My languid bath is disturbed by the crash I hear in the next room. I sit up quickly, clutching my hands to my bosom as if expecting whoever has raised such a ruckus to come through the wall itself. As I jerk my head towards the sound of the noise, I notice what appears to be a pinhole flash of light lingering on the wall…or in the wall? That makes no sense. How could a tiny speck of light be hovering so on the wall?
As always, my curiosity guides me more quickly than my common sense and I reach out for a bath sheet to wrap around my dripping form before stepping from the bath. I tilt my head inquisitively as I step with mild trepidation towards the source of my confusion. It is once I am upon it that I realize it is nothing more than a peephole that has surely been carved to spy on the occupants of either room.
Before I can resist the urge, I am stretching up on my toes to get a glimpse of my voyeur, perhaps to shame him somewhat on his nerve in breaching my solitude. How fortuitous of me to be able to focus on the scene before me merely moments before the bronzed Adonis spills his seed upon his toned stomach, my name upon Niklaus’s lips.
“Rebekah!”
Only a muffled sound through the sturdy timbers, but it was undeniably my name and me he was finding pleasure in. It was as if when he breathed my name I could sense it on my very own lips, a hand reaching up to touch them to try and capture the verbal kiss there a bit longer. I turn and press my back to the wall in a desperate bid for stability, the roll and pitch of this great ship having nothing to do with how unsteady I feel. I close my eyes tightly to erase the image now burned into my mind. Instead, it is like a million etchings are flicking across it; Niklaus’s hand, his lips, his rippling muscles, and his erect manhood each vying for supremacy. I quickly return to dress as if covering my own nudity will stop me from thinking about how his skin would feel pressed against mine.
Over the next several days time, time does nothing to diminish the effect of what I saw and I am a gauche schoolgirl around Niklaus. He, it would appear, is equally disturbed by me. He checks on me once a day with a head downcast , sending a message that the sight of me is repugnant. Maybe I am the slatternly maid I am made out to be if I invoke such a reaction in an unrepentant scoundrel and his averted gaze is a way to cope with my unwanted temptation. We deal in fleeting glances and stilted conversation until he can excuse himself once he has been assured I have not tried to flee or gone on a hunger strike.
The confinement and thick tension has me boiling over with frustration at every turn, even taking it out on Matthew one morning when he brings my breakfast.
“If I see one more piece of salted beef and dried biscuit, I am going to scream!” I proceed to demonstrate the efficacy of my lungs and my throwing arm as I toss the plate against the wall. Niklaus comes racing into my chamber to see if I am the murderer or murderee and I launch into him, as well.
“I understand I am but a lowly prisoner, yet I am going MAD! My father will not pay a fair price for a daughter that must be permanently asylumed!” Forgetting everything of our recent troubles, I race over to Niklaus and grasp at his shirt. “I know we are far out to sea, so there is no chance even in my mermaid costume of me swimming to shore, so can’t you at least allow me to go on deck? Let the wind blow some of this insanity free from its moorings in my head! I will be a much more docile and appreciative guest if you make it so.”
I may have laid it on a bit thick at the end if the eye-rolling I receive from Niklaus is any indication, but the sigh of resignation also tells me I have won. I squeal with delight and embrace Matthew with a quick kiss on the cheek. “I am so sorry for my behavior this morning and I promise to be a perfect angel after you take me on deck. It’ll be lovely.”
My arms is linked in Matthew’s, pulling him towards the door where Niklaus bars our exit with a raised palm. “Excuse me, Bekah, but if you think I am going to allow a worldly woman such as yourself to spend even more time seducing this young pup, you truly have gone daft already.”
If I weren’t so desperate to breathe something other than this oppressive air, I would have smacked the smug smirk off of his face and taken my consequences.
“Well you are definitely not going to allow me to wander unaccompanied, so which of your brutes are you going to offer the opportunity to paw at me once we are on deck? Might I request one with a bit of dental hygiene for when he attempts to shove his tongue down my throat?”
“Now, Bekah, not every man is taken in by your feminine wiles. I’m sure I can restrain myself.”
“Are you so sure of that, Niklaus?”
The words are out before I have a chance to think them through, quickly snapping my mouth shut in an attempt to reclaim them. He looks at me with curious irritation, although I note a slight flush high on his cheeks. A fortuitous “ahem” from Matthew prevents either of us from goading the other much more, and Niklaus offers his arm which I gently take to get this show moved to higher ground.
