Expectations
1880 Words
*Marsden*
It's a mistake to have invited her to the ball. I can never again walk into the foyer without seeing her there, with appreciation for her surroundings dancing in her eyes. I can never greet another she-wolf arriving without seeing Linnie in emerald velvet and silk smiling up at me. I always see her strolling through the hallway at my side, ascending the stairs, descending into the ballroom.
No doubt other balls will be held here, and I will circle the room with other she-wolves in my arms, but I always see Linnie, holding my gaze, her face wreathed with joy. I want to plow my hands into her hair, ferret out the pins, and send the heavy strands tumbling down her back. I want to draw her nearer, allow her orange fragrance to overwhelm my senses until I can no longer smell the tartness of the evergreen boughs that dot the room.
I offer this night as my Christmas gift to her, but it's for myself as well. If she is relocating to Blackrock city, I want as much time with her as possible before she departs.
It was so much easier when we were younger, before my voice changed and I began to look upon she-wolves differently, before I returned from school and noticed changes in her: the rounding of her hips and the remarkable curves of her bosom. The way her smile is a bit saucier. The way she can naively tease me with her hand coming to rest on my arm and shoulder. As children, we held hands. Now whenever she touches me, albeit innocently, I feel like a piece of kindling ready to ignite, like some wild beast barely tethered. I desperately want to break free of all societal restraints and behave like a barbarian, claiming her as my own.
My thoughts regarding her are inappropriate and yet I seem unable to escape the untoward images of stripping her bare and spreading her out over silk sheets that often taunt me. I awaken in the middle of the night, hard annowd aching, with fantasies of kissing her in secret intimate places racing through my mind. Even , I seem incapable of taking my gaze from her, of not falling into the blue depths of her eyes.
“Are the balls in Blackrock city like this one?” she asks.
“Larger, more people about. Warmer. Doors are often left open to allow for cooler air. And people spend time on the terrace or in the gardens.”
“Perhaps I can entice the High packs into purchasing bread for special occasions from my bakery.”
I love her optimism, how often and easily she smiles. My mother always appears sour, as though whatever she eats doesn’t agree with her. “I’ll hope so, for the sake of your enterprise.”
“You don’t think I’m going to do it, move to Blackrock city.”
It would no doubt be best for my marriage if she did. “I think you’ll follow your heart.”
She averts her gaze; her smile falters. “Sometimes it’s unwise to follow where our heart leads so it’s better if we don’t.”
The music fades away. If she were like the other misses here, with a mother or chaperone handling a tether, I would escort her off the dance floor and leave her alone. But tonight she is my responsibility, my personal guest, the only she-wolf in whom I have any interest. “Would you care for some champagne?”
Her smile returns and her gaze swings back to mine, no evidence of sorrow remaining. “I’d care to try it. I don’t know if I’d like it.”
While I escort her to an area where people mingle, I feel numerous eyes following us, can read errant thoughts in the speculative gazes of some of the men. She is a curiosity, an outsider. I want to shout, “She is more welcome than all of you!”
As a servant carrying a tray passes by, I snag two flutes of the bubbling brew and hand her one. I lift mine. “To a night of firsts.”
“To the second finest gift you’ve ever given me.”
I furrow my brow. “What was the first?”
“Your friendship.”
She says it so simply, so easily. From the beginning, we have accepted each other as equals, and yet tonight the differences mock me. I am the Alpha Prince of the castle and she the baker’s daughter, the sometimes tavern wench. Some of the men in this room have slapped her backside, pinched her cheek, made salacious comments about her. She no doubt recognizes the offenders, yet she holds her head high and ignores them. She is not one to be intimidated. I have no doubt her bakery will be a smashing success. She’ll settle for nothing less.
Over the rim of my glass, I watch as she takes a small sip, smiles.
“Oh, I like it. The bubbles tickle.”
She never takes anything for granted, appreciates everything, even the smallest of pleasures.
“Well, if it isn’t the tavern maid,” Greyfur says, suddenly at my shoulder, Ashebury beside him. “Don’t you clean up nicely?”
She tips up her chin. “I don’t recall being dirty.”
“It’s an expression, m’dear.” He nudges my elbow. “I’m surprised your mother invited a commoner.”
“My mother wishes to see me happy.”
“She wishes to see you married,” Ashebury says, his gaze wandering over Linnie. “And not to her, I’m sure.”
