The Damaged Bride

Chapter 2

She gasped in surprise as Marcus drew his dirk from his stocking, rolled up his sleeve and quickly slashed the blade across his arm. In shock, she watched as Marcus dipped his fingers in the flow of blood and smeared it across the sheet in a small circular motion, working it deep into the fabric. He then tore a piece of fabric from one of the pillows and wrapped his still bleeding arm with it.

‘What is he doing?’ Bridgette wondered.

Her eyes widened with apprehension as he turned on her, dirk still in hand. Crossing the room, he wordlessly took her arm and spun her away so she faced the wall, pushing her against its solid cold surface. Too scared, even to scream, she stood before him frozen in fear, closing her eyes in anticipation of the pain to come.

She’d thought Marcus would be different, that in his home she would be safe from the brutality she’s grown up with. She was a fool to think he would be any different.

Marcus forced her head down, towards her chest, sweeping her auburn out of the way. Bridgette felt the blade slipping into the laces of her bodice, cutting them in one swift move, the cold blade slicing her across the back. Marcus ruthlessly pulled her dress open, pulling it from her shoulders, ripping the delicate fabric. He pulled and cut until she was left standing only her chemise.

Still facing the wall, she sensed Marcus kneeling and felt his hands as he roughly removed her slippers, tossing them unceremoniously into the pile of rags that had been her wedding dress. As she continued to stand, silent tears rolling from her eyes, she waited breathless of what was to come next.

She heard Marcus stand again, felt his hands sliding into her thick auburn mane. His hands began roughly pulling at the pins and cutting the ribbons out of the dense locks, tossing them aside to the pile along with bits of hair he ruthlessly pulled out as well.

Ignoring her small cries of pain, he cruelly ran his coarse fingers through it, loosening it until it tumbled down her back. Taking her by the elbow, Marcus abruptly turned her to face him. Almost as a last thought, he took her face in both hands and delivered a crushing, passionless kiss, pinning her to the wall again and splitting the delicate skin of her lips.

It was not the kiss Bridgette had dreamed of, it was so painful, his teeth cutting.

Standing back he looked her up and down, nodding approvingly at her disheveled appearance.

“That should do it,” he said, pulling the soiled sheet off the bed and shoving it into her hands.

Taking her by the elbow once more, he shoved her towards the door.

Opening it, Bridgett saw her grandfather waiting on the other side.

“It is done,” Marcus said coldly, pushing Bridgette forward with his hand on the back of her neck. “I have fulfilled my end of the bargain. She has been wedded and bedded, now it is your turn.”

“Of course,” Douglas O’Flagnery replied, taking the sheet from Bridgette’s hand and examining the blood stains.

“Here is deed to your family estate, free and clear of all debts owed to me,” he said, producing a rolled parchment.

Marcus snatched the offered scroll, opening it quickly he read, nodded his satisfaction.

“Say your goodbyes,” he ordered Bridgette, shoving her closer to her grandfather.

“Then,” he said behind her, addressing her grandfather, “I want you to get off my land. And stay off of it from now on. No more raids, no more burning or crops, no more harassing my tenants. My father’s debt is paid.”