The Mill

Part One

“Come on you stupid girl, hurry up and find what you’re looking for! I have more important patrons to tend to!” One of the local village marketers whisper yelled to the young girl.

Lyla was used to it, she knew of the whispers about her that ran through her small village. She knew she was not the smartest of the lot, but did her best to ignore the harsh words spoken of her.

“Do you speak ill to your patrons regularly, sir?” A deep voice thundered beside the petite girl.

At side glance the man was polished and strikingly handsome, well groomed with the finest threads of silk and satin that made up his garments. Long dark hair held by tight band at the nape of his neck defined his prominent features.

“Monsieur DeCuir, she is but a simple girl. L’ idiot du village.” The marketer’s words were not lost to Lyla, though she couldn’t speak it, she could however understand a fair bit of French.

“She does not look simple to me. I recommend you watch your tongue when it comes to your patrons.” Lord DeCuir spat at the old man.

“Oui monsieur, mes excuses.” Lyla noted the sudden stammer the marketer seem to gain on the presents of the man, even though he couldn’t yet be that of twenty-five, he was a noble and demanded respect.

“It is not I you should be offering apologies to.” Decuir gave the man a glare that chilled his very bones. Before he could think to disagree, the marketer was stuttering his apology to Lyla.

“Mademoiselle, perhaps you’d find another shop more accommodating?” DeCuir turned to face Lyla fully as he offered his opinion.

Lyla was rendered speechless by the handsomeness of the Lord. His emerald orbs staring into her golden ones, the sharpness of his nose that gave way to a set a plump lips that soon pulled into a frown when she had still yet to speak.

DeCuir grew impatient with Lyla’s lack of voice and soon found his hand reaching to cup her small waist to steer out of the shop. A smirk pulled at his lips when he heard the slight gasp escape from the tiny girl.

He held her tightly until he found another dress shop just down the way. Lyla continued in her silence, though many questions racked her mind, yet she didn’t dare voice them. She could sense a power from the Lord that was beyond any she had felt in the presence of a noble.

Once inside the shop, Lyla noted it was the finest dress makers business she now stood in. A business far too expensive for her simple self. She thought of ways to make her exit, to thank the Lord kindly for his compassion and bid him a good day, but was coming up empty.

“Monsieur DeCuir, how may I help you?” the older seamstress purred as she approached the Lord. She had yet to see Lyla as DeCuir stood in front of her.

“You will give the miss anything she desires, when she is finished you will send her ticket to me. Understood?” DeCuir wasted no breath on pleasantries, making his demand known, leaving no room for argument.

“Oui monsieur.” The seamstress did her best to give him her best smile.

“I take my leave now, good day mademoiselle. I hope you find everything to your liking.” With that DeCuir bowed and made his way to the door. Sparing a last glance at the simple girl, he found her silence appealing in a way but thought no more on the matter as he left.

Lyla left the seamstresses shop in high spirits. Her costume for next week’s holiday would be completed within a days’ time. The gown would be spectacular, well fitted and suited for the event she was shocked to receive an invitation to.

Some of the towns youth had seen her walking home from her daily trip the well and had stopped her long enough to extend their hopes of her joining their celebrations for Halloween. She had never received an invite to anything and was eager in her acceptance to join them.