“No, not to me,” Linnie says.
“I meant no offense, but in our world…”
“You’re a lot of pompous asses,” she responds with a sugary smile, and I want to cheer her on.
Ashebury laughs. “Yes, we are, I’m afraid.”
“Have either of you had any luck meeting your mothers’ expectations?” I ask, hoping to draw attention away from a conversation that might ruin Linnie’s night.
“Not yet,” Ashebury admits, “although I daresay the choices are top notch. The Luna Princess has discerning tastes.”
Ah, yes, my mother’s invitations have been dispatched to young, beautiful she-wolves. Ones who come from untarnished bloodlines. Ones whose lineage can be traced back for generations. Ones whose families have the distinction of being listed among the High packs. Ones I and my friends should marry for social status, political gain, influence. Ones who can elevate our positions within pack Society, or at least ensure our place is maintained. Those among the peerage do not marry for something as trite as love or mate bonds.
“I say, Miss Piletree, would you honor me with a dance?” Greyfur asks, his offer not only taking me by surprise but causing an emotion quite feral to course through me. It borders on jealousy even as I know I have no right to experience such possessiveness when I can only offer her friendship.
She casts a questioning glance my way. I want to tell her to decline; I want her all for myself but it isn’t fair when tonight is my gift to her, supposed to give her memories of feeling special. “You’re welcome to dance with whomever you wish.”
I can’t be certain, but she seems somewhat disappointed in my answer before turning to the gentleman who’s made the offer. “Well, then, Alpha Greyfur, I’d be most delighted to take a turn about the floor with you.”
“You must call me Grey,” I hear him say as he leads her away. I don’t like how close they are, how Greyfur smiles at her as though she’s his favorite person in the entire world.
“You can’t be thinking to marry her,” Ashebury says once the couple has moved beyond hearing. “She’d never be accepted among the high packs. Even now you don’t see anyone rushing over for an introduction.”
“I’m well aware she’d be ostracized.” My title comes with some influence, but the High packs likes to keep their ranks pure. Parentage matters. “She’s moving to Blackrock city; has always wanted to attend an infamous ball here. My Christmas and parting gift to her.”
“Your dear mother must be thrilled.”
Watching as Linnie waltzes with Grey, I do wish she weren’t smiling so brightly, even as I’m grateful she’s having such a jolly good time. I’m not so selfish as to wish her miserable when she’s not in my company. “I promised Mother I would decide whom I would marry if she invited Linnie.”
“Any contenders?”
“Not at the moment.”
Ashebury shifts his stance. “Then stay clear of Miss Penelope Withers.”
I laugh at the quietly given but rather firm order. “You indicated you hadn’t taken a fancy to anyone.”
“I don’t want Grey to get a whiff of my interest. His competitive nature will have him striving to win her over.”
“You’re a high Alpha. Your title gives you an advantage.”
“I don’t want her marrying me for my bloody title.”
While it’s a challenge to turn my attention away from Linnie, I force myself to face my friend. “You can’t mean to imply that you’re in love with her.”
Ashebury shrugs as though the comment is of no consequence, but the tautness in his jaw gives away that it matters a great deal. “I noticed her during the mating Season, but I kept my distance as she intrigues me in a manner that is rather unsettling.”
Unsettled. Yes, that’s a good description for how I begin to feel whenever Linnie is around. No, it’s more how I feel when she isn’t around. I’m always calmer, more myself when I’m with her. “If you want her, you should lay claim to her before someone else does.”
“You’re right, of course. I simply didn’t want to be the first among us to get married.” He sighs.
“A rather stupid excuse to let someone who intrigues you slip away.”
“You make a good point.”
We stand in silence for long minutes. I turn my attention back to the dance floor, but I can’t see Linnie. Too many blasted people.
“You could make her your mistress,” Ashebury says quietly.
I snap my head around. “I beg your pardon?”
“The barmaid. You could serve as her benefactor.”
I have a good mind to punch Ashebury in the mouth. “She deserves better than that.”
“You can’t tell me that you don’t have a care for her.”
“I do, which is the very reason I wouldn’t entertain the notion of taking advantage.”
“Pity. It appears your cousin hasn’t the same qualms.” He jerks his head to the side.
I spot Robbie with Linnie, near the mirrored wall. The rage erupting through me escapes in a bellow as I charge through the crowd.
- Writer
