Passion Light (5 page)

“Isabelle, is that you? Why have you kept us waiting so long?” Her uncle sounded sort of weird, not drunk, but excited in some prurient way. It made Isabelle very wary and more than a bit frightened.

Isabelle stepped into the room but stayed near the door. Her uncle and his woman were mostly naked and piled up in the bed together like a couple of pigs. They smelled, too, worse than pigs. Maybe like something rotting. It grossed her out to be in the room with them. The girlfriend had only been around a short time. Her name was Angela, but a less angelic woman never existed. Isabelle usually examined potential workers for signs of disease but Angela had been installed in Uncle’s bedroom before she’d had the examination. It was too late now. What would be would be without her interference. Isabelle was just as glad the decision was not hers to make.

Uncle and the woman were giggling and shifting in the bed. It made her even more nervous.

Uncle turned the woman over on her back and ran his hand over her swollen abdomen.

“Do you see this?” he asked. Without waiting for Isabelle’s reply he went on, “She’s pregnant with my son. I will soon be free of you. Angela can run the household and do it better than you ever have.” He smiled as he took in Isabelle’s appalled expression.

Not that Isabelle noticed. She was seeing one of those creepy visions she saw occasionally. It was a precursor of death that had always been eerily correct in her experience. She had never had such visions until after the Earth Wars. It never came into effect except when people were ill and dying. It didn’t happen before accidents or murders or any of a myriad of ways people might accidentally or suddenly die. It only happened when people were sick, often with some deadly disease.

Angela’s face was a smiling death head, like a skeleton.

It unnerved Isabelle nearly past bearing. She had never told anyone what she sometimes saw. It was too weird. She did not know how people would react, so she kept it to herself, but it was both painful and frightening.

Her uncle continued, “I have arranged a marriage for you. A messenger arrived last night from your future husband. I put him in the room with Glory. Haven’t seen either of them since.”

But Isabelle had. They were the couple she had seen less than an hour ago having sex and looking like it was a real pleasure.

Someone knocked on her uncle’s door. He shouted for them to enter. Two of his guards came into the room in moments and they latched onto her arms on either side of her.

Her uncle explained, “You will be held under guard in your rooms until you are married. His glance wandered from her to the guards. “Leave us and guard her well.”

“When will I meet him?” Isabelle asked as calmly as she could manage.

“He’ll join us for dinner tonight,” he said with a smirk. Angela laughed, too. “He’s really big and scary. I’m sure he’ll show you a good time.” He ended the statements with mocking laughter that chilled her.

Isabelle refused to lower herself to fight the guards, besides she needed time alone to think. She was not going to abandon the people she really worked for, the ones who needed her to care for them. She could leave the room…and the castle if she wanted, but it would mean disaster for most people who depended on her. The other problem she recognized, the one that had kept her here from the beginning was where would she go? She had no friends beyond the gates of this place. No one except herself could protect her from the environmental hazards, a small fighting force or a couple of men with ill intent. Such extreme vulnerability was unacceptable. It would likely be suicidal for her to leave alone. She was not that self-destructive…not yet anyway.

Her best strategy was to stay and see what the man was like who might rid her of her uncle or take her from this place if she decided to go with him. She suddenly realized her time had run out. She was getting married.

She shivered at the thought. She had never wanted marriage since the wars. Being married meant being chattel. Being married meant losing one’s independence. It meant she might spend the rest of her life in misery, living with a spouse she hated and could barely tolerate. She considered running away. It did seem cold hearted to think of abandoning her people, but the world was a dangerous place. It might or might not be worse for her and her people if she was gone. The problem was that she knew for sure it would be worse for the younger residents in the castle if she left. But what could she do to control what might happen? Her resources were limited. She walked to her bed and reclined, intending to think. But she had been over the same thoughts so many times it did nothing but depress her. Nothing new occurred to her so she slept instead. Party weekends were a lot of work and she was more tired than she realized, plus she felt both more depressed and defeated than she ever had before.

She woke when she began to hear the preparations for dinner. The tables were being set and people were gathering in the great hall.

She stood up and walked to her dresser. She washed her face in a basin of cold water, brushed out her long hair and re-braided it into her usual tight bun. Her concerns were reflected in her grim visage and she avoided looking at herself in the mirror any more than necessary. She did not change her clothing. She was careful to appear plain and to hide her figure in nondescript clothing. She wore baggy, dark pants and a long sleeved blouse covered by a natural colored knitted wool tunic that fell loosely to her knees.

Shortly after she finished she heard the lock click open at her door. A brisk knock sounded and then her uncle’s main guard Luther stepped into the room. He was a cruel man with a florid complexion, reddish blond hair and rough ways.

“Dinner is waiting,” he said.

She walked toward the door without answering him. He stood in her way so she stopped as she neared the door. He threatened her regularly, but so far he had only hurt her, not raped her. She was smart enough to fear him, though. She had always been afraid of him and he nurtured her fear at every opportunity.

