The room echoed with the clicking and cawing of the bird.
Yes, cawing, like a raven.
Mynas are intelligent birds that could imitate and with patience, they can be taught a lot of things. They mimic human speech with adequate training.
The Archduke—Jerrick, as he was known those days—found an abandoned young myna. He named it Jaylene and raised it in the garden he was looking after. Little Jessamyn insisted he stayed with them as he had no home. Jessamyn's father had to give in to her wish and employed him there. The Beaumont mansion had vast gardens and he was one of the gardeners.
And for some reason, he trained that bird to caw like a raven.
It irritated her so much; that she would chase that bird with a sling to kill it.
She had a tough childhood. She was not obedient in the way she was expected to be and faced punishments from the governess all the time. The breezy garden was her refuge where she would be left alone. She loved watching the branches swaying in the wind.
The irritating cawing would replenish her energy level. Her tears would dry up and as she chased around the bird, she forgot everything else.
But that was the past.
Jessamyn stared at the myna cawing and fluttering its wings as if teasing her, waiting for her to chase it.
Jessamyn could only sigh. She was not a fifteen-year-old anymore. At twenty-eight, she had enough to chase around; a bird didn't interest her.
"I need to dress up…" she said, unconsciously turning at him. He was wearing nothing.
Like a marble, his eyes shone in the light. His thick eyebrows were furrowed forming a groove between them. His defined jaws were clenched.
Sunlight illuminated his strong physique—his broad shoulders, the defined chest, and everything below. The rise and fall of the muscles and ligaments contoured his smooth skin. Scars littered on his arms and chest, a side effect of fighting wars on the front line. She remembered him having tanned skin but he looked pale and his scars were lightened considerably.
Wearing silk clothes and living in a castle had changed everything for him. She was not surprised though. She never knew him.
Her eyes got drawn below to his weird standing position. His right knee was bent. He stood straight but his foot didn't reach the floor; his right leg was short. She didn't think the wound he got on the jousting game was this serious.
Joar was a master of horses and was the ruling champion of the Royal Jousting Tournament. His opponents entered the arena knowing they could not beat Joar and his beloved horse Jostein.
The Archduke never participated in jousting tournaments, but he decided to that year. He played well and faced Joar in the finals. In the most anticipated match of all time, the Archduke fell from the horse and hurt his leg. She was informed that his wound never healed properly.
Eh, who asked him to go against my husband?
Realizing she had stared at him a tad bit longer, she turned to her front. The bird had stopped cawing and stared at her as if it was confused by her indifference. It flew to her and around her a couple of times as if checking to make sure it was her. Then it perched on the armrest of the chair.
After engaging in a staring match with her, it flew out of the window as if it accepted defeat.
Jessamyn hugged herself as it got cold. "I need my clothes," she asked. She wanted to get closer to the fireplace but she didn't want to get exposed. She was conveniently covered by her long hair.
*Bang*
She flinched as the window was shut forcefully. She heard him walking toward the bed. She looked at the fireplace hoping it would get her warm. The fire had almost gone out and she was freezing.
"I apologize about last night," Jessamyn said breaking the silence in the large room. He was not bringing it up and she wanted to finish it quickly.
"Apologize? Why? I enjoyed last night very much. You expressed your desires and I accepted. You even took into consideration my bad knee and did all the work yourself…"
Jessamyn gritted her teeth. Something snapped inside her head hearing his mocking tone. She stood up. She didn't care for her modesty anymore. Anger blinded her rationality.
"You must be cold…" His voice rang behind her. He covered her with the blanket. "It's colder here than in Ravensworth and winter is yet to begin."
The care in his tone dissolved the last speck of patience in her. She was no longer a naïve girl who believed such words.
Clutching the blanket closer, she faced him. "I need my clothes. I am leaving once I~"
Before she finished, he pinched her chin and his lips landed on her with passionate ferocity. As if his injury wasn't anything, he lifted her holding around her petite waist, and carried her to bed as his other hand hungrily grabbed the back of her neck to deepen the kiss.
Jessamyn was shocked by the unprovoked attack. When he reached the bed, she hit him with her limbs as furiously as she could. She tried to bite him but he was skillful enough to not let her bite.
She was petite by any standard and going against a man who had honed his skills on a battlefield wouldn't do her any favors. But she tried.
He pressed her on the bed pinning her hands over her head. Kneeing his abdomen did nothing to stop him. His warm hand ran through her thigh. He held her leg at the back of her knee and pressed his crotch over hers.
When she came across his warmth, she found her skin crawling with disgust. She twisted and turned, protested in every way possible not caring that she might dislocate her shoulders or snap her neck.
He must have gotten tired of subduing her. With a scoff, he let go of her hands. His face was just inches away from hers and he didn't let her move.
*Slap*
She didn't have much strength left and her whole body hurt but she gave her all in that slap. Her lips trembled with anger and tears rolled down the corner of her eyes.
"Disgusting swine!" she shouted through her teeth. "Go away!"
Her chest rose and fell. Her voice shook. Her hands were trembling and her heart was pounding. Disgust, shame, and anger reddened her face.
*Slap*
She slapped him again, and again. He was still on top of her as if he was waiting for something. Fisting her hand, she punched his face and chest as hard as she could until she lost her energy.