, young lady! The carriage awaits to ride you to the chapel” My step-mother’s sharp voice came again as she placed the silk embroidered veil over my head.
I took one final look at myself in the mirror, my chest squeezed up in anxiety as I raked my eyes over my chestnut hair styled in an elegant updo bun with soft tendrils resting on each side of my face. My long thick lashes hid my icy blue eyes occasionally, and my skin, white and porcelain, barely had any blemishes.
I ran stiff fingers down my cinched bodice while taking in the velvet crimson gown brushing the floor beneath my feet in its elegance and the dramatic trumpet sleeve with fur lines.
I looked…different.
“I bred you well, Harriet” Mother began again, a proud smile on her face. “If you did not have such a fair face that exudes such strange beauty, I doubt the Duke would have looked your way even once nor decide to grant our family this great privilege.”
I turned sharply from the mirror, stepping away from it as that sudden tug of discomfort returned. I knew where this conversation was going and I would not stand here and hear any more of it.
“Farewell, mother” I offered a stiff smile that was nowhere close to my heart.
My chamber doors were wide open from when she entered and I walked out that same way, my skirt trailing with poise behind me as I kept my head high.
I walked past the stoned walls, down the carpeted stairway, into the foyer, and out onto the large expanse of grassland where a well-polished silver carriage already awaited my presence.
The frontman stood by the door. He held it upon, while offering his hand which I didn't hesitate to take as he helped me get in. My heavy dress ballooned around in the warm confined space.
The horses soon neighed and the carriage rattled away, creating a stretch between me and the only home I had known in twenty-two years of my life.
After a long ride that felt like forever, I was helped out of the carriage. Right at the door of the chapel, my father stood in an expensive doublet and a tight look smeared across the olive patches of his face.
Taking cautious lady-like steps, I moved toward him with a straight face and curled my fingers firmly around the outstretched crook of his elbows as his other hand came down to pat mine.
To onlookers, this scene seemed like a father giving his daughter warm touches, probably to ease her anxious mind right before he handed her to the groom, whereas he was showering my hand with an insufferable squeeze.
“You are late, Harriet. Do not bring disgrace on me, you should be thankful the duke is a generous man” He said through his teeth, lips unmoving.
I straightened my poise. “Sorry, father” then looked ahead at the man by the altar. The duke and my soon-to-be husband— someone I had only ever met once.
My father handed me over to him like a prized mare and as I took my stand right in front of him, everything else the priest said faded into the background.
I wanted none of this. I believed in fairytale weddings. I wanted a knight who would sweep me off my feet someday, but I knew the chances of that ever happening were merely wishful thinking.
Everywhere I went, I had suitors chasing after me. Fine. Old. Young lads but none of them ever appealed to me. My heart never went out to any of them no matter how hard I tried and I had resigned to my fate that I could never love a man.
Most of them fled when they heard the rumors of a strange entity hovering around me—They said my eyes held black magic I used in tempting men into falling at my feet. Only this fine Duke was brave enough to look me in the eye and propose marriage the next day to my father.
The villagers said I bewitched him so I could maintain the life of a noblewoman and snatch the vacant seat of Duchess for myself.
I want neither of those, nor do I love this man standing before me. I barely even had a beating heart and I was starting to think the rumors might be true.
“You are quite the spectacle, Harriet. Makes me eager to unwrap my present” His fine voice serenaded my ears as we exchanged our rings. My heart whipped as I managed a small smile.
“I pronounce you husband and wife” The priest’s voice thundered like a cruel stamp on my fate and the families clapped.
I had now become the Duchess of Barbington.
I was still in a daze when my waist got pulled into him and I could barely even protest when he kissed me before watchful eyes, a thumb of his stealthily brushing over the swell of my breast.
I froze. My breath caught and it wasn't from pleasure—it was the fury that surged right into me, twisting hot and gutting.
My eyelid squeezed tightly as I shut my eyes to block out the intense feeling of a dark rage that suddenly clouded my senses. This was strange, it felt so foreign, my insides threatened to burn.
He finally pulled away and a sharp gasp left my lips. My knees shook and almost gave way if not for his strong hands that held me mid-air.
“Careful, Harriet,” He muttered, voice edged with irritation as he steadied me.
But I was barely listening as I still felt so hot. My heart pumped so fiercely in my ears, a strange warmth spreading through me and curling low in my belly.
A heavy gust of wind blew into the church, dark clouds looming above the roof. The hairs on my neck stood with sudden chills settling in my bones—something or someone was watching me.