We move swiftly through the corridors and up ladders until with a push on a large, wooden door I get my first taste of fresh air in weeks. I stumble forward a bit, blinded by the sunshine and the utter vastness of the ocean. I have never been at sea and it is overwhelming. I grab onto the rail as a gust of wind lifts the tendrils which have strayed from my imperfect upswept hair. The temptation is too great and I quickly unpin my heavy mane as it begins to waft behind me on the breeze. I tilt my head back, eyes closed to enjoy the sun as it kisses my cheek. I have no idea of the image I paint nor the complete concentration Niklaus has on my form, both of us oblivious to the downhaul that has come free of the sail and is whipping ever closer to where we stand. A yell from an afterguard sets Niklaus in motion and I suddenly find myself pressed against the outer wall of the wheelhouse.
“What do you think you’re doing?! You have no right to put your hands on me!”
“It may have avoided your notice, princess, but you were about to get a good lashing from that rope.”
“If your men were better sailors I would not have been at risk in the first place! Or if you had left me in my father’s care! All of this is your fau-mph…”
My words are cut off mid-bluster by Niklaus’s mouth fastening on mine. I am struck at once that my urge is not to fight or flee, but to give back as good as I get. I only consider sticking to my societal upbringing for approximately a second before my fingers weave into the blond curls that were made to be grasped in passion, it seems. A knee forced between my legs to part them for Niklaus to press even tighter against me causes me to gasp out in surprise, which only welcomes in a most tantalizing tongue and nary a thought of dentistry. This increased closeness allows me to be made very aware that I am not alone in my reaction to this embrace. The hard length I viewed through the peephole is now driving against my stomach. I wonder how it would feel pressed against the damp silk of my…
This thought is cut off as Niklaus breaks off the kiss, lips still swollen and damp from contact with mine.
“Now I know the way to get you to stop yammering all the bloody time. Be more temperate with your anger, Bekah, or I’ll take great pleasure at finding a more interesting way to occupy your mouth.”
Each word is spoken barely a hair’s breadth away from my lips, even brushing against them deliciously at the word pleasure. Before I can muster a response, Niklaus has taken my hand and half led me, half dragged me down into the bowels of the ship once more. I am still in a daze when the door closes behind me in my prison and I am left with only one thought:
Is it possible to look forward to finding a reason to behave as a brat?
As always, my curiosity guides me more quickly than my common sense and I reach out for a bath sheet to wrap around my dripping form before stepping from the bath. I tilt my head inquisitively as I step with mild trepidation towards the source of my confusion. It is once I am upon it that I realize it is nothing more than a peephole that has surely been carved to spy on the occupants of either room.
Before I can resist the urge, I am stretching up on my toes to get a glimpse of my voyeur, perhaps to shame him somewhat on his nerve in breaching my solitude. How fortuitous of me to be able to focus on the scene before me merely moments before the bronzed Adonis spills his seed upon his toned stomach, my name upon Niklaus’s lips.
“Rebekah!”
Only a muffled sound through the sturdy timbers, but it was undeniably my name and me he was finding pleasure in. It was as if when he breathed my name I could sense it on my very own lips, a hand reaching up to touch them to try and capture the verbal kiss there a bit longer. I turn and press my back to the wall in a desperate bid for stability, the roll and pitch of this great ship having nothing to do with how unsteady I feel. I close my eyes tightly to erase the image now burned into my mind. Instead, it is like a million etchings are flicking across it; Niklaus’s hand, his lips, his rippling muscles, and his erect manhood each vying for supremacy. I quickly return to dress as if covering my own nudity will stop me from thinking about how his skin would feel pressed against mine.
Over the next several days time, time does nothing to diminish the effect of what I saw and I am a gauche schoolgirl around Niklaus. He, it would appear, is equally disturbed by me. He checks on me once a day with a head downcast , sending a message that the sight of me is repugnant. Maybe I am the slatternly maid I am made out to be if I invoke such a reaction in an unrepentant scoundrel and his averted gaze is a way to cope with my unwanted temptation. We deal in fleeting glances and stilted conversation until he can excuse himself once he has been assured I have not tried to flee or gone on a hunger strike.
The confinement and thick tension has me boiling over with frustration at every turn, even taking it out on Matthew one morning when he brings my breakfast.
