Page 30 of Papa's Little Bride
Chapter Twelve
Faith
The morning sunspills through the curtains, warming my feet under the soft covers. I stretch and reach for Papa, only to find his spot empty. Peering at the clock on the nightstand, I’m shocked to discover it’s half past nine. Why didn’t Papawake me up?
Oh well. I suppose he has some important business to attend to this morning. During our talk in the sunroom yesterday, he told me that he owned several factories in town, and he also owned and managed a few houses and buildings. Perhaps he had to run a work-related errand. I tell myself that’s all it must be, and that I haven’t been forgotten.
I glance around the emptyroom, wondering if I ought to return to my own bedroom and get dressed for the day. My bottom tingles in the next moment, and I decide dressing myself is probably not a good idea. Papa had said he always wanted to help me get ready in the mornings.
Glancing down at my body, I blush hard. I’m still naked. He says on the nights we share a bed, I am not permitted any clothing. I shiver, despitethe warmth from the braziers.
My nipples stiffen and heat throbs between my legs at the memory of last night.
After kissing medown there, Papa had thrust his huge cock into my cunny. It had stung at first, as if something inside me had suddenly lit on fire, but as soon as the pain erupted, it had started to fade. Then the desire had grown, a spark at first, that coalesced with mydesire for Papa to take me as his wife-in-truth, until I ached beyond all reason for him to pound in and out of me.
That’s exactly what he’d done. He’d pounded me. Hard.
He’d growled deep in his throat and started driving in and out of my cunny without restraint. A look of anguish had crossed his face after the first few hard thrusts, and he’d paused to inquire if I was all right,but when I’d begged him to continue and pound me even harder, he’d mercifully obliged my wishes.
With a sigh, I crawl out of bed and carefully tip-toe back to my room, making sure no one is about in the hallway to witness my nakedness. If I don’t put some clothes on, I will be tempted to stay in bed and touch my cunny, which I already know from experience is very much against Papa’s strictrules.
Once in my room, I don my pretty white nightgown, as well as a robe. My stomach rumbles as I venture to the window and push aside the sheer curtains. The landscape is pristine and white, and the sun shines across town and past its limits, glittering atop the snow-covered trees and the mountains beyond. I never really knew so much natural beauty existed in the world until I’d cometo live here. Smiling, and thanking God for my good fortune, I turn and make my way downstairs, following the scent of bacon and eggs.
But before I can reach the kitchen, I hear voices in Papa’s study. I pause outside the ajar door, wondering who has come to visit. Putting my ear to the opening, I hold my breath and listen, all the while feeling guilty for spying. But I’m a tad worriedabout why Papa let me sleep in, and I decide if something is wrong, I want to know about it. Maybe I could even help. I’m his wife now, after all, and it’s my duty to be his helpmate. As good a job as he’s done taking care of me and making me feel wanted, he deserves my support.
The other voice belongs to a man, and I easily pick out his speech from my papa’s.
“You truly wish forthe house to be on the wealthier side of town? A house as large as you’re looking for will take some work, I’m afraid,” the visitor says.
“My mind is made up. The largest house you can find. And if you can’t find a house that meets my specifications with a willing seller, then find some suitable land for building. I’ll pay any price. I want this house to be grand and something my wife willapprove of,” Papa says.
“Of course, sir. I will return next week with a list of all your options.”
“Thank you, Pembly.”
I turn and rush back upstairs, my heart splintering into a thousand pieces.
So much for the thirty-day trial marriage.
Papa has already decided he wants to get rid of me.
Tears fill my eyes and spill down my cheeks. I sniffle and wipethem away as I hurry into my room. Was he planning this all along? To keep me for thirty days, have his pleasure of me, and then discard me in some huge fancy house? Doubts emerge and churn within me, and nausea rises in my throat. What if Papa wasn’t truthful about his past? What if I’m not really his second wife, but another bride in a long line of women he’s married briefly, only to throw away?
But what does it matter? He’s going to abandon me, just like my uncle and aunt did so many years ago. Old hurts resurface and merge with my newest heartbreak. Hands shaking, I get dressed as fast I can. The snow hasn’t shown any indication of melting yet, even under the sun’s bright rays, so I don two pairs of stockings, my thickest petticoats, and the warmest dress from my closet. A fewmore dresses had appeared overnight, and I suppose Papa—God, should I even call him that anymore?—had his servants fetch more readymade items from one of the dress shops in town. At least there are two fur-lined cloaks, as well as mittens and several hats. I make my selection and hope it doesn’t snow again anytime soon.
I don’t bother packing anything. I’ll leave in the clothes I’m wearing.Hopefully, there will be at least one suitable job posted in the town square by now. I don’t want Papa’s charity and I don’t wish to return to the orphanage, a newlywed already estranged from her husband. I would have to leave there in but a few days, anyway, due to the overcrowding.
When Papa first offered me this deal, I accepted, but only under the belief that we’d both try our bestto make the marriage work. He doesn’t seem to have any desire to even try. Not if he’s already planning for my house.
I feel like the biggest fool.
Last night, I had begged him to take me, pleaded for him to pound me harder and make me his. But to what end? To wake up and learn he’s already betrayed me? Surely, the meeting with the man in his study had been arranged ahead of time.Yesterday, or even the day before.
Yes, he’s been planning this from the very start.
Damn him. Damn him to the depths of hell. I can barely see through my tears as I rush downstairs. I don’t pay attention to the shocked maid I pass in the foyer, and I keep running even as the butler calls out my name.
Cold wind swirls against my face, and I clutch the cloak so it doesn’t flyoff.
