My Lord Ax by Toni V. Sweeney
She was
sitting on a stool before the hearth, wrapped in a shapeless and completely
unappealing long-sleeved garment covering her from neck to ankles, and making
her look smaller than she’d appeared before. Her hair was unbound now. Her
sister must have brushed it for it hung down her back, a red-gold cascade
gleaming in the light from the fireplace and the one lamp near the bedside.
Ax
pulled the door shut. It made a resounding clang as the lock’s metal flanges
slid into place and he saw her flinch slightly, as if the very sound sent fear
surging through her. Is she
that afraid of what’s to come? he wondered. Or of me? That he might
strike fear in a woman had never entered his mind. Man, yes, but a female? They
always welcomed him.
“Well,
my wife.” He decided to go for a slightly lighthearted approach and see how
that fared. “So here we are. Ready for our union?’
No
answer. She didn’t even look at him. He walked over to the hearth, unbuckling
his swordbelt which one of the other warlords had been waiting to return it to
him the moment he left the Temple. Placing sword and scabbard carefully on the
mantle, he then turned back to her. At his approach, she turned her face
slightly away and he reached out, placing his hand on her chin.
“Don’t
touch me!” She burst into movement so quickly he was shocked. Slapping his hand
away, she leaped from the stool, knocking it over in her haste as she whirled
and backed away. A surge of anger swept through Ax. She’d startled him. His
ability to anticipate an opponent’s moves enabled him to survive battles, and
earned him his reputation as a skilled warrior, and to have this small,
nightrail-clad figure surprise him so…
…but this isn’t a war.
“You
speak.” He forced his voice soft, as if talking to a frightened animal, though
soothing creatures wasn’t something he had much practice at. “I’m relieved. I
was beginning to wonder if saying your marriage vows struck you mute.” She
continued to move away from him, hands in front of her as if to ward him off.
“As for touching, I’m afraid we must,” he said it reasonably, as he continued
walking toward her. “We’re husband and wife now. It’s expected.”
Her
shoulders struck the mantel and she stopped. He swore he’d never seen such a
look on any woman’s face, one of sheer terror. It struck him like a fist. The
girl truly wanted no part of him.
Great
Goddess, am I going to have to
force her? He’d never done that to any woman. With the help of a
little wine or some cozening words, even the most reluctant wench always came
around. Ax had never used physical force on any female and he truly didn’t want
to start with the one to whom he was married.
“Come
now, sweetness…” He’d attempt words first, he decided. She was looking around
in panic now, seeing there was nowhere to go. “It won’t be so bad, I promise.”
His
arm went around her waist, drawing her against his body. She stiffened, her
hands going up, pressing against his chest, as if to push him away. Then her
fingers wrapped in the chain around her neck, clutching at the ornament on it.
Some medallion or other, he barely gave it a glance as he bent to kiss her. She
dodged, body twisting, breasts and hips brushing his. He put his hand behind
her head, holding it immobile as he pressed his mouth against hers.
She
went rigid. Ax’s kiss met lips clamped shut. He swore he could feel her teeth
grinding together. He held her more tightly, body thrust against hers, feeling
a jolt of lust in spite of everything. Then he was staggering backward as a
sudden burst of strength and a violent shove propelled him away from her. She tried
to run past him. He caught her arm, swinging her around and pulling her once
more into an embrace.
She
gave a short whimper, then just stood there. Ax kissed her again. Her hands
fumbled between them. Is she seeing the way of things? Attempting to fondle
me? He was wondering if he should deepen the kiss and risk getting his
tongue bitten when a sudden sting against his ribs brought him up short.
“What…?”
Pushing the girl away, he looked down. Her right hand was at his waist, and the
point of the short-bladed dagger she held was in his side. “You cut me!”
In
disbelief, he let her go. She backed away, taking the knife with her. Bright
red seeped through the slit in the black velvet. Slowly, Ax touched the spot,
looking at the blood on his fingers. The blade had penetrated all four layers
of coat, doublet, jerkin, and shirt, as well as his skin.
“Touch
me again and I’ll do worse.” She waved the knife recklessly. It was a
spring-blade, and he recognized it as the thing she’d worn around her neck.
What had looked like an oblong amulet was actually the handle of the knife.
“Next time I’ll cut off your stones.”
For
just a moment, Ax was so shaken, he couldn’t speak. Wiping his fingers on the
tail of his cotehardie, he looked from his wife to the blade in her
hand. This time it was he who stepped back.
“Very
well.” It was said through teeth clenched as tightly as her own. “If that’s the
way you wish it, my wife.” He fairly spat the last two words. To Hell with
this! He had no doubt she’d do as she threatened. I’m not risking a
gelding to bed this little bitch. Goddess, what did I ever do to deserve
this? Wincing slightly, he ripped off the coat, dropped it, and began to
unbutton his doublet.
“W-what
are you doing?” The words came out in a trembling rush. She raised the knife
higher. The blade began to shake.
“Preparing
for bed. I’ve spent a very exhausting, and I must say, particularly unsettling
day, and I’m tired. Since you wish nothing to do with me, I intend to forge ahead
with what I’d rather be doing, which is getting some much-needed sleep.” The
doublet was off now, he stripped away the jerkin also, sending it after the
other garments into the chair. “So, if you’ll excuse me…”
Stalking past her as she stared at him, he skirted the
fallen stool and headed for the bed. Once in its shadows, he untied the points
of his hosen from his shirt and let them fall, then removed them. He dropped
the hose to the floor, dabbing at the little wound on his ribs with his shirt
before tossing it aside also. Leaning over and giving his wife a full but
unintentional view of his backside Ax cupped his hand over the top of the
lamp’s chimney and blew out the flame.
“W-where’s your
nightshirt?” She hoped its absence was simply because it was their wedding
night.
“I think you know the answer to that.” Then, he lifted the
covers and slid into the bed. “Good night.”
There was a quiet creaking as the bed straps gave under his
weight.
“W-where
am I supposed to sleep?” It was a few moments before she thought of that.
“There’s
the chair.” He raised himself on one elbow, gesturing. “Or you can sleep on the
hearth. Or share this bed with me. I really don’t care.” He lay back down.
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