Lord of the Fading Lands
Page 7
Satisfied that she'd done exactly as her mother asked, and as much as possible to mitigate any hint of prettiness, Ellie made her way downstairs to the family parlor.
Den was already there, sitting across from her father on one of Sol Baristani's finely carved settees and chewing a chocolate caramel with relish. His stocky body was clothed in what appeared to be a new dark blue plaid suit, cut just the tiniest bit too tight, with a yellow neckcloth tied in folds about his thick neck. A gold pin, shaped like a rather ungainly bear, glinted from the folds of the neckcloth. His brown hair, greased with a strongly scented pomade, was slicked back from his face, with a puff of curls carefully formed at the top of his broad forehead. His skin was ruddy, his nose partly flattened from a series of childhood scuffles, and his eyes were pale blue rimmed with stubby black lashes.
He was attractive enough, in a rough, butcher's son sort of way. That wasn't what bothered Ellie.
He looked up, caught sight of her, and jumped to his feet, crossing the room to stand uncomfortably close to her. His gaze swept over her, then homed in on the swell of bosom thrust up against the delicate fabric of her mother's best chemise. A bosom that was three inches closer to his face thanks to her decision—poorly considered, she now realized—to wear high heels. His tongue came out to lick his full lips.
That was what bothered Ellie.
Fighting the urge to cross her arms over her chest, she forced a stiff little smile—no teeth—and said, "Good evening, Den. How nice that you could join us tonight.”
"You look very pretty, Ellysetta." That came from Papa, of course. Den was still salivating over her bosom.
"Thank you, Papa." She was grateful for the warm love shining from Sol Baristani's eyes. And for his presence in the parlor. The gods only knew what Den would have tried had they been alone. Judging from the look on his face, she wouldn't have liked it much.
"Mmm. Yes," Den agreed, licking his lips again. "Very pretty." His pale blue gaze traveled up her neck and paused at her mouth. When finally he met her gaze head on, there were spots of color in his cheeks.
For a moment she imagined she felt a disturbing hunger. His hunger, she realized, and it wasn't for food. Sudden panic roiled inside her, tying her stomach in knots and making her break out in a clammy sweat. If he touched her, she knew she would be sick.
"Ah, Ellysetta. Good." Mama's voice snapped through the strange emotions that had captured Ellie, and she dragged in a gasp of air. No wonder she felt ill. She'd held her breath until she was dizzy!
`- to ask you to help me," Lauriana was saying, "but I've changed my mind. You look far too pretty to risk soiling your gown in the kitchen. Don't you agree, Den?" It was an embarrassing maternal attempt to draw a compliment from Den, but the young man didn't hesitate to oblige her.
"Indeed, Madam Baristani." Den bowed at the waist as if he were a lord's son rather than a butcher's. "Ellysetta looks lovelier than I have ever seen her." The smug smile was back.
"Sol, perhaps you would give me a hand instead?" Lauriana suggested with a pointed look.
Ellie's eyes went wide with panic. "I don't mind helping you, Mama!" She heard the shrill desperation in her voice. "Really, I don't.”
"Nonsense. You stay here and entertain your young man. Your father is happy to help me." As they exited the room, her mother flashed an indulgent smile at Den and said in a coy, entirely un-Mama-like voice, "We won't be but a few chimes, children.”
There was no mistaking her humiliatingly obvious scheme, and Den was quick to take up the unspoken invitation. As soon as Lauriana's skirts disappeared down the hall, he stepped closer to Ellie, his square hands reaching for her. She stumbled backwards to escape his pursuit, only to find herself stuck in a corner, trapped between his arms, staring in horrified revulsion as his thick, wet lips tried to attach themselves to hers. Ellie escaped the kiss with a quick twist of her body, and tried to duck under his arm. She wasn't quite fast enough, and her slender muscles were no match for his solid bulk. After a brief, undignified tussle, she found herself back in the corner, pulled tight against his body.
"Come on, Ellie" His breath was starting to come a little faster. "We both know why your parents left us alone. There's no need to play the coy maiden. I don't want anything more than a kiss or two." He grinned, showing two rows of sharp and slightly crooked teeth. "For now.”
"Den, we hardly know each other.”
He laughed. "We've known each other since childhood, Ellie.”
"But not like this … we've just been ... er … friends." They'd never been friends. He'd been a taunting bully who liked to make her cry.
"I want to be more than friends now" His hands roved over her waist, and his lips descended, glancing off her cheek as she jerked her head away. Den drew back slightly and chuckled. "I've been watching you for some time now, Ellie," he murmured, his voice thick and possessive. "Granted, you weren't much to look at as a kid, all orange hair, freckles, and knobby knees. But lately, you've started to show a little promise" That smug, secret smile flashed again, and one thick- fingered hand came up to cup her chin. "I've decided to make you my wife, Ellie Baristani.”
