The Lass who Loved a Pirate

Chapter 9 Being Taken Again

I stared at myself in the mirror. My father had outdone himself with the dress he chose for my wedding, the dress he had made for me. My dress was a soft blue to compliment my hair and complexion. The neckline was trimmed with lace. The lace also trimmed the sleeves and hem of the dress. The dress was cut low, and he had the servants lace up my corset as tight as it would go. To make my breasts more appealing to my betrothed. All I felt was disgust. I felt like a whore being sent out to work. That is what my father saw me as. He saw me as a w

It has been three months since Bash returned me to my father. Bash’s deception had hurt me greatly. I spent many nights sobbing, wishing that I was anywhere but here. My father continued my betrothal to Thomas Finn, even though my virtue was gone. Thomas Finn was a man I came to despise greatly. The evening that my father made the formal announcement of my formal betrothal to Thomas Finn. He beat one of his slaves to death in front of everyone at the party. The crime? The slave dared to look me in the eyes as he handed me my glass. I felt anger and revulsion toward Finn. If he did this to a slave in public, what would he do to the slaves in private? What would he do to me? I found out from other servants and the women in Port Royal who Finn was. He was ten years my senior. He already had several illegitimate children from two different mistresses, one was white. The other was a slave girl, her children residing at his plantation. But I was the grand prize, I was the governor’s daughter. He was the planting elite, but to be married to the governor’s daughter was just one rung on the ladder. He needed a son and heir now that his father had died. He passed away from malaria when I was on St. Bona’s. My father was willing to pay more if Finn overlooked my virtue being taken. 

My father was furious when I came back. He knew that my virtue was gone, when he forced the physician to perform a procedure to determine if I was still indeed intact. My father beat me after that, but made sure that the bruises were not noticeable. He called me a whore and a slut, locked me away until my courses came. He wanted to be sure that I was not carrying another man’s child, let alone carrying the bastard of a demon. But he knew that he would cause a scandal if he withdrew my betrothal and so he just paid Thomas Finn off. 

So three months later, here I stood on my wedding day. I should be happy, I should be excited. But all I felt was despair. I knew what my life would be the moment I said “I do”. My life would become hell. Days filled with endless nonsense, taking tea with other planter’s wives. My nights filled with rape and torture. If he even came to my bed. Would he still continue to carry on affairs with his mistresses? No doubt he would only come to my bed to get me pregnant. I cried out, grabbing the vase of flowers by the mirror and throwing it at the mirror. It shattered around me, the remaining glass gave me a jagged look. I knelt down and picked up a jagged piece of glass. I felt tears form in my eyes. Holding the glass against my wrist. I would not let Thomas Finn claim me. I wanted my experience with a man happy, like it was with Bash. I wanted a man to cherish and love me. Not defile and torture me. I sent a silent prayer to God, begging him to forgive me for the act I was about to commit. Life was not worth living anymore, I could not allow myself to be married to a monster. To be forced to bear his children. I slowly cut into my skin. The jagged glass begins to turn red. 

“No Freya, stop,” a voice cried. I turned and saw Bash. He was standing on my balcony. I felt the breath leave my body. He was here. Why was he here? 

“Bash,” I whispered. The glass dropped from my hand and hit the floor. He came in and all but pulled me into a bear hug. Holding me to his chest. I pulled away and touched his face. Not believing that he was here. 

“You are here, why are you here,” I whispered. He cupped my cheek, his thumb running across my lip. We stared at one another. 

“Yes I am here,” he replied. I felt my anxiety subside and was replaced by anger. Why was he here now? After what he did three months before he did not get to be here. I stepped back and slapped him across the face.