My Clarity

Chapter fourteen

Of course, he was unaware. A gentleman was never aware of his fiancée's turmoil. The melancholy haze which seemed to cloud her even on the brightest days. The impassive face which had been perfected down to an art when inside she was screaming. The one occasion which Rose had broached the subject with her mother and then Cal, it was dismissed with the swish of a wrist. The cardinal sin had been broken; ladies didn't speak of their feelings to their nearest and closest. Regardless of the notions which had played in her head, even considering suicide as a way out of the life which had been so carefully planned. She was so carefully wrapped up. Like the perfect China doll that was too dainty to touch, or she would break and yet it was those who had trapped her that was causing her to crack, slowly and then, Cal had said those familiar words...

"I had hoped that you could come to me last night." His voice quiet and would almost be comforting if she hadn't detected the faint annoyance.

"I was tired," Rose smiled, stirring her coffee gently and carefully.

''Yes, I suppose your exertions dancing with Mr. Dawson would have that effect on you.'' Cal lowered his gaze to her, and she knew in that moment that this conversation wouldn't be about the fact that she hadn't joined him in the bedroom, but because of her interactions on the dancefloor with the man who Cal detested. ''Are you intentionally trying to provoke me?''

''Of course not.''

''Well, your demeanour of late seems crafted to embarrass me at every opportunity and I will not stand for it. What were you thinking?''

''I was being polite. Should I decline a dance in front of the entire ladies at dinner?'' Straightening her back, in a sort of defence, Rose raised her chin to speak. ''I see that you had that undertaker of a manservant watching me, how convenient. I am not a foreman in one of your mills to command, I am your fiancée. I am a woman. A woman with--''

Rose could hear the anger within his breathing; his nostrils flared as though he tried to keep his temper in check but in a slow second, his hand came up to strike her face. It was hard, fast and it knocked her backwards further into the chair. She remained silent, not even raising her hand to tend to it. The blow should have been expected; he was a man with the need to be in control of everything. Especially in control of her; a woman. A woman who was apparently just for decorative purposes. An object.

''Yes, you are a woman. And my fiancée, and my wife! You will honour me the way that a wife is supposed to honour her husband, you will not make me to be a fool, Rose.''

Cal's strike pulsated across her face. Across her head. Through her veins. Rose remained in the same spot; her neck to the side, facing away from Cal as the force of the blow had caused her to strain her shoulder and upwards. Through blurred vision, she concentrated on how the sun created shadows across their private deck. How lovely the sun felt on her back. How Mr. Dawson's fingers felt across her skin. How his lips felt upon her own...

Still, she never raised her head to meet Cal's gaze, feeling the absolute severe hatred of which, he would have inflicted upon her. Perhaps, she would even return that to him.

''Can you not look at me when I am talking to you?''

His voice was surprisingly smooth.

The erratic beating of her heart beneath her morning dress deafened her but he couldn't see that. Nor would he ever.

The pain hadn't ceased but it pulsated less, as though her nerves had deadened. Her feelings had become numb. Her entire body was quivering. Steeling her resolve, Rose twisted her neck to a more comfortable position but she still didn't look at him.

Then, his rough hands were on her face, forcing her to watch him with a twist of her neck and his lips came down on hers, slanting and protruding his tongue into her mouth as though he was claiming her as his own. As though he had known that Mr. Dawson's lips worked so much more beautifully than Cal's ever could. As though he knew that another's kiss meant more to her. As though he was sucking away the poison left by another. But that wasn't it, the kiss was simply a cruel reminder that she was indeed his to claim; in every which way that he possibly could. Rose struggled to breathe, kicking her legs about in a squirm beneath the weight of him as she felt almost tied to the chair.