“You could have had me,” he said, reaching for her. She got her hands between them and pushed at his bulky shoulders. She fought her way clear while he put his hands in a bunch of places where she did not want them, pinching and groping her rudely which seemed to be his way with women. It was weird he thought he was such an attractive man when really he was both rude and abusive on top of being famous for his roughness. He smiled seeming delighted to give her his clumsy brand of flirting.

She was tense and breathless with anxiety and repulsion by the time she wrestled her way clear.

“No, I couldn’t,” she answered. “And you know why, too. Heather matters to me even if she doesn’t matter to you.”

“She means nothing to me. Are you jealous? You’re the one I want,” he said. “If I kill your uncle we could rule and keep all the money, too. It would be great.”

He smiled cruelly and waited for her to fall into his arms. Isabelle knew it was true that he wanted her, but not because he had any affection for her. She was a realist and the logical part of her mind served her well. She knew he only wanted her to solidify his perception of his own power. She also was afraid she would die of nausea if she had to have sex with him. He didn’t care if a woman felt pleasure and he liked to hurt them, too.

“She’s pregnant and way too young, too. You should never have touched her,” Isabelle said.

He walked closer to her and sort of loomed over her. “She was just a way to pass the time. I care nothing for her and even less for the brat. Say the word and she’ll be history and I’ll be the one you marry tonight.”

He loomed over Isabelle, giving off heat and a sweaty odor. Isabelle forced herself to show no expression, though she was not one to hide what she thought. She had learned the hard way to guard her thoughts.

“No,” she said. “I don’t like you or your ways. Heather was the last straw. You hurt her over and over.”

He was a man who liked to hurt people, but he thought she was way too particular about men’s ways. “We live in a bad world. A woman needs a strong man,” he said.

He did have a talent for setting her temper on fire.

“Is a man strong if he regularly hurts those who are weaker, or is he just cruel to those he does not need to fear? It makes me wonder if he fears things irrationally,” she answered.

Luther could never quite keep up with her convoluted reasoning but he knew he’d been insulted. It was a dangerous game she played with him. He was stupid and she liked to prod him with her comments. It was like playing with any other predator, always risky, but she could not resist. He grasped her arm in a bruising grip and dragged her into the hall, and down the steps. He always touched more than she wanted. He took the opportunity to grope her breast as he held her with his other hand. She tried to present her most calm demeanor in spite of the fact that Luther was hurting her. Being with him was her worst nightmare. He was disgusting, but he thought he was a real love god. ‘What a prick,’ she thought. She longed to scream at him but she didn’t…couldn’t. Few people cared what he did and fewer still could do anything about it.

When they at last arrived in the great hall she was glad even though she feared what was happening there, too. Luther finally had to let her go and occupy his hands elsewhere. It surprised her a bit that he let go so completely. Often he didn’t, knowing few people would challenge him and her uncle just didn’t care.

Her uncle was dressed in his latest finery and his girlfriend was draped in a collection of colorful scarves that left most of her huge breasts bare.

He was speaking with a very tall man who towered over him, easily a head taller than her fat relative. It put him well over the height of any man she had ever seen. Uncle was taller than average, but the man he spoke with was as tall as many of the professional athletes that had existed before the wars changed everything. He might have influenced Luther’s decision to be more discreet.

He turned and looked toward her as Luther dragged her to the group, giving her arm an additional twisting squeeze as he presented her to the two men. “Isabelle, gentleman,” he announced as he finally let go of her arm.

She looked at the two people she considered enemies. The new man was unknown to her so she had no reason to trust him. She knew for sure she could not trust Uncle. Her uncle watched as Angela flirted with the man Isabelle assumed wanted her as his wife. His hair was black and straight, falling to his shoulder blades. It was tied back in a piece of string and his skin was dark, sort of a bronze color. His belly was flat and his chest, shoulders and legs were impressive. He was a bit hairy but not excessively so, rather like men used to be before all the radiation and chemicals had made many of them effeminate.

He wore clothing that looked like hides pieced together and tailored to his big frame. The clothing hung smoothly but it was not tight. His big feet were covered in black, knee high boots, also made of some animal skin. His beard was shaved clean and he was very attractive compared to most of the men she knew. He wasn’t pretty though. For one thing he had a big hooked nose, a high forehead, and a stubborn chin as well as very muscular arms and large calloused hands. He looked like a man who would never settle for less than he wanted. He looked tough and hardheaded and somehow dominant. He also did not smile.

“You’re the one?” she asked.

He nodded, but did not speak to her. He was covered in old style weapons. She could see several. But she thought there were likely others that were not in view. Albert usually removed most people’s weapons but this man had managed to keep his, somehow. He looked like he could handle almost anything, but he did not look like a fun guy. He looked too grim to take lightly and Isabelle knew it.