He didn't ask. He just said it, as if she had no choice in the matter. She stared at him, aghast, wondering how in the names of all the gods she was going to get out of this with any measure of grace. "Den, you … er... honor me, but—”
Den was already there, sitting across from her father on one of Sol Baristani's finely carved settees and chewing a chocolate caramel with relish. His stocky body was clothed in what appeared to be a new dark blue plaid suit, cut just the tiniest bit too tight, with a yellow neckcloth tied in folds about his thick neck. A gold pin, shaped like a rather ungainly bear, glinted from the folds of the neckcloth. His brown hair, greased with a strongly scented pomade, was slicked back from his face, with a puff of curls carefully formed at the top of his broad forehead. His skin was ruddy, his nose partly flattened from a series of childhood scuffles, and his eyes were pale blue rimmed with stubby black lashes.
He was attractive enough, in a rough, butcher's son sort of way. That wasn't what bothered Ellie.
He looked up, caught sight of her, and jumped to his feet, crossing the room to stand uncomfortably close to her. His gaze swept over her, then homed in on the swell of bosom thrust up against the delicate fabric of her mother's best chemise. A bosom that was three inches closer to his face thanks to her decision—poorly considered, she now realized—to wear high heels. His tongue came out to lick his full lips.
That was what bothered Ellie.
Fighting the urge to cross her arms over her chest, she forced a stiff little smile—no teeth—and said, "Good evening, Den. How nice that you could join us tonight.”
"You look very pretty, Ellysetta." That came from Papa, of course. Den was still salivating over her bosom.
"Thank you, Papa." She was grateful for the warm love shining from Sol Baristani's eyes. And for his presence in the parlor. The gods only knew what Den would have tried had they been alone. Judging from the look on his face, she wouldn't have liked it much.
"Mmm. Yes," Den agreed, licking his lips again. "Very pretty." His pale blue gaze traveled up her neck and paused at her mouth. When finally he met her gaze head on, there were spots of color in his cheeks.
For a moment she imagined she felt a disturbing hunger. His hunger, she realized, and it wasn't for food. Sudden panic roiled inside her, tying her stomach in knots and making her break out in a clammy sweat. If he touched her, she knew she would be sick.
"Ah, Ellysetta. Good." Mama's voice snapped through the strange emotions that had captured Ellie, and she dragged in a gasp of air. No wonder she felt ill. She'd held her breath until she was dizzy!
`- to ask you to help me," Lauriana was saying, "but I've changed my mind. You look far too pretty to risk soiling your gown in the kitchen. Don't you agree, Den?" It was an embarrassing maternal attempt to draw a compliment from Den, but the young man didn't hesitate to oblige her.
"Indeed, Madam Baristani." Den bowed at the waist as if he were a lord's son rather than a butcher's. "Ellysetta looks lovelier than I have ever seen her." The smug smile was back.
"Sol, perhaps you would give me a hand instead?" Lauriana suggested with a pointed look.
Ellie's eyes went wide with panic. "I don't mind helping you, Mama!" She heard the shrill desperation in her voice. "Really, I don't.”
"Nonsense. You stay here and entertain your young man. Your father is happy to help me." As they exited the room, her mother flashed an indulgent smile at Den and said in a coy, entirely un-Mama-like voice, "We won't be but a few chimes, children.”
There was no mistaking her humiliatingly obvious scheme, and Den was quick to take up the unspoken invitation. As soon as Lauriana's skirts disappeared down the hall, he stepped closer to Ellie, his square hands reaching for her. She stumbled backwards to escape his pursuit, only to find herself stuck in a corner, trapped between his arms, staring in horrified revulsion as his thick, wet lips tried to attach themselves to hers. Ellie escaped the kiss with a quick twist of her body, and tried to duck under his arm. She wasn't quite fast enough, and her slender muscles were no match for his solid bulk. After a brief, undignified tussle, she found herself back in the corner, pulled tight against his body.
"Come on, Ellie" His breath was starting to come a little faster. "We both know why your parents left us alone. There's no need to play the coy maiden. I don't want anything more than a kiss or two." He grinned, showing two rows of sharp and slightly crooked teeth. "For now.”
"Den, we hardly know each other.”
He laughed. "We've known each other since childhood, Ellie.”
"But not like this … we've just been ... er … friends." They'd never been friends. He'd been a taunting bully who liked to make her cry.
"I want to be more than friends now" His hands roved over her waist, and his lips descended, glancing off her cheek as she jerked her head away. Den drew back slightly and chuckled. "I've been watching you for some time now, Ellie," he murmured, his voice thick and possessive. "Granted, you weren't much to look at as a kid, all orange hair, freckles, and knobby knees. But lately, you've started to show a little promise" That smug, secret smile flashed again, and one thick- fingered hand came up to cup her chin. "I've decided to make you my wife, Ellie Baristani.”
He didn't ask. He just said it, as if she had no choice in the matter. She stared at him, aghast, wondering how in the names of all the gods she was going to get out of this with any measure of grace. "Den, you … er... honor me, but—”
