The Dark Side of the Moon

Chapter 24-Night with the Wicked

I was presented to my new husband much as a prized sheep given as sacrifice in biblical times. Adorned in white-a nearly sheer night dress that brushed delicately over the tops of my feet and a dressing gown to match, tied at my small waist with a white satin ribbon. My hair had been brushed out-soft auburn waves fell down my shoulders. And my face had been scrubbed clean. Drops of rose water were placed at the insides of my wrists and at the little hollow behind each ear.

I let myself go numb. I was far too exhausted from the fit of nerves I had been plagued by all day. I was exhausted enough just by going through the motions of the wedding that I felt cleanly out of nerves now. Just felt a bit numb. Tired of feeling dismayed.

I repeatedly refused the several offers of wine from the maidservants and my new Lady's maid, Astella. They gave me looks of sympathy and pushed the wine goblets toward me. But I refused them. I hadn't wanted to become intoxicated. I know I needed to keeps my wits about me. To not lose control. That was imperative to me. Doing my hardest to regain whatever sense of control I could capture when it came to Catcher.

And I was most definitely the type of person who could handle the stresses of difficult situations whilst maintaining sobriety. Much unlike my father. Who would turn to drink at the slightest inclination of a tribulation. I had sipped at a goblet of wine during the wedding reception and although it was true that it didn't take much for me to become intoxicated I was far from that by now. Long after a heavy meal and hours of watching the De Noir clan indulge themselves in celebration.

Now here I stood, very much my sober self, in Catcher's bedchambers. Surprisingly and eerily calm, if only momentarily. Catcher stood with his back to me, one hand braced on the mantle of the fireplace and the other clasped around a cut-crystal glass of what appeared to be water. I was instantly gladdened to see that he was not partaking in anymore drink. And I could see by the way in which he held himself that he, had too maintained his sobriety. I gave a thankful sigh, inwardly, as the thought of an intoxicated man slobbering and groping at me would be most unpleasant.

I was also thankful for the fire that blazed in the fireplace. The nights were still quite cold in early spring and I have quickly found that the castle was also a rather cold and drafty place. With the comforting glow of the fire and that of the many gas lamps, Catcher's elaborate bedchambers felt warm and inviting despite it's size.

I smiled slightly to myself at the sight of Catcher, standing shirtless in just his black trousers and bare feet. It had only been once that I had seen Catcher so immodestly dressed. And I was amused by the memories of such-that strange night on the lakeshore. He appeared much younger in this way, less formal. Even though he was still very much a young man at only the age of twenty-one. From across the room I squinted at his back before he turned, trying to study his markings. Trying to understand it. For I have never seen permanent markings on one's skin before and I wanted to know why ever had he felt compelled to do that to himself?

Catcher turned to me then. His eyes were dark in the ambient glow of the room. My breath caught and I lost the numbness I had previously welcomed and my nerves returned. I was quite, ever so particularly, nervous for this moment happening right now. My pulse soared and I could hear the beating of my heart in my ears. I swallowed.

"Maria," Catcher breathed, his voice deep and calm. He held a hand out toward me and said, "Come."

Shyly I looked down at my hands which I hadn't realised I had been wringing together. I inhaled deeply and crossed the room to the generous seating area that surrounded the fireplace. I accepted Catcher's hand and let him draw me into an embrace.