Fair Maiden by Cheri Schmidt Page B

torches which were mounted between
the doors to highlight the artwork. The detail of each painting also rose up
within her memory. The one of the English countryside with the little red
flowers dotting the hillside was one of her favorites….
    She knew she had a purpose here. She knew she was going
somewhere she wanted to go. It was not her bedchamber; though that was the
direction she was headed. She puzzled over the where and why of her path as she
moved along the hallway, yet remained unable to recall.
    Quite unexpectedly, a heavy hand fell roughly over her mouth
as another seized her about the waist and jerked her against a solid form.
    Hot breath rasped against her cheek, and in one swift motion
her feet were lifted from the floor and she was hauled unceremoniously into a
darkened chamber.
    A whimper was pushed from her lungs when she was shoved, not
at all gently, against a wall within the chamber.
    Her eyes adjusted to the dark and the face of her attacker
came into focus…yes, she recognized him too. Prince Dominic Renard’s cruel
expression was too close for comfort. She shoved on his shoulders. “Let me go,”
she heard herself say.
    “Ah, Tessa, do not fight me so.” He leaned against her,
smirking with a combination of evilness and victory. She felt his hands shift
as he locked her in place with fingers that curled tightly around her arms. She
felt the heat from his body seep into hers just as the weight of his
muscle-packed frame pinned her in place.
    Again, she said words she knew she’d said before, but did
not recall them until she heard them leave her lips, “I will not marry you,
Dominic. As I said before present, I refuse your offer.” She tried digging the
hard bottom of her slipper into his shin attempting to motivate him to release
her, again to no avail.
    “Your parents will demand we marry.”
    “Nay! They will not—”
    “Oh, but they will, my sweet Tessa. You will not be allowed
to refuse me this time.”
    “What—?” Her words died on a gasp when he captured her jaw
with steel fingers, forced her head to the side, and dropped his face to her
neck. She felt his lips close over the skin at the curve at which her neck
meets her shoulder and a stinging, pulling, pinching sensation traumatized the
flesh there. Tessa struggled, kicking and pounding her fists against any part
of him she could reach. It was like punching stone.
    She cried out. His fingers bit into her arm and then her
cheeks as his other hand slid from her jaw to her mouth to quiet her protests.
It became difficult to breathe as he smashed her torso to the stone more firmly
with his heavy chest. Her fingers clenched around a fistful of his embroidered
coat, she pulled and heard the sound of fabric rending.
    As his palm pressed onto her lips, he chuckled and whispered
against her flesh, “Such a warm response, sweeting .” His tone dripped with thick sarcasm. “Are you
trying to disrobe me already?” Tessa felt moisture from his mouth as he
proceeded to further bruise her neck.
    When he released her and stepped away, he laughed, the sound
came out as a pompous bellow.
    Just as her fingers flew to her neck to soothe the hurt she
was forced to blink against the unexpected glow of light. Long shadows danced
across the richly furnished chamber. A woman gasped. And when Tessa saw her
face, it seemed she was attempting to hide a sneer. The queen was
pleased with this scenario? Tessa tossed that odd idea around within her mind
until the queen spoke, “Oh, Contessa, such a foolish maiden. We must demand you
wed now.”
    Tessa did not know what to say to that, for she understood
quite clearly what they were all about. They meant to trap her, meant to force
the wedding her parents had tried so desperately to protect her from. She could
admit it was a cunning plan, yet she also knew her parents would continue to
support her choice if she refused, no matter what lies were told about her, or
how this situation could make it difficult