The Count of Castle Rock

Chapter XLIX- Two Different Sisters

Maribelle Talbert scribbles in her new diary as she walks down main street. A group of soldiers whistle as they pass, one even professing his love for her bronze skin and fiery red hair. Mary smirks and adds an amendment to her previous line. Nobleborn knights practically bled money and status, everything a woman of ambition might need, but soldiers had a ruggedness about them that made a lady's knees grow weak. If she had to choose between the two, Mary would choose the status and money every time... but her eyes weren't as savvy as her mind.

As she approaches Shadow Rock Inn, She tucks her book under her arm and points her nose skyward as if she hasn't a care in the world. Feeling the stares of the men crammed against the window to watch her strut, she adds a bit of flair to her practiced Levian Stride. No self-respecting knight would be caught dead in The Shadow Rock, but Mary doesn't mind. Her outfit was chosen to turn heads, so she has an obligation to find heads eager to be turned.

Hair is fashioned up to reveal her long neck and treated to gleam in the sunlight, her dress is the same shade of green as her eyes. Her corset and lipstick are both mother of pearl, a light shade that works well with her dress and complexion. Lark Brown would have said her ensemble was out of season and Mary's retort would have been that her fashion sense is wasted on a backwater like Solomon. The young local men have no complaints and the soldiers fresh from the south can't take their eyes off of her.

Mary stops at a street sign and looks up towards Castle Rock. Two sisters, daughters to a miller, glare at her with open hostility. The young soldier beside them admires her with mouth agape. Everyone in town knows he reads the oldest sister love poems every evening, professing his heartfelt adoration. Maribelle finds their love... quaint. She waves at the gawking young man and he misses a step in his rush to wave back. As he stumbles on the steps, Mary winks at the sisters who had both rubbed her the wrong way only a few days prior.

Maribelle throws her head back and laughs, pulling on her gloves and continuing her walk. The older sister sobs and the younger berates the embarrassed soldier. It's all music to Mary's ears. Satisfied with herself, she saunters away with a new line to add to her diary. Solomon is her town and she's more than happy to show it.

To the sound of cat calls and proclamations of love, she leaves Main Street and heads south on a side road far less traveled. Scribbling down a quick quip she'll use later, Maribelle is quite content.

"It's a shame you look so fetching with nowhere to go."

Mary looks up just in time to avoid collision with the handsome figure standing in the road. She swerves and catches her modest heel on a stone. Strong hands catch her before she falls in the street and ruins her clothes. Her diary isn't so lucky. She slowly turns to get a look at her savior.

"Don't worry, beautiful. I've got you."

Mary stares into the scarred face.

"You wouldn't have needed to catch me, if you weren't blocking the sidewalk."

"I wouldn't block the sidewalk if you looked up from your book long enough to pay attention to your surroundings."

"Touché," Mary says, staring into blue eyes so dark they can pass as black. "You're Lykeshaw, Uncle Barney's bodyguard."

The handsome woman nods. Her arms easily support Mary though they are frozen in a somewhat awkward position. Lykeshaw's eyes are hypnotic, pulling Maribelle into them in a way that quickens her pulse. Father always said be wary of men with eyes like hers, dead ones devoid of emotion. A killer's eyes. Mary never really put much credence in Father's wisdom. He is a lowly merchant after all.

"You can put me down," she whispers.

"Only if you promise to watch where you're going." Lykeshaw winks and sets Mary on her feet. "Where are you going anyway?"