Ginevra opened her eyes to a darkened carriage. She looked around, realizing that she had been leaning on Boni's shoulder while she had been asleep. She flushed…it was far from proper etiquette expected of a married woman.
It looked like Boni was still fast asleep.
She squinted out through the window, seeing lights like fireflies coming into view. Were they stopping at an inn for the night?
"Where are we?" she said, thinking out loud.
"We're here," Boni said behind her. Ginevra turned around to face him. "You mean, we've already arrived?"
"Tomaso knew some shortcuts, so we were able to cut down the travel time," Boni replied nonchalantly.
Ginevra furrowed her eyebrows. From three days to a couple of hours? Perhaps her mind was still foggy from having just woken up.
The carriage came around the wide pebble entranceway and smoothly came to a halt at the great front doors. The footman swung open the door in the next moment. As Ginevra stepped out, the full mansion came slowly into view. It's dark stone facade rose into the sky, overshadowing all below.
This place… really feels like a palace. How can one man live in this place? Doesn't he get lonely?
Under the glow of the lamps lining the front of the estate, stood members of the staff. She recognized Manfredi among them. A plump woman with hair coiled into a tight bun came forward, stepping away from the line of servant girls behind her.
"Your Grace, welcome to the Maldoni estate! Anette and I will take you to your quarters." The servant girls all fell into curtsies as she passed them, and Ginevra acknowledged them with a nod of her head. She was just passing the threshold of the door when she stopped and turned back.
Boni was standing by the carriage, hands held behind his back. He nodded at her with a closed-lipped smile. Ginevra returned the smile and turned to follow Mrs. Hastings into the Maldoni palace.
***
The dim lighting of the hall of the Maldoni estate was an ideal place for many a late night rendezvous, and neither the dwellers nor the servants of the estate were immune to it.
A young lady giggled in the hall. Luca was holding a servant girl in his arms, who was obviously entranced by him.
Luca was grinning. He wrapped his arms more tightly around Anette.
"Oh and one more thing," he said, leaning in towards her ear. The girl giggled as he whispered into her ear. Anette's eyes widened as she listened to him. Luca pulled back and Anette looked up at him, her eyes and mouth shaped into perfect o's.
"His Grace asked that?"
Luca reached over to the table standing against the wall behind him to grab the elegantly tied parcel lying on it. He handed it to Anette, who nodded furiously. Then, giving Luca a quick peck on the cheek, she slipped through the door behind her to her lady's quarters.
Ginevra looked around the room that would be hers from now on. The bedroom was tastefully done, with light fabrics and colors chosen for the drapes and the furnishings. Large french windows overlooked the west face of the estate, leading out onto a small balcony. The ceiling was high and painted with clouds and rose petals blowing in the breeze. At the far end of the room was a door which led into the bathroom from where she had just come from. Centered, against the back wall, stood her canopied bed. Anette emerged from the bathroom, a light fabric hanging over her arm. As she came closer, Ginevra realized it was her nightgown. It was a delicate cream color with a hint of pink, the color of a cherry blossom petal.
Anette slipped it over her head. It felt light and smooth to the skin – Ginevra had never felt a fabric more gentle. She walked across the floor to the mirror which stood by her wardrobe and instantly blushed. The nightgown clung to her body, outlining her figure. The back dipped lower than any dress.
"Your Grace, the chamber pot is behind that door if you need it. And please make sure to drink lots of water. The air is thinner up here so it's important to stay dehydrated," Anette said as she went around the room, tidying up any remaining items. Ginevra looked over at the large pitcher of water that had been placed on the side table by her bedside. After confirming that there was nothing else which Ginevra required, she bid her goodnight and slipped out.
Ginevra was one again alone in her room.
I was too embarrassed to ask about the Duke. I know the expectations for the first night, but nothing about this marriage has been exactly normal…perhaps, he was delayed and has not even arrived at the estate yet.
He had definitely seemed to be in a rush to leave the capital. But what could have possibly been so urgent that he couldn't even stay for the ceremony?
Ginevra stared at herself in the mirror of her dressing table. This was her chance to do something for her family. She wasn't there for her father when he needed her the most.
He had been left to deal with the financial strains and emotional burden of the attack while she was sent to live with her grandmother and she had gradually watched him wither away from the grief, the accumulated debt, the risk of another deadly attack as the conflict between the warring dukedoms stretched on. But, she wasn't helpless anymore. She finally could do something.
Ginevra yawned. It felt like the past couple of days had really drained everything from her. She crawled into bed and blew out the candles on the candelabra by her bedside, the cloud-like bed enveloping her with its soft embrace. She was just drifting off to sleep when she felt the pressure in her lower abdomen. She had drunk an entire pitcher.