“If I see one more piece of salted beef and dried biscuit, I am going to scream!” I proceed to demonstrate the efficacy of my lungs and my throwing arm as I toss the plate against the wall. Niklaus comes racing into my chamber to see if I am the murderer or murderee and I launch into him, as well.
“I understand I am but a lowly prisoner, yet I am going MAD! My father will not pay a fair price for a daughter that must be permanently asylumed!” Forgetting everything of our recent troubles, I race over to Niklaus and grasp at his shirt. “I know we are far out to sea, so there is no chance even in my mermaid costume of me swimming to shore, so can’t you at least allow me to go on deck? Let the wind blow some of this insanity free from its moorings in my head! I will be a much more docile and appreciative guest if you make it so.”
I may have laid it on a bit thick at the end if the eye-rolling I receive from Niklaus is any indication, but the sigh of resignation also tells me I have won. I squeal with delight and embrace Matthew with a quick kiss on the cheek. “I am so sorry for my behavior this morning and I promise to be a perfect angel after you take me on deck. It’ll be lovely.”
My arms is linked in Matthew’s, pulling him towards the door where Niklaus bars our exit with a raised palm. “Excuse me, Bekah, but if you think I am going to allow a worldly woman such as yourself to spend even more time seducing this young pup, you truly have gone daft already.”
If I weren’t so desperate to breathe something other than this oppressive air, I would have smacked the smug smirk off of his face and taken my consequences.
“Well you are definitely not going to allow me to wander unaccompanied, so which of your brutes are you going to offer the opportunity to paw at me once we are on deck? Might I request one with a bit of dental hygiene for when he attempts to shove his tongue down my throat?”
“Now, Bekah, not every man is taken in by your feminine wiles. I’m sure I can restrain myself.”
“Are you so sure of that, Niklaus?”
The words are out before I have a chance to think them through, quickly snapping my mouth shut in an attempt to reclaim them. He looks at me with curious irritation, although I note a slight flush high on his cheeks. A fortuitous “ahem” from Matthew prevents either of us from goading the other much more, and Niklaus offers his arm which I gently take to get this show moved to higher ground.
We move swiftly through the corridors and up ladders until with a push on a large, wooden door I get my first taste of fresh air in weeks. I stumble forward a bit, blinded by the sunshine and the utter vastness of the ocean. I have never been at sea and it is overwhelming. I grab onto the rail as a gust of wind lifts the tendrils which have strayed from my imperfect upswept hair. The temptation is too great and I quickly unpin my heavy mane as it begins to waft behind me on the breeze. I tilt my head back, eyes closed to enjoy the sun as it kisses my cheek. I have no idea of the image I paint nor the complete concentration Niklaus has on my form, both of us oblivious to the downhaul that has come free of the sail and is whipping ever closer to where we stand. A yell from an afterguard sets Niklaus in motion and I suddenly find myself pressed against the outer wall of the wheelhouse.
“What do you think you’re doing?! You have no right to put your hands on me!”
“It may have avoided your notice, princess, but you were about to get a good lashing from that rope.”
“If your men were better sailors I would not have been at risk in the first place! Or if you had left me in my father’s care! All of this is your fau-mph…”
My words are cut off mid-bluster by Niklaus’s mouth fastening on mine. I am struck at once that my urge is not to fight or flee, but to give back as good as I get. I only consider sticking to my societal upbringing for approximately a second before my fingers weave into the blond curls that were made to be grasped in passion, it seems. A knee forced between my legs to part them for Niklaus to press even tighter against me causes me to gasp out in surprise, which only welcomes in a most tantalizing tongue and nary a thought of dentistry. This increased closeness allows me to be made very aware that I am not alone in my reaction to this embrace. The hard length I viewed through the peephole is now driving against my stomach. I wonder how it would feel pressed against the damp silk of my…
This thought is cut off as Niklaus breaks off the kiss, lips still swollen and damp from contact with mine.
“Now I know the way to get you to stop yammering all the bloody time. Be more temperate with your anger, Bekah, or I’ll take great pleasure at finding a more interesting way to occupy your mouth.”
Each word is spoken barely a hair’s breadth away from my lips, even brushing against them deliciously at the word pleasure. Before I can muster a response, Niklaus has taken my hand and half led me, half dragged me down into the bowels of the ship once more. I am still in a daze when the door closes behind me in my prison and I am left with only one thought:
Is it possible to look forward to finding a reason to behave as a brat?