Ginevra stumbled through the dark room in the direction of the closet Anette had pointed out. She stretched her arms forward, bending towards the ground to search for the chamber pot with her hands. As she crawled forward, her hands suddenly felt something. She blindly patted it – it was leathery and smooth. When it suddenly moved, she jerked her head up, meeting Taren's gaze. He was looming over her, his blue eyes sharp and intently focused on her, without revealing any expression. He was wearing a loose white cotton shirt.
Ginevra felt her cheeks flaming up. She was too surprised to move. Taren continued to look down at her, one eyebrow raised in both question and amusement.
"H-hello," Ginevra finally ventured, breaking the painful silence that crashed down on her like splinters of glass. Even uttering that single word made her flinch. Why is Taren in my closet? "Good evening." His voice was calm and collected as he stood over her.
Ginevra glanced around the room, her eyes adjusted to the darkness. Ah, this is Taren's room. Should she apologize and scramble back to her room? Give some sort of excuse?
"H-how are you?" she finally ventured.
"Did you drop something?" Taren's face was as hard and unreadable as ever. His mouth a thin line, the thick eyebrow raised.
"Oh, oh this! I was just looking for –" Ginevra scrambled to get up, only to trip on her long nightgown as she felt herself falling forward. Taren's arm swiftly moved under her, so she fell into the crook of his arm.
Ginevra gazed up at Taren, whose eyes now held a hint of amusement.
"No need to be embarrassed."
Before Ginevra could fully register what was happening, she felt herself being lifted up in the air and carried across the room.
Ginevra's eyes darted around Taren's bedroom. What is he doing? Does he think I came in here to seduce him!? His strong arms seemed to burn through the light fabric where he was touching her.
Taren gently laid her down on the canopied bed. He leaned over her, his neck collar loose, revealing a toned chest. A lock of obsidian hair fell over his brow as he gazed down at her with fiery blue eyes that now flickered with a different energy.
"So, where shall we begin?"
For a moment, Ginevra's mind blanked. The scent of winter air overpowered her nostrils, with a tinge of a bitter-sweet undertone. All she could think of was the warmth of his body hovering over hers, even though he wasn't touching her at all. The sound of her shoe falling to the ground woke her from her stupor. I'm not ready for this!
Any drop of obligation and marital duty she had talked herself into over the past couple of days was gone.
"W-wait!" she cried, as she placed her palm on his chest to maintain the distance between them.
Taren leaned back, eyebrow raised in question.
"What's wrong?"
"W-what are you doing?" What she actually meant was, why are you doing this? Or how are we doing this? But that's the first thing that had come out.
"Exactly what it looks like. I'm about to kiss my wife."
"B-but w-we don't even know each other!"
Taren looked down at her with a blank expression.
"Are we going to behave like…like animals?"
Taren looked down at her hand which was pressed against his chest. Ginevra flushed, realizing that she was the one touching him. She started to pull her hand away, but Taren gently caught her wrist mid-air, holding her pale wrist like one would the stem of a flower.
"And what's wrong with that? You were the one who wandered into my bedroom dressed like that." Taren's gaze brushed over her, bringing a flush to Ginevra's cheeks.
"It was a mistake!"
Taren gazed at the milky wrist in his grasp. It really was so delicate. "You should be more thoughtful of your actions."
Ginevra felt a fire flaring up in her chest. She? She should be more thoughtful of her actions? Everything she had done for this marriage had been calculated and thought out with little of her own interests or desires in mind. She felt her face getting hotter from her cold welcome, to the quick ceremony to the long ride.
"I would never want to kiss a sadistic murderer like you!" She held her breath, hardly believing what she had just said. What was she doing? Telling the most ruthless man of the kingdom of Deceris that he was a sadistic murderer. Did she want to sign her own death sentence?
Ginevra recoiled on reflex. Something shifted in his eyes. His amused expression faded out and she flinched as she saw him raise her arm. However, to her surprise, Taren moved his arm to rest on the edge of the bed. Then, with a low, measured voice that sent a chill down her spine, he responded, "You seem very knowledgeable about my reputation." A ghost of a smile passed over his lips. Always that same smile which seemed to hide something that lingered just under its surface.
"It's true."
Did he just admit to it himself?
"However, the choice to marry me was yours. You should be more firm about following through with your decisions." He was right – she had agreed to marry him. Even though she had had little choice, ultimately it had still been her decision.
"I'll never become one of you. You're a Maldoni – you don't know how to love."
Taren shifted his gaze to the window through where the milky light of the moon streamed in.
"Of course not. Love can't grow in a cold climate. You should know that, Ginevra."
Ginevra's eyes fell to his hand resting on the bed. It was a large hand, with long, lean fingers. It held strength, but also a particular delicacy.
"Why did you marry me, Your Grace? I'm sure you're aware there was nothing of value to be gained from the House of Scaraveggi. So, why?"
"Nothing of value?" Taren gazed down at her, his fiery blue eyes glistening in the dark room.
Ginevra shifted back slightly, Taren's energy as his strong frame towered over her alarmed her.
"It's simple. Because I want you."